I GlassJi Book -Kb- \': V / //^. NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR ( b ENGLISH AND FRENCH COMPOSITION: A SERIES OF PROGRESSIVE EXERCISES, CONTAINING IMITATIONS OF FABLES, LEGENDS, POEMS, &c. &c; ALSO, L " ARGUMENTS AND FOR D MODELS AMPLIFICATIONS, LETTERS, NARRATIONS, DESCRIPTIONS, SPEECHES, DEBATES, &c. &C. SECOND AND THIRD SERIES. By ALPHONSE A. ROUX, PROFESSOR OF FRENCH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE IN THE MOUNT PLEASANT ACADEMY, AND AUTHOR OF ' THE ZETETIC METHOD, OR EASIEST METHOD OF LEARNING FRENCH.' NEW-YORK: SPALDING & SHEPARD, R. LOCKWOOD 6c SON, 189£ Broadway. 411 Broadway. JOHN WILEY, 161 Broadway. PHILADELPHIA: DANIELS & SMITH, E. H. BUTLER & CO. Cor. 4th and Arch sts. 23 Minor st. BOSTON: B. B. MUSSEY & CO., . \N\ WORKS OF THE SAME AUTHOR. ZETETIC METHOD, OR MOST SIMPLE AND EASY METHOD FOR LEARNING TO READ, WRITE, AND SPEAK FRENCH CORRECTLY. ON A PLAN ENTIRELY NEW. N. B.— Of this First Edition of this method, particularly intended to be sub- mitted to the approbation of Professors, a limited number of copies has been struck off. price, $1 25. NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR ENGLISH AND FRENCH COMPOSITION. A SERIES OF PROGRESSIVE EXERCISES, Containing imitations of Fables, Legends, Poems, &c. &c. Also, Arguments and Models for Amplifications, Letters, &c. &c. FIRST SERIES.— PRICE 50 CENTS. FOURTH AND FIFTH SERIES, BEING THE LAST SERIES, WILL SHORTLY APPEAR. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1847, by ALPHONSE A. ROUX, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New- York. ■ .'• * •* ' » • # > «.-. V J •' PREFACE. We have stated in the preface to our First Series, that in pre- paring themes for composition, we have followed the method re- commended by Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian, and the great Rheto- ricians of antiquity ; it only remains to add a few explanations. Our method answers the questions that pupils never fail to put to their instructor* each time that he gives them a subject for com- position : " How shall I begin ? "What must I say ?" Our arguments indicate to the pupils the path most natural to follow ; but should their imagination furnish them with different means of execution, they may follow their imagination, provided that those means help on the end that we have marked out. The first care of the pupil, before commencing his composi- tion, is to comprehend well his subject, that is, to think upon what he ought to say ; for the pupil who has not sufficiently re- flected upon his subject before taking his pen, will soon find him- self at a stop ; a disheartening sense of incapacity comes upon him ; his ideas do not present themselves, or they appear confused and indistinct ; the work becomes difficult — repulsive even. But the pupil, who, in the face of his subject, will study the parts of * In our humble judgment, we could not sufficiently blame those instructors who permit their pupils to select their own themes ; first, because negligent pupils take a book and copy their compositions, whilst, on the other hand, the studious pupils often choose dry topics, such as salt, pepper, metals, steam, &c. &c, which, what- ever else may be said of them, at least are very dry and difficult to treat. And we say it with all sincerity, the teacher who permits his pupils to select subjects such as metals, fossils, mineralogy, &c. &c, would, perhaps, be puzzled himself to write ex tempore upon them ; how can he, then, correct the false ideas which the pupils may have written % Besides, we ask every sensible person, if it is upon such topics that the pupils can develop their ideas and form their style ! Vlll PREFACE. it, will soon see, with as much surprise as joy, the first shadows dissipate, and the theme unfold itself to him as a whole. But, at the age in which the art of writing is studied, the ra- pidity of the imagination and the mobility of the mind oppose themselves to a clear and patient conception of the subject ; few pupils habituate themselves to make a plan before writing, and yet, a plan well conceived is the indispensable condition of good writing. Before commencing his composition, the pupil ought to know whence he sets out, to what point he wishes to come, and, with the exception of the details, by what paths he is to reach it. Our method spares the pupil this labour, which is often above his intelligence ; it indicates to him the principal points, and the duty of the pupil consists in finding the secondary facts in completing an argument ; in drawing a consequence from a principle ; in evolving one idea from another, and in completing a picture from an unfinished sketch. Nearly all the subjects of composition which we offer, have been treated by ourselves, when we were pupils, and if we have often made changes, for the better, in these arguments, it is that, having our own compositions before us, we have been able to judge where our inexperience had led us astray. We have en- deavoured, in making changes, to smooth the way for the pupil. May we have succeeded ! CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. Figurative Language p. 13 Of the method of obtaining a good style — Blair 22 Exercise in Rhetorical Analysis . 25 NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. Narrations, precepts. — Swift 31 Stratagem of Columbus. Narration. — Irving 36 Letters. Precepts. — Johnson 39 Letter No. 1. — To Lord Palmerston 43 Letter No. 2. — From Lord Palmerston 44 Letter No. 3. — To Lord Palmerston 45 Battle of Hastings. — Hume 47 Letter No. 1.— To Lord Chesterfield 50 Letter No. 2.— From Lord Chesterfield 51 Letter No. 3.— To Lord Chesterfield 52 ARGUMENTS. The Death of a Young Girl. Letter No. 2. — From a Father to his Son 54 Hereditary Heroism. Letter No. 2. — From Lord Chesterfield .... 55 Milton in his old age 56 Letter No. 2. — Lord Chesterfield to his Son 57 Death of Cicero. Letter No. 2. — From a Father to his Son 59 The Tower of London 60 Letter No. 2. — Lord Chesterfield to his Son 61 The Cranes of Ibycus 62 Letter No. 2. — Lord Chesterfield to his Son 63 Plague of Marseilles. Letter No. 2. — From a Preceptor 65 Courage of Pepin. Letter No. 2. — From a Father 67 Death of Andre Chenier. Letter No. 2. — From a Young Man 68 Belshazzar's Feast. Letter No. 2.— On Friendship 69 Return of Mary Stuart to Scotland 70 X CONTENTS. Letter No. 2. — From an Englishman p. 71 Death of Louis XL Letter No. 2.— Lord Stafford to his Son 72 Theseus embarks for Crete 74 Letter No. 2.— From Mr. Pope. The Fight of Gonzon 75 The Punishment and Reward of Gonzon 76 Letter No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to J. Swift.. .. 77 Death of Lucan 78 Letter No. 2. — From Dr. Johnson to the Earl of Chesterfield 79 The First Crusade. — Capture of Jerusalem 80 Letter No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to J. Swift 81 Funeral Ceremonies of Charles 5th. Letter No. 2. — From Mr. Pope 82 Clemency of Theodocius. Letter No. 2. — From J. Swift 84 Battle of Poitiers. — Tears of Pericles 86 Narration. — By a French Pupil 87 The same subject. — By a French Pupil 89 DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. Descriptions. — Precepts. — Blair 93 Reception of Columbus after his First Voyage 94 Narration. — Robertson 95 The same subject. — Irving 96 Speeches. — Precepts. — Blair 100 Grecian Eloquence • 103 Roman Eloquence 105 English and French Eloquence 106 Exercise in Rhetorical Analysis 108 Hannibal's Speech to Scipio 112 The same subject 113 Scipio's Answer to Hannibal 116 ARGUMENTS. The Arabian Horse.— The Emir Octair to Louis IX 118 The Dog.— Frederick the Great to his Soldiers 119 The Emperor Titus to Sextus— Bsetica 120 Washington on the War.— Description of a Grotto 121 Lucinia to her Husband.— The Island.— Mithridates' Speech 122 The Storm.— Speech of a Good King 123 The Island of Christina.— Speech of Charles V 124 A Volcano.— Alexander's Speech.— A Famine at Sea 125 Lidiasmon's Speech.— Description of a Water-Spout 126 Charles V to his Son.— The Holy Sepulchre 127 CONTENTS. xl Speech of Diodorus — The deserts.— Alexander's Speech p. 128 Picture of a Sailor's Life. — Spartacus to his Companions, 129 An Eclipse of the Sun.— The Delegates of Burgundy 130 Vesuvius.— A Carthagenian Senator.— The Rising Sun 131 An Athenian Orator.— The Evening and Night 132 Cyrus to his Allies— View of Jerusalem 133 Aubusson to the Knights.— The Storm.— Peter's Speech 134 Spectacle of Nature.— Columbus to his Sailors 1 35 The Swiss Delegates.— Speech, by a French Pupil 136 The same subject, by a French Pupil 139 COMPOSITIONS FRANCAISES, BY FRENCH PUPILS. Les hommes apres le Deluge 143 Jeremie sur les ruines de Jerusalem 147 Entrevue d'Arminius et de Flavius 150 Les Goths dans Athenes 154 Meme sujet. .... 157 Edouard en Ecosse 16*2 Jmilcon a Bostar avant la bataille de Zama 165 Giscon en faveur d'Amilcar 168 Cineas dans le S6nalt Romain 171 Polignac aux deputes Hollandais 174 Meme sujet 381 ARGUMENTS. Mort de Moise. — Le jeune Anglais et le vieillard 185 Lettre d'un general. — Guillaume Tell. — Lettre 186 Les prisonniers. — Un Numide loue sa patrie 187 La lionne. — Combat du taureau. — Discours de Lucien 188 La mere des Machabees. — Combat singulier. — Incendie 189 Mort d'Agrippine. — Gedeon a ses soldats 190 Lettre. — Sophocle accuse. — Les vepres siciliennes 191 Sylla aux Romains. — Lettre de Marie Stuart 192 Discours de Maximien. — Incendie. — Alexandre mourant 193 Le deluge. — Pelage dans les Asturies 194 Lettre de Mathilde. — Le general Jackson a ses juges 195 Calliphon a Sylla.— Attila en Italie.— Discours de C. Martel 196 Le matin. — L'imperatrice Julie a ses deux fils 197 La vie d'un avare. — Charlemagne aux grands de sa cour 198 Xll CONTENTS. Mort de Rienzi. — Discours d'un vieillard p. 199 Lettre de Charles a son ami. — Mort du Tasse 200 Assassinat du president Duranti. — Dunois a Charles VII 201 Visite a un cimetiere. — Discours d'Asdrubal 202 Lettre de Frangois ler. — Village detruit 203 Clotilde et Clovis.— Lettre de condoleance 204 Mort de Roland le paladin. — Discours a Francois ler 205 Lettre d'une jeune homme. — Discours contre les gladiateurs 206 Lettre No. 2 ; Racine a son fils 207 Entree de Jeanne d'Arc a Reims. — Discours de Pinto 208 Lettre No. 2 ; P. L. Courier a sa cousine 209 Combat nocturne de Suenon. — Discours de Gonsalve 212 Lettre No. 2 ; Lettre de recommandation 213 Le patriarche Simeon et Pierre Thermite au tombeau de J.-C 214 Discours de Sisygambis. — Lettre No. 2; Lettre de J.-J. Rousseau .215 Un combat naval.— Les Grecs fugitifs. — Exorde d'une discours 217 Henri IV a l'assemblee des Notables.— Lord Montrose 218 DEBATES. Western, Eastern, Southern and Middle States 219 Italy, France, Germany, England and United States 224 Hebrews and Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Middle Ages, Moderns..234 ~VSTs***^<^j^s*>s/*AW-- INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 11 1 admit," says Blair, in his XlVth lecture, " that per- sons may both speak and write with propriety, who know not the names of any of the figures of speech, nor ever studied any rules relating to them. Nature dictates the use of the figures, and like Monsieur Jourdain, in Moliere, who had spoken for forty years in prose, without ever knowing it, many a one uses metaphorical expressions, for good pur- pose, without any idea of what metaphor is. It will not, however, follow thence, that rules are of no service. All science arises from observations on practice. Practice has always gone before method and rule, but method and rule have afterwards improved and perfected practice in every art. We every day meet with persons who sing agreea- bly, without knowing one note of the gamut, yet it has been found of importance to reduce these notes to a scale, and to form an art of music ; and it would be ridiculous to pre- tend that the art is of no advantage, because the practice is founded in nature. Propriety and beauty of speech are certainly as improveable as the ear or the voice ; and to know the principles of this beauty, or the reasons which render one figure or one manner of speech preferable ta another, cannot fail to assist and direct a proper choice." FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE. Figures, in general, may be ascribed to that language which is prompted by the imagination or by the passions. Rhetoricians commonly divide them into two great classes : figures of words and figures of thought. The former, fi- gures of words, are commonly called tropes, and consist in a word's being employed to signify something that is differ- ent from its original and primitive meaning ; so that if you alter the word, you destroy the figure. When I say, for instance, that a good man enjoys comfort in the midst of ad- versity, I just express my thought in the simplest manner possible. But when I say to the upright there ariseth light in darkness, the same sentiment is expressed in a figurative style ; a new circumstance is introduced, light is put in the place of comfort, and darkness used to suggest the idea of 2 14 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. adversity. The trope consists in light and darkness being not meant literally, but substituted for comfort and adversity, on account of some resemblance or analogy which they are supposed to bear to these conditions of life. The other class, termed figures of thought, supposes the words to be used in their proper and literal meaning, and the figure consists in the turn of the thought ; as is the case in exclamations, interrogations, apostrophes and com- parisons ; where, though you vary the words that are used, or translate them from one language into another, you may nevertheless still preserve the same figure in the thought. ALLEGORY. An allegory may be regarded as a continued metaphor • as it is the representation of some one thing by another that resembles it, and that is made to stand for it. We may take from the Scriptures a very fine example of an allegory in the 80th Psalm, where the people of Is- rael are represented under the image of a vine, and the fi- gure is supported throughout with great correctness and beauty : Thou hast brought a vine out of Egypt : thou hast cast out the heathen and planted it. Thou preparedst room before it) and didst cause it to take deep root, and it filled the land. The hills were covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs thereof were like the goodly cedars. She sent out her boughs unto the sea, and her branches unto the river. Why hast thou then broken down her hedges, so that all they which pass by the way do pluck her ? The boar out of the wood doth waste it, and the wild beast of the field doth devour it. Return, we be- seech thee, O God of hosts : look down from heaven, and be- hold, and visit this vine ! Here there is no circumstance, (except perhaps one phrase at the beginning, thou hast cast out the heathen,) that does not strictly agree to a vine, whilst, at the same time, the whole quadrates happily with the Jewish state represented by this figure. This is the first and principal requisite in the conduct of an allegory, that the figurative and the literal meaning be not mixed incon- sistently together. For instance, instead of describing the vine, as wasted by the boar from the wood, and devoured by the wild beast of the field, had the Psalmist said, it was af- flicted by heathen, or overcome by enemies, (which is the real meaning,) this would have ruined the allegory. Indeed, the same rules that are given for metaphors may also be INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 15 applied to the allegories, on account of the affinity they bear to each other. The only material difference between them, besides the one being short and the other pro- longed, is, that a metaphor always explains itself by the words that are connected with it in their proper and natural meaning; as when I say, Achilles was a lion; an able minister is the pillar of the state. My lion and my pillar are sufficiently interpreted by the mention of Achilles and the minister, which I join to them ; but an allegory is, or may be, allowed to stand more disconnected with the literal meaning ; the interpretation not so directly pointed out, but left to our own reflection. ALLUSION. Allusion is that figure by which some word or phrase in a sentence calls to mind, as if accidentally, another similar or analogous subject. Example : I was surrounded with difficulties, and possessed no clue by which I could effect my escape. ANTI-CLIMAX. The descent from great things to small is termed anti-cli- max. It is the opposite of climax, and is found principally in ludicrous compositions. Examples : And thou, Dalhousie, the great god of War, Lieutenant-colonel of the Earl of Mar. Under the tropic is our language spoke, And part of Flanders hath received our yoke. ANTONOMASIA. Antonomasia is a term applied to that form of expression in which a proper name is put for a common, or a common name for a proper : or when the title, office, dignity, pro- fession, science or trade, is used instead of the true name of a person. Thus, when we apply to Christ the term, the saviour of the world, or the redeemer of mankind ; or to Washington the term, the father of his country ; or when we say his excellency, instead of the governor, &c, &c, the ex- pression is called Antonomasia. So, also, when a tyrant is called Nero, we have another instance of the same form of expression. 16 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. ANTITHESIS. Antithesis is the counterpart of comparison; and is found- ed on the contrast or opposition of two objects. By contrast, objects opposed to each other appear in a stronger light, and their peculiar beauties or defects appear in both relief. Examples : Behold, my servants shall eat, but you shall be hun- gry ; behold, my servants shall drink, but you shall be thirsty ; behold, my servants shall rejoice, but you shall be ashamed. APOSTROPHE. Apostrophe is the turning off from the regular course of the subject, to address some person or thing, real or imagi- nary, living or dead. Example : Weep on the rocks of roaring winds, O maid, of Tnistore ! Bend thy fair head over the waves, thou fairer than the ghost of the hills, when it moves in a sun- beam at noon over the silence ofMorven ! He is fallen ! thy youth is low ; pale beneath the sword of Cuthullin ! BOMBAST BATHOS. Bombast is a kind of expression by which a serious at- tempt is made to rise a low or familiar subject above its rank, thereby never failing to make it ridiculous. Bathos is the reverse of Bombast, and consists in degrading a subject by too low expressions. CLIMAX. Climax consists in an artful exaggeration of all circum- stances of some object or action, which we wish to place in a strong light, either a good or a bad one. It operates by a gradual rise of one circumstance above another, till our idea is raised to the highest pitch. Examples : Boisterous in speech, in action prompt and bold, He buys, he sells, he steals, he kills for gold. It is a crime to put a Roman citizen in bonds ; it is the height of guilt to scourge him ; little less than parricide to put him to death ; what name, then, shall I give to the act of crucifying him ? COMPAKISON, OR SIMILE. Comparison, or Simile, is a figure frequently employed both by poets and prose-writers, for the ornament of com- position. A metaphor is a comparison implied, but not ex- pressed as such ; as when I say, Achilles is a lion, mean- ing, that he resembles one in courage or strength. A com- INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. IT parison is, when the resemblance between two objects is expressed in form, and generally pursued more fully than the nature of a metaphor admits; as when I say, The actions of princes are like those great rivers the course of which every one beholds, but their sjirings have been seen by few. This slight instance will show that a happy comparison is a kind of sparkling ornament, which adds not a little lustre and beauty to discourse ; and hence such figures are termed by Cicero u or ationis luminal Examples: Delightful is thy presence, O Fingal ! It is like the sun on Cromla, when the hunter mourns his absence for a season and sees him between the clouds. Sorrow, like a cloud on the sun, shades the soul of Cles- sammor. EUPHEMISM. Words or phrases that call up disagreeable ideas, are in polite language softened by means of circumlocutions, and these circumlocutions are called Euphemisms. Example : He was launched into Eternity, for, He was hanged. EXCLAMATION. Exclamations are the effect of strong emotions of the mind, such as surprise, admiration, joy, grief, and the like. Example : Oh, liberty ! Oh, sound once delightful to every Roman ear I Oh, sacred privilege of Roman citizenship ! Once sacred, now trampled upon ! EXORDIUM, OR INTRODUCTION. The Exordium, or Introduction, is designed to conciliate the good will of the hearers ; to render them benevolent, or well-affected to the speaker and to the subject. On whatever subject anyone intends to discourse, he will most commonly begin with some introduction, in order to prepare the minds of his hearers ; he will then state his subject, and explain the facts connected with it ; he will employ arguments for establishing his own opinion, and overthrowing that of his antagonist ; he may perhaps, if there be room for it, endeavour to touch the passions of his audience ; and after having said all he thinks proper, he will bring his discourse to a close, by some peroration or con- clusion. This being the natural train of speaking, the parts that compose a regular formal oration are six, viz : 1st, 2* 18 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. the exordium or introduction ; 2nd, the state and the divi- sion of the subject ; 3rd, narration or explanation ; 4th, the reasoning or arguments ; 5th, the pathetic part ; 6th, the conclusion. I do not mean that each of these must enter into every public discourse, or that they must enter always in this order. There is no reason for being so formal on every oc- casion \ nay, it would often be a fault, and would render a discourse pedantic and stiff. There may be many excel- lent discourses in public, where several of these parts are altogether wanting; where the speaker, for instance, uses no introduction, but enters directly on his subject ; where he has no occasion either to divide or explain, but simply reasons on one side of the question, and then finishes. HYPERBOLE. Hyperbole, or exaggeration, consists in magnifying an ob- ject beyond its natural bounds. It may be considered some- times as a trope, and sometimes as a figure of thought ; and here indeed the distinction between these two classes begins not to be clear, nor is it of any importance that we should have recourse to metaphysical subtilities, in order to keep them distinct. Whether we call it trope or figure, it is plain that it is a mode of speech which hath some foundation in nature, for in all languages, even in common conversation, hyperbolical expressions very frequently occur : as swift as the wind — as white as the snow — and the like ; and our common forms of compliments are almost all of them extrava- gant hyperboles. INTERROGATION. The unfigured and literal use of interrogation, is to ask a question ; but when men are strongly moved, they natu- rally put into the form of a question, whatever they would affirm or deny with great earnestness. Example : How long, Catiline, will you abuse our patience ? Do you not per- ceive that your designs are discovered ? &c. IRONY. Irony is the intentional use of words which express a sense contrary to that which the writer or speaker means to convey, as when we say of one unskilled in grammar : Admirable grammarian ! INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 19 P^ETALEPSIS. When the trope is founded on the relation between an an- tecedent and a consequent, or what goes before, or imme- diately follows, it is then called a metalepsis, as in the Latin word fuit or vixit, to express that one was dead. Fuit Illium et ingens gloria Dardanidum, signifies that the glory of Troy is now no more. METAPHOR. Metaphor is a figure founded entirely on the resemblance which one object bears to another. Hence, it is much al- lied to simile or comparison, and is indeed no other than a comparison expressed in an abridged form. When I say of some great minister, that he upholds the state, like a pillar which supports the weight of a whole edifice, I fairly make a comparison ; but when I say of such a min- ister that he is the pillar of the state, it is now become a me- taphor. The comparison between the minister and a pillar is made in the mind ; but it is expressed without any of the words that denote comparison. The comparison is only in- sinuated, not expressed ; the one object is supposed to be so like the other, that without formally drawing the compari- son, the name of the one may be put in the place of the name of the other. The minister is the pillar of the state. This, therefore, is a more lively and animated manner of expressing the resemblances which imagination traces among objects. METONYMY. All tropes are founded on the relation which one object bears to another ; in virtue of wjbieh, the name of the one can be substituted instead of the name of the other, and by such substitution, the vivacity of the idea is commonly meant to be increased. These relations, some more, some less intimate, may all give rise to tropes. One of the first and most obvious relations is that, between a cause and its effect. Hence, in figurative language, the cause is some- times put for the effect ; thus Addison writing of Italy, Blossoms and fruits, and flowers, together rise, And the whole year in gay confusion lies. Where the whole year is plainly intended to signify the ef- fects or productions of all the seasons of the year. At other times, again, the effect is put for the cause, as, 20 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* grey hairs, frequently for old age which causes grey hairs ; and shade, for trees that produce the shade. The relation between the container and the thing con- tained, is also so intimate and obvious as naturally to give rise to tropes. In the same manner, the name of any coun- try is often used to denote the inhabitants of that country. The relation between any established sign and the thing signified, is a further source of tropes. To tropes, founded on these several relations, of cause and effect, container and contained, sign and thing signified, is given the name of metonymy. PER IPH RASE. Periphrase, periphrasis, and circumlocution, are words all meaning the same thing. Periphrase is the use of more words than are necessary to express the idea. As a figure of Rhetoric, it is employed to avoid a common or trite man- ner of expression. PERORATION, OR CONCLUSION. Peroration is the end of a speech, or the concluding part. Sometimes the whole pathetic part comes in most properly at the peroration. Sometimes, when the discourse has been entirely argumentative, it is fit to conclude with summing up the arguments, placing them in one view, and leaving the impression of them full and strong on the minds of the audience. PERSONIFICATION, OR PROSOPOPOEIA. Personification, or prosopopoeia, is a rhetorical figure, to which we attribute life and action to inanimate objects. When we say, the ground thirsts for rain, the earth smiles with plenty ; when we speak of ambition being restless, or a disease being deceitful — such expressions show the facility with which the mind can accommodate the properties of living creatures to things that are inanimate. PLEONASM, OR VERBOSITY. Pleonasm, or verbosity, consists in the use of words seem- ingly superfluous, in order to express a thought with greater energy, as, I saw it with my own eyes. Here the pleonasm consists in the addition of the expression, with my own eyes, REDUNDANCY. Redundancy is another term also employed to signify su- INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 21 perfluity in the words and members of a sentence. Pleo- nasm and verbosity relate, principally, to the words in a sentence, but redundancy relates to the members as well as to the words. As every word ought to present a new idea, so every member ought to contain a new thought. The following sentence exemplifies the fault of redundancy : The very first discovery of it strikes the mind with inward joy, and spreads delight through all its faculties. In this example, little or nothing is added by the second member of the sen- tence, to what was expressed in the first. simile. (See comparison, page 16.) Every simile is more or less a comparison, but every comparison is not a simile. The latter compares things only as far as they are alike ; but the former extends to those things which are different. In this manner there may be a comparison between large things and small, although there can be no good simile. SYNEDOCHE. When the whole is put for a part, or a part for the whole ; a genus for a species, or a species for a genus ; the singu- lar for the plural, or the plural for the singular number; in general, when anything less or anything more is put for the precise object meant, the figure is then called a syne- doche. It is very common, for instance, to describe a whole object by some remarkable part of it, as when we say, a fleet of so many sail, in the place of ships ; when we use the head for 'the person, the waves for the sea. tropes. (See figurative language, page 13.) VISION. Vision is a figure of speech, proper only to animated and warm composition. When, in place of relating something that is past, we use the present tense, and describe it as ac- tually passing before our eyes, that figure is called in Rhe- toric, vision. Thus Cicero, in his fourth oration against Catiline, pictures to his mind the consummation of the con- spiracy, as follows : I seem to myself to behold this city, the ornament of the earth, and the capital of all nations, suddenly involved in one conflagration. I see before me the slaughtered heaps of citizens, lying unburied in the midst of their ruined country. The furious countenance of Cethegus rises to my view, while, with a savage joy, he is triumphing in your miseries. 22 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. OF THE METHOD OF ATTAINING A GOOD STYLE. Blair. To pretend to teach the art of fine writing by a series of mechanical rules, would be highly absurd. The young student may, however, be assisted by a few plain direc- tions concerning the most proper method of attaining a cor- rect and elegant style. The celebrated Dr. Blair, in his " Lectures on Rhetoric/' has given excellent directions on this subject. In the first place, we ought always to endeavour to obtain a clear and precise idea of every subject of which we pro- pose to treat. This is a direction which may, at first, ap- pear to have little relation to style. Its relation to it, how- ever, is close. The foundation of fine writing, is good sense accompanied with a lively imagination. The style and thoughts of a writer are so intimately connected, that it is frequently a difficult task to distinguish between what de- pends upon the one and what upon the other. Whenever the impressions of objects upon the mind are feint and in- distinct, or perplexed and confused, our style in treating of such subjects can never be luminous or beautiful. Whereas what we conceive clearly, and feel strongly, we shall na- turally express with perspicuity and with strength. This, then, is an important rule, that we should think closely on the subject, till we have attained a full and distinct view of the matter, which we are to clothe in words, till we become warm and interested in it; then, and not till then, shall we find expression begin to flow. To speak in general terms, the best and most proper expressions are those which a clear view of the subject suggests, without much labour or consideration. In the second place, to the acquisition of a good style, fre- quency of composition is indispensably necessary. But it is not every kind of composition which will improve style. By a careless and hasty habit of writing, a bad style will be acquired, and more trouble will be afterwards necessary to unlearn faults, than to become acquainted with the rudiments of composition. In the beginning, therefore, we ought to writ eslowly and with much care. Facility and speed are the fruit of practice. We must be cautious, how- ever, not to retard the course of thought, nor cool the ar- dour of imagination on every word. On certain occasions, INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 23 a glow of composition must be kept up, if we hope to express ourselves happily, though at the expense of some inaccu- racies. A more severe examination must be the work of correction. What we have written should be laid by, for some time, till the ardour of composition is past; till par- tiality for our expressions be weakened, and the expressions themselves forgotten ; and then, reviewing our work with a cool and critical eye, as if it were the performance of another, we shall discover many imperfections which at first escaped us. It is then the season for pruning redun- dancies ; for examining the arrangement of sentences; and for bringing style into a regular and correct form. To this labour of correction, all those must submit who would com- municate their thoughts to others with proper advantage ; and some practice in it will soon render the task more easy and practicable than might be at first imagined. In the third place, acquaintance with the style of the best authors is peculiarly requisite. Hence a just taste will be formed, and a copious fund of words supplied on every sub- ject. No exercise will, perhaps, be found more useful for acquiring a proper style, than translating some passage from an eminent author into our own words. Thus, to take, for instance, a page of one of Addison's Spectators, and read it attentively two or three times, till we are in full possession of the thoughts it contains ; then to lay aside the book ; to endeavour to write out the pasage from memory as well as we can ; and then to compare what we have written with the style of the author. Such an exercise will show us our defects, will teach us to correct them, and from the variety of expressions which it will exhibit, will conduct us to that which is most beautiful.* In the fourth place, we must beware of falling into a ser- vile imitation of any author however celebrated. Imitation is always dangerous. It fetters genius, and is likely to produce a stiff manner. Those who are addicted to close imitation, generally imitate an author's faults as well as his beauties. No one will ever become a good writer or speaker, who has not some confidence in his own genius. We ought, therefore, carefully to avoid the using of any author's pe- culiar phrases, and of transcribing passages from him. Such a habit will be fatal to all genuine composition. It is * Our method affords another kind of exercise — see Exercise in Rheto^ lical Analysis, page 25. 24 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* much better to have something of our own, though of mo- derate beauty, than to share in borrowed ornaments, which will, at last, betray the poverty of our genius. In the fifth place, those who are ambitious of attaining a chaste style, ought to study, with attention, the works of the most eminent poets. From this source, is often derived a more delicate and elevated mode of expression, as well as of thinking. We, accordingly, find that the most excellent prose-writers, both in ancient and modern times, are those who, during some part of their lives, have applied themselves to the study of poetry. It will be sufficient to mention the names of Plato, Cicero, Temple, Dryden, Pope, Addison, Melmoth, Johnson, Goldsmith, Fenelon, and Voltaire. In the sixth place, always adapt your style to the subject, and likewise to the capacity of your readers or hearers. To attempt a poetical style, when it is our business only to reason, is absurd in the highest degree. To speak with elaborate pomp of words, before those who cannot com- prehend them, is equally ridiculous. When we are to write or speak, we should previously fix in our minds, a clear idea of the end aimed at, keep this steadily in view, and regulate our style accordingly. In the seventh place, let not attention to style so much oc- cupy our minds, as to prevent a higher degree of attention to the thoughts. This rule is more necessary, since the present taste is more directed to style than to thought. It is much more easy to dress up trifling and common thoughts with some beauty of expression, than to afford a fund of vigorous, ingenious and useful sentiments. The latter re- quires genius ; the former may be attained by industry. Hence we are pestered with that crowd of writers, who, though rich in style, are poor in sentiment. Custom obliges us to be attentive to the ornaments of style, if we wish our labours to be read and admired : but he is a contemptible writer, who looks not beyond the dress of language, who lays not the chief stress upon his matter, and employs not such sentiments of style to recommend it as are manly, not foppish. In the eighth place, Reading will be found of universal advantage, not only as it respects our improvement in style ; but, likewise, in other matters, at least, equal in im- portance. In perusing the writings of sensible men we INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 25 have frequent opportunities of examining our own hearts, and thereby attaining a more certain knowledge of our- selves. For we find that we are sensibly touched with in- cidents, or reflections of a certain nature ; and, on the con- trary, that we pass over others without the least emotion. Thus it is easy to discourse on which of our passions pre- dominate, and which, consequently, require the most atten- tion. We learn to love virtue and to shun vice. By read- ing, we also learn to judge of the different styles of various authors, and insensibly improve our own. If we happen to be blessed with a strong memory, we not only recollect frequent lessons and examples for our own conduct, but have many opportunities of instructing those with whom we converse : and if our memories are the most extraordinary, it is very certain, that reading will, at least by degrees, improve our taste, our understanding, and our mode of ex- pressing ourselyes, whether by writing or elocution. EXERCISE IN RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. COMBAT OF THE HORATII AND THE CURIATII. The description of this combat is, certainly, one of the most beautiful passages in Livy, and the most proper to teach youth how to adorn a narration with natural and in- genious thoughts. In order to know the art and delicacy of this fine passage, we need only to reduce it to a simple relation, by divesting it of all its ornaments, without, how- ever, omitting any essential circumstance. I shall mark the different parts by different figures, in order the better to distinguish and compare them afterwards, with the narra- tive itself, as we find it in Livy. SIMPLE RELATION. 1. The treaty being- concluded, the three brothers on each side take arms according- to agreement. 2. They advance immediately between the two armies. 3. The two armies remain on either side near their camps anxiously gazing upon this sight. } ( 4. The signal is given ; the three young men, with hostile intentions, march up from each side. 5. When they had contended with equal strength for some 3 26 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOU COMPOSITION. " time, two Romans were killed, and the three wounded Albans pursued the third Roman. 6. They surrounded, the remaining Roman ; fortunately he was yet unwounded. Then, in order to separate the comba- tants, he took to flight, being persuaded that they would follow him with more or less expedition. 7. Having fled a considerable space from the spot where they had fought, Horatius looked back and saw the Curiatii pur- suing him at great distances from each other, and one of them very near ; upon which he turns and kills him. 8. Immediately he runs to his second enemy, and kills him also. 9. Already the number of combatants is equal on both sides. 10. The triumphant Roman cries, ^ I have sacrificed the first two to the manes of my brothers ; I will now sacrifice the third to my country." Then he kills him, and takes his spoils. 11. The Romans gratefully receive Horatius. 12. After this, the two armies bury their dead. The business is to enlarge upon this narration, and to enrich it with thoughts and images which may engage and strike the reader in a lively manner, and represent this ac- tion to him in such a light that he may imagine he does not read, but see it, in which the greatest power of eloquence consists. To effect this, we need only consult nature, by carefully studying the emotions, and examining attentively what must have passed in the hearts of the Horatii and Cu- riatii, of the Romans and Albans, upon the occasion, and to paint every circumstance in such lively, and at the same time such natural, colors, that we imagine we are specta- tors of the combat. This, Livy performs in a surprising manner. 1. The treaty being concluded, the three brothers on each side lake arms according to agreement. 2. While each party are exhorting their respective cham- pions to do their duty, by representing that their gods, their country, their fathers and mothers, the whole city and army had their eyes fixed on their svjords and actions ; those gene- rous combatants, brave of themselves, and still more invigo- rated by such pressing exhortations, advance between the two armies. It was natural for each party to exhort their own chanu pions, and represent to them that all their country had their eyes Upon their combat. This is a fine thought, but it is very much improved by the manner of turning it. An ex- hortation more at length would be cold and languid. In INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 27 reading the last words, we imagine we see those generous combatants advancing between the two armies with a noble, intrepid air of defiance. 3. They were ranged on both sides round the field of battle, being more uneasy on account of the consequences to the state, than of the danger to which themselves were exposed, because the combat was to decide which of the two nations should gov- ern the other ; and so, being agitated with these reflections, and solicitous about the event, they gave their whole attention to a fight which could not but alarm them. Nothing was more suitable here than this thought : being more uneasy on account of the consequences to the state, than of the danger to which themselves were exposed. 4. The signal is given; the champions march three and three against each other, themselves alone inspired with the courage of armies. Both sides, insensible of their own danger, have nothing before their eyes, but the slavery or liberty of their country, whose future destiny depends wholly upon their valor. The moment the clashing of their weapons is heard, and the glitter of their swords is seen, the spectators, seized with fear and alarm, [while hope of success inclined to neither side,) con- tinued motionless, so that one would have said they had lost the use of their speech, and even of breath. Nothing can be added to the noble idea which Livy gives us of these combatants in this place. The three brothers were on each side like whole armies, and had the courage of armies ; insensible of their own danger, they thought of nothing but the fate of the public, confided entirely to their personal valor. Two noble thoughts, and founded in truth ! But can any one read what follows, and not be seized with equal korror and trembling with the spectators of the fight ? The expressions are all poetical in this place, and youth must be told that poetical expressions, which are to be used seldom and very sparingly, were requisite, from the gran- deur of the subject, and the necessity there was to describe so glorious a spectacle in a suitable pomp of words. The mournful silence which kept both sides in a manner suspended and immoveable, turned immediately into accla- mations of joy on the side of the Albans, when they saw two of the Horatii killed. The Romans, on the other hand, lost all hope, and were in the utmost anxiety. Alarmed and trembling for the surviving Horatius, who was to corcu bat three antagonists, they had no thought but of the danger 28 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. he was in. Was not this the real sense of both armies, after the fall of the two Horatii 1 and is not the picture, which Livy has given us of it, very natural 1 5. Afterwards, when they began to engage, not only the mo- Hon of their hands, and the brandishing of their weapons, drew the eyes, of the spectators, but the wounds and blood running down j the three Albans were wounded, and. two of the Romans fell lifeless to the ground. Upon their falling, the Alban army shouted aloud, whilst the Roman legions remained without hope, but not anxiety, trembling for the surviving Roman, surround* ed by the three Albans. I shall give the remainder of this quotation with little or no reflection, to avoid a tedious prolixity. I must only ob- serve to the pupil, that the chief beauty of this relation, as well as of history in general, according to Cicero's judicious remark, consists in the surprising variety which runs through the whole, and the different emotions of fear, anxiety, hope, joy, despair, and grief, occasioned by the sudden altera- tions, and unexpected vicissitudes, which rouse the atten- tion by an agreeable surprise, keep the reader in a kind of suspense, and give him incredible pleasure, even from that uncertainty, especially where the narration concludes with an affecting and singular event. It will be easy to apply these principles to everything that follows. 6. Happily the Roman was not wounded: thus, being too weak against three, though superior to any one of them single, he had recourse to a stratagem. In order to divide his adver- saries, hefted, being persuaded they would follow him with more or less expedition, as their strength, after so much loss of blood, would permit. 7. Having fed a considerable space from the spot where they fought, he looked, back and saw the Curiatii pursuing him at great distances from each other, and one of them very near ; upon which he turned, and charged him vrith all his force, and v:hile the Alban army were crying out to his brothers to succor him, Horatius, who had already slain the first enemy, runs to a second victory. 8. The Romans then encourage their champion with great shouts, such as generally proceed from unexpected joy. Hora- tius hastens to put an end to the second combat ; and in this manner, before the other combatant, who was not far off, could come up to assist his brother, he killed him also. 9. There remained now but one combatant on each side; but though their number was equal, their strength and hope were far from being so. The Roman, without a wound, and flushed INTRODUCTION TO THE RHETORIC. 29 with his double victory , advances with great confidence to his third combat. His antagonist, on the contrary, weak from the loss of blood, spent with running, and already vanquished by the death of his brothers, encounters the victor. But this could not be called a combat. How beautiful are the thoughts and expressions ! how lively the images and descriptions ! how admirable is the opposition between what precedes and what follows ! 10. The Roman then cried out, with an air of triumph, a I have sacificed the first two to the manes of my brothers ; I will now sacrifice the third to my country, that Rome may subdue Alba , and give laws to it. Curiatius being scarce able to carry his arms, Horatius thrusts his sword into his breast, and- af- terwards takes Ms spoils* 11. The Romans receive Horatius with a joy and acknow- ledgment, proportioned to the danger they had escaped. 12. After this, each party apply themselves to burying their dead, but with sentiments widely different ; the Romans having enlarged their empire, and the Albans become the subjects of a foreign power. I believe nothing is more capable of forming the taste of young people, both for reading authors and writing compo- sition, than to propose such passages as these to them, and to habituate them to discover their beauties without any as- sistance, by stripping them of all their embellishments, and reducing them to simple propositions, as we have done here. NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR ENGLISH COMPOSITION. Uart JJTiurtr. NARRATIONS ANI> LETTERS, NARRATIONS - precepts.— Swift. There is one kind of conversation which every one aims at, and every one almost fails in ; it is that of story -telling. I know not any thing which engages our attention with more delight, when a person has a sufficient stock of talents ne- cessary for it, such as good sense, true humour, a clear head, a ready command of language, and a variety of proper gesture, to give life and spirit to what he says. If any of these be wanting, the listeners, instead of being diverted, are disobliged ; but if the person be utterly void of them all, as is very often the case, he becomes a nuisance to the company, and they are so long upon the rack as he speaks. It has sometimes fallen to my lot, that a man whom I never offended, has laid me under the persecution of a long story, and compelled me to hear what concerned neither him or me, nor indeed any body else, and at the same time he was as much in earnest as if both our lives and fortunes, and the felicity of the whole kingdom, depended upon what he said. A humour very unaccountable ! That a man shall be letting off words for an hour or two, with a very innocent intention, and after he has done his best, only makes me uneasy, and himself contemptible. This natural infirmity in men is not only confined to story -telling, but it appears likewise in every essay whatso- ever of their intellectuals. As for instance ; if one of these 82 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. be a preacher of God's word, by far-fetched criticisms, numerous divisions and subdivisions, incoherent digressions, tedious repetitions, useless remarks, weak answers to strong objections, inferences to no premises, tedious exhortations, and many other methods of protraction, he should draw you out a discourse for an hour and a quarter, unequally dis- pensing opium and edification to his flock, there being seven sleepers to one hearer. If he be a lawyer, he shall, by an uncommon way s of amusement, run away with a subject which might be explained in two minutes, and dilate upon it two hours, with such a volubility of tongue, such affluence of expression, with something so like a good style and man- ner of thinking, that the judges and jury attend with as much gravity, as if there was a continued chain of true reason and solid argument. If he be a member of the upper or lower house, he does not proceed four sentences before the rest know where to have him an hour hence ; in the mean time they divert one another, in talking of matters in- different, till the gentleman has done. I could give many more instances, but I think these sufficient for my present purpose ; besides, lest I should incur the like reproach my- self, I shall, in a few words, divide the story-tellers into the short, the long, the marvellous, the insipid, and the delightful. The short story-teller is he who tells a great deal in few words, engages your attention, pleases your imagination, or quickly excites your laughter. Of this rank were Xenophon, Plutarch, Macrobitus, among the ancients. When the Nepheli of Aristophanes, a satire upon Socrates, was acting, his friend desired him to retire, and hide behind them. " No," said Socrates, " I will stand up here, where I may be seen ; for now I think myself like a good feast, and that every one has a share of me." Brasidas, the famous Lacedsemonian general, caught a mouse : it bit him, and by that means made its escape. li O Jupiter," said he, " what creature so contemptible but may have its liberty, if it will contend for it." Diogenes having sailed to Chios, while it was under the dominion of the Persians, said, in a full assembly, " the inhabitants were fools for erecting a college and building temples, since the Persians would not allow them the pri- vilege of making their own priests, but sent them over the most illiterate of their magi." Augustus, while he was encamped with his army some- NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 33 where near Mantua, was disturbed three nights successive- ly, by the hooting of an owl. Proclamation was made to the soldiers, that whoever caught the offender (so that he might be brought to justice) should have an ample reward for his pains. Every one was loyally engaged in the pur- suit of this bird : at last, one more vigilant than the rest found him in a hollow tree, and carried him in triumph to the emperor, who saw him with the greatest joy, but gave the soldier a sum of money so far below his expec- tation, that he let the owl fly away that instant. So true a sense of liberty ran through the very meanest of the Romans ! The long story -teller is one who tells little or nothing in a great number of words. For this, many among the moderns are famous, and among ourselves in this kingdom, we have a vast number of the better sort. As well as I can remember, there are six deans, four judges, six-and-thirty counsellors at law, sixty-five attorneys, some few fellows of the college, every alderman throughout the whole nation, except one, all old gentlemen and ladies, without exception, five of the college of physicians, three or four lords, two hundred squires, and some few people of distinction beside. I shall here insert a fragment of a long story, by way of example, containing a hundred and twenty-nine words, which might have been said in the ten following, viz : Nine years ago I was to preach for a friend . " I remember once, I think it was about seven years ago — no, I mistake — it was about nine years ago, for it was just when my wife was lying-in of Dicky ; I remember particularly the mid-wife would have had me stay to keep her company, and it was the heaviest day of storm and rain that I ever saw before or since ; but because I was en- gaged to preach for a very worthy friend of mine, who lived about twenty miles off, and this being Saturday, I could not defer it to the next morning, though I had an excellent nag, which could have rid it in three hours. I bought him of a neighbour, one Mr. Masterson ; yet, because I would not put my friend in a fright," &c. Thus far he went in one minute. The story lasted an hour, so that, upon a fair computation, he spoke 7,740 words instead of 600, by which means he made use of 7,140 more than he had occasion for. If a right application were made of this hint, which I have given, it would be of admirable effect in the despatch of 34 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. public business, as well as private conversation, nay, in the very writing of books, for which I refer the reader to the fable of the Bees, and the two elaborate treatises written by the learned Mr. H n. The marvellous is he who is fond of telling such things as no man alive, who has the least use of his reason, can believe. This humour prevails very much in travellers, and the vain-glorious ; but is very pardonable, because no man's faith is imposed upon, nor does any ill consequence attend persons seriously extravagant, expecting another should give credit to what he knows impossible for the great- est dunce to swallow. One of these, who had travelled to Damascus, told his company, that the bees of that country were as big as tur- keys. " Pray, sir," said a gentleman, (begging pardon for the question,) " how large were the hives ?" " The same size with ours," replied the traveller. " Very strange," said the other, " but how got they into their hives ?" " That is none of my business ; egad, let them look to that." Another, who had travelled as far as Persia, spoke to his man John, as he was returning home, telling him how ne- cessary it was that a traveller should draw things beyond the life, otherwise he could not hope for that respect from his countrymen which otherwise he might have. " But at the same time, John," said he, " wheresoever I shall dine or sup, keep you close to my chair, and if I do very much exceed the bounds of truth, punch me behind, that I may correct myself." It happened that he dined one day with a certain gentleman, who shall be nameless, when he af- firmed that he saw a monkey, in the island of Borneo, which had a tail three-score yards long. John punched him. " I am certain it was fifty at least." John punched again. " I believe, to speak within compass, for I did not measure, it must have been forty." John gave him another touch. " I remember, it lay over a quickset edge, and therefore could not be less than thirty." John at him again. "I could take my oath it was twenty." This did not satisfy John. Upon which the master turned about in a rage, and said : " John, you are a fool ! would you have the monkey without any tail at all ?" Did not the famous Dr. Burnet, whose history is much of the same stamp with his travels, affirm that he saw an ele- phant play at ball ! And that grave gentleman, Ysbrants NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 35 Ides, in his travels through Muscovy to China, assures us that he saw elephants which were taught to low like cows, to yell like tigers, and to mimic the sounding of a trumpet; but their highest perfection, as he relates it, was that of singing like canary-birds. However, this is not so marvel- lous, (for Pliny relates wonderful things of their docility,) as what a gentleman told a full company, in my hearing, within this fortnight, that he had seen a show at Bristol, which was a hare, taught to stand upon her hind legs, and bow to all the company, to each person in particular, with a very good grace, and then proceed to beat several marches on the drum. After this, a dog was set upon the table. His master, the showman, made many grievous complaints against him, for high crimes and misdemeanors. The hare knits her brows, kindles her eyes like a lady, falls into a passion, attacks the dog with all her rage and fury, as if she had been his wife, scratches, bites, and cuffs him round the table, till the spectators had enough for their money. There is a certain gentleman, now in Ireland, most re- markably fond of the marvellous, (but this through vanity.) who, among infinite number of like rarities, says that he has a carp in a pond, by itself, which has, for twenty years past, supplied him and his friends with a very good dish of fish, when they either came to dine or sup with him ; and that the manner of it is thus : " The cook-maid goes with a large kitchen-knife, which has a whistle in its handle ; she no sooner blows it, but the carp comes to the sluice and turns up its belly, till she cuts out as much as she has oc- casion for, and then away it scuds. The chasm is filled in a day or two, and the carp is as sound as a roach, ready for the knife again. " I should be glad to spend an evening with half a dozen gentlemen of this uncommon genius ; for I am certain they would improve upon one another, and thereby I might have an opportunity of observing how far the marvellous could be carried, or whether it has any bounds at all. The insipid, who may not unfitly be called soporific, is one who goes plodding on in a heavy, dull relation of un- important facts. You shall have an account from such a person, of every minute circumstance which happened in the company where he has been, what he did, and what they did, what they said, and what he said, with a million of trite phrases, with and so on beginning every sentence ; 36 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. and to make a long story short, and as I was saying, with many more expletives of equal signification. It is a most dreadful thing, when men have neither the talent of speak- ing, nor the discretion of holding their tongues, and that, of all people, such as are least qualified, are commonly the most earnest in this way of conversation. The delightful story-teller is one who speaks not a word too much, or too little ; who can, in a very careless man- ner, give a great deal of pleasure to others, and desires rather to divert than be applauded ; who shows good un- derstanding, and a delicate turn of wit in every thino- which comes from him ; who can entertain his company better with the history of a child and its hobby-horse, than one of the soporific can with an account of Alexander and Bucephalus. Such a person is not unlike a bad reader, who makes the most ingenious piece his own, that is dull and detestable, by only coming through his mouth. STRATAGEM OF COLUMBUS— 1504. Argument. — Columbus, after his shipwreck at Jamaica and the mutiny of Porras, had succeeded in providing for the safety of the Spaniards who had remained faithful to him. — But they soon felt the scarcity of provisions. — You will describe this scar- city at length. — Apprehensions of famine. — Hope of the Indians. In this situation, Columbus preserved a wonderful presence of mind. From his knowledge of astronomy, he ascertained that within three days there would be a total eclipse of the moon.— He sent his interpreter to the Indians to invite them to a con- ference. On the third day, Columbus told the Indians, that the God whom he adored always watched over his worshippers, and that he intended to punish the Indians for their want of faith, — Colum- bus prophesied that a phenomenon would take place in the hea- vens that very evening. — Some Indians are alarmed, and others make sport of the prediction. You will briefly describe the commencement of an eclipse of the moon. — You will describe the terror and despair of the sava- ges. — They supplicate Columbus. — He answers that he must consult his God. — He retires to his cabin. When the eclipse was on the point of diminishing, Columbus NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 37 presents himself and tells the Indians that he has interceded for them, and that his God had promised to pardon the Indians if they would fulfil their promises. — Diminution t)f the eclipse.—- Astonishment of the Indians. — They promise to furnish Colum- bus with every thing. NARRATION .--Irving. Columbus, after his shipwreck at Jamaica, and the mu- tiny of Porras, concealed his own anxiety and maintained a serene and even cheerful countenance. He encouraged his men by pleasant words, and held forth confident antici- pations of speedy relief. The sweet words of a command- er are as balm to the hearts of his followers, when in trou- ble. By his kind and careful treatment, Columbus soon recruited both the health and spirits of his people, and brought them all into a condition to contribute to the com- mon safety. Judicious regulations, calmly but firmly en- forced, maintained every thing in order. Columbus had thus succeeded in guarding against the in- ternal ills that threatened the safety of his little communi- ty, when alarming evils began to menace from without. The Indians, being an improvident race, unused to lay up any stock of provisions, and unwilling to subject themselves to extra labor, found it difficult to furnish the quantity of food daily required for so many hungry men. The Euro- pean trinkets, once so precious, lost their value in propor- tion as they became common. By degrees, therefore, the supplies began to fall off The Spaniards were obliged to forage about the neighborhood for their daily food, but found more and more difficulty in procuring it ; and now, in addition to their other causes for despondency, they began to entertain horrible apprehen- sions of famine. The admiral heard the melancholy forebodings of his men, and beheld the growing evil, but was at a loss for a remedy. To resort to force was an alternative full of dan- ger, and of but temporary efficacy. It would require all those who were well enough to bear arms to sally forth, while he and the rest of the infirm would be left defence- less on board of the wreck, exposed to the vengeance of the natives. In the mean time, the scarcity daily increased. The Indians perceived the wants of the white men, and had 4 g8 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOE COMP'OSITiOfl* learnt from them the art of making bargains. They asked ten times the former quantity of European articles in scan- ty quantities, to enhance the eagerness of the hungry Span- iards. At length, even this relief ceased, and there was an absolute distress for want of food. It appeared that the jealousy of the natives had been universally aroused by Porras and his followers, and they withheld all provisions, in hopes either of starving the admiral and his people or driving them from the island. In this extremity a fortunate idea suddenly presented it- self to Columbus. From his knowledge of astronomy, he ascertained that within three days there would be a total eclipse of the moon, in the early part of the night. He sent, therefore, an Indian of the island of Hispaniola, who served as his interpreter, to summon the principal caciques to a grand conference, appointing for it the day ot the eclipse When all were assembled, he told them, by his interpreter, that he and his followers were the worshippers o* a deity who lived in the skies. That this deity favored such as did well, but punished all transgressors. That, as they must have noticed, he had protected Diego Mendez and his companions in their voyage, they having gone in obedience to the orders of their commander ; but that, on the other hand, he had visited Porras and his companions with all kinds of cross- es and afflictions, in consequence of their rebellion. 1 hat this great deity was incensed against the Indians, who had refufed or neglected to furnish his faithful worshippers with provisions, and intended to chastise them with famine and nesuence Lest they should disbelieve this warning, a £al would be given that very night in the heavens. They would behold the moon change its color and gradu- ally lose its light : a token of the fearful punishment which ^ManVofTh'e Indians were alarmed at the solemnity of this prediction, others treated it with scoffing ; all however awaited with solicitude the coming of the night. When they beheld a dark shadow stealing over the moon, they be/an to tremble. Their fears increased with the progress of The ee Ipse ; and when they saw mysterious darkness covering the whole face of nature, there were no bounds to E error. Seizing upon whatever provisions they could procure, they hurriS to the ships, uttering ones an la- mentations. They threw themselves at the feet of Colum NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 39 bus, implored him tojntercede with his God to withhold the threatened calamities, and assured him that thenceforth they would bring him whatever he required. Columbus told them he would retire and commune with the deity. Shutting himself up in his cabin, he remained there during the increase of the eclipse, the forests and shores all the while resounding with the howlings and supplications of the savages. When the eclipse was about to diminish, he came forth and informed the natives that he had interceded for them with his God, who, on condition of their fulfilling their promises, had deigned to pardon them ; in sign of which he would withdraw the darkness from the moon. When the Indians saw that planet restored presently to its brightness, and rolling in all its beauty through the fir- mament, they overwhelmed the admiral with thanks for his intercession, and repaired to their homes, joyful at having escaped such great disasters. They now regarded Colum- bus with awe and reverence, as a man in the peculiar favor and confidence of the deity, since he knew upon earth what was passing in the heavens. They hastened to propitiate him with gifts ; supplies again arrived daily at the harbor, and from that time forward there was no want of provisions. LETTERS— precepts. — Johnson. " It was the wisdom," says Seneca, " of ancient times, to consider what is most useful as most illustrious." If this rule be applied to works of genius, scarcely any species of composition deserves to be more cultivated than the epistola- ry style, since none is of more various or frequent use through the whole subordination of human life. It has yet happened that, among the numerous writers which our nations has produced, equal perhaps always in force and genius, and of late in elegance and accuracy, to those of any other country, very few have endeavored to distinguish themselves by the publication of letters, except such as were written in the discharge of public trusts, and during the transaction of great affairs ; which, though they afford precedents to the minister, and memorials to the historian, are of no use as examples of the familiar style, or models of private correspondence* 40 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. If it be inquired by foreigners how this deficiency has happened in the literature of a country where all indulge themselves, with so little danger, in speaking and writing, may we not, without either bigotry or arrogance, inform them, that it must be imputed to our contempt of trifles, and our due sense of the dignity of the public ? We do not think it reasonable to fill the world with volumes from which nothing can be learned, nor expect that the employment of the busy ? or the amusements of the gay, should give way to the nar- ratives of our private affairs, complaints of absence, expres- sions of fondness, or declamations of fidelity. A slight perusal of the innumerable letters by which the wits of France have signalized their names, will prove that other nations need not be discouraged from the like attempts by the consciousness of inability ; for, surely, it is not very difficult to aggravate trifling misfortunes, to magnify familiar incidents, repeat adulatory professions, accumulate servile hyperboles, and produce all that can be found in the despicable remains of Voiture and Scarron. But as much of life must be passed in affairs considerable only by their frequent occurrence, and much of the pleasure which our condition allows must be produced by giving elegance to trifles, it is necessary to learn how to become little without becoming mean, to maintain the necessary intercourse of civility, and fill up the vacuities of actions by agreeable appearances. It had, therefore, been of advan- tage, if such of our writers, as have excelled in the art of decorating insignificance, had supplied us with a few sallies of innocent gaiety, effusions of honest tenderness, or excla- mations of unimportant hurry. Precept has generally been posterior to performance. The art of composing works of genius has ever been taught by the example of those who performed it, by the natural vigour of imagination and rectitude of judgment. As we have few letters, we have likewise few criticisms upon the epistolary style. The observations with which Walsh has introduced his pages of inanity, are such as give him little claim to the rank assigned him, by Dryden, among the critics : — ■" Letters,' 9 said he, " are intended as resemblances of conversation ; and the chief excellencies of conversation are good humour and good breeding.' 9 This remark, equally valuable for its novelty and propriety, he dilates and NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 41 enforces with an appearance of complete acquiescence in his own discovery. No man was ever in doubt about the moral qualities of a letter. It has been always known, that he who endeavours to please, must appear pleased ; and he who would not provoke rudeness, must not practise it. But the question among those who establish rules for an epistolary perfor- mance is, how gaiety or civility may be properly express- ed, — as among the critics in history, it is not contested whether truth ought to be preserved, but by what mode of diction it is best adorned. As letters are written on all subjects, and in all states of mind, they cannot be properly reduced to settled rules, or described by any single characteristic ; and we may safely disentangle our minds from critical embarrassments, by determining that a letter has no peculiarity but its form, and nothing is to be refused admission, which would be pro- per in any other method of treating the same subject. The qualities of the epistolary style most frequently required, are ease and simplicity ; and even flow of unlaboured dic- tion and an artless arrangement of obvious sentiments. But these directions are no sooner applied to use, than their scantiness and imperfection become evident. Letters are written to the great and to the mean, to the learned and the ignorant, at rest and in distress, in sport and in passion. Nothing can be more improper than ease and laxity of ex- pression, when the importance of the subject impresses sol- itude, or the dignity of the person exacts reverence. That letters should be written with strict conformity to nature, is true, because nothing but conformity to nature can make any composition beautiful or just. But it is na- tural to depart from familiarity of language upon occasions not familiar. Whatever elevates the sentiments will, con- sequently, raise the expressions; whatever fills us with hope or terror, will produce some perturbation of images, and some figurative distortions of phrase. Wherever we are studious to please, we are afraid of trusting our first thoughts, and endeavour to recommend our opinion by studied ornaments, accuracy of method, and elegance of style. If the personages of the comic scene be allowed, by Ho- race, to raise their language, in the transports of anger, to 4* 42 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. the turgid vehemence of tragedy, the epistolary writer may likewise, without censure, comply with the varieties of his matter. If great events are to be related, he may, with all the solemnity of an historian, deduce them from their caus- es, connect them with their concomitants, an/1 trace them to their consequences. If a disputed position is to be estab- lished, or a remote principle to be investigated, he may de- tail his reasonings with all the nicety of syllogistic method. If a menace is to be averted, or a benefit implored, he may ? without any violation of the edicts of criticism, call every power of rhetoric to his assistance, and try every inlet at which love or pity enters the heart. Letters that have no other end than the entertainment of the correspondent, are more properly regulated by critical precepts, because the matter andstyle are equally arbitrary* and rules are the more necessary as there is a larger pow- er of choice. In letters of this kind, some conceive art graceful, and others think negligence admirable ; some mo- del them by the sonnet, and will allow them no means of delighting but the soft lapse of calm mellifluence ; others adjust them by the epigram, and expect pointed sentences and forcible periods. The one party considers exemption from faults as the height of excellence, the other looks upon neglect of exactitude as the most disgusting fault ; one avoids censure, the other aspires to praise; one is always in danger of insipidity, the other continually on the brink of affectation. When the subject has no intrinsic dignity, it must neces- sarily owe its attractions to artificial embellishments, and may catch at all advantages which the art of writing can supply. He that, like Pliny, sends his friend a portion for his daughter, will, without Pliny's eloquence or address, find means of exciting gratitude, and securing acceptance; but he that has no present to make but a garland, a ribbon, or some petty curiosity, must endeavour to recommend it by his manner of giving it. The purpose for which letters are written, when no in- telligence is communicated, or business transacted, is to preserve, in the minds of the absent, either love or esteem : to excite love, we must impart pleasure ; and to raise es- teem, we must discover abilities. Pleasure will generally be given as abilities are displayed, by scenes of imagery, points of conceit, unexpected sallies, or artful compliments. I NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 43 Trifles always require exuberance of ornament ; the build- ing which has no strength, can be valued only for the grace of its decorations. The pebble must be polished with care which hopes to be valued as a diamond ; and words ought surely to be laboured, when they are intended to stand for things. LETTER No. 1.— To Lord Palmerston. Dublin, Jan. 1, 1725. My Lord : I am desired by one Mr. Curtis, a clergyman of this town, to write to your lordship upon an affair he has much at heart, and wherein he has been very unjustly and injuriously treated. I d© now call to mind what I hear your lordship has written hither, that you were pleased many years ago, at my recommendation, to give Dr. Ellwood a grant of a chamber in the college, which is at your disposal. For I had then some credit with your lordship, which I am told I have now lost, although I am ignorant of the reason. I shall therefore only inform your lordship in one point : When you gave that grant, it was understood to continue during Dr. Ell wood's continuance in the college; but he growing to be a senior fellow, and requiring more conveni- ences, by changing one room, and purchasing another, got into a more convenient apartment, and therefore those who now derive under the doctor, have, during the doctor's life, the same property as if they derived under your lordship ; just as if one of your tenants should let his holding to another, during the term of his lease, and take a more convenient farm. This is directly the case, and must con- vince your lordship immediately : for, Mr. Curtis paid for the chamber, either to the doctor, or to those who derived under him, and till the doctor dies, or leaves the college, the grant is good. I will say nothing of Mr. Curtis's character, because the affair is a matter of short plain justice ; and, besides, be- cause I would not willingly do the young man an injury, as I happened to do to another* whom I recommended .to your lordship merely for your own service, and whom you * Mr. Stanton. 44 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. afterward rejected, expressing your reason for doing so, that I had recommended him, by which you lost the very person of the whole kingdom who by his honesty and abili- ties could have been most useful to you in your offices here. But these are some of the refinements among you great men, which are above my low understanding. And, whatever your lordship thinks of me, I shall still remain Your lordship's most obedient and most humble servant, JONATH. SWIFT. LETTER No. 2.— From Lord P aimer ston. N. B. — Argument.—RQYe we mean the Letter No. 2, to which the pupil must write the primitive Letter, viz. No. 1, or write a reply, viz. No. 3. Jan. 15, 1725. Mr. Dean, (J. Swift) : I should not give myself the trouble to answer your polite let- ter, were I as unconcerned about character and reputation as some are. The principles of justice I hope I have learned from those who always treated you in another manner than you do me even without reason. You charge me with injury and injustice done Mr. Curtis : he is still in his chamber ; till he is turned out, none is done him, and he is satisfied with my proceedings, and the issue I have put it on. Your interest with me (which, if ever lost, such letters will not regain,) procured Dr. Ellwood the use of that chamber, not the power to job it. Your parallel case of landlord and tenant will not hold, without Dr. Ellwood has a writing under my hand ; if he has, I will fulfil it to a tittle ; if not, he is as a tenant at will, and when he quits, I am at liberty to dispose of the pre- mises again. Whoever told you Mr. Stanton was dismissed, because you recommended him, told you a most notorious falsehood; he is the young man I suppose you mean. The true reason was, his demand of a large additional salary, more than he had before my time ; so he left the office, and was not turned out. My desire is to be in charity with all men ; could I say as much of you, you had sooner inquired into this matter, or if you had any regard to a family you owe so much to ; but I fear you NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 45 hugged the false report to cancel all feelings of gratitude that must ever glow in a generous breast, and to justify what you had de- clared, that no regard to the family was any restraint to you. These refinements are past my low understanding, and can only be comprehended by you great wits. I always thought in you I had a friend in Ireland, but find my- self mistaken. I am sorry for it : my comfort is, it is none of my fault. If you had taken any thing amiss, you might have known the truth from me. I shall always be as ready to ask pardon when I have offended, as to justify myself when I have not. I am, Sir, Your very humble servant, PALMERSTON. LETTER No. 3.— To Lord Palmerston. Jan. 29, 1725. My Lord : I desire you will give yourself the last trouble I shall ever put you to ; I mean of reading this letter. I do entirely acquit you of any injury or injustice done to Mr. Curtis, and if you had read that passage relating to his bad usage a second time, you could not possibly have so ill understood me. The injury and injustice he received were from those who claimed a title to his chambers, took away his key. reviled and threatened to beat him, with a great deal more of the like brutal conduct. Whereupon, at his request, I laid the case before you, as it appeared to me. And it would have been very strange, if on account of a trifle, and of a person for whom I have no concern, farther than as he was employed by me on the character he bears of piety and learning, I should charge you with in- jury and injustice to him, when I knew from himself, and Mr. Reading, that you were not answerable for either. As you state the case of tenant at will, it is certain no law can compel you ; but, to say the truth, I then had not law in my thoughts. Now, if what I wrote of injury and injustice were wholly applied in plain terms to one or two of the college here, whose names were below my remembrance, you will con- sider how I could deserve an answer, in every line full of 46 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. foul invectives, open reproaches, jesting flirts, and contu- melious terms, and what title you have to give me such contumelious treatment, who never did you the least injury, or received the least obligation from you. I own myself indebted to Sir William Temple, for recommending me to the late king, although without success, and for his choice of me to take care of his posthumous writings. But I hope you will not charge my living in his family as an obligation, for I was educated to little purpose, if I retired to his house on any other motives than the benefit of his conversation and advice, and the opportunity of pursuing my studies. For, being born to no fortune, I was at his death as far to seek as ever, and perhaps you will allow that I was of some use to him. This I will venture to say, that in the time when I had some little credit, I did fifty times more for fifty people, from whom I never received the least service or assistance. Yet I should not be pleased to hear a rela- tion of mine reproaching them for ingratitude, although many of them well deserve it ; for, thanks to party, I have met in both kingdoms with ingratitude enough. If I have been ill informed in what you mention of Mr. Stanton, you have not been much better : that I declared no regard to the family (as you express it) was a restraint to me. I never had the least occasion to use any such words. The last time I saw you in London was the last intercourse I ever had with the family. But having always trusted to my own innocence, I shall not be inquisitive to know my accusers. When I mentioned my loss of interest with you, I did it with concern, but I had no resentment, because I supposed it only to arise from different sentiments in public matters. My lord, if my letter were polite, it was against my in- tentions, and I desire your pardon for it : if I have wit, I will keep it to show when I am angry, which at present I am not ; because, though nothing can excuse those intem- perate words your pen has let fall, yet I shall give allow- ance to a hasty person, hurried on by a mistake beyond all rules of decency. If a first minister of state had used me as you have done, he should have heard from me in another style, because, in that case, retaliating would be thought a mark of courage. But as your lordship is not in a situ- ation to do me good, nor, am I sure, of a disposition to do me mischief, so I should lose the merit of being bold, because I NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 4? could incur no danger, if 1 gave myself a liberty which your ill usage seemed to demand. In this point alone we are exactly equal, but in wit and politeness I am ready to yield to you, as much as I do in. titles and estates. I have found out one secret, that although you call me a great wit, you do not think me so, otherwise you would have been too cautious to have written me such a letter. You conclude with saying you are ready to ask pardon where you have offended. Of this I acquit you, because I have not taken the offence, but whether you will acquit yourself must be left to your conscience and honour. I have formerly upon occasion been your humble servant in Ireland, and should not refuseto be so still ; but you have so useful and excellent a friend in Mr. Reading, that you need no other, and I hope my good opinion of him will not lessen yours. I am, My lord, your most humble servant, JONATH. SWIFT. BATTLE OF HASTINGS— 1066. Argument: After some philosophical reflections upon the de^ scent of the Normans in England, you will say that William, at the head of his Normans, encountered the Anglo-Saxon army near Hastings. — You will contrast the manner in which the two armies passed the night before the battle, Before the commencement of the combat, the Normans chanted the war-songs of Charlemagne and Roland. — You will mention some of the burdens of these songs. The soldiers of William, animated by these patriotic song?, commence the combat. — You will describe the impetuosity of the Normans and the courage of their enemies. The Anglo-Saxons spread the rumor, that William had been killed. — The Normans, at first conquerors, fled in disorder.— Wil- liam threw himself in front of the fugitives, and stopped their flight. — The combat re-commences. — Harold, King of the Anglo- Saxons, is killed, as are also his two brothers. — Complete rout of the Anglo-Saxon army. William thanks Heaven for his victory. 48 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION . N ARRATION .— Hume . The English and Normans now prepared themselves to fight ; but the aspect of things, on the night before the bat- tle, was very different in the two camps. The English spent the time in riot, and jollity, and disorder, the Nor- mans in silence, in prayer, and the other functions of their religion. On the morning, the duke called together the most considerable of his commanders, and made them a speech suitable to the occasion. The duke next divided his army into three lines : the first, headed by Montgomery, consisted of archers and light-armed infantry ; the second* commanded by Martel, was composed of his bravest battal- ions, heavy armed, and ranged in close order ; his cavalry, at whose head he placed himself, formed the third line, and were so disposed, that they stretched beyond the infantry* and flanked each wing of the army. He ordered the sig- nal of battle to be given ; and the whole army moving at once, and singing the hymn or song of Roland, the famous peer of Charlemagne, advanced, in order and with alacrity* towards the enemy. Harold had seized the advantage of a rising ground, and having likewise drawn some trenches, to secure his flanks* he resolved to* stand upon the defensive, and to avoid all action with the cavalry, in which he was inferior. The Kentish men were placed in the van, a post which they had always claimed as their due : the Londoners guarded the standard ; and the king himself, accompanied by his two valiant brothers, Gurth and Leofwin, dismounting, placed himself at the head of his infantry, and expressed his reso- lution to conquer or to perish in the action. The first attack of the Normans was desperate, but was received with equal valour by the English, and, after a fu- rious combat, which remained long undecided, the former, overcome by the difficulty of the ground, and hard pressed by the enemy, began first to relax their vigour, then to re- treat ; and confusion was spreading among the ranks, when William, who found himself on the brink of destruction, hastened, with a select band, to the relief of his dismayed forces. His presence restored the action ; the English * This narrative differs a little from our argument, which we have taken from a French history. NARRATIONS AND LETTEitS. 49 Were obliged to retire with loss; and the duke, ordering his second line to advance, renewed the attack with fresh forces and redoubled courage. Finding that the enemy, aided by the advantage of the ground, and animated by the example of their prince, still made a vigorous resistance, he tried a stratagem, which was very delicate in its man- agement, but which seemed advisable in his desperate situ- ation, where, if he gained not a decisive victory, he was to* tally undone. He commanded his troops to make a hasty retreat, and to allure the enemy from their ground by the appearance of flight* The artifice succeeded against these inexperienced soldiers, who, heated by the action, and san- guine in their hopes, precipitately followed the Normans into the plain. William gave orders, that at once the in- fantry should face about upon their pursuers, and the ca- valry make an assault upon their wings, and both of them pursue the advantage, which the surprise and terror of the enemy must give them in that critical and decisive mo- ment. The English were repulsed with great slaughter* and driven back to the hill ; where, being rallied again by the bravery of Harold, they were able, notwithstanding their loss, to maintain the post and continue the combat. The duke tried the same stratagem a second time, with the same success ; but even after his double advantage, he still found a great body of the English, who, maintaining themselves in firm array, seemed determined to dispute the victory to the last extremity. He ordered his heavy armed infantry to make an assault upon them, while his archers, placed behind, should gall the enemy, who were exposed by the situation of the ground, and who were intent in defending themselves against the swords and spears of the assailants. By this disposition, he at last prevailed. Ha- rold was slain by an arrow, while he was combatting with great bravery at the head of his men. His two brothers shared the same fate, and the English, discouraged by the fall of those princes, gave ground on all sides, and were pursued with great slaughter by the victorious Normans. A few troops, however, of the vanquished had still the cou- rage to turn uponjheir pursuers, and attacking them in deep and miry ground, obtained some revenge for the slaughter and dishonour of the day. But the appearance of the duke obliged them to seek their safety by flight ; and darkness saved them from any farther pursuit by the enemy. 5 50 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Thus was gained, by William, Duke of Normandy, the great and decisive victory of Hastings, after a battle which was fought from morning to sunset, and which seemed worthy, by the heroic feats of valour displayed by both armies and by both commanders, to decide the fate of a mighty kingdom. William had three horses killed under him, and there fell near fifteen thousand men on the side of the Normans. The loss was still more considerable on that of the vanquished, besides the death of the king and his two brothers. The dead body of Harold was brought to William, and was generously restored, without ransom, to his mother. The Norman army left riot the field of bat- tle without giving thanks to Heaven in the most solemn manner, for this victory : and the Prince, having refreshed his troops, prepared to push, to the utmost, his advantages against the divided, dismayed, and discomfited English. LETTER No. I.— To Lord Chesterfield. Nov. 10, 1730. My Lord : I was positively advised by a friend, whose opinion has much weight with me, and who has a great veneration for your lordship, to venture a letter of solicita- tion _: and it is the first request of this kind that I ever made, since the public changes in times, persons, measures, and opinions, drove me into distance and obscurity. There is an honest man, whose name is Launcelot ; he has been long a servant to my Lord Sussex : he married a relation of mine, a widow, with a tolerable jointure ; which, depending upon a lease which the Duke of Grafton suffer- ed to expire about three years ago, sunk half her little for- tune. Mr. Launcelot had many promises from the Duke of Dorset, while his grace held that office, which is now in your lordship; but they all failed, after the usual fate that the bulk of court suitors must expect. I am very sensible that I have no manner of claim to the least favour from your lordship, whom I have hardly the honour to be known to, although you were always pleased to treat me with much humanity, and with more distinction than I could pretend to deserve. I am likewise conscious of that demerit which I have largely shared with all those who concerned themselves in a court and ministry, whose NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 51 maxims and proceedings have been ever since so much ex- ploded. But your lordship will grant mo leave to say, that in those times, when any persons of the ejected party came to court, and were of tolerable consequence, they never failed to succeed in any reasonable request they made for a friend. And when I sometimes added my poor solicita- tions, I used to quote the then ministers a passage in the Gospel, " The poor (meaning their own dependents) you have always with you, 55 &c. This is the strongest argument I have to entreat your lordship's favour for Launcelot, who is a perfectly honest man, and as loyal as you could wish. His wife, my near relation, has been my favourite from her youth, and as de- serving as it is possible for one of her level. It is under- stood, that some little employments about the court may be often in. your lordship's disposal ; and that my Lord Sus- sex will give Mr. Launcelot the character he deserves : and then let my petition be (to speak in my own trade) " a drop in the bucket. 5 ' Remember, my lord, that, although this letter be long, yet what particularly concerns my request is but of a few lines. I shall not congratulate with your lordship upon any of your present great employments, or upon the greatest that can possibly be given to you ; because you are one of those very few who do more honour to a court, than you can possibly receive from it ; which I take to be a greater com- pliment to any court than it is to your lordship. I am, my Lord, &c. JONATH. SWIFT. LETTER No. 2.— From Lord Chesterfield. N. B.— Argument.— Here we mean the Letter No. 2, to which the pupil must write the primitive Letter, viz. No. 1, or write a reply ', viz. No. 3. Hague, Dec. 15, 1730. Sir: You need not have made any excuses to me for your so- licitation : on the contrary, I am proud of being the first person to whom you have thought it worth your while to apply, since those changes, which, you say, drove you into distance and ob- scurity. I very well know the person you recommend to me, having lodged at his house a whole summer at Richmond. I 52 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. have always heard a very good character of him, which alone would incline me to serve him : but your recommendation, I can assure you, will make me impatient to do it. However, that he may not again meet with the common fate of court suitors, nor I lie under the imputation of making court promises, I will exactly explain to you how far it is likely I may be able to serve him. When first I had this office, I took ihe resolution of turning out nobody ; so that I shall only have the disposal of those places that the death of the present possessors will procure me. Some old servants, that have served me long and faithfully, have ob- tained the promises of the first four or five vacancies ; and the early solicitations of some of my particular friends have tied me down for about as many more. But, after having satisfied these en- gagements, I do assure you, Mr. Launcelot shall be my first care. I confess his prospect is more remote than I could have wished it, but as it is so remote, he will not have the uneasiness of a disappointment, if he gets nothing; and if he gets some- thing, we shall both be pleased. As for his political principles, I am in no manner of pain about them. Were he a tory, I would venture to serve him, in the just expectation, that should I ever be charged with having pre- ferred a tory, the person who was the author of my crime would likewise be the author of my vindication. I am, with real esteem, sir, Your most obedient humble servant, CHESTERFIELD. LETTER No. 3.— To Lord Chesterfield. Jan. 5, 1731. My Lord : I return your Lordship my most humble thanks for the. honour and favour of your letter; and de- sire your justice to believe, that, in writing to you a second time, I have no design of giving you a second trouble. My only end at present is, to beg your pardon for a fault of ig- norance. I ought to have remembered, that the arts of courts are like those of play ; where, if the most expert be absent for a few months, the whole system is so changed, that he has no more skill than a new beginner. Yet I can- not but wish, that your lordship had pleased to forgive one who has been an utter stranger to public life about sixteen NARRATIONS AND LETTERS.^ 53 years. Bussy Rabutin himself, the politest person of his age, when he was recalled to court after a long banishment, appeared ridiculous there : and what could I expect, from my antiquated manner of addressing your lordship, in the prime of your life, in the height of fortune, favour, and merit ; so distinguished by your active spirit, and greatness of your genius ? I do here repeat to your lordship, that I lay the fault of my misconduct entirely on a friend, whom I exceedingly love and esteem, whom I dare not name, and who is as bad a courtier by nature, as I am grown by want of practice. God forbid that your lordship should continue in an employment, however great and honourable, where you only can be an ornament to the court so long, until you have an opportunity to provide offices for a dozen low peo- ple like the poor man whom I took the liberty to mention ! and God forbid, that in one particular branch of the king's family, there should ever be such a mortality, as to take away a dozen of his meaner servants in less than a dozen years. Give me leave, in farther excuse of my weakness, to confess, that besides some hints from my friends, your lord- ship is in a great measure to blame for your obliging man- ner of treating me in every place where I had the honour to see you ; which I acknowledge to have been a distinc- tion that I had not the least pretence to, and consequently as little to ground upon it the request of a favour. As I am an utter stranger to the present forms of the world, I have imagined more than once, that your lordship's proceeding with me may be a refinement introduced by yourself: and that, as in my time the most solemn and fre- quent promises of great men usually failed, against all probable appearances, so that single slight one of your lordship may, by your generous nature, early succeed against all visible impossibilities. I am, &c. JONATH. SWIFT, 5* 54 NEW ZETETIC METHOD TOR COMPOSITION, AISGII1EIT§ 9 THE DEATH OF A YOUNG GIRL* You will say that spring had brought back fine weather, and that a young girl, the victim of consumption, seemed to recover as the air became milder. You will add, that, separated from her mother, the sensitive Amelia unceasingly sighed for her return* One day she received the sad news, that her mother was no more.-— Describe the grief of Amelia. At last, as autumn approached, and the leaves fell from the trees, the young girl, after a violent crisis, yielded to her disease* b*- While expiring, she begs that she may be buried in the same tomb with her mother. LETTER No. 2.— From a Father to his Son at School My Dear Child i I could not give a more convincing proof of my affection for you than in submitting to send you to so great a distance from me. I preferred your advantage to my own plea- sure, and sacrificed fondness to duty. I should have done this sooner; I waited till my inquiries had found out a person, whose character might be responsible for your education ; and Mr. A. B. was at length my choice for that im- portant trust* Your obedience, therefore* must be without mtir* muring or reluctance, especially when you reflect that a strict at- tention to his appointments, and an implicit compliance with his commands, are not only to form the rule of your safe conduct in this life, but to be preparatory to your happiness in the next. With regard to your school connexions, it is impossible for me to give you any instructions at present. All that I shall now say to you on this subject, is, quarrel with no one, avoid meddling with the disputes of others, unless with a view to promote an ac- commodation ; and, though I would wish you to support the dig* mty of a youth; be neither mean or arrogant* I have nothing more now to add, than to pray God to give you NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 65 grace and abilities, and that your own endeavours may second the views of Your affectionate Father* HEREDITARY HEROISM, You will describe the siege of Leucate, in France.*-^ You will say, that Barre, governor of the city, in favour of Henri IV., was taken prisoner by the army of the leaguers. — Barre was threatened with death, if he did not give orders for the surrender of the place.— His noble reply>~— he refuses. The besiegers informed the wife of Barre of her husband's danger, and promised her his life, if she would give up the city* ~~Eier heroic reply, — she refuses.— *She defends, successfully, the place.— Barre is put to death. The son of Barre succeeded him in his government.*— In 1637, the Spaniards, having invested the same city, promised to load him with honours* if he would surrender the place. — Young Barre answered, that he wished to emulate the heroic example of his father and mother. — You will relate his answer.—- -By his courage, Barre forced the Spaniards to raise the siege* LETTER No. %—Lord Chesterfield to Us Son. Cheltenham, June 16', 1?43* Dear Boy i I am pleased with the substance of your letter ; and as for the inaccuracies, with regard to style and grammar, you could have corrected them all yourself, if you had taken time. I return it to you here corrected, and desire that you will atteud to the difference, which is the way to avoid the same faults for the future. I would have your letter, next Thursday, be in English, and let it be written as accurately as you are able ; I mean with re* spect to language, grammar, aid stops; for, as to the matter of it, the less trouble you give yourself the better it will be, Let- ters should be easy and natural, and convey to the persons to whom we send them, just what we would say to those persons, if we were with them. You may as well write it on Wednes- day, at your leisure, and leave it to be given to my man, when he comes for it on Thursday* 56 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Monsieur Coudert will go to you three times a week, — Tues- days and Saturdays, at three o'clock, and Thursdays, at five. He will read modern history with you, and, at the same time, instruct you in geography and chronology, without both of which* the knowledge of history is very imperfect, and almost useless. I beg, therefore, that you will give great attention to them ; they will be of the greatest use to you. As I know you do not love 10 stay long in the same place, I flatter myself, that you will take care not to remain long in that you have got, in the middle of the third form ; it is in your power to be soon out of it, if you please ; and I hope the love of variety will tempt you. Pray, be very attentive and obedient to Mr. Fitzgerald ; I am particularly obliged to him for undertaking the care of you ; and if you are diligent, and mind your business when with him, you will rise very fast in the school. Every remove (you know) is to be attended by a reward from me, besides the credit you will gain for yourself; which, to so great a soul as yours, I pre- sume, is a stronger inducement than any other reward can be ; but, however, you shall have one. I know very well you will not be easy till you have got above Master Onslow ; but, as he learns very well, I fear you will never be able to do it, at least not without taking more pain3 than I beiieve you will care to take ; but, should that ever happen, there shall be a very consid- erable reward for you, besides fame. Let me know, in your next, what books you read in your place at school, and what you do with Mr. Fitzgerald. Adieu. MILTON IN HIS OLD AGE. After some philosophical reflections upon the state of England, a short time previous to the restoration of Charles II., you will say, that Milton, who had been the literary champion of the re- publican cause, remained concealed after the restoration. — His friends, Davenant and Marwell, soon enabled him to appear in safety. — The rest of his life was spent in retirement. One day, when he was employed in the composition of that noble work, the 4 * Paradise Lost," one of his old friends entered his garden, and announced that the faction of independence was NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 57 about making a final effort for overthrowing Charles II. — He ad- vised Milton to unite his efforts in the cause of the republicans. — Milton replied, that the affairs of the world no longer concerned hi m9 — his thoughts were devoted to poetry alone. At this moment, his two daughters appear. — Describe them, and compare them to two muses. — One reads the Bible in its original tongue, and the other sings a sacred canticle. — Milton, animated by the sublimity of the Scriptures, and the harmonious sounds of the music, composes his noble description of the terrestrial Para- dise, whilst his friend, insensible to the beauty of poetry, hastens to join the republicans. LETTER No. 2.— Lord Chesterfield to his Son. Bath, September 29, 1746. Dear Boy : I received, by the last mail, your letter of the 23d, from Heidelberg ; of the several places you go through, you do mighty right to see the curiosities in those several places, such as the Golden Bull, at Frankfort, the Tun, at Heidelberg, &c. ; other travellers see them, and talk of them; it is very proper to see them, too ; but remember, that seeing is the least material object of travelling : hearing and knowing are the essential points, therefore, pray, let your inquiries be chiefly directed to the know- ledge of the constitution and particular customs of the places where you either reside at or pass through, — who they belong to, by what right and tenure, and since when ; in whom the supreme authority is lodged, and by what magistrates, and in what man- ner the civil and criminal justice is administered. It is likewise necessary to get as much acquaintance as you can, in order to ob- serve the characters and manners of the people; for, though hu- man nature is, in truth, the same through the whole human spe- cies, yet it is so differently modified and varied, by education, habit, and different customs, that one should, upon a slight and superficial observation, almost think it different. As [ have never been in Switzerland myself, I must desire you to inform me, now arid then, of the constitution of that country ; as, for instance, do the thirteen cantons, jointly and collectively, form one government, where the supreme authority is lodged, or is each canton sovereign in itself, and under no tie or constitutional 58 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. obligation of acting in common concert with the other cantons? Can any one canton make war or alliances with a foreign pow- er, without the consent of the other twelve, or at least a majority of them? Can one canton declare war to another? If every canton is sovereign and independent in itself, in whom is the su- preme power of that canton lodged ? Is it in one man, or in a certain number of men ? If in one man, what is he called ? If in a number, what are they called, Senate, Council, or what ? I do not suppose that you can yet know these things yourself; but a very little inquiry of those who do, will enable you to answer me these few questions in your next. You see, I am sure, the necessity of knowing these things thoroughly, and, consequently, the necessity of conversing much with the people of the country, who alone can inform you rightly; whereas most of the English who travel converse only with each other, and, consequently, know no more when they return in England than they did when they left it. This proceeds from a mauvaise konte, which makes them ashamed of going into com- pany ; and frequently, too, from the want of the necessary lan- guage (French) to enable them to bear their part in it. As for the mauvaise honte, I hope you are above it. Your figure is like other people's ; I suppose that you will take care that your dress shall be so too, and avoid any singularity. What then should you be ashamed of? and why not go into a mixed com- pany with as much ease and as little concern as you would go into your own room ? Vice and ignorance are the only things I know, which one ought to be ashamed of: keep but clear of them, and you may go anywhere without fear or concern. This letter has insensibly grown too long ; but, as I always flatter myself that my experience may be of some use to your youth and inexperience, I throw out, as it occurs to me, and shall continue to do so, every thing that I think may be of the least advantage to you in this important and decisive period of your life. God preserve you ! P. S.— ■ I am much better, and I shall leave this place soon. NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 59 DEATH OF CICERO. After some philosophical reflections upon the triumvirate of Oc- tavius Antony and Lepidus, you will say, that Cicero, notwith- standing his advanced age and the numerous services which he had rendered to the Roman republic, was placed amongst the num- ber of the proscribed. Cicero, who was then at one of his villas, having been inform- ed of tins news, resolved to join Brutus and Cassius. — Contrary winds drove the ship on the shores of Italy. — The slaves of Cice- ro wished to force him to fly a second time. — Cicero declared that he was tired of living, and that he would submit to his fate. The satellites who had been sent in pursuit of him arrived. — The slaves of Cicero prepared to defend their master. — Cicero gave himself up to his murderers. The tribune Popilius, once saved by the eloquence of Cicero, ordered a centurion to kill the celebrated orator. — Popilius carried the head and hands of the victim to Antony. You will finish by lamenting the death of one so great, and the terrible effects of civil warfare. LETTER No. 2.— -From a Father to his Son at College. Dear Son : You appear to me, by your letter, to be rather en- vious of your cousin, because he has read more plays and more novels than you have. I will tell you sincerely, as 1 ought to do, that I am much grieved that you set such a value on all these trifles, which, at most, are to be read to relax the mind sometimes. You are engaged in studies of great importance, which should principally attract your attention, and whilst you are engaged in them, and we are willing to pay masters for instructing you, you ought to avoid every thing that may divert your mind, and with- draw it from them. Not only your own interest makes it requi- site, but you ought to have so much regard for me, as to conform, in some degree, to my intention, whilst you are of an age in which you should suffer yourself to be directed. I have no ob- jection to your reading, sometimes, productions that may enter- tain you, for you know that I have furnished you with a suffici- ent number of French and English books that are fit for that pur- pose ; but I should be exceedingly grieved, were books of this 60 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* sort to raise in you a disgust for more useful reading* Believe me, though you should know how to discourse on plays and novels, you would be very little the better qualified to appear in the world ; and it will not be by this means that you will gain esteem. I shall omit entering into particulars on this subject till I see you ; but you will please me much, by declaring now your senti- ments about it, without the least restraint. You must be consci- ous that it is not my intention to torment you, and that I have no other motive than to contribute to the intellectual strength of your mind, and put you in a condition of not being a disgrace to me, when you shall make your appearance into the world. There- fore, do not look upon what I am saying to you as a reproof, but as the advice of a parent, who has a sincere affection for you, and only intends, by it, to give you proof of his friendship. Write to me as soon as you are able. THE TOWER OF LONDON. ^Relate the useless attempt of James III. to re-ascend the throne of England. The English lords who embraced his cause were confined in the Tower of London. — Describe the Tower of London. — The prisoners were condemned to be beheaded. Lord Nithisdale was among this number.— On the eve of exe- cution, the 15th of March, 1716, as he was preparing for death, Lady Nithisdale entered the Tower, under the pretext of taking the last adieu of her husband. — When she was in the prison, she begged her husband to change clothes with her, and to es- cape. — Her husband refused.— The prayers of his wife. — Lord Nithisdale was moved.— He escaped from the Tower without be- ing recognized.— Describe the uneasiness of his wife. — He set sail for France. The next day, a Protestant minister, who presented himself to prepare Lord Nithisdale for his death, was very much aston- ished to find a woman in his place. — The keeper of the Tower consulted the court, as to what he should do. — He was ordered to liberate the lady. — She set off to join her husband. NARRATIONS AND' LETTERS; Ol LETTER No. 2.— Lord Chesterfield to his Son, London, October 30, 1747. Dear Boy: I am very well pleased with your Itinerarium, which you sent me from Ratisbon. It shows me that you ob- serve and inquire as you go, which is the true end of travelling* Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing oniy their distance from each Other, and attending only to their accom- modation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly re- turn so. Those who only mind the raree-shows of the places which they go through, such as steeples, ciocks,town-houses, &c.§ get so little by their travels, that they might as weli stay at home, But those who observe and inquire into the situations, the strength, the weakness, the trade, the manufactures, the government, and constitution of every place they go to — who frequent the best companies, and attend to their several manners and characters— those alone travel with advantage ; and as they set out wise, rec- tum wiser. I would advise you always to get the shortest description Or history of every place where you make any stay ; and such a book, however imperfect* will still suggest to you matter of in- quiry, upon which you may get better information from the people of the place. For example, while you are at Leipsig, get some short account (and to be sure there are many such) of the present state of that town, with regard to its magistrates, its po- lice, its privileges, &c, and then inform yourself more minutely upon all those heads, in conversation with the most intelligent people. Do the same thing afterwards with regard to the Electo- rate of Saxony : you will find a short history of it in PurTendorfFs Introduction, which will give you a general idea of it, and point out to you the proper objects of a more minute inquiry. In short, be curious, attentive, inquisitive, as to every thing ; listlessness and indolence are always blameable ; but, at your age, they are unpardonable. Consider how precious, and how important for all the rest of your life, are your moments for these next three or four years ; and do not lose one of them* Do not, think I mean that you should study all day long; I am far from advising or desiring it ; but I desire that you would be doing something or other all day long ; and not neglect half hours and quarters of hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great sum. For 6 82 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOE COMPOSITION* instance, there are many short intervals in the day, between studies and pleasures : instead of sitting idle and yawning in those intervals, take up any book, though ever so trifling a one, even down to a jest-book ; it is still better than doing nothing. There are a great many people, who think themselves employ- ed all day, and who, if they were to cast up their accounts at night, would find that they had done just nothing. They have read two or three hours mechanically, without attending to what they read, and consequently without either retaining it, or reason* ing upon it. From thence they saunter into company without taking any part in it, and without observing the characters of the persons, or the subjects of the conversation ; but are either think- ing of some trifle, foreign to the present purpose, or often not thinking at all ; which silly and idle suspension of thought they would dignify with the name of absence and distraction. Consider seriously, and follow carefully, I beseech you, my dear child, the advice which from time to time I have given and shall continue to give you ; it is at once the result of my long ex* perience, and the effect of my tenderness for you. I can have no interest in it but yours. You are not yet capable of wishing yourself half so well as I wish you ; follow, therefore, for a time at least, implicitly, advice which you cannot suspect, though pos* sibly you may not yet see the particular advantages of it ; but you will one day feel them. Adieu. THE CRANES OF TBYCtlS. Ibycus* a celebrated lyric poet* was going to the Olympic Games, to contend for the prize of singing aild poetry. — You will represent him as crossing a deep forest, and dreaming of the vie* tory he hopes to obtain. — Suddenly two brigands presented them- selves, struck him down and robbed him of his purse. — As he was about expiring, he saw in the sky a flock of cranes, and charged them, as witnesses of his death, to expose his murderers* " The death of Ibycus was made known to the assembled mul- titude at Olympia.— * Describe the indignation and unhappiness which this news creates. The games begin. — Give a short description of the combats in wrestling and racing.—^The games were not yet finished, when i NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 63 the attention of the spectators was turned towards a flock of cranes. — A man said to his neighbor, " There are the cranes of Ibycus." — These words caused some suspicion. — The men were arrested. — They confessed their crime, and were immediately punished. LETTER No. 2."— -Lord Chesterfield to his Son. My Dear Friend : I have sent you so many preparatory let- ters for Paris, that this, which will meet you there, shall only be a summary of them all. You have hitherto had more liberty than anybody of your age ever had ; and I must do you the justice to own that you have made a better use of it than most people of your age would have done ; but then, though you had not a jailor, you had a friend with you. At Paris, you will not only be unconfined, but unas- sisted. Your own good sense must be your own guide ; I have great confidence in it, and I am convinced that I shall receive just such accounts of your conduct at Paris as I could wish. En- joy the innocent pleasures of youth ; you cannot do better, but refine and dignify them like a man of parts ; let them raise and not sink, let them adorn and not vilify, your character ; let them, in short, be the pleasures of a gentleman, and taken with your equals at least, but rather with your superiors, and those chiefly French. Inquire into the character of the several academicians, before you form a connexion with any of them ; and be most on your guard against those who make the most court to you. You can- not study too much in the academy ; but you may study useful- ly there, if you are an economist of your time, and bestow only upon good books those quarters and halves of hours which occur to everybody in the course of almost every day, and which, at the year's end, amount to a very considerable sum of time. Let Greek, without fail, share some part of every day : I do not mean the Greek poets, the catches of Anacreon, or the tender com- plaints of Theocritus, or even the porter-like language of Homer's heroes, whom all smatterers in Greek know a little of, quote often, and talk of always ; but I mean Plato, Aristotle, Demos- thenes, and Thucydides, whom none but adepts know. It is 64 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. ' Greek that must distinguish you in the learned world ; Latin will not ; and Greek must be sought to be retained ; for it never oc- curs like Latin. When you read history, or other books of amusement, let every language you are master of have its turn ; so that you may not only retain but improve in every one. I also desire that you will converse in German and Italian, with all the Germans and Italians with whom you converse at all. This will be a very agreeable and flattering thing to them, and a very useful one to you. Pray apply yourself diligently to your exercises ; for, though the doing them well is not supremely meritorious, the doing them ill is illiberal, vulgar, and ridiculous. I send you the enclosed letter of recommendation to the Mar- quis Matignon, which I would have you deliver to him as soon as you can. You will, I am sure, feel the good effects of his warm friendship for me and Lord Bolingbroke, who has also writ- ten to him upon your subject. By that, and by the other letters which I have sent you, you will be at once so thoroughly introduced into the best French company, that you must take some pains if you will keep bad i but that is what I do not suspect you of. You have, I am sure, too much right ambition to prefer low and disgraceful company to that of your superiors, both in rank and age. Your character, and consequently your fortune, absolutely depends upon the com- pany you keep, and the turn you take at Paris. I do not, in the least, mean a grave turn ; on the contrary, a gay, a sprightly, but at the same time an elegant and liberal one. Keep carefully out of all scrapes and quarrels. They lower a character extremely, and are particularly dangerous in France, where a man is dishonoured by not resenting an affront, and ut- terly ruined by resenting it. The young Frenchmen are hasty, giddy, petulant, and extremely national. Forbear from any na- tional jokes or reflections, which are always improper, and com^ monly unjust. The colder northern nations generally look upon France as a whistling, singing, dancing, frivolous nation. This notion is far from being a good one, though many pelits-maitres, by their behaviour, seem to justify it; but those very petits* maitres, when mellowed by age and experience, very often turn out able men. The number of great generals and statesmen, as NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 65 well as authors, that France has produced, is an undeniable proof that it is not that frivolous, unthinking, empty nation, that northern prejudices suppose it. Seem to like and approve of every thing at first, and I promise that you will like and ap* prove of many things afterwards. I expect that you will write to me constantly, once every week, which I desire may be every Thursday ; and that your letters may inform me of your personal transactions ; not of what you see, but of whom you see, and what you do. Be your own monitor, now that you will have no other. As to enunciation, I must repeat it to you again and again, that there is no one thing so necessary ; and all other talents, without that, are absolutely useless, except in our own closet. Adieu. PLAGUE OF MARSEILLES— 1720. You will say that a vessel coming from Seide, a city in Asia, brought the plague to Marseilles. — You will describe the progress of this scourge. — You will relate a few examples of the devotion of some physicians. Soon hunger was joined to the pestilence. — Belzunce, Bishop of Marseilles, bestowed upon the sick, and especially upon those who were poor, all the duties of humanity and religion. — Nobody could be found to bury the dead. — The Bishop entrusted this to the care of the galley-slaves. — Relate the short speech that he addressed to them : Go and deserve, &c. The hospitals could not contain all the sick. — Belzunce ordered them to be carried to his palace. At la9t the plague gradually ceased. — The black flag, that sin- ister emblem, disappeared from the ramparts of Marseilles. LETTER No. 2.— From a Preceptor to his Pupil. Dear Charles : I am unwilling to omit the first opportunity that offered, in commencing a correspondence with my young friend, for fear that, during this leisure time, the advice I have given and the rules I have set down, in respect to writing letters, may be either forgotten or neglected. I think it my duty, therefore, to 6* 66 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. remind you of these observations, and by insisting on regular answers, oblige you to practise, as well as to observe. You may remember that my first advice was to be careful of your spell- ing, and not to make use of pompous language, in addressing your friends ; a simplicity of style always recommends itself, aud displays far more learning than rhapsodical bombast: be also as brief as possible, for a prolix writer exhausts the patience of his reader. Avoid repetitions, for they offend the ear ; except they are artfully introduced, to make some artful point. I disapprove of parentheses {except they are absolutely necessary), for they gene- rally create confusion : some masters are very fond of recom- mending long s's, and appropriating the round one to the final letter of a word. Never send a letter to any with an interlinea- tion : it is an affront, for it betokens both laziness and careless- ness ; there is no excuse for an interlineation, except it is a piece which you wish to prove an original, and of which there should be no duplicate. Avoid capital letters, which should only be ap- propriated to proper names or particular nouns. When you in- troduce a word which requires more than common notice, or on which the reader should lay a great accent, put a under it with your pen ; such words, when printed, are put in italics ; but do not be too fond of this, for I have known many puzzled by these dashes, which have frequently intimated wit where there was none. Never let me see you write you was, or I shall deny you were, ever a pupil of mine. Be attentive to the time, and do not jumble the present, past, and future, as many writers do. Use the conditional mood, provided the sentence be conditional ; this, I confess, is not a general observation, but if a man pretend to write, he ought to be correct. Do not crowd us with monosylla- bles, for they are very insignificant creatures, nor use many long words, for fear you may exceed comprehension. I hate particles when they are avoidable; be, therefore, sparing in your fors, your buts, and your ands. Quotations, when not made too common, display both a variety, and some knowledge of authors ; but be-, ware of misapplying them, for you not only insult the author you borrow from, but expose yourself to ridicule. Do not arrogate the power of making words, for we have sufficient in our langu- age to express our meaning, and there are very few who possess competent abilities for the task. Avoid cant and obsolete phrases; nor insert a word that you do not perfectly comprehend. These NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 67 hints, I hope, will be sufficient ; let me, therefore, see they are observed, while I remain, with compliments to your father, Your sincere friend. COURAGE OF PEPIN.— 753, Pepin, in order to celebrate his victories over the Saracens, orders a combat of ferocious beasts. — You will describe an amphi- theatre, filled with 20,000 spectators. — Their appearance. The trumpet announces that the lists are open. — A tiger rushes forth from its den. — You will describe this animal. — A lion soon appears. — You will describe the lion. — The combat com mence*s. — You will describe this combat. — A child falls into the arena. — You will describe the despair of its mother, and the terror of the spectators. Pepin, sword in hand, throws himself into the arena. — The animals cease their combat. — Their hesitation. — Pepin seizes the child, and carries it to its mother. — Applauses of the crowd. — The animals, excited by the shouts of the people, re-commence the combat. After an hour of almost equal fortune, the tiger is conquered. — You will describe the death of this monster. You will close with some moral reflections upon the subject of the combats of wild beasts. LETTER No. 2.— From a Father to his Son. Your ardent love of glory, my dear son, has induced you to adopt the profession of arms. I have not been able to dissuade you from this difficult and dangerous career. Bravery alone is not sufficient. Valour should be regulated by great prudence; and the first duty of a soldier is to acquire profound information in every branch of the military art. Sub- missive to his superiors, he executes their orders with punctuality, and gains their esteem by obedience. He wins the hearts of his comrades by politeness and respectful treatment. Does he seek for a friend among them ? His love for true glory leads him to select one who unites good conduct with courage : he shuns the bravado, who boasts when danger is at a distance, and flees from 68 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. its presence in the field. The good soldier is quiet in garrison; he spares the defenceless in war; he adds humanity to valour; he is terrible only to an enemy ; in opposing him, he dreads no danger, and regards no obstacle as insurmountable. Such is the character of a soldier who commands universal respect, and, by the aid of his virtues and exploits, rises rapidly in the list of promotion. In your profession, a man is peculiarly indebted for advancement to his own merit. Your eminence in virtue and military skill, is the earnest wish of a father, who has nothing in view but the happiness of his children. DEATH OF ANDRE CHENIER.— 1794, After some philosophical reflections upon the French Revolu- tion in 1789, you will say, that the poet Andre Chenier was un- justly suspected of treason, and arrested. — You will represent him, even in his prison, composing poetry, and consoling the compan- ions of his misfortune. Among the prisoners, there was a young lady of high birth, who, foreseeing the fatal destiny which awaited her, sadly ex- pressed her grief. — The poet, moved by this touching spectacle, immediately composed a plaintive elegy upon her regrets. — You will mention some of the ideas of that elegy. A few days after, Andre Chenier and his friend, the poet Roucher, were brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal. — They were condemned to death. You will represent their walking together to the scaffold. — Roucher seemed to regret his wife and children. — Chenier re- gretted dying before he had acquired renown. The next day, the young girl was led to the scaffold. LETTER No. 2.— From a Young Man to his Friend. Dear Friend : You flatter me very highly, in applying to me for advice on the study of the French language, and I offer you, with pleasure, the result of the observations I have made. The first and most important thing, is, to be particularly care- ful in the choice of a master; it will save you much pains, time, and money. "When you have once commenced, pursue the NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. b9 study without intermission ; let no day pass without practice, such as reading, copying, and translating. The study of rules is not absolutely necessary in the beginning, but occupy yourself as much as possible with practice. Experience has proved to me, that one good practical lesson is worth a whole week of theoretical study. The principal diffi- culty lies in the great difference that exists between the written and ihe spoken language, and, to acquire the knowledge of the latter, it is absolutely necessary to listen very attentively, to receive the sounds, before you attempt to emit them ; be assured, that, when once your ear is formed, half the difficulty is over. There are several minor circumstances to be observed, which we will dis- cuss when I have the pleasure of seeing you. Heartily yours. BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST. You will describe the character of Belshazzar. — You will des- cribe a nocturnal feast given by this king to his principal officers. — You will describe the royal throne and the gigantic statue of Baal. —The guests abandon themselves to the intoxication of pleasure. Belshazzar orders the sacred vessels taken at Jerusalem to be brought to him. — He offers them to his gods. — Apparition of a mysterious and luminous cloud. — Words written on the walls of the palace hall. — You will describe the terror of the king and of his courtiers. — The king vainly consults the magicians. — The queen mentions Daniel. — Belshazzar sends a messenger to him. — Imposing entrance of Daniel. — The promises which the king makes to him. — Answer and explanation of the prophet. That very night the prophecy is realized, by the death of Bel- shazzar and the capture of Babylon, which fell into the hands of Cyrus. — Finish with some reflections upon that event. LETTER No. 2.— On Assurance of Friendship. You wrong my friendship, by telling me you do not cultivate it as you ought. It has too good a root", to have any need of be- ing maintained with so much care. Do you think it is like those delicate plants which wither away, if one neglects watering them but one day ? Strong things subsist by themselves, and their 70 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. own firmness secures them. 1 would not give you any trouble to take care of me. Leave me upon my word, you shall never lose my friendship. It is sufficient that I know you love me ; I have such solid proofs of this truth, that it is not allowable for me to doubt it. The rest is not essential, and words are no longer necessary. Letters, sometimes, make an intercourse of smoke, as well as conversation; and I own to you, that I commonly make but little haste to break open most letters of compliments that I receive. This is knowing the value of trifles, and esteem- ing them at what they are worth. It is doing justice to those useless protestations, not to read them, when one receives them, because the authors do not think, when they write them. I take so little account of these affections in picture, that, if it were possible to add any thing to the good opinion I have of your generosity, 1 should have valued it more, because you use me with less ceremony. It is shameful to have grown old in a per- fect union, and yet to be in the first elements of friendship. Let us leave them to those who take pleasure in re-paying the same things, or who have to do with friends difficult to persuade. We have got over that a long time ago, and, believe me, we shall find our account on it. Let us, once for all, admit two principles : the first, that our business requires more than twenty-four hours a day ; the other, that you are, and will be my friend, in your heart, without shewing it by troublesome compliments, as I am, and will be, all my life. Yours, in the same manner. THE RETURN OF MARY STUART TO SCOTLAND. In 1561, Mary Stuart, widow of Francis the 2d, left France, in order to take possession of the Scottish throne. — You will de- scribe the distress which appears to overcome her during the pas- sage. — She bursts into tears when, with the last rays of the sun, she loses sight of the coast of France. — She addresses touching adieux to her beloved and adopted country. — You will mention some of her thoughts. The night being calm and beautiful, she slept on deck. — At first she rested tranquilly, but soon she appeared agitated by some sad dream. — She pronounces some unconnected words. — At last NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 71 ' she springs from her couch and places her hands upon her fore- head, and demands to what place they are conducting her. — In landing, she experiences an involuntary trembling. You will finish by mentioning the affinity between the sinister presentiments of this unhappy queen and the fate which she at last experienced. LETTER No. 2. — From an Englishman residing in France. Dear Friend : I recollect that when I was in the habit of visit- ing France and making only short stays, all my acquaintances Were desirous at my return to hear ray opinion of France and of the Frenchmen. I thought then, and am convinced now, that it is not from persons who occasionally visit a country, and stay some weeks, or even months, that one should expect a correct or an impartial account of a country or of a people. Many persons, and particularly a certain class of my own Countrymen, leave their shores with a determination to be dis- pleased with every thing that differs from Old England* They arrive in France with their heads full of ridiculous prejudices* they find nothing good, they behave with rudeness, which the French, in general, are very far from returning ; and after stay* ing a few weeks, spending a great deal of money, making them- selves very ridiculous, and (if the French were to judge by them only) disgracing their country, they return with their heads as empty, and their pockets much more so, than when they left England. Is it of such persons we should ask an opinion of the country and people they have visited ? Should we say " the French are cheats, I know it, because my friend, Mr. Bull, has been to Paris } and they cheated him 1 There is no commerce, for Mr. Bull as- sures me he did not see one ship on the river, and that all their trade consists in charcoal, wood, and building-stone* because he saw nothing else on the wharves ?" This is certainly very ridiculous ; there is, however, but too much truth in it. I could offer other details equally ridiculous* but I will abstain, hoping that the reasonable part of my country- men (whose presence, wherever they go, adds dignity to the name of Englishman) will not think me too severe. A residence of ¥ 2 NEW ZSTETXC METHOD FOB. COMPOSITION some years in different parts of France, frequent journeys from the Channel to the Mediterranean, and from Strasbourg to Bor- deaux, have enabled me to form an opinion; and lam happy \o say that my opinion is a very favourable one. I have experi- enced the greatest civility from the French, and have formed friendships which, I am sure, life only will terminate. I have, on several occasions, had proofs of the honesty of the lower class. The higher classes are excessively polite, communicative, and easy of access; their civility to foreigners makes them appear very amiable. I have much more to say, dear friend, but my papef is nearly filled, and I must wait another opportunity. Yours, truly. DEATH OF LEWIS XL— 1483. After some philosophical reflections upon the reign of Lewis' XL, you will describe the terror and remorse of this hypocritical and superstitions king, at the approach of death. He sends for a poor hermit. — As soon as the king sees the holy man, he entreats that he will restore him to health* — The hermit tells him that God alone possesses such a power. — The king again supplicates him with increasing earnestness, and promises to build a chapel to the Virgin Mary. — The hermit conjures the king to repent sincerely of his faults* The Dauphin, afterwards Charles VIII., demands to see his father. — Lewis XL, who was suspicious of his son, caused him to be searched by the captain of his guards. Charles wishes to throw himself into the arms of his father.- The king repulses him, saying, "Do not be so hasty ; I am not as sick as you imagine" &c, &c. His hopes were vain ; he died almost instantly. LETTER No. 2.— The Earl of Stafford to his Son, just before his Lordship's execution. My Dearest Will : These are the last lines that you are to re- ceive from a father that tenderly loves you. I wish there were KARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 73 greater leisure to impart my mind unto you ; but our merciful God will supply all things by his grace, and will guide and pro- tect you in all your ways; to whose infinite goodness I bequeath, you ; and therefore be not discouraged, but serve him, and trust in him, and he will preserve and prosper you in all things. Be s^ire you give all respect to my wife, who hath ever had a great love unto you, and therefore it will be well becoming you. Never be wanting in your love and care to your sisters, but let them ever be most dear to you ; for this will give others cause to es- teem and respect you for it. and is a duty that you owe them, in the memory of your excellent mother and myself; therefore, your care and affection to them must be the very same that you are to have of yourself; and the like regard must you have to your youngest sister, for indeed you owe it to her also, both for her father and mother's sake. Sweet Will, be careful to take the advice of those friends, who are, by me, desired to. advise you for your education. Serve God diligently, morning and evening, and daily commend yourself to him, and have him before your ©yes in all your ways. With patience hea? the instructions of those friends I leave with you, and diligently follow their counsel. For, till you come by time to have experience in the world, it will be far more safe to trust to their judgment than your own. Lose not the time of your youth, but gather those seeds of virtue and knowledge which may be of use to yourself, and comfort to your friends, for the rest of your life^ And that this may be the better effected, attend thereunto with patience, and be sure to cor- rect and restrain yourself from anger. Suffer not sorrow to cast you down; but with cheerfulness and good courage go on the race you have to run in all sobriety and truth. Be sure, with a hallowed care, to have respect to all the commandments of God, allowing not yourself to neglect them in the least thing, lest, by degrees, you come to forget them in the greatest ; for the heart of man is deceitful above ail things. And in all your duties and devotions towards God, rather perform thern joyfully than pensively; for God loves a cheerful giver. For your religion, let it be directed according to that which shall be taught by those who are in God's church, the proper teachers thereof, rather than that you either fancy one to yourself, or be kd by men that are singular in their own opinion, and delight to 7 T4 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOlt COMPOSITION go in the ways of their own finding out ; for you will certainly find soberness and troth in the one, and much unsteadiness and vanity in the other* The king, I trust, will deal graciously with you ; restore you those honours, and that fortune, which a distempered time hath de- prived you of, together with the life of your father; which I rather advise might be a new gift and creation from himself than by other means, to the end you may pay the thanks to him, with- out having obligations to any other. Be sure to avoid, as much as you can, to inquire after those who have been sharp in their judgments towards me, and I charge you never to suffer a thought of revenge to enter into your heart; but be careful to be informed who were my friends in this prosecution, and to them apply your- self to make them your friends also, and on such you may rely, and bestow much of your conversation amongst them. And God Almighty, of his infinite goodness, bless you and your children's children ; and his same goodness bless your sisters in like man- ner ; perfect you in every good work, and give you a right under- standing in all things. Amen. Your most loving father. THESEUS EMBARKS FOR CRETE.— 1260 B. C. Minos, in order to avenge the death of Androgens, obliged the Athenians, whom he had conquered, to send, every seventh year? to Crete, seven young men, and as many young girls, chosen by lot, to serve as food for the Minotaurus. The tribute had been thrice paid, and the time for sending the fourth tribute arrived,— You will describe the grief of the Athe- nians. — The fatal urn, which enclosed the names of the young men and girls, is brought forward. — The king pronounces, one by one, the names of the victims. — You will describe the grie£ the fear, and hope of the spectators. There remained but one victim to be chosen. — Theseus, the son of the king of Athens, presents himself. — He wishes to go to Crete, in order to kill the Minotaurus. — The people break forth into shouts of joy. The king of Athens refuses to allow his son to depart. — At NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 75 last, love for his people overcomes paternal affection, and the. king consents to the departure of his son. The people conduct the young prince in triumph to the shore. —Theseus embarks for Crete. — Describe the scene. LETTER No. 2.— Mr. Pope to Mr. Wycherley, (a Poet.) When I write to you, I foresee a long letter, and ought to beg your patience beforehand ; for, if it prove the longest, it will be, of course, the worst I have troubled you with. Yet, to express my gratitude at large for your obliging letter, is not more my duty than my interest, as some people will abundantly thank you for one piece of kindness, to put you in mind of bestowing another. The more favourable you are to me, the more distinctly I see my faults. Spots and blemishes, you know, are never so plainly discovered as in the brightest sunshine. Thus I am mortified by those commendations which were designed to encourage me, for praise to a young wit is like rain to a tender flower; if it be moderately bestowed, it cheers and revives, but if too lavishly, overcharges and depresses him. Most men in years, as they are general discouragers of youth, are like old trees, that, being past bearing themselves, will suffer no young plants to flourish be- neath them ; but, as if it were not enough to have outdone all your coevals in wit, you will excel them in good nature too. As for my green essays, if you find any pleasure in them, it must be such as a man naturally takes in observing the first shoots and buddings of a tree which he has raised himself; and it is impos- sible they should be esteemed any otherwise than as we value fruits for being .early, which, nevertheless, are the most insipid, and the worst of the year. In a word, I hate compliment, which 'is, at best, but the smoke of friendship. I neither write nor con- verse with you to gain your praise, but your affection. Be so much my friend as to appear my enemy, and to tell me my faults, if not as a young man, at least as an inexperienced writer. I am, &c. THE FIGHT OF GONZON WITH A CROCODILE. After some philosophical reflections upon the order of Malta, you will describe the ravages of a crocodile in the Isle of Rhodes. 76 NEW ZETETXC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION — You will say, that, several knights had attempted to kill him, but all had fallen victims* Helion of V r illeneuve, grand master of Malta, had forbidden the knights to encounter the terrible beast.— Gonzon resolved to attack the monster. Gonzon retired to his castle, in France. — There he made an image, in pasteboard, of the monster, and taught his dogs to seize the animal under his belly, the only place where it was vul- nerable. — You will describe the mock combat. When he thought himself skilful enough, he returned tr> Rhodes. The day after his arrival, he went, with his two faithful ser- vants, to an abandoned chapel. — Afterwards, he advanced, with his dogs, to attack the monster. — You will describe the combat. —The assistance of the dogs* — Gonzon is thrown from his horse. — He attacks the monster on foot, and mortally wounds him, but he is himself slightly wounded. His servants run to him, and earry him to the palace of the grand master. THE PUNISHMENT AND REWARD OF GONZON. You will describe the triumphal reception of the victorious knight. — Severity of the grand master. — He reproaches the knight for his disobedience. — His speech to Gonzon. — The broth- er knights of Gonzon murmur.- — The grand master orders them to conduct the conqueror to prison. — They reproach their chief for his severity. — The grand master orders them to load Gonzon with chains. — The knights obey, although against their will. Gonzon is condemned to die. — The sentence is commuted for degradation. — The knight prefers to die.— They conduct him to the place of execution. The grand master, seeing the submission of Gonzon, orders his chains to be taken oflf.— His speech to Gonzon : Come to my arms, my son^ &c, &c. The knight, after having received the punishment of his diso- bedience, receives the reward of his courage. NATATIONS AND LETTERS. 17 LETTER No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to Jonathan Swift. London, Feb. 3, 1722. You made me happy in answering my last letter in so kind a manner, which, to common appearance, I did not deserve; but 1 believe you guessed my thoughts, and knew that I had not forgot you, and that I always loved you. When I found that my book was not sent to you by Tooke, Jervas undertook it, and gave it to Mr. Maxwell, who married a niece of Mr. Meredith's. I am surprised you have heard nothing of it : but Jervas has promised me to write about it, so that I hope you will have it delivered to you soon. Mr. Congreve I see often : he always mentions you with the strongest expressions of esteem and friendship. He la- bors still under the same afflictions, as to his sight and gout; but, in his intervals of health, he has not lost any thing of his cheer- ful temper. I passed all the last season with him at the Bath, and I have great reason to value myself upon his friendship; for I am sure he sincerely wishes me well. We pleased ourselves with the thoughts of seeing you there ; but Duke Disney, who knows more intelligence than anybody besides, chanced to give us a wrong information. If you had been there, the duke pro- mised, upon my giving him notice, to make you a visit. He of- ten talks of you, and wishes to see you. I was two or three days ago at Dr. Arbuthnot 5 s, who told me he had written to you three letters, but had received no answer. He charged me to send you his advice, which is, to come to England and see your friends. This he affirms (abstracted from the desire he has to see you) to be very good for your health. He thinks, that your going to Spa, and drinking the waters there, would be of great service to you, if you have resolution enough to take the journey. But he would have you try England first. I like the prescription very much, but I own, I have a self-inter- est in it; for your taking this journey would certainly do me a great deal of good. Pope has just now embarked himself in another great undertaking as an author ; for, of late, he has talk- ed only as a gardener. He has engaged to translate the Odyssey in three years, 1 believe rather out of a prospect of gain than in- clination : for I am persuaded he bore his part in the loss of the South Sea. He lives mostly at Twickenham, and amuses him- self in his house and garden. I supped about afortnigb. ago with 7* 78 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* Lord Bathurst and Lewis, at Dr. Arbuthnot's. Whenever your old acquaintance meet, they never fail of expressing their want of you. I wish yon would come, and be convinced thai all I tell you is true. As for the reigning amusement of the town, it is entirely mu- sic ; real fiddles, base-viols, and hautboys ; not poetical harps, lyres, and reeds. There's nobody allowed to say, I sing, but a French or an Italian woman. Everybody is grown now as great a judge of music as they were, in your lime, of poetry ; and folks, that could not distinguish one tune from another, now daily dispute about the different styles of Handel, Bononcini, and At- filio. People have now forgot Homer, and Virgil, and Caesar ; or? at least, they have lost their ranks. For, in London and West- minster, in all polite conversations, Senesino is daily voted to be the greatest man that ever lived. I am obliged to you for your advice, as I have been formerly for your assistance, in introducing me into business. I shall this year be a commissioner of the state lottery, which will be worth to me a hundred and fifty pounds. And lam not with- out hopes, that I have friends that, will think of some better and more certain provision for me. You see I talk to you of myself, as a thing of consequence to you. I judge by myself; for to hear of your health and happiness, will always be one of my greatest satisfactions. Every one that I have named in the let- ter, give their services to you. I beg you to give mine and Mr. Pope's to Mr. Ford. I am, dear sir, Your most faithful and most humble servant, J. GAY. P. S.— My paper was so thin, that I was forced to make use of a cover. I do not require the like civility in return. DEATH OF LUC AN. After some philosophical reflections upon the beginning of Ne- ro 5 s reign, you will say, that the author of the 4I Pharsalia' 5 was once one of the favourites of this Emperor.— He contended with him for the prize in poetry.— -Lucan had the dangerous honour ro gain the prize. Some years after* Nero made evident his sanguinary eharae- ter.™-Piso conspired against hirtw— Nero accused Lucao of har- NARRATIONS AND LETTERS, 19 ing been concerned in the conspiracy. — He condemned him to death. — Lucan caused his own vein to be opened, and died in reciting those verses of his " Pharsalia," which expressed the sort of death by which he was expiring. — You will mention some of his thoughts* Nero having learned the death of his conqueror in poetry, ex- claimed, " So let every imprudent poet perish who will dare to have more genius than a Roman Emperor," &c, fee. You will finish by deploring the fate of Lucan, who was but twenty-seven years old when his life was cut short* LETTER No. 2.— Dr. Johnson to the Right Honourable the Earl of Chesterfield. My Lord : I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the World, that two papers, in which my dictionary is recom- mended to (he public, were written by your lordship. To be so distinguished, is an honour which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. When, upon some slight encouragement, 1 first visited your lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself Le vainqueur du vainqueur de la ferre | that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world con* tending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed }^our lordship in public, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess* 1 had done all I could ; and no man is well pleased to have bi3 all neglected, be it ever so little. Seven years, my lord, have now past, since I waited in your outward room, or was repulsed from your door; during which lime I have been pushing on my work, through difficulties of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without an act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for T never had a patron before. The Shepherd, in Virgil, grew, at last, acquainted with love, and found him a native of the rocks* 80 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached the ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and can- not enjoy it ; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperi- ty, not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for my* self. Having carried on my work thus far, with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long awaked from that dream of hope which I once boasted my- self with so much exultation, my lord, your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, &c. THE FIRST CRUSADE— 1099. After some philosophical reflections upon the Crusades, you will say, that an immense army, formed from every natiou of Europe, marched towards Palestine.— -You will describe the ap- pearance which that immense multitude presented. — You will describe the ravages which marked their progress. — At last, after surmounting many obstacles, (you will mention some of them,) ihe crusaders arrived in Palestine. You will say, that the Saracens had taken every precaution to put Jerusalem in a state of defence. The crusaders arrive near Jerusalem. — You will describe their enthusiasm at the sight of the holy city. — Without waiting to take any repose, they attack the ramparts.—- After a terrible con- flict, the Christians are obliged to give way. Provisions begin to fail them. — Dismay spreads throughout the Christian army. CAPTURE OF JERUSALEM.— -1099. Godfrey, the commander of the Christian army, reproachers the, crusaders for their want of perseverance. — They again at- tack the city.— They are repulsed. NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 81 The Christians, animated by the supposed apparition of an angel on the Mount of Olives, for the third time attack the walls. — You will describe their almost miraculous courage. — Godfrey, by the aid of a wooden tower, rushes first into the city. — Jerusa- lem falls into the hands of the crusaders. — They wish to put all to the sword. — The example and humanity of Godfrey calm their fury. The Christians visit the holy sepulchre. — You will describe the religious sentiments with which that holy place inspired them. — Short, but fervent, prayer of Godfrey. The weather, which was cloudy, suddenly clears up. — The sun shines forth in all its brightness. LETTER No. 2.— From Mr. Gay to Jonathan Swift. London, Dec. 22, 1722. Dear Sir: After every postclay, for these eight or nine months, I have been troubled with an uneasiness of spirit, and at last, I have resolved to get rid of it, and write to you. I do not deserve you should think so well of me as I really deserve ; for I have not professed to you, that I love you as much as ever I did : but you are the only person of my acquaintance almost that does not know it. Whomever I see that conies from Ireland, the first question I ask is after your health; of which I had the pleasure to hear very lately from Mr. Berkeley. I think of you very often : nobody wishes you better, or longs more to see you. Duke Disney, who knows more news than any man alive, told me I should certainly meet you at the Bath this season : but I had one comfort in being disappointed, that you did not want it for your health. I was there for near eleven weeks for a sick- ness that I have been often troubled with of late ; but have not found all the benefit I expected. I lodge, at present, in Burlington-house, and have received many civilities from many great men, but very few real benefits. They wonder at each other for not providing for me ; and I won- der at them ail. Experience has given me some knowledge of them ; so that 1 can say, that it is not in their power to disap- point me. You find I talk to you of myself; I wish you would reply in the same manner. I hope, though you have not heard 82 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. of me so long, I have not lost my credit with you ; but that you will think of me in the same manner, as when you espoused my cause so warmly, which my gratitude never can forget. I am, dear sir, Your most obliged and sincere humble servant, J. GAY. P. S. — Mr. Pope, upon reading over this letter, desired me to tell you, that he has been just in the same sentiments with me, in regard to you ; and shall never forget his obligations to you. THE FUNERAL CEREMONIES OF CHARLES V. After some philosophical reflections upon the reign of Ch irks V., King of Spain, you will say, that this prince, after having abdicated his throne, retired to a convent, where he remained eighteen months. — You will contrast the tranquil life of a monk with that of a warlike king. Charles V., tired of this monastic life, conceived the singular idea of assisting alive at the ceremonies of his funeral. — You w r ill describe the preparations for the ceremony. — Charles, en- closed in a coffin, and covered by a thin black cloth, is placed in the middle of the church. — The office for the dead commences. — You will describe the impressions which the gloomy ceremony produced upon the mind of this prince. When the service was finished, all the assistants silently re- tired. — Charles remained alone in the church. — He raises the pall and regains his cell. — During the ceremony, he had been attacked with a burning fever, and, at the end of two days, he died. You will finish by some moral reflections. LETTER No. 2.— Mr. Pope to the Bishop of Rochester, before his exile. Once more I write to you, as I promised ; and this once, I fear, will be the last! The curtain will soon be drawn between my friend and me, and nothing left but to wish you a long good-night. May you enjoy a state of repose in this life, not unlike that sleep NARRATIONS AND LETTERS, 83 of the soul which some have believed is to succeed it ; where we lie, utterly forgetful of that world from which we are gone, and ripening for that to which we are to go. If you retain any me- mory of the past, let it only image to you what has pleased you best ; sometimes present a dream of an absent friend, or bring you back an agreeable conversation. But, upon the whole, I hope you will think less of the time past than of the future: as the former has been less kind to you than the latter infallibly will be. Do not envy the world, your studies Avill tend to the benefit of men against whom you can have no complaint, I mean of all posterity ; and perhaps, at your time of life, nothing else is worth your care. What is every year of a wise man's life, but a censure or critic on the past? They whose date is the shortest, live long enough to laugh at one half of it: the boy despises the infant, the man the boy, the philosopher both ; and the Christian all. You may now begin to think your manhood was too much a puerility ; and you will never suffer your age to be but a second infancy. The toys and baubles of your childhood are hardly now more below you, than those toys of our riper and our declining years, the drums and rattles of ambition, and the dirt and bubbles of avarice. At this time, when you are cut off from a little soci- ety, and made a citizen of the world at large, you should bend your talents, not to serve a party, or a few, but all mankind* Your genius should mount above that mist in which its participa- tion and neighbourhood with earth long involved it; to shine abroad and to heaven, ought to be the business and the glory of your present situation. Remember, it was at such a time that the greatest lights of antiquity dazzled and blazed the most, in their retreat, in their exile, or in their death ; but why do I talk of dazzling or blazing? It was then that they did good, that they gave light, and that they became guides to mankind. Those aims alone are worthy of spirits truly great, and such, I therefore hope, will be yours. Resentment, indeed, may remain, perhaps cannot be quite extinguished, in the noblest minds ; but revenge never will harbour there : higher principles than those of the first, and better principles than those of the latter, wiil infalli- bly influence men whose thoughts and whose hearts are enlarged, and cause them to prefer the whole to any part of mankind, espe- cially to so small a part as one's single self. 84 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* Believe me, ray lord, I look upon you as a spirit entered into another life, as one just upon the edge of immortality ; where the passions and affections must be much more exalted, and where you ought to despise all little views, and all mean retrospects* Nothing is worth your looking back ; and therefore look forward, and make (as you can) the world look after you ; but take care that it be not with pity, but with esteem and admiration. I am, with the greatest sincerity, and passion for your fame as well as your happiness, yours, &c. &c. CLEMENCY OF THEODOSIUS. You will say, that the Emperor Theodosius had sent an army agninst Antioch, in order to punish that city for a sedition, in which his own statues and those of his deceased wife had been thrown down. You will describe the consternation of the inhabitants. — Fla- vian, Bishop of Antioch, set out immediately to implore the cle- mency of that prince. You will describe the expressive countenance which the Bishop put on, when he was introduced to the Emperor. — Theodosius is moved. — The king assumes a soft tone of voice, and reproach- es the inhabitants of Antioch for their ingratitude. — The Bishop exclaims, with deep sighs, " It is true, sir, your goodness," &c. The Bishop implores the clemency of the Emperor. — He re- calls to his memory the example of Constantine. — He makes the honour of religion concerned in this affair. Theodosius is not able to resist the force of this speech. — He pardons the inhabitants of Antioch for the sake of Christ. LETTER No. 2.— Swift to Lord Treasurer Oxford, on the death of his daughter, the Marchioness of Caermarihen. My Lord : Your lordship is the person in the world to whom every body ought to be silent upon such an occasion as this, which is only to be supported by the greatest wisdom and strength of mind ; wherein, God knows, the wisest and best of us, who would presume to offer their thoughts, are for your infe- riors. It is true, indeed, that a great misfortune is apt to weaken i NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 85 the mind, and disturb the understanding. This, indeed, might be some pretence to us to administer our consolations, if we had been wholly strangers to the person gone ; but, my lord, who- ever had the honour to know her, wants a comforter as much as your lordship ; because, though their loss is not so great, yet they have not the same firmness and prudence, to support the want of a friend, a patroness, a benefactor, as you have to support that of a daughter. My lord, both religion and reason forbid me to have the least concern for that lady's death, upon her own ac- count ; and he must be an ill Christian, or a perfect stranger to her virtues, who would not wish himself, with all submission to God Almighty's will, in her condition. But your lordship, who hath lost such a daughter, and we, who have lost such a friend, and the world, which hath lost such an example, have, in our several degrees, greater cause to lament than, perhaps, was ever given by any~private person before ; for, my lord, I have sat down to think of every amiable quality that could enter into the composition of a lady, and could not single out one which she did not possess in as high a perfection as human nature is capable of. But, as to your lordship's own particular, as it is an incon- ceivable misfortune to have lost such a daughter, so it is a pos- session which few can boast of, to have had such a daughter. I have often said to your lordship, that 1 never knew any one, by many degrees, so happy in their domestics as you ; and I affirm so still, though not by so many degrees ; from whence it is very obvious, that your lordship should reflect upon what you have left, and not upon what you have lost. To say the truth, my lord, you began to be too happy for a mortal ; much more happy than is usual with the dispensations of Providence long to continue. You had been the great instru- ment of preserving your country from foreign and domestic ruin : you have had the felicity of establishing your family in the great- est lustre, without any obligation to the bounty of your prince, or any industry of your own : you have triumphed over the violence and treachery of your enemies, by your courage and ability, and, by the steadiness of your temper, over the inconstancy and ca- price of your friends. Perhaps your lordship has felt too much complacency within yourself, upon this universal success; and God Almighty, who would not disappoint your endeavours for the a 86 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. public, thought fit to punish you with a domestic loss, where he knew your heart was most exposed : and at the same time has fulfilled his own wise purposes, by rewarding, in a better life, that excellent creature he has taken from you. I know not, my lord, why I write this to you, nor hardly what I am writing. I am sure it is not from any compliance with form ; it is not from thinking that I can give your lordship any ease. I think it was an impulse upon me that I should say something, and whether I shall send you what I have written, I am yet in doubt. BATTLE OF POITIERS.— a. d. 730. The Saracens, led by Abderame, had invaded the southern pro- vinces of France. — Their innumerable army seemed like a tor- rent about to inundate the whole kingdom. Charles Martel displays the Oriflamme and calls to the combat his valiant legions. — He marches against the enemy with an army small in number, but every man an hero. It was on the plain of Poitiers that the fate of France was to be decided. Martel, holding in his hands the standard of France, implores the God of the Christians and animates his soldiers. — Prayer. — Speech to his soldiers.- — Short but animated description of the battle. — Single combat of Charles and Abderame. — Describe this combat. — Abderame is killed. — -Flight of the Saracens and tri- umph of the French. HEROISM & DELIVERANCE OF MODERN GREECE, a. d. 1821-'28. After some philosophical reflections upon the state of modern Greece under the Turkish domination, you will describe the be- ginning of the Greek revolution. — Barbarity of the Turks. — Courage of the Greeks. — A number of young Greeks, then stu- dents in different colleges of France, fly to the defence of their country. The whole of Europe is moved by the noble efforts of the Greeks. — France sends an army to the Morea. — The Turkish I NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 87 troops oppose the debarkation. — Combat. — Rout of the Turkish troops. Ali, the Pacha of Egypt, although an ally of the Turks, goes to the French camp. — He is received with all the honours due to his station. — Review of the French troops. — Admiration of the Pacha of Egypt. — After the review the French General invites Ali to a feast.— The Pacha is moved by the courtesy of his host. — He promises no more to bear arms against Greece. — He gives his yataghan to the French General, who presents him with his his sword. — Protestations of friendship. A few weeks after, the Pacha of Egypt returned to his do- minions. After a struggle of seven years, Greece at last recovered its liberty. TEARS OF PERICLES.— 430 b. c. Attica was a prey to two terrible scourges, pestilence and war. — The anger of the Athenians was aroused against Pericles, who had advised the war to be undertaken. — Pericles was deprived of his generalship and afterwards fined. This disgrace does not lessen his courage. — He finds consola- tion in the practice of philosophy. — His friends, his relations, struck down by the pestilence, fall around him. — But Pericles does not sink under his losses. — His strength of mind is not sha- ken by them ; and he is not seen to weep or show the usual marks of sorrow at the grave of any of his relations. — Xanthip- pus, his eldest son, is carried off by the plague. — Pericles re- mains unmoved. — One son yet remains, who can console him for so many misfortunes. — He concentrates on his son Paralus ali his hopes and all his affections. When the pestilence had taken away this last consolation, Peri- cles, overwhelmed by so terrible a blow, endeavours to conceal his grief. — The funeral procession advances.— He seems master of himself. — But soon his grief bursts forth in a torrent of tears, mingled with sobs. — He presses closely to his breast the inani- mate remains of his son, and his firmness once conquered, he yields to nature that which she demands from the sensibility of a father. 88 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. narration. — By a French pupil. Pericles, le grand homme d'Athenes, ce citoyen qui donna son nom a son siecle, puisa dans les lecons des phi- losophes les hautes connaissances qui developperent et agrandirent en lui les heureux dons de la nature. Anaxa- gore sut donner a son ame un nouvel essor en Felevant a la decouverte des merveilles celestes ; Socrate lui-meme, dans ces assemblies celebres tenues chez Aspasie, ou Fautorite de la sagesse se melait a Pelegance des arts, laissa briller a ses yeux quelques-unes de ces vertus sublimes qui ont etonne les hommes, et dont son coeur souple aux grandes impressions se saisit aussitot. Mais Pericles, meme en faisant le bien, n'aspirait pas a etre vertueux ; il ne voulait que Padmiration de ses concitoyens, et tout ce qui lui parais- sait fait pour les eblouir seduisait egalement son ambition. Ce fut cet ardent desir de paraitre grand, cette politique soigneuse d'amener les esprits a une soumission volontaire, en les forcant a l'aveu de sa superiority, qui le conduisirent a Pecole de Zenon. La, il s'empara avec avidite de ces principes d'une philosophic mensongere qui n'habite point dans le coeur, mais qui est toute sur les levres et sur le visage. 11 apprit a depouiller cette sensibilite que la na- ture a deposee dans nos ames, pour adopter cette indiffe- rence qu'elle refuse a notre faiblesse ; ou plutot, il apprit comment on pouvait tromper les regards des hommes par des apparences, sembler calme lorsque l'on souffre, et defier encore la fortune alors meme qu'on se sent accable sous ses coups. Enfin, l'ambition seule fut le secret de sa phi- losophic, et de toutes les passions, celle qui porte le plus fortement l'empreinte de la faiblesse humaine, fut aussi celle qui lui inspira le desir insense de paraitre plus qu'un homme. Cependant le temps des epreuves etait venu : la fortune se lassa d'etre constante, et commenca la lutte contre son favori. D'abord elle Tattaqua dans son propre ouvrage, dans l'amour du peuple. II avait conseille la guerre ; elle fut malheureuse. La peste vint encore joindre ses horreurs a ce fleau terrible ; et pendant que Pennemi ravageait le sol de PAttique, elle desola la cite de Minerve. En proie a cet exces de maux, entoures de tous cotes de la mort, vic- times de la contagion ou du fer des vainqueurs, les Athe- niens accuserent Pericles : dans leur desespoir, ils lui NARRATIONS AND LETTERS. 89 dterent le commandement ct le condamnerent a une amende, Son courage resta ferme ; il se souvint qu'au temps de Cimon et de Thucydide, Porigine de sa puissance avait ete un adroit mepris des honneurs, et, comptant sur la legerete des Atheniens qu'il avait vus cent fois passer de Pamour a la fureur et de la fureur au repentir, il arTecta de mepriser leur courroux pour en triompher. Ainsi la philosophic eut Phonneur de cette premiere vic- toire ; mais le combat n'etait point flni. La peste s'accroit et semble choisir ses victimes ; il voit tomber autour de lui ses parents et ses amis ; Xantippe son fils perit lui-meme. Vaine attaque ! le disciple de Zenon n'a point pali : seule- ment il dit a Paralus : " Ton frere n'est plus : les dieux ne m'ont laisse que toi ; possede seul toute ma tendresse, reu* nis seul toutes mes esperances." La mort le frappe aussi, et il semble que ces paroles soient son arret. Alors, pour la premiere fois, etonne de cette opiniatrete du malheur, sa Constance chancela. Sa douleur lui de- manda des larmes, mais Porgueil s'eleva aussitot contre la nature, et elle fut reduite a se venger en dechirant le sein ou elle etait retenue captive. Cependant la pompe funebre s'avance. Le voila ce fils, dernier espoir d'une famille illustre, lui que sa naissance appelait aux plus hautes destinees, et qui naguere, brillant de jeunesse et de tous les dons d'une heureuse nature, promettait a Athenes un citoyen digne de son amour et de ses faveurs, a Pericles, un successeur fait pour relever sa fortune. Maintenant, moissonne dans la fleur de Page, il est etendu sous le linceul funebre, emportant avec lui ces doux songes dans la tombe. Lui seul pouvait consoler un pere lui seul pouvait encore Paider a braver les coups d'une fortune ardente a le poursuivre, et il n'est plus ! Telles etaient les pensees cruelles qui agitaient le cceur de Pericles ; mais on eut dit que son ame etait tranquille, tant il savait commander a la nature, alors meme que son tri- omphe secret le livrait en proie aux tourments les plus aigus! Cependant, plus il semblait maitriser sa douleur, plus le moment approchait ou elle allait eclater avec toutes ses forces ; car dans cette contrainte de Pame, il n'y a qu'un instant entre la plus grande serenite et Pexces du desespoir. Pericles s'approche pour placer la couronne sur la tete du mort ; c'etait la que la nature Pattendait pour lui faire connaitre son empire. Tout a coup, a la vue de ce cadavre 8* 90 NEW ZETETIC B1ETHOD FOR COMPOSITION. cheri, il se trouble : un changement visible s'opere dans ses traits qui ne respiraient naguere qu'une immobile in- difference ; il sent qu'en trompant la multitude il n'a pu se tromper lui-meme ; sa poitrine oppressee a besoin de san- glots. Enfin il cede, l'orgueil s'immole a la tendresse pa- ternelle, il ne voit plus Athenes qui l'entoure, ni les cruelles entraves de sa feinte Constance ; il s'elance sur ce corps inanime, le presse dans ses bras, et un torrent de larmes vient soulager sa souffrance. Alors on vit les Atheniens changes tout a coup avec Pericles, oublier leur propre in- fortune pour pleurer la sienne avec lui ; et, loin d'accuser sa faiblesse, ils admirerent le grand homme glorieusement vaincu par la nature. the same subject. — By a French pupil. La seconde annee de la guerre du Peloponnese, un hor- rible fleau s'etendit dans les campagnes de la Thessalie et de la Phocide ; la peste vint augmenter les ravages des armes, et ce fut comme un chatiment inflige aux Grecs par les dieux, pour les punir d'avoir tourne les uns contre les autres les glaives qu'ils n'auraient du teindre que du sang des Perses. Mais ce fut dans l'Attique que ce fleau se repandit avec le plus de fureur. Depuis les champs de Marathon jusqu'au port du Piree, tout fut la proie du mal : les jeux publics cesserent, les fetes des dieux furent interrompues, le Cera- mique se combla de cadavres qu'on n 7 avait pas rapportes des combats. En ce meme temps, une armee de Spartiates poussa ses ravages jusqu'au pied des murs de la ville, et les Atheni- ens commencerent a perdre courage, presses par l'ennemi ^#^#\^/w'W«~- EXERCISE IN RHETORICAL ANALYSIS. EXPLANATION OF A SPEECH IN LIVY. Let us suppose the speech of Pacuvius to his son Perolla is given to a youth for a composition. Here follows the subject of it. The city of Capua was surrendered to Hannibal, by the intrigues of Pacuvius, notwithstanding all the opposition of Magius, who continued steady to the Romans, and who was united with Perolla, both in friendship and sentiments. The day upon which Hannibal entered the city was spent in re- joicing and feasting. Two brothers, who were the most considerable persons in the place, gave Hannibal a grand entertainment. None of the Capuans were admitted to it but Taurea and Pacuvius, and the latter, with great diffi- culty, obtained the same favour for his son Perolla, whose friendship with Magius was known to Hannibal, who was willing, however, to pardon him, upon the intercession of his father, for what had passed. After the feast was over, Pe- rolla led his father aside, and drawing a poinard from under his gown, told him the design he had formed to kill Han- nibal, and to seal the treaty made with the Romans with his blood. Upon this, Pacuvius was quite out of his senses, and endeavoured to divert his son from so fatal a resolution. A discourse in such circumstances must be very short, DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES, 109 and consist of no more than thirty or thirty-five lines at most. The father must begin by endeavouring to find motives within himself to persuade and move his son. There occur three, which are natural enough. The first is drawn from the danger to which he exposes himself by attacking Han- nibal amidst his guards. The second relates to the father himself, who is resolved to stand between Hannibal and his son, and consequently receive the first wound. The third is brought from the most sacred obligations of religion, the faith of treaties, hospitality, and gratitude. The first step to be taken in the composition, is to find proofs and arguments, which in rhetoric is called invention, and of which it is the first and principal part. After we have found arguments, we deliberate about the order of ranging them, which requires, in so short a dis- course as this, that the arguments should grow more power- ful as the discourse goes on, and that such as are most effi- cacious should be applied in the conclusion. Religion, gene- rally speaking, is not that which most affects a young man of a character and disposition like him of whom we now speak ; we must therefore begin with it. His own interest, and the danger to which he would expose himself, affect him much more sensibly. That motive must hold the second place. The respect and tenderness for a father whom he must kill before he can come at Hannibal, surpass whatever else can be imagined ; which, for that reason, must con- clude the discourse. This ranging of the arguments is called disposition, in rhetoric, and is the second part of it. There remains elocution, which furnishes the expressions and turns, and which, by the variety and vivacity of the figures, contributes most to the beauty and strength of the discourse. Let us now see how Livy treats each part. The preamble, which holds the place of the exordium, is short, but lively and moving : I pray, my son, I conjure you, by all the ties which unite children to their parents, — I entreat, I beseech you, do not, be- fore the eyes of your father, commit a deed of such transcend- ent horror, and draw on yourself extremity of ruin. This confused disposition, I pray, my son, I conjure you, is very suitable to the concern and trouble of a distracted father. Those words, by all the ties which unite children to 10 110 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. iheir parents, include whatever is strongest and most tender. That proposition, do not, before the eyes of your father, com- mit a deed of such transcendent horror, and draw on yourself extremity of ruin, which represents the crime and fatal con- sequence of such a murder, is in a manner the whole speech abridged. He might have said only, What ! do you intend to kill Hannibal before my eyes! But what a difference is there between the one and the other ! First Motive, drawn from religion. This is subdivided into three others, which are little more than barely shown, but in a lively and eloquent manner, without a circumstance or word which does not carry its weight. 1st. The faith of treaties confirmed by oaths and sacri- fices. 2d. The sacred and inviolable laws of hospitality. 3d. The authority of a father over a son. Few hours have passed away since we swore by all that we held sacred an inviolable friendship ; this hand, our oath scarce finished, this very hand shall we profane by arming it against Hannibal ? You rise from a feast over which the gods of hospitality have presided, from a table where you were seated with two of our fellow citizens, the only Campanians whom Hannibal had admitted ; —would you stain this sacred table with the blood of your host ? My paternal prayers obtained from Hannibal the pardon of my son ; — will my son refuse me the pardon of Hannibal ? Second Motive. — But let us have no regard for those things which are most sacred among men ; let us violate faith, religion, and piety ; let us perpetrate the most abominable deeds, provided our destruction be not infallibly annexed to our crime. This is no more than a transition ; but how finely is it embellished ! Wnat justness and elegance in the distribu- tion, which resumes in three words the three parts of the first motive ! Faith, for the treaty ; religion, for the hospi- tality ; piety, for the respect which a son owes to a father. Let us perpetrate the most abominable deeds, provided our de- struction be not infallibly annexed to our crime. This is a very beautiful thought, and leads us naturally from the first motive to the second. Do you alone pretend to attack Hannibal ! What will that numerous crowd, both of freemen and slaves, be doing ? What DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. Ill the eyes of all, intent on him alone ? Wliat so many hands ? Will they all he benumbed during such a mad attempt ? How will you be able to support only the looks of Hannibal, — those formidable looks, which whole armies cannot support, and which make the Romans themselves tremble ? What a multitude of thoughts, figures, and images ! and this only to declare, that Perolla could not attack Hannibal without exposing himself to inevitable death. How admir- able is the opposition between whole armies, which cannot bear the sight of Hannibal, the Roman people themselves, who tremble at his looks, and a weak private man ! Third Motive. — Besides, will you be hardy enough to strike me, when, should other assistance be wanting, I shall oppose my person to the danger in defence of HannibaVs ? Now, be assured, that if you strike and pierce him, it must be through my breast We must admire the simplicity and brevity of this last motive, as much as the vivacity of that which precedes it. A youth would be tempted to add some thoughts in this place, and to expatiate on. the passage : Can you imbrue your hands in the blood of your father ? — tear life from him from whom you received your own ? &c, &c. But so great a master as Livy is well apprised, that it suffices to hint such a motive, and that to amplify would only weaken it. Peroration. — Suffer yourself then, to be dissuaded here, rather than overpowered there. Let my prayers have as much weight with you as they had to-day with Hannibal in your be- half. Pacuvius had hitherto employed the most lively and mov- ing figures. Everything is full of spirit and fire ; no doubt but that his eyes, his countenance, and hands, were more eloquent than his tongue. But he is softened on a sudden : he assumes a more sedate tone, and concludes with entrea- ties, which, from a father, are more powerful than any ar- guments that can be brought. Accordingly, the son cannot hold out against his last attack. The tears, which began to fall down his cheeks, demonstrated his confusion. The kisses of a father, who embraced him tenderly a long time, and his repeated and urgent entreaties, brought him at last to compliance. 112 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSmOBu HANNIBAL'S SPEECH TO SCIPIO AT THEIR INTERVIEW PRECEDING THE BATTJLE OF ZAMA. Argument. — Hannibal began by commending Scipio in a very artful manner. — He laid before him a very lively description of the disorders of war, and the ills it had brought both upon the conquerors and the conquered. — He exhorted Scipio not to be daz- zled with the splendour of his victories. — That though hitherto Scipio had been successful, he ought to apprehend the inconstancy of fortune. — -That, without going far for examples, he himself, who was now speaking to him, was a flagrant proof of it. — That Scipio was now what Hannibal had been. — That Scipio ought to make better use of the opportunity, than he had done himself, by making peace at a time when he was master of the conditions. — He declared that the Carthagenians could now resolve, since the gods would have it so, to confine themselves within the limits of Africa. He ended by saying that he, Hannibal, now asked for peace. SPEECH. Scipio, since fate has so ordained it, that I, who began the war, and who have been so often on the point of ending it by a complete conquest, should now come of my own mo- tion to ask a peace, I am glad that it is of you, Scipio, I have the fortune to ask it. Nor will this be among the least of your glories, that Hannibal, victorious over so many Ro- man generals, submitted at last to you. It were to be wished that our fathers and we had confined our ambition within the limits which nature seems to have prescribed to it — the shores of Africa and the shores of Italy. The gods did not give us that mind. On both sides we have been so eager after foreign possessions, as to put our own to the hazard of war. Rome and Carthage have had, each in her turn, the enemy at her gates. But since errors past may be more easily blamed than corrected, let it now be the work of you and me to put an end, if possible, to the obstinate contention. For my own part, my years, and the experience I have had of the insta- bility of fortune, incline me to leave nothing to her deter- mination which reason can decide. But much I fear, Sci- DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 113 pio, that your youth, your want of the like experience, your uninterrupted success, may render you averse to the thoughts of peace, He whom fortune has never failed, rarely reflects upon her inconstancy. Yet, without recur- ring to former examples, my own may perhaps suffice to teach you moderation. I am the same Hannibal who, after my victory at Gannse, became master of the greatest part of your country, and deliberated with myself what fate I should decree to Italy and Rome. And now, see the change ! Here, in Africa, I am come to treat with a Ro- man, for my own preservation and my country's. Such are the sports of fortune ; is she then to be trusted because she smiles ? An advantageous peace is preferable to the hope of victory. The one is in your own power, the other at the pleasure of the gods. Should you prove victorious, it will add little to your own glory or the glory of your country ; if vanquished, you lose in one hour all the honour and reputation you have been so many years acquiring. But what is my aim m all this ? That you should con- tent yourself with our cession of Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, and all islands between Italy and Africa. A peace, on these conditions, will, in my opinion, not only secure the fu- ture tranquillity of Carthage, but be sufficiently glorious for you and for the Roman name. And do not tell me, that some of our citizens dealt fraudulently with you in the late treaty ; it is I, Hannibal, that now ask a peace. I ask it, because I think it expedient for my country ; and thinking it expedient, I will inviolably maintain it. THE SAME SUBJECT. Livy. Since it has been so ordered by fate that I, who first com- menced hostilities against the Roman people, and have so often been on the point of making a conquest of them, should voluntarily come to sue for peace, I am glad that it is to you, Scipio, rather than to any other person, that I am to apply. On your part, too, among the many illustrious events of your life, it ought not to be reckoned the least glorious, that Hannibal, to whom the gods granted victory over so many Roman generals, has yielded to you ; and that you put an end to this war, which was first rendered remarkable by the calamities of your country, before it was 10* 114 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. so by those of ours. Here, also, we may observe the sport of fortune in the disposal of events, that, in the consulate of your father, I took up arms. He was the first Roman gen- eral with whom I engaged in battle, and to his son I now come unarmed to solicit peace. It were indeed above all things to be wished, that the gods had so disposed the minds of our fathers, that your countrymen had been contented with the dominion of Italy and ours with that of Africa ; for, even on our side, Sicily and Sardinia are not an ade-^ quate compensation for the loss of so many fleets, so many armies, so many excellent generals. But what is passed, how- ever it may be blamed, cannot be retrieved. Our attempts on the possessions of others have ended in our being neces- sitated to fight in defence of our own. Thus we not only brought war home to you in Italy, but to ourselves in Africa. You beheld the arms and ensigns of an enemy almost within your gates and on your walls ; and we now, from the ram- parts of Carthage, hear the din of a Roman camp. The event, therefore, for which we ought most earnestly to pray, and you to wish, above all things, now comes in view : you are negotiating a peace in the midst of a successful career. We who negotiate are the persons most interested in its es- tablishment, and whose stipulations, whatever they may be, will certainly be ratified by our respective states. We want nothing but a disposition not averse from pacific counsels. For my part, so much instruction have I received from age, returning now an old man to my country, which I left a boy, and also both from prosperity and adversity, that I wish to follow reason rather than fortune. But your early time of life and uninterrupted flow of prosperity, both apt to in- spire a degree of warmth ill suited to peaceful plans, excite in my mind very serious apprehensions. He whom fortune has never deceived, rarely considers the uncertainty of fu- ture events. What I was at Thrasymenus and Cannae, that you are at present. Appointed to command at an age scarcely fit for service, though your enterprise were of the boldest nature, you were ever successful. By avenging the death of your father and uncle, you acquired a distinguish- ed character for uncommon bravery and filial duty. You recovered Spain, which had been lost, and drove out of it four Carthagenian armies. On being elected consul, while others wanted spirit sufficient to defend Italy, you passed into Africa, and by there destroying two armies, by taking and burning DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES* H3 two camps in one hour, by making a captive of Syphax, a most powerful king, and by seizing on so many of his cities, and so many of ours, you compelled me to relinquish the possession of Italy, which I had continued to hold for sixteen years. Perhaps your wishes tend rather to con* quest than to peace. I know the spirit of you Romans — that it ever aims at grand rather than useful objects. For- tune once shone on me with the same benign countenance. But if, along with prosperity, the gods would grant us a sound judgment, we should consider not only what had aU ready happened 5 but what may possibly happen hereafter* Although you should forget all other instances, I am a suffi- cient example of every kind of fortune. Me, whom you formerly saw pitching my camp between the Anio and your city, and on the point of scaling the walls of Rome, you now behold here under the walls of my native city, which is threatened with a siege ; deprived of my two brothers^ generals of consummate skill and valour ; deprecating, in behalf of my own city, those calamities by which formerly I struck terror into yours. The most exalted state of for- tune is ever the least to be relied on. A peace conclud- ed at a juncture wherein your affairs flourish, and ours are distressed, reflects splendour and dignity on you who grant it : to us who request it, it is rather necessary than honour- able. A certain peace is better and safer than a victory in expectation. The former is in your own disposal, the latter in that of the gods. Risk not, on the chance of one hour, the happy successes of so many years. When you consider your own strength, recollect, at the same time, the chances of war. Arms there will be on both sides ; but on both sides the bodies that contend will be but human. Events less correspond to men's expectations in war, than in any other case whatever. Even supposing that you should gain the victory in battle, the proportion of glory which you would thereby acquire, in addition to what you may now securely enjoy on granting peace, would be by no means commensu- rate to that which you must lose, should any misfortune hap- pen to you. The chance of but a single hour may destroy at once both the honours which you have attained and those for which you hope. In the adjusting of matters, every thing, Publius Scipio, will be in your own power : in the other case, you must abide by the pleasure of the gods. Formerly, Marcius Atilius, in this same land, would have 1 16 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. been celebrated among the few most extraordinary exam* pies of bravery and success, bad he, when possessed of vie- lory, granted peace to the request of our fathers ; but by setting no bounds to his ambition, by laying no restraint on his passions, in proportion to the height of glory to Which he had attained, was his fall dishonourable. Cer- tainly, it is his right who grants peace, not his who sues for it, to prescribe the terms ; yet, perhaps, we might not be deemed altogether inadequate to the estimation of what degree of punishment should be inflicted on us. We are ready to give up to you the possession of all the places on account of which the war was begun : Sicily, Sardi- nia, Spain, with all. the islands that lie in any part of the sea between Africa and Italy. Let us Carthagen- ians, confined within the shores of Africa, behold you, since such is the will of the gods, extending your sove- reignty, both by land and sea, over foreign realms. I am far from denying that you have some reason to dis- trust the faith of the Carthagenians, on account of the insincerity which they showed in their solicitations, and in not waiting for the issue of the negotiation. Scipio, the security of a peace being observed depends much on the character of those who sue for it. Your senate, I hear, refused to grant it, partly from the consideration that the persons employed in the embassy were not suffi- ciently respectable. Hannibal sues for peace, who would not sue for it unless he thought it expedient, and who, on account of the same expediency which induces him to sue for it, will alsp maintain it. And as because the war was begun by me, I took effectual care, until the gods themselves declared against me, that my country- men should have no reason to complain of it, so I will exert my utmost endeavours to make them satisfied with a peace procured by any means. SCIPIO'S ANSWER TO HANNIBAL. Argument, — Scipio answered, that it was the hope of Han- nibal's return which emboldened the Carthagenians to break the truce. — That their present proposal was a proof of it.— That the Carthagenians should be punished for their perfidy. — He im- DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 117 puted all the evils of the two wars to the Carthagenians only, and to their injustice. He thanked Hannibal for his advice in regard to the uncertain- ty of human events. — But since Hannibal had been forced out of Italy, the situation of affairs was much altered. — He conclud- ed, by bidding him prepare for battle, unless he chose rather to accept of the conditions he had already offered, to which he made some addition, by way of punishment, for the breach of the truce. speech. — Livy. Hannibal, it was not unknown to me that their expecta- tion of your arrival was what urged the Carthagenians to violate the truce subsisting, and to break off the treaty of peace. Nor do you dissemble it ; as you deduct from the former conditions every particular, except those which are, for some time past, in our own power. But as you are so- licitous that your countrymen should understand how great a burden they are relieved from by your means, so it is my business to endeavour that they shall not now retract the concessions which they then agreed to make, and enjoy w T hat they then ceded, as a reward of their perfidy. Un- worthy of being allowed the same terms, you require addi- tional advantages in consequence of your treachery. Neither were our fathers the aggressors in the war of Sicily, nor were we in that of Spain. In the former case, the danger of their allies the Mamertines, in the latter, the destruction of Saguntum, armed us in the cause of justice and duty. That you were the aggressors, you yourself ac- knowledge ; and the gods bear witness to it, who directed the issue of the former war according to equity, and who are now directing, and will bring the present to the same issue. As to myself, I am sensible to the instability of hu- man affairs ; I am mindful of the power of fortune, and I know that all our undertakings are subject to a thousand casualties. But as, on the other hand, if you were retir- ing from Italy of your own accord, and, after embarking your troops, were come to solicit peace ; if in that case I refused to listen to you, I should acknowledge that I be- haved with pride and arrogance ; so, on the other hand, now that I have dragged you into Africa, in spite of every 118 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. effort which you used to prevent it, T am not bound to show you any particular respect. If, therefore, in addition to the terms on which it was then intended to conclude a peace, (and with which you are acquainted,) a full compensation be proposed for having seized our ships and stores during the subsistence of a truce, and for the insult offered my am- bassadors, I shall then have matter to lay before my coun- cil. But if this also seem severe, prepare for war, since you must be insincere in proposing peace. ARGUMENTS. THE ARABIAN HORSE. You will say, that the most noble conquest that man has ever made, is that of the horse. You will describe a fine Arabian horse. — You will describe the qualities of that proud and fiery animal. — You will say that he shares the pleasures of men. — You will mention those pleasures. He is as docile as courageous. — He is a creature, which re- nounces his character and exists but through the will of his rider — and even dies in order better to obey. N. B. — This description requires a noble and animated style. THE EMIR OCTAIR TO LOUIS IX. ANSWER OF LOUIS. You will say that the Emir Octair, after having assassinated the Sultan Moadan, presented himself before Louis IX., then prisoner at Damietta, in Africa. Octair tells Louis IX. that he has seen him in battle, and that he-has admired his valour. — He comes to propose to him the Sar- acen throne. — The captive will become the king of his conquerors. — Louis will continue to adore Christ, and the Mussulmans Ma- homet. — He asks of Louis but a single favour — to arm him as a knight. DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 119 Louis IX. answers, that a king of France and a good Christian never should listen to anything but the voice of honour and of re- ligion. — He cannot arm as knight a follower of Mahomet. — He prefers to die in chains, rather than to accept a diadem in a for- eign and an infidel land. THE DOG. You will say that the dog is the model, the true prototype, of friendship. — Each species is distinguished by a peculiar attribute. Describe the dog of the shepherd. — Mention some of his quali- ties. Describe the dog of Mount St. Bernard. — He gives assistance to the .travellers who lose their way. Describe the dog of Newfoundland. — He rushes into the waves, and brings back to the shore the shipwrecked. Describe the dog of Siberia, or Esquimaux dog. — They harness him to sleighs. — He serves to transport burthens immense dis- tances. FREDERICK THE GREAT TO HIS SOLDIERS. Before the battle of Rosbach, which led to the most celebrated of all the king of Prussia's victories, Frederick addressed his little army, not amounting to more than twenty-five thousand men. 44 My brave soldiers," said he, " the hour is come in which all that is dear to us depends upon our swords — our enemies are nu- merous — but after our two great victories, the remembrance of our own actions is sufficient to inspire us with courage — I pro- mise you the most brilliant victory, if you follow my example. 44 You know that there is no labor — no hunger — no cold — no watching — no danger, that I have not shared with you hitherto — you now see me ready to lay down my life with you and for you — all I ask, is the same pledge of fidelity and affection that I give — acquit yourselves like men — put your confidence in God, and you shall soon see my promises verified." • 120 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* THE PEACOCK. You will say that the peacock is the most beautiful of all birds. ■^You will describe its carriage, its walk, its plumage, and the moveable tuft of feathers which adorns its head. 1 — You will say- that its plumage calls to mind the freshness and the colouring of the most beautiful flowers, the brilliancy of diamonds, the tints of the rainbow, &c, &c. No bird is as proud of its beauty as the peacock. — It loves to display its beautiful plumage, which at every movement produces different shades. — But when the winter has deprived it of its or- naments, it hides itself until spring has repaired the loss. N. B. — The description of so beautiful a bird should be written with the most brilliant ornaments of poetical prose. THE EMPEROR TITUS TO SEXTUS. The Emperor Titus begins by recalling to the mind of Sextus the favours which he has loaded him with — He cannot believe that Sextus has conspired against him. He recalls to his memory the duties of a subject, a citizen, and a friend, all of which he has violated. — But the dependent has per- haps envied the lot of his protector. — Titus describes to him the troubles and the cares of the sovereign power. At last, reminding him of the services which he has rendered to Rome, he complains of the ingratitude of the people. The Emperor shows to Sextus the decree of the senate which condemns him (Sextus) to death.— ■" But it will be out of the power of my enemies to force Titus to avenge himself," &c, &c. BJETICA. Baetiea derives its name from the river Baetis, which flows through it. — This country recalls the golden age. — The winters are never severe there. — The heats of summer are not excessive. — The whole year is a beautiful spring and an agreeable autumn. The earth yields two harvests each year. — The roads are bor- dered with pomegranate and orange trees, always loaded with flowers or fruits. — The mountains are covered with herds. — DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 121 Mines of gold and silver are enclosed in the bosom of some moun- tains. — These metals are useless. The inhabitants are either laborers or shepherds. — There are very few artisans. — Useless inventions and luxury are banished from that country. N. B. — The scholar must employ in this composition all the agreeable and pleasing ideas that his imagination presents. WASHINGTON DEPLORES THE EVILS OF THE WAR. Washington commences by a touching picture of the evils of the war. — Men have already so few days to live. — They have already so many other misfortunes. — They are brothers, and yet they do that which even savage beasts shrink from. What is the purpose of these wars ? — Glory, to enslave other nations. — Thus it happens that the vanity and the ambition of a king or a nation cause not only pillage and conflagration, but also the death of an immense number of men. — What glory is this 1 i He continues by saying that wars should not only be just, but necessary. He finishes by an apostrophe to the English government. — He reproaches it for the injustice and the barbarity of the war which the English have declared against America. — He exhorts his fellow-countrymen to union and endurance, and foretells the brilliant destiny which awaits them. DESCRIPTION OF AN ISLAND AND GROTTO. You will say that two travellers were shipwrecked on the coast of an unknown island. — You will describe this island. The travellers discover a grotto. — Their astonishment at the sight.— You will describe the grotto, situated on the declivity of a hill covered with evergreens. From the summit of the hill they discover the sea. — From the other side of the mountain a river is seen, which, dividing itself in several channels, forms small islands. — The ground is cover- ed with vines, trees and flowering shrubs, that seem to make th© .mountain resemble a vast garden. 11 122 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. The two strangers enter into the grotto. — You will describe the hospitable reception that they receive. LICINIA TO HER HUSBAND, CAIUS GRACCHUS. b. c. 121. Oh, my dear Cams, do not leave me to go to the Forum, in order to defend an ingrateful people. — Do not expose yourself to the murderers of your brother. — It is throwing away your life, without any advantage to the community. — Factions reign every- where. — Outrage or the sword is the only justice of the Senate. Had your brother fallen before the city of Numantia, the truce would have restored his body to us. — Now, perhaps, I shall have to go a suppliant to the Forum, or else to the river, in order to find your remains. — What confidence can we have in the laws, after the unpunished assassination of Tiberius ! She finishes by beseeching her husband, in the name of his children, not to go to the Forum. — The senators have resolved upon his death.— What will become of her — of his children — of the Roman people. — If Caius is murdered, the liberty of the Ro- man people will perish with him. THE ISLAND OF DESOLATION. This island justly bears the above name, for nature seems there to have united her worst features. — The sky is always co- vered with thick clouds. — Continual tempests and storms. — The mountains are covered with sombre forests. — The valleys are marshy and rilled with snakes and venomous insects. — The fruits never attain .their full maturity. The only inhabitants of this island are ferocious animals, birds of prey, snakes, &c. — Its only productions are poisonous plants. jV. B. — The scholar must make use in this composition of ideas which will convey the impression of terror that such an abode would naturally inspire. SPEECH OF MITHRIDATES TO HIS SOLDIERS. He represented to them, that there was no room for examining whether war or peace were to be preferred. — That their business DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 123 was to fight and conquer. — That there could not be a more fa- vourable opportunity. — That Rome was torn in pieces by civil wars. — That the time had come for humbling those proud and rapacious republicans. — That the war his soldiers were now about to enter upon was highly different from that which they had sustained with so much valour. — That he should lead them into the most fruitful and temperate country of the world. — That Asia held the n r rae of Roman in abhorrence. — That they fol- lowed him, not so much to war, as to assured victory and certain spoils. THE STORM. Describe a miserable cabin at the foot of Mount Ben-Arthy, in Scotland. — Describe this mountain. — This cabin is occupied by an infirm widow, and her son six years of age. About the middle of a summer's night, while the child was ra a deep sleep, the signs of a storm appeared. — Describe the begin- ning of the storm. — The rain falls in torrents. — The noise of thunder is lengthened by the echoes of the mountain. — Describe the fears of the mother. — Her prayers and uneasiness at the bed- side of her son. — The thunder is heard afar off. — It again draws near. — A powerful clap is heard. — The mother falls on her knees. The day breaks.— The clouds disappear. — Describe the rising sun. — The child awakes and calls his mother. — She does not an- swer. — He goes to kiss her, — She is dead. — Describe the grief of the child. SPEECH OF A GOOD KING TO HIS SON. He begins by telling him that the private virtue of persons is much better supported than his own, by the mediocrity of their condition — by the misfortunes to which they are frequently ex- posed — by their distance from pleasures and luxury — and par- ticularly, by the liberty which their friends and relations have of giving them advice. He adds, that a king who would make himself capable of go- verning well, ought to avoid an idle and inactive life. — Should form his council of the most able and experienced persons in his kingdom. — Should endeavour to make himself far superior to 124 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. others by his merit and wisdom. — Should acquire the love of his subjects. — Should look upon himself as their common father. THE ISLAND OF CHRISTINA. A vessel enters a magnificent bay. — The passengers perceive in the distance the verdant forests which surround the island of Christina. — The inhabitants collect upon the shore. — The pas- sengers disembark. — They are received hospitably. — The inhabi- tants conduct them to a village situated at the bottom of a hill, by the side of which flows a rivulet. — The cabins are covered with leaves, but they are clean and commodious.— The doors have no other fastening than a garland of flowers. — The lance and the bow are suspended on the wall. — The inhabitants are a people fonder of the chase than of war. Loved and respected by their neighbours, the inhabitants of the island of Christina know not the science of war. iV. B. — Simplicity and softness must he the predominating qualities of this composition. SPEECH OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V., ON RESIGNING HIS KINGDOMS. A. D. 1555. The President of the Council of Flanders having explain- ed the intentions of his Emperor in calling this meeting of the States, Charles rose from his seat, and, leaning on the shoulder of the Prince of Orange, because he was unable to stand without support, he addressed himself to the audi- ence. He recounted with dignity, but without ostentation, all the great things which he had performed. — He observed that from the seventeenth year of his age, he had dedicated all his thoughts and attention to public objects. — He had never shunned labour. — Now his growing infirmities admonished him to retire. — That, instead of a sovereign worn out by disease, he gave them one in the prime of life, and accustomed already to govern. — That if, during the course of his long administration, he had either neg- lected or injured any of his subjects, he now implored their for- giveness. — That, for his part, he should ever retain a grateful sense of their fidelity. — He finished by saying that his last pray- DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 125 ers to Almighty God would pour forth his ardent wishes for their welfare. ERUPTION OF A VOLCANO. You will say that during one of the warmest days of July, the sky was calm and the heat suffocating, Suddenly a hollow noise is heard. — The noise increases and soon becomes a prolonged roaring. — The earth trembles. — The buildings totter. — Immense pieces of rocks are loosened from the mountains. — Flames and thick smoke rise from the earth. — An entire city is swallowed up. — An immense gulph, covered with a sort of calcined matter, marks -the site of a flourishing city. ALEXANDER'S SPEECH TO HIS GENERALS, WHO ADVISED HIM TO GO BACK TO MACEDONIA. I cannot enough thank you for the strong proofs you have given me of your zeal and affection. — But in this case we differ very much in opinion. — You wish to enjoy my presence long ; and even, if it were possible, forever. — I compute the length of my existence, not by years, but by glory. The country we are now in reproaches me that a woman has done greater things than I have done. — It is Semiramis, I mean. — How many nations did she conquer ! — How shameful it is, that I should not yet have attained to so exalted a pitch of glory I — Do but second my ardour, and I shall soon surpass her. — I take the rest upon myself, and I will be answerable to you for all the events of the war. A FAMINE AT SEA. You will say that a ship coming from China, after having met with frightful tempests, had exhausted nearly all the provisions. — The stores decrease, and at last famine succeeds to scarcity. — You will show how much more terrible famine at sea is than up- on the land. — Man is abandoned by all nature. — Even hope pre- pares to leave him. — The sailors are without strength or courage. — Now they implore the mercy of heaven, and now they seem to doubt that there is a Divine Providence. 11* 126 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. You will contrast these frightful details with the joy which ani- mates the passengers at the sight of two vessels. — The captain makes signals of distress. — The two ships approach and furnish a quantity of provisions. You will praise the prudence of the captain, who, fearing that the passengers would suffer from the excesses which such an abundance of provisions would inevitably produce, takes measures to restrain them. LIDIASMON'S SPEECH. Lidiasmon, in an exordium very suitable to the conjuncture, exhorted the Thebans, his countrymen, to union and concord. In the second part of his speech, he said, that if the Thebans were divided, the war would neither be warmer nor more dan- gerous between the Athenians and Spartans, than between the Thebans themselves against each other. — That it was, therefore, absolutely necessary to make their union amongst themselves their sole care and application. — That to know which of the two alliances was to be preferred, was now the most important ques- tion. — That the amity of the Athenians, experienced for ten years, seemed preferable to that of the Spartans, upon which they could not much rely for the present, and with which they had as little reason to be satisfied with regard to the past. In the Jast part of his speech he said, that if the Thebans de- clared themselves against the Athenians, the Thebans would ex- perience the war immediately ; whereas, if they declared them- selves against the Spartans, the danger was more remote. DESCRIPTION OF A WATER-SPOUT, AND ITS EFFECTS. You will describe a ship sailing calmly over the ocean.— Sud- denly a strong breeze springs up, and soon a tornado arises.-^— The waves dash against the ship. — The passengers are astonish- ed. — But their astonishment changes to consternation when they behold a sort of cloud in the form of a column, which springs up from the sea and rises into the air. The captain of the vessel recognises it to be a water-spout. — He endeavours to avoid it. — He gives his orders to the sailors. — DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 127 But the wind seizes the vessel, and draws it under the column of water, where it is swallowed up by the waves. N. B. — The scholar, in order to write a good description of a water-spout, should carefully describe its origin, caused by a tor* nado, and the manner in which the water-spout increases itself, by drawing up the water from the sea. SPEECH OF THE EMPEROR CHARLES V. TO HIS S0N, ON RESIGNING HIS SCEPTRE. — A. D. 1555. My Son : If I had left you, by my death, this inheritance, some regard would have been due to my memory on that ac- count. — But when I voluntarily resign, with these, however, I dispense. — I shall consider your concern for the welfare of your subjects as the most acceptable testimony of your gratitude to me. It is in your power to prove that you are worthy of the confi- dence which I repose in you. — Preserve an inviolable regard for religion. — Let the laws of your country be sacred in your eyes.— If the time shall ever come, when you shall wish to enjoy the tranquillity of a private life, may you resign your sceptre to your son with as much satisfaction as I give up mine to you. DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY SEPULCHRE. You will say that the architecture of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is worthy of its design, as far as the genius of man could permit. Founded by the Empress Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, it has been successively embellished by all the kings of Jerusalem. — The vestibule is guarded by Turks, who are the possessors of this monument, and preserve it with venera- tion. — Two sanctuaries lead to the tomb. — In the first, is the stone where the angels were seated when the holy women pre- sented themselves, after the Resurrection. The second sanctuary encloses the holy sepulchre — lamps which are suspended there — perfumes which burn there— impres- sions which are produced. A visit to the holy sepulchre is an event which should exercise a great influence upon the heart of a Christian. 128 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. SPEECH OF DIODORUS TO THE ATHENIANS, The people of Mitylen had rebelled against the Atheni- ans ; as soon as the Athenians had got possession of that city, the affair of the Mitylenians was debated at Athens. The Athenians, in the first transports of their rage, resolved to put all the citizens to death, and to make all the women and children slaves. Diodorus, an Athenian orator, contradicts that resolution : After describing, in a tender and pathetic manner, tlie deplor- able condition of the Mitylenians, whose minds, he said, must necessarily be on the rack, he represented to the Athenians, that the fame of their clemency had always reflected the highest honour on them.— He observed, that the citizens of Mitylen had been drawn, involuntarily, into the rebellion. — A proof of "which was, their surrendering the city to them the instant it was in their power to do so. — He observed, further, that supposing the Mity- lenians in general were guilty, the decree would be unjust, in punishing the innocent with the guilty. — That the best way to put a stop to the evil, would be to leave room for repentance. His opinion therefore, was, that the Athenians should examine, very deliberately, the cause of those factious Mitylenians who had been brought to Athens, and pardon all the rest. THE DESERTS OF ARABIA PETREA. Yon will represent a traveller lost in the deserts of Arabia Petrea. — Everywhere he finds nothing but a parched and barren country — naked mountains — an eternal solitude more terrible than that of the forests. — The traveller is there entirely isolated. — He would vainly endeavour to pass over these arid plains, inhabited but by animals, if Providence had not furnished him with an ani- mal capable of supporting hunger and thirst for several days. After many weeks of travel, he arrives in Arabia Felix. You will describe the contrast of the two countries. ALEXANDER TO HIS MACEDONIAN SOLDIERS, WHO REFUSED TO FOLLOW HIM FARTHER IN INDIA. I am not ignorant, O soldiers ! that the Indians have published several things, purposely to terrify us. — Your bravery conquered DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 129 them. — Do you repent that you have followed me thus far ?— Endeavours are used to intimidate you by the idea of innumer- able armies. — Are they more numerous than those of Darius ? — Besides the Scythians, the Bactrians are with us, and fight for our glory. — I, however, do not depend on those barbarians. — It is in you alone that I put confidence. — Not only your glory, but even our safety, is at stake. — Should we now retreat, it will be supposed that we fly before our enemies. — It is in my power to make use of authority, and yet I employ entreaties only. — But I will ad- vance still farther. — The Scythians, the Bactrians, will follow me. — Return then to your country, and boast that you have aban- doned your king. PICTURE OF A SAILOR'S LIFE. You will give an idea of the sentiments which are experienced on the sea. You will describe the life of a sailor. — You will say that his language, his tastes, his appearance, and his manners show the element on which he lives. Sailors love their ship. — An old sailor resembles an old labour- er : their occupations, although different, are guided by the same astronomical revolutions. The sailor knows not where his ashes will rest. — An island or the ocean may serve him for a tomb. SPARTACUS TO HIS COMPANIONS. Spartacus exhorts his compannions to break their chains, and free themselves from the miserable servitude of public gladiators. He commences thus : Brave companions, whom an unfortunate fate has united, in order that we may serve as a show to a cruel populace. — The Romans, who compel us to massacre one anoth- er in the circus, brand us as barbarians ! He exhorts his companions to free themselves from this horri- ble slavery. — If we are obliged to pour out our blood, will it not be better to do it in the cause of liberty ? He endeavours to convince them that success is all but certain. — An immense number of slaves who groan under Roman op- 130 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. pression, will join themselves to us. — Let the whole of Italy be the theatre of our exploits. — Let us not leave to our children slavery for their only heritage. AN ECLIPSE OF THE SUN. You will describe the commencement of an eclipse of the sun. — The star of the day becomes obscured. — Soon a profound darkness succeeds to light. — Man experiences a sensation of ter- ror which he cannot overcome. — The frightened animals remain immoveable. — They are astonished to behold the hour of repose. — They fill the air with their cries, and assemble together. — The birds which the darkness has surprised in the air, know not where to direct their flight. You will describe the confusion which everywhere prevails. — The dove dashes against the vulture, and frightens it, &c. A few minutes after, nature returns to its former state. — You will describe this progressive return. JV. B. — The idea of the dove and the vulture should supply the scholar with several other contrasts. THE DELEGATES OF THE STATES GENERAL OF BURGUNDY TO FRANCIS 1ST. A. D. 1526. When Francis 1st had mounted the throne of France, Burgundy took the oath of fidelity. — She will never betray her king when he Is in adversity. Burgundy would support, with less grief, the captivity of her king, by remembering his noble words. — She learns with conster- nation the unfortunate fate that threatens her. — But a King of France has no right to alienate any one of the provinces of his kingdom. Burgundy offers to Francis 1st her warriors and her treasure. — These sentiments should merit some regard on the part of her sovereign. Besides, where will she find a prince so worthy of her love ? If Francis 1st persists in his project of delivering up Burgundy to Charles V., the Burgundians know how to defend themselves until death. DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 131 ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS. A traveller relates his visit to Vesuvius. He crosses orchards, and arrives at an immense bed of lava, which a hundred years ago terrified Naples, and even now threat- ens it. — He is astonished to find the soil so productive. The traveller having climbed some frightful rocks, stops. — He sees before him the smoke of the volcano — behind him, the sun setting over the Mount Pausilippa, Naples, and the sea. — The moon rises above the island of Caprea. Arrival at the crater.— rHe describes the contrast of the ravages of the volcano with the pleasures of Naples. — He describes the noise, the flames, the ashes, the eruptions of Vesuvius. Admiration of the traveller on quitting Vesuvius. A CARTHAGENIAN SENATOR AGAINST THE CUSTOM OF SACRIFICING HUMAN VICTIMS. 480 B. C He has always condemned the bloody honours which the Car- thagenians render to their deities. — Now that the abolition of this frightful custom is exacted by the Roman conqueror, as the first condition of a necessary peace, he performs the duty of a good citizen, in making reason and humanity engaged in that which the force of arms had imposed. How is it, in sacrificing men, that the Carthagenians think to turn away those scourges which menace men ? — And what vic- tims do they sacrifice ? — Children, the hope of our country. Can the Carthagenians think that the gods delight in bloody sacrifices? — Religion should never be opposed to morality and humanity. — The last human sacrifice did not hinder the Roman army from cutting to pieces the Carthagenians. If the victory of the Romans should do away with these bar- barous sacrifices, he will give thanks to the gods for the victory of the Romans and the defeat of his countrymen. THE RISING OF THE SUN. The rising of the sun is the most beautiful sight that an ad- mirer of nature can enjoy. — Seated on the summit of a hill, he feels the freshness of the air, the perfume of the flowers, &c, &c. 132 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Already day mingles with the shades of night. — The stars lose their hrightness. — A brilliant point darts like lightning. — A part of the heavens is soon lighted up. — Man recognises his abode. — The birds in chorus chant the rising of the sun. — Soon the light of the star of day becomes purer, and its heat dries up the dew, &c, &c. N. jB. — The scholar should pay great attention to the admirable gradation which nature presents to us in this magnificent scene. AN ATHENIAN ORATOR DEFENDS MILTIADES. 489 b. c. The orator is astonished at the audacity of the accusers and the inconstancy of the Athenians. — The crime of Miltiades is improbable. — It is refuted by his life. Here the orator reminds the people of the principal exploits of his hero. — Miltiades has filled the highest stations, both military and civil. — He has always despised riches, and has contented himself with glory. — Can any one suppose that, in his old age, he would dishonour himself by betraying his country for a paltry reward ? Miltiades has not betrayed his country. — An immense army of Persians approached. — Miltiades had but a handful of sol- diers. — He was himself wounded. — He retired ; he did not fly. If Miltiades had betrayed his country, his army would have accused him. — But the whole of his army is indignant at seeing a few perturbators accusing Miltiades of treason. THE EVENING AND NIGHT OF A SUMMER'S DAY. Describe the sinking of the sun. — Twilight appears. — Night comes on. — The sky is covered with stars. — The moon sends down her soft light. — Soon all noise is hushed. — All animated beings sink into repose. — The nightingale sings. — You will ex- plain the reason why this proud bird sings at night rather than in the day-time. It is midnight. — The moon shines forth in all her splendour. — You will describe the feelings that a lover of nature experiences at the sight. — It is sadness mingled with pleasure ; a sort of me- DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 133 lancholy, the delights of which are often more agreeable than those of joy. jV. B. — This description requires all the ornaments of poetical prose* bYRUS TO THE GREEK SOLDIERS, HIS ALLIES. O Greeks ! it is not from any want of Barbarian troops that I make use of you as auxiliaries — because I look on you as supe- rior to them. — Show yourselves, therefore, worthy of that liberty you enjoy. But that you may understand what kind of combat you are going to engage in, I will explain it to you. — The Persians are very numerous. — But for the rest, I am almost ashamed to think w r hat kind of men you will find my country produces. — You are soldiers ; behave yourselves with bravery. — If any of you desire to return home — I will take care to send them back to their coun- try. — But I am confident that my behaviour will engage all of you to follow my fortune. GENERAL VIEW OF JERUSALEM. You will narrate, as if you had made a voyage to the Holy Land, the impressions which that consecrated country produced upon you. You will describe the view of Jerusalem taken at sun-rise, and from a lofty point. — The narrative should commence something like this: u After having climbed a high mountain, the hori- zon suddenly expanded, and exposed to view the whole space which extends between the most^ distant cliffs of Judea and the lofty chains of Arabian mountains." You will describe the morning light. — The vapours spread over the valley, causing it to resemble a sea. — The sun com- mences to gild the cupolas of the city. — In the distance, behind the buildings, is the Mount of Olives; one part of which is in the shade, and the other lighted by the rising sun. N. B. — This description should be written in a poetical style, and religious sentiments should hold a predominant place. 12 134 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. AUBUSSON TO THE KNIGHTS WHO WISHED TO GIVE THEMSELVES UP TO THE TURKS. A. D. 1480. If some think themselves not safe enough in Rhodes, they are at liberty to abandon their brothers in arms ; but if they wish to remain, every idea of surrender must be abandoned. He reminds them of the oath which binds them, and to which they have been so faithful. — He reminds them of the terror that their name inspires to the enemies of Christianity. — Rhodes is the bulwark of Christianity. — Every knight should rather bury himself under the ruins of the city, than give it up to the Turks. He adds, that it would be cowardice, when the enemy had Commenced to lose courage, to betray the noble efforts which «they have made, up to that time. He finishes by exhorting them to wash out, in the blood of the infidels, the stain which they had put upon their glory by a mo- ment of error. THE STORM AND THE FINE WEATHER. Before you describe the storm you must mention what gene- tally precedes it. — The atmosphere is loaded with vapours. — The light of the sun is pale and faint. — The waves dash against the shore. — All nature seems to mourn. . Describe the storm. You must next describe that which accompanies it. — The flashes of lightning dart across the horizon. — No other voice is heard.— Thick clouds hurry across the sky with extraordinary ra- pidity. — Rain falls in torrents. — The winds are let loose. You will describe the gradual cessation of the storm. — The zephyrs drive away the clouds, and the light of the sun enlivens the saddened mortals. N. B< — The scholar must follow as closely as possible the track which we have laid out, it is the most natural ; there is a sort of gradation to be preserved throughout. SPEECH OF PETER THE HERMIT, AT THE COUNCIL OF CLERMONT.- — A. D. 1093. He excuses himself for having dared to speak among such a DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 135 crowd of illustrious personages — "but, without doubt, God has permitted that the noblest enterprise should be preached by the humblest and the most unworthy of his servants." He relates all that he has seen in Palestine. — The profanation of the tomb of Jesus Christ. — The cruelty of the Turks. — The outrages and the sufferings which the Christians undergo. He apostrophizes all the Christians of Europe. — He asks whether they can remain in peace while their brothers are op- pressed by so many evils. All who can fight must take arms. He finishes by prophecying glorious victories. — The deliver- ance of the Saviour's tomb. — The conquest of Asia. — The ad- vancement of Christianity. SPECTACLE OF NATURE FOR AN INHABITANT OF THE COUNTRY. You will say that, in the most desert places, nature has for a tranquil mind charms that art can never equal. You will describe the sun rising over the tops of the moun- tains : the melting of the snow, the odour of the flowers, the ef- fects of the dew, the breezes, the singing of the birds, &c, &c. You will explain what the smoke arising from the rustic huts denotes. — You will describe the departure of the wood-cutters, of the labourers, and of the flocks. — Finally, you w T ill describe the awakening of all nature. You will finish this description by putting the question to your- self, whether an Atheist could resist this spectacle and deny the existence of a Supreme Being. N, B. — The scholar should employ in this description all the poetical expressions that his imagination can furnish him with. COLUMBUS TO HIS REBELLIOUS SAILORS. I might employ force in order to make you submit. — I prefer to employ reason in order to persuade you. It is not my ambition which guides me towards these unknown lands. — The design which I have formed is an inspiration from God himself, — These people are idolaters.-*-The sun lights not 136 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION the West in vain. — Soon you will find another land and other men. But if you refuse to obey your commander, your chief will re- fuse to conduct you back to Spain. — Who will be able to afford you the means of returning to your country 1 — I alone know how to direct our course over these unknown seas. — I would prefer to see you perishing with hunger, and even perish myself with you, than to return with you ignominiously to Spain. Oh ! how magnificent have been my dreams ! — It depends upon you to realize the splendid triumph which I have just de- scribed to you. And now, if there are any who refuse to obey their admiral, let them choose a ship and return to Spain. — I abandon them to their fate. — As for those who remain faithful, the favourable breeze which God sends us, and that miraculous star which even now appears in the West, will conduct them in three days to the end of their voyage. THE SWISS DELEGATES TO CHARLES THE RASH, DUKE OF BURGUNDY. — A. D. 1476. The Swiss delegates are astonished that Charles has declared war against the Swiss. — They have not provoked him. — Shut up in their mountains, they have nothing to do with princes. If Charles seeks for conquest, let him seek other lands to con- quer. — Their snow-covered mountains should not tempt his am- bition. — All their riches equal not in value the bridles of his horses and the spurs of his cavaliers. The Swiss offer to repair the injuries which Charles complains of. — They will renounce, to please him, the alliance of all the princes, even that of Louis XT, King of France. But when they have honourably satisfied him, let Charles de- sire nothing more. — Before attacking the Swiss, let him think of the humiliated house of Austria. — Of the victories of the French, as disastrous for France as though they had been defeats. SPEECH.— By a French pupil Prince, on dit que tu veux nous faire la guerre ; toi- meme, tu leves des soldats, tu rassembles des armees et or- DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 137 donnes des marches : a. voir tes travaux immenses, on croi- rait que tu vas envahir le monde ; et c'est nous seuls que tu menaces, nous, les plus pauvres, nous, les plus justes, nous, les plus braves de tous les peuples ! Parle, t'avons- nous offense? avons-nous insulte ta puissance, souleve tes provinces, outrage tes allies ? Grace au ciel qui nous a se- pares du reste du monde, nous sommes etrangers aux rois, aux cours et a leurs intrigues. Renfermes dans nos mon- tagnes, nous laissons l'Europe se dechirer et se detruire ; nous ignorions presque ton nom, quand tu meditais notre perte. Quoi ! parce qu'un marchand de notre pays prend querelle avec les gens de ton vassal, est-ce la peine de lever tant de lances, d'armer tant de brillants chevaliers, et d'e- puiser tes richesses en vains appareils ? Quoi ! c'est la le noble motif qui t'entraine, Peelatante vengeance que tu poursuis ! quelques toisons de brebis, quelques laines de nos troupeaux, voila l'objet des combats que tu prepares, le noble prix du vainqueur ! Le plus riche prince de l'Europe attaque la plus pauvre des nations pour la plus vile et la plus mepri- sable cause. Non, prince, nous ne te faisons pas cette in- jure. Nous le voyons, tu cedes au desir des conquetes ; tu crois qu'il est beau d'etre appele le Terrible ; tu veux combattre et vaincre a tout prix. Mais quel est ce peuple que tu attaques, cette contree que tu menaces ? y cherches-tu des richesses ? Grand Dieu ! aupres de tes tresors et de tes pompes, quelles ri- chesses que des troupeaux et des chaumieres ! La massue liereditaire, un arc, une fleche pour percer le vautour dans les airs et le tyran sur son rocher, voila l'ornement de nos cabanes, la dot des epouses, le patrimoine des enfants ! Yiens nous les arracher, si tu l'oses ; le reste n'a rien qui puisse enflammer ton ambition, et toute l'Helvetie ensemble ne vaut pas les brides de tes chevaux ni les eperons de tes cavaliers. Si tu as besoin d'exercer au dehors cette ardeur de con- quetes qui te devore, assez d'autres contrees s'orfrent a toi ; ce n'est pas a nous a t'indiquer ce qu'il faut faire, ni a te designer ta proie. Mais ouvre les yeux, vois l'opulence de tant de royaumes ; compare leur ciel avec le notre, leurs plaines avec nos monts, leurs cites, leurs palais avec nos bourgs et nos hameaux, et choisis plus sage- ment par ambition meme. Mais si tu ne veux que des perils, viens en Helvetie, Charles ; si tu ne cherches 12* 138 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. dans tes rivaux que du courage, viens encore en Helvetic Des perils et du courage, c'est tout ce que nous avons a t'ofFrir et a t'opposer. La, tu trouveras a chaque pas des rochers prets a t'ecraser, des lacs prets a t'engloutir, des precipices ouverts sous les pas de tes chevaux, des neiges perfides, des glaces meurtrieres ; la, des gorges profondes ou ton armee s'enfoncera sans retour, des defiles etroits qu'a defaut d'hommes un seul rocher, une chaine tendue suffirait pour garder ; et, derriere ces retranchements de la nature, des hommes qu'elle a formes, hommes simples et libres comme elle, posterite de Guillaume Tell, esperance de la patrie. Quand un esclave de Pempereur Albert osa nous proposer la honte et l'infamie, une fleche lancee au cceur du perfide Gessler Petendit dans la poudre, et tous les echos retentirent du cri de la vengeance. Charles, la meme fleche est tiree contre quiconque Pimiterait ; tous les arcs sont tendus, tous les glaives aiguises contre lui ; qu'il tremble ! il tombera a son tour, et les lacs de nos montagnes seront aussi son tombeau. Toutefois, prince, nous aimons encore mieux la paix que les victoires, et nous sommes justes en meme temps que braves : si tu te crois offense, nous sommes prets a tout reparer. Faut-il, pour te satisfaire, renoncer a. nos allies ? pour te prouver notre fidelite, devons-nous nous donner a. toi seul et negliger tous les autres ? Faut-il rompre nos liaisons avec la France ? Ces sacrifices nous seront doux, s'ils t'apaisent. La honte a nos yeux n'est pas dans Pex- piation d'une faute, elle est dans la faute seule. Peut-etre un pareil langage t'etonne dans la bouche d'une nation qui se dit brave et invincible ; peut-etre le prendras-tu pour de la peur et de la lachete. Detrompe-toi ; nous ne craignons qu'une seule chose, c'est de violer la justice. Ah ! ce serait bien plutot a. toi de craindre : combien doit-elle etre redoutable dans les combats, une nation si scrupuleuse dans la paix ! combien son equitable moderation doit-elle se changer en Constance genereuse, en resistance inebran- lable ! combien sont terribles les hommes dont la con- science double le courage, et qui se sentent armes pour la plus sainte des causes contre le plus impie des agresseurs ! Charles, nous t'ofTrons justice et reparation ; mais n'attends rien de plus. La ou l'honneur cesse, notre moderation se tait. C'est a toi de voir si tu t'obstines a la guerre ; mais une fois commencee, tu 1'auras terrible, DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 139 sanglante, immortelle ; tu l'auras telle qu'un peuple libre la fait aux tyrans, telle que l'eprouverent autrefois Albert vaincu, et dernierement les Francais vainqueurs ; dans Les succes comme dans les revers cette guerre sera toujours fatale, toujours desastreuse pour toi. Charles, ce n'est pas dans l'enfance d'une nation regeneree qu'on peut esperer de l'asservir ; alors naissent, alors eclatent et I'heroisme et l'independance et les miracles de la liberte. the same subject. — By a French pupil. Haut et puissant seigneur, les Suisses ne craignent pas tes armes, mais ils respectent tes droits, et l'amour de la justice leur inspire aujourd'hui une resolution que ni la terreur de ton nom, ni la force de ton bras, ne sauraient leur imposer ; ils te demandent la paix. Le fer et la flamme ont desole quelques-unes de tes pro- vinces, et tu pretends, dit-on, nous punir de ces desordres. Nous pourrions te repondre qu'ils sont bien plutot l'ouvrage d'un souverain aujourd'hui ton allie, que notre propre ouvrage ; mais les Suisses redoutent jusqu'au soupcon de perfidie, et seuls, ils s'engagent a reparer des torts qu'ils ne furent pas seuls a commettre. Ce n'est point assez : en reparant noblement nos torts, nous ne sommes que justes ; nous voulons maintenant te donner des preuves de notre estime et de notre amitie. La France et l'Autriche pourraient dans la suite des temps te causer quelque ombrage ; nous abandonnons de plein gre des rois qui nous ont trahis les premiers, et nous renoncons pour jamais a leur alliance. Cette alliance, ces armes qui ne serviront plus leur politique ambitieuse, nous te les offrons. Accepte la foi d'un peuple libre qui s'est toujours montre plus grand que scs revers, et qui ne flechit le genou que devant Dieu ; afFermis par nos secours le duche de Bourgogne, trop voisin du trone de Louis XI. Le cceur des Suisses est a l'epreuve du fer et de l'or. La confederation helvetique a lieu de croire que cette alliance te sert et t'honore autant qu'alliance peut le faire ; ce n'est pas un mediocre present dans le temps ou nous vivons, que la foi d'une nation constante dans son amitie, comme elle est constante dans sa haine, et que l'histoire de quatre siecles est encore a montrer infidele. 140 NEW ZETETlC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Si tu n'accepte pas d'aussi genereuses propositions et la foi que les Swisses sont prets a te jurer, les peuples pense- ront que le soin de ta gloire et Putilite de ton pays n'entrent pour rien dans les motifs de l'agression dont tu nous me- naces. Comment se ferait-il que la Bourgogne gagnat plus aux chances de la guerre qu'aux bienfaits d'une paix re- paratrice et a ses avantages assures ? Des ruines de nos chaumieres rebatiras-tu tes cites ? et lorsque Pincendie, Pendant partout ses fureurs, aura reduit nos biens a neant, tes sujets en seront-ils plus riches ? Quant aux honneurs et au respect dus a ton nom, nous les consacrons en ce mo- ment avec trop d'eclat, pour que tu puisses nous accuser de les meconnaitre. Avant la journee de Granson, tu pou- vais te meprendre sur nos dispositions secretes ; aucun acte public ne les avait trahies : aujourd'hui, l'offre de notre alliance ne te laisse plus le droit de te croire offense. Certes il serait etrange que notre hommage t'honorat moms que notre indifference. Charles, tu entreprends une guerre qui peut-etre te rap- portera moins de gloire que tu ne t'en promets, et qui sans aucun doute doit plutot aggraver les malheurs de la Bour- gogne que les soulager. Cette guerre, ou tu precipites avec temerite toutes tes forces et toutes tes richesses, crois-tu la faire par justice? Un prince juste ecouterait avant de condamner, et ton empressement a te prendre au seul pretexte que les Suisses t J aient jamais presente, a bien trahi l'impatience de combats et la soif de conquetes qui tourmentent ton ame. Eh bien ! porte done le fer et la flamme dans nos paisi- bles vallees ! Va disputer a la nature les sommets de la Rhetie et les glaciers du Saint- Gothard. O prince ! La France, l'Autriche,. le Milanais sont done des ennemis bien redoutables a tes yeux, puisque tu ne trouves, dans tes desirs ambitieux, que notre pauvre Helvetie a conquerir ? Mais Charles, sais-tu qu'au milieu de nos rochers la vic- toire ne saurait te rendre ce qu'elle te coutera t Des monts couverts de neige, une terre sterile, point de cha- teaux, de pauvres chaumieres, en tous lieux les dangers, la richesse nulle part, voila l'Helvetie. Crois-tu qu'une pareille conquete soit digne du sang de tes chevaliers ? Epuiseras-tu ton or pour acheter des troupeaux ? Aban- donneras-tu a la merci des combats la gloire de ton nom et l'honneur de ta couronne pour nous ravir nos biens ? Ras- DESCRIPTIONS AND SPEECHES. 141 sembles, ils ne valent pas les brides de tes chevaux ni les eperons de tes cavaliers. De telles richesses seraient pour toi les tristes fruits des succes les plus eclatants. Mais, ces prosperites, qui te les promet ? As-tu la mesure de nos forces ? Tu te vantes d'avoir soumis quelques rebelles ; mais une liberte hereditaire est un complot plus difficile a etouffer. Gand et Liege a peine defendus sont tombes sous ta domination : la Suisse manque-t-elle de soldats ? II est bien audacieux a un due de Bourgogne de se croire assure d'une victoire qu'Albert et Rodolphe n'osaient pas meme esperer. Considere, il en est temps encore, cette Helvetie que dues et souverains n'ont jamais abord^e sans crainte ni sans regrets. Citadelle immense, defend ue de tous cotes par des monts escarpes ou par des eaux profondes, elle peut bien ofFrir la place d'un tombeau, mais non l'espace d'un champ de bataille ; et si tu es si impatient de conquerir des lacs et des precipices, abandonne aux pieds des Alpes ta cavalerie devenue inutile ; renvoie dans leurs domaines cette foule de princes qui te suivaient au pillage ; et, pour commencer ta victoire, renonce a l'elite de tes guerriers : ils te nuiraient, loin de te servir. Les fatigues et la faim auront en peu de jours couvert les rochers de tes chevaux blesses ou mourants, et les nobles de Bourgogne, reduits a l'etat de fantassins, iront grossir les rangs de tes archers et leur inspirer le decouragement dont ils seront atteints eux- memes ; une partie de ton armee combattra pour la defense de Pautre. Tu ne peux retenir cette cavalerie, et elle fait ta seule force, sans te livrer a de plus grands malheurs. Te voila done reduit a nous opposer, a nous Suisses et citoyens, un ramas de soldats sans honneur, attires de vingt pays divers par l'espoir de Tor, ardents a piller, paresseux a combattre, soldats que nous avons vaincus a Naefels, ou gens qui ne valent pas mieux. Pour aneantir une semblable armee, il suffit d'un combat. Alors, plus de salut. Soutenu de la France et de l'Autriche, la victoire s'echappe de tes mains : que vas-tu devenir, prive de ces puissants auxiliaires ? Car tu dois te mefier d'une alliance imposee par la force, subie par la perfidie. Cette alliance, crois-nous, est une guerre deguisee. Ton honneur, ta couronne, ta vie, de- pendent d'un caprice du sort. S'il t'abandonne, tout fuit avec lui, et tu restes seul sous les revers. L'Autriche 142 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. t'envoyait des secours, ils reculeront. Louis XI a ouvert ses Etats a ton armee victorieuse, il les referme a tes debris. Les Suisses ont appris a connaitre ce Louis XI, el ce n'est pas un de nos moindres avantages, que d'etre debar- rasses de son alliance : diviser les peuples est sa constante occupation ; trahir est sa politique. Ah ! brandissons de joie nos dards et nos lances ! Louis XI est l'allie de notre ennemi ! Louis XI combat pour nous ! Charles, les Suisses t'ont demande la paix, les Suisses ont pour eux la justice, et ne te doivent plus rien. Ils sai- sissent aujourd'hui la fleche et le glaive ; les accents belli- queux du cor d'Unterwald, repetes d'echos en echos, ont appele un peuple de freres a la defense de la grande famille ; les Suisses se levent comme un seul homme ; depuis les monts du Jura jusqu'aux frontier es des Grisons, des bords du Rhin aux limites du Milanais, partout ils s'arment Quand la patrie les demande ils ne se- font pas attend re. Leur union leur assure la victoire : ils ont affaire a des guerriers, etrangers de mceurs et de volontes, divises par Pinteret. Cette armee court au pillage : les Suisses de- fendent leur vie, ils defendent leurs enfants, ils defendent' leur liberie. Pense-tu que la passion des richesses ait plus de force dans le cceur de Phomme, que Pamour de la liberte ? Non ; des hommes prets a mourir plutot que de courber la tete, sont invincibles. Les soldats mercenaires de l'Europe conjuree fondraient sur eux sans les etonner ; et ton armee compterait dix fbis plus de guerriers, qu'elle ne triompherait pas d'une poignee de braves Suisses animes au combat par le spectacle de leur famille et de leur patrie en danger. Nous parlons ici du courage et nulle- ment des avantages sans nombre que la guerre des mon- tagnes presente aux heros de notre patrie. Si tu reflechis un instant, due de Bourgogne, que tu conduis ton armee au milieu de rochers et de forets sauvages, dont la connais- sance est reservee a tes ennemis ; si tu songes qu'ils en ouvrent et en referment les barrieres a leur gre, tu fremiras toi-meme de ta temerite. Tels sont les obstacles) qui t'arreteront. Pour flatter ton espoir, tu comptes bien folle- ment sur tes perfides allies : pour nous, nous avons dans le ciel un defenseur plus puissant. Les Suisses n'ont jamais commence le combat sans flechir le genou devant COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 143 Dieu, d'ou la victoire descend : ils l'implorent aujourd'hui et Dieu les entend. II etend sa main secourable sur les monts de l'Helvetie ; il punit un temeraire agresseur ; il donne aux Suisses la victoire, comme il la leur a donnee a Nsefels. A Prattelen, a Naefels, nous etions un contre dix. Le meme rapport s'est trouve dans les cadavres. La France se repentit de ses succes ; l'Autriche vaincue abjura ses esperances de conquetes. Charles, souviens-toi de Prattelen et de Nsefels. COMPOSITIONS FRANgAISES, BY FRENCH PUPILS. N. B. — Our object in offering the following French compositions is to inspire in the pupils who read them a generous emulation, and stimulate them to equal, if not surpass, the efforts of others here pre- sented. LES HOMMES APRES LE DELUGE.— 2348 ans avant j.-c. Argument. — Dieu venait d'accomplir ses vengeances sur le genre humain, et de retrancher de la terre une race criminelle. — TJne farhille a trouve grace devant lui. — Seuls, au milieu de Funivers ravage, les pieux descendants de Seth promenent avec effroi leurs regards autour d'eux. Vous direz leurs tristes reflexions a Faspect de cette terre autrefois si riante, et maintenant nue et sauvage. — Ils se jettent avec confiance dans les bras de la Providence, et lui elevent un autel sur la montagne ou Farche s'est arretee. L'arc-en-ciel apparait dans les cieux comme gage d'une al- liance eternelle. NARRATION. Les vengeances de PEternel etaient accomplies: les cataractes des cieux se fermerent, et la puissante volonte 144 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. du Seigneur arreta les torrents suspendus sur des tetes coupables ; la terre fut montree au firmament, et le firma- ment a la terre. Cependant le pere des hommes n'|ivait pas voulu aneantir l'ouvrage de ses mains : les justes trouverent grace devant lui, et il jeta un oeil de clemence sur le vertueux Noe ; le patriarche et sa famille furent sauves de la commune destruction. L'arche miraculeuse, a laquelle etait confie l'espoir d'une race nouvelle et d'une generation meilleure, venait enfin de se fixer sur les mon- tagnes de l'Armenie. Quel petit nombre d'hommes, 6 mon Dieu ! avait range ses volontes sous le joug de tes augustes lois ! Noe sortit le premier suivi de sa famille, et il fit sortir apres lui tous les etres vivants que l'arche renfermait. A l'aspect de cette nature morne et silencieuse, le saint vieil- lard ne put retenir ses larmes : il pleurait les crimes des humains et les vengeances de Dieu. L'immensite de l'horizon ne presentait a l'ceil effraye que des debris et de la fange ; un ciel pale et nebuleux paraissait encore mena- cer la terre ; et dans le lointain, les rayons d'un soleil livide repandaient a travers les nuages une sinistre clarte. Tous garderent le silence, dans les premiers instants d'une surprise ineffable. lis songeaient que la race des hommes avait disparu, qu'ils etaient seuls dans la nature ; que seuls ils pouvaient faire entendre, au sein de ^immense solitude, les louanges de ce Dieu vengeur dont ils croyaient voir l'esprit planant sur la surface de la terre. Ils reste- rent quelque temps ensevelis dans ces graves meditations : seulement on entendait par intervalles, du sommet de 1' Ararat, les rugissements des lions et des ours qui sa- luaient la creation nouvelle, et qui, repetes par les echos des montagnes voisines, se prolongeaient le long des rives de PEuphrate. Le plus jeune des fils de Sem adressant enfin la parole a Noe : " O mon pere ! lui dit-il, quelles sont ces steriles montagnes, ces plaines incultes et desertes, ce ciel nebuleux et menacant ? Avons-nous quitte pour toujours nos riantes vallees et le beau ciel de notre fertile patrie V 9 " Mon fils, repondit le patriarche, apprends a respecter les decrets de TEternel : Dieu ne nous a point arraches a la fureur des eaux pour nous laisser perir dans le desert : sa bonte reserve un avenir heureux et d'honorables destins a ceux qui n'ont point partage Porgueil des descendants de COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 145 Cain. Hatons-nous de rendre de justes actions de grace a ce Dieu de misericorde, qui n'a pas regarde nos crimes au jour de ses vengeances. O Dieu ! quel mortel pourrait soutenir tes regards ? quel mortel serait trouve juste devant toi?" Ainsi parla le vieillard ; et sur-le-champ il eleva de ses mains un autel au Seigneur. Les pompes du monde ne pr£siderent pas au sacrifice ; mais les patriarches des pre- miers siecles, les anges et 1'Eternel lui-meme regardaient cet homme vertueux qui, sur les debris du monde detruit, offrait au ciel les hommages du monde renaissant. Apres avoir acheve cette pieuse ceremonie, le vieillard et sa famille entourerent 1'autel, et Noe, debout au milieu d'eux, adressa au Seigneur cet hymne que les anges repe- terent : " O Dieu ! que ta colere est terrible ! que ta clemence est grande ! Ou sont les impies qui pretendaient s'egaler au Createur ? Helas ! une ingrate famille a repudie son pere et son roi. Des femmes, des enfants, un faible vieillard, voila done les seuls adorateurs du Dieu vivant ! Graces te soient rendues, 6 mon Dieu ! qui nous as choisis pour perpetuer sur la terre l'ouvrage de tes mains ! Quelle bouche aurait desormais celebre par des louanges etemelles ton eternelle grandeur ? C'est aux vivants a chanter le Seigneur ; les enfers et la mort ne le beniront pas. O Dieu ! puisse-je ne te voir ja- mais arme contre ma race! Si tu prevois qu'elle doive sanctifier la terre et rejouir mon cceur par l'exemple de ses vertus, prolonge les annees de ton serviteur, et ne me rap- peile dans le sein des patriarches qu'apres m'avoir donne la consolation de voir les hommes reconcilies avec le Crea- teur. Mais s'ils doivent abandonner un jour le chemin que tu leur as trace, si une coupable indifference ou une fausse sagesse leur fait oublier tes bienfaits et leur devoir, frappe un malheureux pere ; et, si j'avais trouve grace a tes yeux, fais que j'expire avant d'avoir trop vecu." Telle fut la priere de Noe : ses enfants et ses petits-fils vinrent successivement remercier le Tres-Haut et lui adresser leurs hommages. lis lui offraient, non pas ces presents que la corruption des mceurs a portes dans le sanctuaire, mais un cceur pur, un ardent amour de la vertu, et cette innocence dont les premiers ages du monde nous ont laisse l'unique modele. Cependant le vieillard etait tombe dans une profonde 13 146 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. reverie. Appuye sur les debris d'un chene antique ren- verse par les torrents, les yeux eleves au ciel, il semblait eontempler un spectacle extraordinaire ; jamais sa figure ne fut plus majestueuse et plus animee. Ses enfants re- gardaient avec etonnement 1 'expression de son visage, frappe par les rayons du soleil couchant : quelquefois une sombre tristesse venait obscurcir son front, qu'epanouissait bientot une sainte et tranquille allegresse. Sans doute 1'Eternel lui revelait en ce moment, comme plus tard a Jacob, les hautes destinees de sa race, les vertus et les crimes, les succes et les malheurs d 'Israel. Tout a coup une celeste melodie se fit entendre dans les airs ; une clarte soudaine illumina l'orient. Une invisible main etendit dans l'espace jusqu'a l'occident un arc im- mense rayonnant des plus vives couleurs. En meme temps, une voix inconnue retentit du baut des cieux, et porta jusqu'aux oreilles de Noe ces mysterieuses paroles : " Ma colere est apaisee, et la terre est reconciliee avec moi : les eaux du deluge ne la couvriront plus. Quand le ciel sera obscurci de nuages menacants, mon arc, gage certain de ma clemence, apparaitra dans les airs, et je me rappellerai notre commune alliance. Surtout, 6 mortels ! songez toujours a respecter la divinite. Je n'ai rien mis au-dessus de la religion : elle seule ne suit pas les hommes au tombeau ; le reste meurt, elle ne meurt jamais. Ra- menez sur ce nouvel univers les vertus des premiers ages, et meritez les bienfaits que ma misericorde reserve a votre heureuse posterite. Un fertile rejeton s'eleve de la tige de Jesse, ses branches nourries par les fecondes rosees du ciel doivent un jour ombrager toute la terre." Noe se prosterna de nouveau devant le Seigneur qui lui annoncait sa volonte. Quel etait ce bienfait dont 1'Eternel avait parle, et que le patriarche enviait, sans le connaitre, a ses descendants 1 Mais Dieu ne voulait pas reveler clairement la naissance du Saint qu'il promettait. II fut donne au seul Abraham de eontempler le jour du Messie et la splendeur de la Jerusalem nouvelle. JEREMIE SUR LES RUINES DE JERUSALEM. 605 ANS AVANT J.-C. Argument, — Sous le regne de Sedecias, roi de Juda, Jerusa- lem tomba sous les coups de Timplacable Nabuchodonosor. COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 147 Regrets de Zorobabel, traine en captivite avec ceux que le glaive a epargnes. — II s'arrete un instant au milieu des ruines de sa patrie, et, dans un morne silence, il contemple avec affroi ces muets debris. Tout a coup un vieiliard se presence a lui. — C'est Jeremie, Telu du Seigneur, qui deplorait en ces lieux le neant des gran- deurs humaines. — II fait asseoir Zorobabel a ses cotes sur les d6bris d'une colonne. — II lui montre ces ruines amoncelees. — II lui rappelle la gloire, les crimes et le chatiment de Jerusalem. Puis, dans un enthousiasme prophetique, il predit a Israel la fin de sa captivite et le retabiissement du temple NARRATION. La gloire d^Israel n'etait plus : le roi d'Assyrie, Fimpla- cable Nabuchodonosor, avait emporte d'assaut Jerusalem, ravage le temple et precipite du trone dans un cachot Pirn- prudent Sedecias. Sion, abandonnee de son Dieu, avait vu ses entrailles maternelles dechirees, ses guerriers massacres sous ses murs, ses filles, ses vieillards egorges dans ses places publiques, et l'ennemi trainant en servitude dans une terre etrangere tous ceux que le glaive avait epargnes. Parmi les nombreuses victimes arrachees a leur patrie, se trouvait un jeune Israelite, nourri dans la loi du Sei- gneur, et dont Fame innocente et pure etait demeuree fidele au Dieu d'Abraham. Zorobabel etait son nom ; saisi par une troupe impitoyable, il n'a pu dire un eternel adieu a son humble heritage, ni au tombeau de ses peres. Oh ! s'il pouvait les revoir encore, s'il pouvait encore une fois verser des larmes sur leurs debris, les chaines du fier Assyrien lui paraitraient plus legeres ! Avec moins de regrets il irait porter sa douleur aux champs de Babylone ; et, sur les bords de PEuphrate, ces tendres souvenirs charmeraient du moins les ennuis de son esclavage ! II saisit un instant favorable, s'echappe, et precipite ses pas tremblants vers sa chere Jerusalem. Helas ! son coeur a peine a la recon- naitre ! Jerusalem n'est plus qu'un triste amas de ruines ! II contemple avec un saint efFroi ces augustes restes, tout pleins des David et des Josaphat. Seul, dans un morne silence, il touche, il baise avec respect ces marbres que n'a pu devorer la fiamme, et, promenant ses yeux remplis de 148 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. larmes autour de ces muets debris, les mains levees au ciel : " Heureux, s'ecrie-t-il, trois fois heureux le brave, mort sous nos remparts en combattant pour sa patrie ! II n'a pas vu tomber Sion, il n'a pas vu sa douce epouse, son vieux pere, ses jeunes enfants outrages par d'insolents vain- queurs. Maintenant il repose au sein de Jacob, et nous, malheureux, condamnes a l'exil, nous quittons ces cam- pagnes si cheres, temoins des jeux de notre enfance ! Riant Carmel, majestueux Liban, je n'irai plus sur vos cimes verdoyantes, cueillir les fleurs du printemps, et me meler aux danses des vierges de Sion. O monts de Galaad, je n'irai plus dans vos bois poursuivre le daim et le cerf agile. Adieu, rives du Jourdain ; adieu torrent de Cedron que tant de fois j'ai traverse. Dormez en paix, cendres de mes peres ; tombeaux sacres, je vous salue pour la der- niere fois ; ma main ne vous ornera plus de guirlandes ; mon luth, ma voix ne feront plus entendre les chants du bonheur : mon luth, ma voix ne savent plus que gemir." II avait dit, quand un vieillard se presente tout a coup a ses yeux : ses cheveux blanchis par Tage, sa longue barbe, la tristesse majestueuse empreinte sur son visage frappent le jeune Israelite. II s'approche, et reconnait Jeremie; Jeremie, ce digne elu du Seigneur, Jeremie qui, dans ces jours de deuil et de mort, sauve par la main de 1'Eternel, deplorait en ces lieux solitaires le neant des grandeurs humaines. A la vue de cette longue chevelure qui flotte sur les epaules du timide Zorobabel, a la vue de ce front ou brille l'aimable eclat de l'innocence, le vieillard sourit, le prend par la main, le fait asseoir a ses cotes sur les debris d'une colonne, et lui adresse ces paroles : " O mon fils, tu verras jSetrir ces couleurs si brillantes ; ta beaute se fanera comme les roses du Carmel ! Les frimas de Thiver rem- placent la riante parure du printemps ; les cites, les em- pires s'ecroulent : rien n'est stable sous le soleil. Tout passe ; Dieu seul ne passe jamais. Qu'a-t-elle fait de sa puissance, cette altiere Jerusalem ? Hier tu l'as vue si riche, si florissante, si superbe de ses remparts : elle sem- blait la reine des cites. Sa gloire a passe comme l'eclair rapide qui apparait aux plaines de l'air, quand les feux brdlants du soleil dessechent les moissons de Moab. Helas ! la cite cherie a viole sa foi, et l'epoux a repudie l'epouse. La colere du Tout-Puissant s'est repandue sur une terre abreuvee du sang de ses prophetes. En vain je portai mes COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 149 larmes au pied du trone : " O Sedecias, ai-je dit, tremble ! une reprobation fatale est suspendue sur ta tete ; apaise, apaise, crois-moi, le Dieu des armees." Sedecias mepri- sa mes larmes ; ivre de ses grandeurs, il osa prodiguer un coupable encens a des divinites sourdes et impuissantes, et le Dieu fort s'est venge. Lui-meme a retranche son peu- ple. Apres avoir arrete deux fois les belliqueux enfants d'Assur, il les a pousses lui-meme sur Jerusalem : alors, trone, grandeur, puissance, tout est tombe. Qu'est devenu ce grand arbre dont les branches orgueilleuses montaient jusqu'au ciel ? La foudre est partie d'en haut, et l'arbre superbe est renverse. Regarde ces ruines, 6 mon fils, voila ce qui reste de Jerusalem ! Interroge cette poussiere: la s'elevait ce temple magnifique, ouvrage de Salomon et fruit d'un siecle de travail, edifie par cent mille bras, et qu'une heure vient d'aneantir. Ici je reconnais la place ou fut naguere le palais de Sedecias ; lis sur ces colonnes abattues les titres pompeux que lui prodiguait la flatterie. Dieu ! a cette place que tu foules, en ce lieu meme, 6 mon fils, le dernier roi d'Israel a vu ses enfants, Punique espoir de sa vieillesse et de Sion, egorges sous ses yeux que bien- tot lui arracha une troupe forcenee ! Jour afireux ! Jour efiroyable ! Le Jourdain roule dans ses ondes les casques, les dards et les corps mutiles ! Partout du sang, partout des cadavres ! Dieu du ciel, voila tes vengeances ¥* A ces mots, Pauguste vieillard s'arrete, interrompu par ses sanglots. Le jeune Israelite mele ses larmes aux siennes, et tous deux soulagent leur douleur en l'epanchant dans le sein 1'un de l'autre. Apres quelques instants de silence, Thomme de Dieu se leve, et d'un ton plus solennel: Ecoute, 6 mon fils : ces ruines parlent plus haut que la voix des prophetes, que Sion n'a point comprise. Garde les commandements de l'Eternel, ton Dieu ; Jerusalem souillee du sang de ses enfants, en proie aux flammas devo- vorantes, dispersee comme la cendre au vent, Penseignent a quel prix on peut trahir le Seigneur ! N'oublie jamais ces enseignements redoutables ; qu'ils demeurent graves au plus profond de ton ame : un jour Dieu peut retablir ce qu'il a renverse ! un jour il peut te choisir toi-meme pour accomplir l'ceuvre de sa misericorde. Oui, l'Espnt saint parle a mon coeur : le livre de l'avenir se deroule devant moi. Ciel ! ou vont des bords de l'Euphrate ces enfants de gloire, la truelle d'une main et le glaive de l'autre ? 13* 150 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Quel est ce guerrier qui les conduit ? Vents, portez-les sur vos ailes ! Nations, prosternez-vous, aclorez les Saints d'Israel. Sors de tes ruines, temple du Seigneur ! Minis- tres du Dieu vivant, preparez vos cantiques. Rejouis-toi, fille de Sion ! que tes yeux brillent de l'eclat d'un beau jour : ton Dieu te rend ses bontes, mais tremble de le me- connaltre encore I* 9 II dit, et le jeune Israelite attendri tombe a ses genoux, lui demande sa benediction, et rejoint ses compagnons d'in- fortune en meditant les paroles du saint prophete, qui se perd au milieu des ruines de Jerusalem. ENTREVUE D'ARMINIUS ET DE FLAVIUS, 9 ANS APRES J.-C. Argument. — Flavius, frere d'Arminius, etait reste fidele aux Romains, apres la revoke des Germains : il avait servi dans Tarmee romaine, et avait merile plusieurs recompenses mili- taires. Dans la campagne de Germanicus contre Arminius, celui-ci demanda une entrevue a son frere. Arminius adressa ee discours a Flavius. D'abord il lui reproche de preferer la servitude des sujets de Pempire romain a Pindependance de ses compatriotes. — II trace un tableau rapide des moeurs sauvages, mais pures des Germains, qu'il oppose aux moeurs corrompues de Rome. II repond ensuite aux raisons que Flavius pourrait tirer de rinfraction des traites, en rappelant avec cbaleur les vexations exercees en Germanie par les proconsuls romains et les malheurs dans lesquels ils avaient plonge la patrie. — Quelies recompenses ont valu a Flavius ses services contre les Germains ?— Des cou- ronnes, des titres d'honneur, ou plutot des marques honteuses de sa servitude. Arminius parlera avec orgueil de la defaite de Varus et des Romains, ainsi que des succes obtenus depuis contre ce fameux Germanicus.-^-Succes glorieux qui sont le gage de beaucoup d'autres. Mais que les Romains soient vainqueurs, Flavius voudra-t-il etre l'instrument de la perte de ses compatriotes ? COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 151 NARRATION ET DISCOURS. Dans une des guerres de Germanie, Arminius s'approcha du camp romain, et demanda une entrevue avec Cesar. On lui repondit que Cesar etait absent. " Qu'on m'envoie au moins mon frere," dit-il. Un officier romain se pre- sente ; il porte a la main la verge du centurion, un glaive pend a son cote, sur son iront un casque etincelle, Peclat de son armure annonce l'opulence et la distinction : c'est Flavius, le frere du heros. " Flavius, j'avais peine a te reconnaitre sous cet habit romain : a te voir on te prendrait pour un tribun ou pour un consul, et sans doute tu ne desesperes pas de le devenir. Pour assouvir ton ambition, il te iaut maintenant des haches et des faisceaux, comme a nos guerriers une belle framee ou un cheval de bataille. Ah ! malheureux Flavius, te voila done devenu Romain ! Et quelle ardeur te poussait ainsi hors de nos forets, dans le camp de nos oppressaurs ? quel vertige t'entrainait loin de ta patrie, de tes amis et de ta vieille mere ? la soif de Tor peut-etre ? La liberte se paie-t-elle avec de For, et n'avais-tu pas, comme les autres, des troupeaux et ta part de butin ? Parle ; voulais-tu commander ? Etait-il plus beau a tes yeux d'etre chez les Romains centurion ou chef de cohorte, qu'homme libre parmi nous ? Je le vois, Se- geste t'aura seduit avec son or et ses promesses ; il t'aura vante les douceurs de la puissance, les charmes de la domi- nation. " On t'obeira, t'a4-il dit ; on flechira sous tes ordres ; les soldats trembleront devant le centurion Fla- vius." Insense ! t'a-t-il dit aussi : " Le centurion Flavius tremblera devant un tribun superbe ; s'il a cent esclaves, il aura plus de cent maitres ; s'il donne des fers, il en recevra V 9 Eh bien ! plutot ne commande a personne, et que personne ne te commande. Ecoute, il en est temps encore : au milieu de ces honneurs qu'on te rend, de ce faste qui t'assiege, de ces aigles que tu adores et que je meprise, ne ressens-tu jamais de l'ennui ? Quand tu sacri- fies au Jupiter du Capitole, ne songes-tu point au Jupiter de Germanie? Ne regrettes-tu point nos dieux, nos forets, nos combats, les louanges de nos femmes, les hymnes de nos bardes ? Au souvenir de ce que tu as trahi, ne verses-tu jamais des pleurs de repentir et d'amertume ? " Jamais, dit Flavius, parce que je n'ai rien trahi." Et il allegua l'infraction des traites, la foi juree aux Romains 152 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. par Arminius, et violee par lui ; lui Flavius, il avait pre- fere a l'amour de la patrie l'amour de la justice. "Belle justice! s'ecrie Arminius, belle justice, que de deserter tout ce qu'il y a de plus sacre, dieux, patrie, famille. Rome, dis-tu, nous traite de perfides et de rebelles ; c'est du Capitole qu'est parti cet arret, c'est au senat qu'on 1'a dicte, et tu peux le croire ! J'ai honte et pitie de ton erreur. T'ont-ils aussi conte, ces hommes justes, les vexa- tions de leurs proconsuls, les tyrannies de leurs preteurs ? Comme on nous arrachait nos femmes, nos troupeaux, nos armes ? comme on trainait nos guerriers a 1'amphitheatre, pour s'egorger aux yeux des Romains ? Les laches ! ils m'ont ravi mon epouse et 1 'enfant qu'elle porte dans son sein ; et le fils d'Arminius verra le jour dans une cite ro- maine, ou il puisera avec le lait la haine de son pere et de sa nation ; et je ne pourrai venger mon injure, parce qu'il existe je ne sais quel traite ! Y a-t-il des traites avec la violence et la tyrannie ? et, tant que j'aurai un glaive ou une lance, souffrirai-je qu'on m'insulte et me depouille ? Qu'on ignore ces sentiments aux rives du Tibre ) mais toi, Flavius, nourri dans l'independance entre l'Ebre et le Rhin, comment les ignores-tu ? Quel charme a done Rome pour te faire oublier la patrie et l'honneur ? Nomme-moi ces recompenses qui valent mieux que les notres, ces titres plus beaux que notre estime. Je vois sur ton front les marques d'une blessure ; c'est en combattant centre nous que tu l'as recue, sans doute on aura bien paye ton sang et tes services." Flavius cite alors le lieu, le combat ou il fut blesse ; il avait ete recompense magnifiquement ; il avait recu un plus haut grade ; il etale les couronnes, les bracelets, les colliers qu'il a obtenus de !a main de Cesar, et les montre a son frere qui sourit de pitie. " Voila done le prix de tant de lachete ! des parures de femme ; et encore les femmes de notre pays rougiraient de les porter. Flavius, est-ce ainsi que la Germanie recom- pense ses defenseurs ? J'ai toujours combattu pour elle ; j'ai, dans une seule nuit, accable trois legions, trois lieute- nants ; on voit encore suspendues aux chenes sacres les aigles romaines et les depouilles de Varus ; le vieil Auguste, qu'ils appelaient un dieu, en pleura de rage et en mourut de douleur. Dernierement encore, j'ai humilie l'orgueii du fameux Germanicus ; j'ai chatie cet ecolier de Tibere COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 153 et son armee seditieuse : crois-tu qu'on m'ait decore de bracelets et de couronnes ? Non, quand j'ai paru dans la grande assemblee de la nation, tous ont frappe leurs bou- cliers et leurs lances ; tous ont fremi en signe d'eloge ; on m J a eleve sur le pavois, et proclame prince des Germains. O Flavius, tant de gloire dans ton frere ne te fait-elle pas envie ? tant de bassesse en toi ne te fait-elle pas honte ? En t'attachant a des laches, quel si grand desir as-tu de la defaite 1 Car n'espere point nous vaincre avec des legions, braves seulement contre leur chef, et qui, pbur eluder la guerre, se jettent dans la sedition, avec des soldats uses par les blessures et les fatigues, miserables restes echappes a la colere des dieux et aux orages de Pocean. lis n'ont fui la mort sur les flots que pour la trouver sous nos bras ; et les rames et les voiles les defendront mal aujourd'hui contre le fer et le glaive. Ou, si les dieux voulaient nous exercer par le malheur, si nous devions succomber, serais-tu volon- tiers rinstrument de notre ruine ? Guiderais-tu le vain- queur dans nos retraites obscures et dans ces cavernes connues de nous seuls et des betes feroces ? Le menerais- tu par la main au grand autel de la foret, en lui disant : Profane-le ; au chene sacre de Teutates, en lui disant : Detruis-le ; a l'asile de nos pretresses, en lui disant : Frappe- les, egorge-les ? Serais-tu tout a la fois et traitre et sacri- lege 1 Je ne le pense pas, Flavius ; autrement j'en ferais justice a l'heure me me, a la face des hommes et des dieux. Qu'esperes-tu done d'un parti ou la honte est egale pour toi dans la victoire et dans la defaite ? Ecoute, mon coursier est rapide ; la foret est proche ; viens-t'en rejoindre tes dieux, tes parents, ta mere qui pleure chaque jour moins ton ab- sence que ton infamie ; redeviens mon compatriote et mon frere : si tu refuses, tu n r es plus qu'un lache, et je te pro- mets la moft au prochain combat." A ces mots, Flavius a rougi de colere ; il est deja trop vil pour secouer l'esclavage ; il est encore trop fier pour supporter un affront. L'epee a brille dans sa main et menace le sein fraternel ; Arminius, non moins ardent, s'elance pour venger son injure et celle de tous les Ger- mains. Mais les gardes accourus au bruit arretent les deux combattants, et les separent fremissant de rage. Le centurion romain est ramene dans le camp, et Arminius s'enfonce dans la foret d'Hercule, ou l'attend son armee. 154 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. LES GOTHS DANS ATHENES.— 260 ans avant j.-c. Argument. — Sons le regne de Gallien, lorsque de tous cotes i'empire roraain etait en proie aux invasions des barbares, les Goths, apres avoir ravage le Peloponese, et pille les villes de S parte, d'Argos, de Corinthe et de Thebes, s'emparerent aussi d'Athenes vainernent defendue par Cleodame. La ville fut saccagee : les Goths rassemblerent, dit-on, les bibliotheques qu'elle renfermait et se disposaient a les livrer aux flammes, lors- qu'un de leurs chefs, montant a la tribune qui avait retenti des accents de Demosthene, proposa d'epargner ces monuments d'un art corrupteur, qui entretiendraient dans Tame des Grecs la mol- lesse et la lachete avec le gout et les passions fri voles. Vous ferez parler le barbare com me il convient aux prejuges du temps et au caractere d'un tel orateur. Vous ajouterez quelsmes reflexions sur l'influence qu'il impute a la culture des lettres. NARRATION ET DISCOURS. Lorsque l'Empire, en proie au-dedans a toutes les fu- reurs de la tyrannie et de l'anarchie, se fesait encore res- pecter au-dehors par le souvenir toujours present de ses anciennes victoires, les Goths et les autres peuples du Nord preludaient par des incursions et des ravages a ces emigra- tions armees dont ils devaient plus tard accabler le monde romain. Dans ces invasions passageres, ils se contentaient de piller les villes et de massacrer tous ceux qui osaient se defendre : charges de depouilles, ils repassaient sur les glaces de l'hiver ou sur de freles embarcations les fleuves qui servaient de limites a leur empire, et allaient etonner leurs concitoyens et leurs deserts des produits inconnus d'une civilisation avancee. Quelques hordes de Goths, ne trouvant plus dans les pays- devastes de quoi servir de pature a leurs ravages, oserent s'avancer jusqu'&u ccsur de la Grece ; et apres avoir ravage le Peloponese, pille les villes de Sparte, d'Argos, de Corinthe et de Thebes, ils se presenterent devant Athenes, qui n'avait plus de Miltiade ou de Themistocle a opposer aux barbares. Athenes, jadis si puissante et si belliqueuse, avait depuis iongtemps oublie son antique valeur. EUe se rappelait COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 155 encore ses grands noms dont quelques rheteurs ampoules fesaient retentir leurs ecoles ; mais c'etait en vain que dans leurs ridicules declamations ils invoquaient les manes de Miltiade et de Pericles : ces heros qui repondaient en- core aux accents de Demosthene, n'ecoutaient plus la voix de ses successeurs degeneres, qui, sans eloquence parce qu'ils etaient sans patriotisme, ne savaient que rappeler des souvenirs dont ils etaient dechus, des triomphes qui devaient faire rougir leur bassesse, et des grands hommes dont la gloire accusait leur lachete. Et que pouvaient servir a Athenes toutes ces gloires d'un autre siecle, puisqu'elle ne les ofFrait plus que comme une brillante matiere aux discours de ses rheteurs, et.non point comme un illustre exemple a Pemulation de ses guerriers ? Que lui servaient et le Portique et PAcademie, si PAcropo- lis etait vide de defenseurs, si les murailles tombaient en ruines, si les ports etaient deserts ? Que retira-t-elle de cette gloire des lettres et des arts, la seule a laquelle elle put desormais pretendre, quand, degeneree d'elle-meme, il lui fallut cependant combattre des ennemis plus pauvrcs mais plus braves que les anciens Perses ? Elle eprouva bien, a Papproche des barbares, qu'il valait mieux imiter ses anciens heros que de les chanter, et que dans ses ecoles on desapprenait la valeur. A peine les Goths ont-ils pris possession de leur nouvelle conquete, et dresse, au milieu de cette ville superbe et de ses somptueux edifices, leur ville guerriere et leurs tentes sauvages, qu'ils s'elancent sur leur proie sans respecter ni les temples des dieux ni les antiques maisons des poetes, autres temples consacres au genie par Padmiration des hommes. Parmi les plus precieux tresors enleves aux de- meures des vaincus, ils transporterent sur la place publique les travaux de tous les grands hommes des grands siecles, qui enflammaient, en les chantant, le courage et toutes les vertus patriotiques. Bientot les immortels chefs-d'oeuvre de Sophocle et d'Euripide, et de ces sublimes harangues de Demosthene, qui fesaient trembler sur leur trone les rois ennemis de la Grece, et ces hautes conceptions des princes de la philosophic, arraches aux sanctuaires reveres ou de nombreux adorateurs venaient leur rendre le plus beau des hommages, en y cherchant ou de nobles, ou de grandes, ou de touchantes inspirations, vont etre livres aux flammes par la grossiere barbarie du vainqueur ! Ainsi une heure va 156 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. devorer dix siecles de travaux, et confondre dans une mine commune tous ces glorieux heritages legues a l'univers par le genie ! Mais non ; c'est un guerrier barbare qui va les disputer a ses concitoyens aveugles, et plaider dans son langage rude et inculte la cause des Platon et des Demosthene, cites en jugement devant des hordes sauvages. Quelles sont ses pensees ? Sentirait-il ce que c'est que le genie ? aurait-il, comme par instinct, devine cette admiration qu'il doit com- mander aux hommes, et concu une autre gloire que celle des armes et de la valeur ? ou bien aurait-il lu quelque chose sur le front inspire des statues, ou revivent ces grands hommes ? Et ce coup d'ceil d'enthousiasme que l'artiste a su tracer sur le bronze aurait-il communique a son coeur le feu divin qu'il respire 1 Non, non, d'autres pensees agi- tent son ame. II va sauver tant de chefs-d'oeuvre par me- pris, et leur faire une nouvelle insulte en les accablant de sa pitie. II s'elance a cette meme tribune d'ou les foudres du plus puissant des orateurs avaient ete tant de fois chercher Philippe jusqu'au fond de sa Macedoirie ; et De- mosthene barbare, il parle en ces termes a. ses grossiers concitoyens : " Que faites-vous, compagnons ! pourquoi ces torches, ces feux, ces apprets de joie ? Vous voulez livrer aux flammes ce vaste amas de pompeuses inutilites auxquelles nos ennemis attachent tant de prix. Je l'avoue, apres le doux plaisir d'une ville saccagee, ce serait agreablement couronner notre fete, que de faire respirer a tous ces grands hommes de bronze cette fumee de leurs ouvrages ; mais avant de nous abandonner aux transports d'une joie tumul- tueuse, songeons a nous assurer pour jamais la possession d'Athenes, ou du moins a. nous eonserver un droit annuel sur son pillage. Si nous voulons revenir couper avec nos glaives les moissons semees par nos ennemis et enlever les tresors qu'entasse sans cesse leur avarice, perpetuons avec soin parmi eux la lachete qui leur 6te le pouvoir de se de- fendre, et la bassesse qui derobe a leurs yeux le deshonneur d'une defaite. " Pour cela, compagnons, quel plus infaillible moyen que de leur laisser ces livres, meprisables instruments de servi- tude, vils professeurs de lachete ! Leurs livres, leurs sophistes, voila ce qui fait nos victoires. Sans doute, ces hommes a longue barbe, au maintien grave, au long man- COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 157 teau rejete avec art sur l'epaule gauche, ces hommes qui semblent les chefs de cette laehe armee de jeunes audi- teurs, presses autour d'eux comme de timides brebis autour du patre qui doit les proteger, leur disent pompeusement dans leur language harmonieux et effemine : " Voyez les statues des grands hommes d'Athenes ; admirez leurs ex- ploits ; apprenez, jeunes encore, a chanter leur gloire." Mais ils ne leur disent pas : " EfForcez-vous de 1'efFacer par la votre, et triomphez d'eux comme ils ont triomphe de leurs ennemis." Sans doute aussi ces livres leur appren- nent a louer le courage et a etre laches, a regarder les heros comme des demi-dieux ofFerts a leur admiration, plutot qu'a une emulation genereuse. Pour nous, sans poetes, sans beaux parleurs, sans proneurs de vertu, nous savons combattre, vaincre et eviter la bassesse. Quand nous marchons au carnage, un cri de guerre est le seul Pean que nous adressons a nos dieux ; ils l'entendent, ils nous exaucent, et nos ennemis fuient devant nous. " Voulons-nous done elever les Atheniens jusqu'a notre bravoure, et les forcer a etre courageux en leur arrachant ces aliments de leur lachete ? Irons-nous, vainqueurs in- senses, tourner contre nous-memes notre victoire, et ravir a nos ennemis la coupe empoisonnee ou ils puisent la mort ? Non, non, abandonnons-leur les chants effemines de leurs poetes : laissons croitre dans l'Acropolis l'olivier sacre de la deesse. Que le Palladium, debout au milieu des Athe- niens, leur promette encore un secours qu'ils ont en vain attendu; et nous, guerriers du Nord, revenons dans une annee cueillir les fruits qu'ils auront fait murir pour nous, et ravager Athenes, quand elle sera redevenue digne de notre pillage." Ainsi parlait un barbare, Athenes, avec ses sophistes, ses rheteurs et sa lachete, etait la pour confirmer son dis- cours, mais Athenes d'un autre siecle, Athenes, avec ses Themistocle, et ses Pericles, ses Sophocle et ses Euripide, les uns a la fois generaux et orateurs, les autres a la fois guerriers et poetes, etait la pour justifier les lettres et la civilisation contre l'ignorance et la barbarie. MEME SUJET. Gallien venait de succeder a Valerien son pere. Tan- dis que cet empereur, plonge dans la mollesse, ne se souve- 14 158 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. nait qu'il etait le maitre du monde que pour s'abandonner avec plus de licence a ses honteux penchants, tandis que PEgypte, Plllyrie et la Gaule se fesaient de nouveaux em- pereurs, une nuee de barbares se precipita tout a coup sur l'Orient sans defense. C'etaient les Goths, qui plus tard devaient fonder un double empire sur les debris epars du colosse romain. Les barbares se repandirent sur la Grece comme un torrent devastateur : Sparte, Argos, Thebes, Corinthe furent presqu'en meme temps prises et saccagees. Ce n'etait plus alors que la Grece pouvait armer des hommes libres contre l'invasion etrangere ; des soldats ro- mains gardaient les Thermopyles, et la vue des trophees de Marathon ne pouvait plus reveiller, dans les arnes amollies et endurcies a l'esclavage, que le sentiment de la servitude presente, et le souvenir impuissant de la liberte qui n'etait plus. En vain le brave Cleodame, renferme dans les murs qui avaient vu naitre Themistocle, voulut-il opposer une digue a Timpetuosite des hordes asiatiques ; Athenes fut vaincue. Ce n'etait pas un tel vainqueur qui pouvait, en faveur des morts, pardonner aux vivants ; ce n'etaient pas de telles armees qui n'usaient de la victoire que pour rele- ver la garde des remparts, et arborer sur des murs conquis un etendard victorieux. Les Goths, alteres de sang et de pillage, se precipiterent dans la ville soumise, et la mort, sous mille formes difforentes, y penetra de toutes parts avec eux. Pendant deux jours ils promenerent dans ces murs leur fureur indisciplinee \ enfin, rassasies de meurtre et de sang, ils s'arreterent pour contempler 1'afFreux spectacle qu'Athenes presentait a leur barbarie satisfaite. Mais ils veulent signaler leur repos par un exploit nouveau : toutes les bibliotheques de la ville avaient ete rassemblees dans la place publique ; ils s'y rendent en foule. Ce fut alors un etrange et cruel spectacle de voir cette auguste enceinte, consacree par tant de grands souvenirs, profanee par les Goths victorieux ! Tandis que les Athe- niens fixaient sur les vainqueurs des regards ou se peignait un triste et stupide etonnement, tandis qu'ils s'efforcaient en vain d'elever vers le temple de Minerve protectrice leurs mains chargees de chaines, les barbares, confusement en- tasses sous les portiques des temples, voyaient d'un ceil in- different ces merveilles des arts et du genie. Leurs traits sauvages, leur costume asiatique, leurs cris discordants formaient un douloureux contraste avec ces monuments COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 159 (Fun peuple ingenieux et police ; la victoire des Goths etait comme le triomphe de la barbarie sur la civilisation. Leurs armes reposaient suspendues en trophees aux co- lonnes des edifices ; et leurs lances, rougies du sang athe- nien, s'elevaient en faisceaux autour de ces marbres captifs. Ce peuple de statues, qui remplissait les portiques, semblait representer dans cette enceinte les generations qui n'etaient plus : Themistocle semblait avoir pris une attitude plus menacante, et tous ces vieux herps paraissaient reprocher a leurs faibles descendants d'avoir laisse profaner le sanc- tuaire de la liberte. Cependant un barbare s'avancant au milieu de l'assem- blee : " Que tardez-vous, compagnons ? s'ecria-t-il ; hatez- vous de livrer aux flammes ces monuments de servitude : nous n'avons pas besoin d'emporter dans nos forets ces pre- tendus tresors ; mais il faut les ravir aux vaincus. II suf- fira de quelques instants, pour aneantir tout ce qu'ils ont pense depuis deux mille ans ; hatons-nous, compagnons, de consumer ces laches productions de leur faiblesse." On applaudit a sa brutale insolence : deja la flamme etait prete ; e'en etait fait de ces eternels monuments d'une gloire imperissable ; e'en etait fait de la renommee de tant de grands hommes. Mais l'arrogante ignorance d'un barbare conserva a la posterite cet heritage immortel de la science et du genie. Un des chefs de l'armee victorieuse s'elance a cette tribune, qui avait retenti des accents de Demosthene : " Compagnons, s'ecrie-t-il, qu'allez-vous faire ? arretez ! vous meprisez les Atheniens ; votre vertu s'irrite de leur faiblesse, et veut aneantir ces monuments d'un art corrupteur ! Et moi aussi, je partage cette ver- tueuse indignation. Mais quoi ! voulez-vous aneantir les instruments de notre victoire 1 voulez-vous retirer des mains de votre ennemi le poison lent dont il s'abreuve, et qui fait couler dans ses veines la faiblesse et la lachete ? Ah ! laissez-les, laissez-les entretenir plutot leur mollesse de ce perfide aliment ; ce sont leurs vaines sciences, dont ces livres sont les depositaires, qui ont fait germer dan9 leur ame des semences de corruption. Voyez ce que vous etes, voyez ce qu'ils sont ! Fiers d'une noble ignorance, nous laissons aux peuples civilises les arts, les sciences, vains jouets de leur frivolite ; ainsi le guerrier arme son bras de la lance des combats, et remet une oisive quenouille , entre les mains de sa faible compagne. Nous n'avons, il 160 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. est vrai, ni des poetes pour chanter nos exploits, ni des philosophes pour nous enseigner la justice ; mais les Athe- niens discourent en beau langage des vertus qu'ils n'ont pas ; et nous, nous pratiquons la vertu sans en parler. Si nous n'avons pas des poetes pour immortaliser nos exploits, nous savons vaincre du moins, et c'est un art qu'ont des- appris les Atheniens en lisant les chants de triomphe de leurs ancetres. Tandis que notre jeunesse s'exerce a faire sifHer dans les airs une fleche rapide, a combattre les betes feroces, a serrer les flancs d'un coursier agile, la jeunesse athenienne se presse autour d'un sophiste ; c'est dans ces portiques qu'elle se forme a supporter les intemperies des saisons et les fatigues de la guerre. On entretient l'Athe- nien des combats de ses peres, il apprend a reciter les noms de ces h£ros d'autrefois, mais il n'apprend pas a les imiter, et sa main pourrait a peine soulever ces armes que leurs percs vainqueurs consacrerent aux dieux. Pour eux, la justice est une science, la valeur un calcul ; mais sur le champ de bataille, ils oublient les honteuses lecons d'un gladia.eur mercenaire. -Laissons-les done, braves com- pagnons, laissons-les nourrir leurs ames des preceptes d'une sagesse menteuse ; laissons-leur ces livres, instruments de corruption et de servitude. Tandis qu'ils ehanteront en vers harmonieux leur ville saecagee par les enfants du Nord, preparons-nous a des victoires nouvelles. Ces livres que nous leur laissons, voila les chaines que nous leur impo- sons, voila le joug que leur faiblesse n'osera secouer. Qu'ils negligent encore la science des combats, la seule digne de J'homme, pour se livrer a des occupations frivoles, a des arts imposteurs ; notre triomphe n'en sera que plus facile, quand les jours marques par nos devins seront arrives, et que les hordes du Nord feront rouler leurs maisons errantes jusqu'au boutdecemondeinconnu promisaleurs armes triomphantes!" Ainsi parlait un barbare. Malheureux sans doute celui qui blasphemait ainsi les plus nobles creations du genie ! plus malheureux encore ces Atheniens, dont la lachete semblait justifier de pareils blasphemes ! Mais quoi ! de- vait-on accuser de la faiblesse de leurs concitoyens ces philosophes dont les grandes et sublimes lecons elevaient lame a toutes les vertus, ces poetes, chantres de la gloire, dont les vers etaient la plus belle couronne des heros vic- torieux ? Ah ! ce n'etait pas dans les chants du divin Homere, ce n'etait pas en contemplant sur un champ de COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 161 bafaille Pimpetuosite d'Ajax, la valeur de Diomede, la bravoure d'Hector, et Pindomptable ardeur du fils de Pelee, que les Grecs avaient appris a cecler a. l'ennemi un triom- phe facile ! Avaient-ils pris des lecons de lachete dans les chants immortels de ce poete, qui distribuait la gloire aux jeux de PIsthme et d'Olympie ? ou bien dans les vers du fougueux Eschyle, qui celebrait des exploits auxquels il s'etait associe, et fesait apparaitre Pombre consternee de Darius pour proclamer les victoires d'Athenes ? Et toi, Tyrtee, toi, dont les vers etaient des cris de guerre et des promesses de victoire, etait-ce toi qui avais dit a ces Athe- niens : " Renoncez a. la gloire des armes ; abandonnez aux barbares Phonneur de vaincre dans les combats ?" Eh quoi ! n'etait-ce pas sur cette me me tribune, profanee maintenant par un orateur descendu du Caucase, que tant d'orateurs citoyens avaient fait honneur a la parole, en pretant le secours de leur eloquence aux plus nobles inspi- rations du patriotisme ? Etait-ce done dans les livres de leurs philosophes que les Atheniens avaient trouve Papolo- gie s et rencouragement de leur lachete ? Mais cet bomme. le plus sublime comme )e plus modeste des philosophes, qui ne laissa d'autre livre a la posterite que les vertus de sa vie et le grand exemple de sa mort, Socrate, combattit avec intrepidite sous les murs de Potidee. Platon consacrait son eloquence a celebrer les guerriers morts dans les combats. Xenophon, avant d'etre un grand philosophe, avait ete bon soldat et savant capitaine ; et la retraite des dix mille per- petue autant le souvenir de son nom que la douceur de son eloquence et les charmes de sa sagesse. Ah ! gardons- nous de le croire : non, les lettres, ce present sublime que le ciel a fait a l'homme, les lettres qui eveillent le premier enthousiasme de la jeunesse, qui font Petude et le delasse- ment de Page mur, la gloire et la consolation de la vieil- lesse, les lettres ne peuvent faire germer dans les ames aucun sentiment indigne de leur celeste origine. Les let- tres sont associees a toutes les vertus guerrieres et poli- tiques ; elles se rattachent a tout ce qu'il y a de grand parmi les homines. Loin d'enseigner la lachete, les lettres excitent le courage du guerrier, le delassent de ses fatigues et immortalisent ses exploits. Les lettres ont perfectionne Part des combats ; et si les Alaric, les Attila, dont la valeur n'etait qu'un instinct grossier qui les precipitait au milieu des dangers, se sont pares d'un mepris superbe 14* 162 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. pour un art qu'ils ne connaissaient pas 5 d'autres conque* rants, d'une valeur plus eclatante encore, ont venge haute- ment cet art sublime de la dedaigneuse ignorance de ces heros barbares. C.'est pour obtenir le suffrage d'un peuple ingenieux qu'Alexandre exposait chaque jour sa fortune et sa vie ; et quand, vainqueur de Darius, il ne vit plus de guerrier que 1'admiration des hommes elevat jusqu'a lui, c'est dans Homere que son emulation alia chercher des modeles ; il s'efforca de surpasser ces heros agrandis par les vers du poete ; et c'est peut-etre au chantre d 'Achilla que la Grece dut Alexandre. EDOUARf> EN ECOSSE.— 1746 ans apres j.-c. Argument. — Apres quelques heureux succes, le pretendant Charles-Edouard avait ete baltu a la journee de Culloden, et errait sans secours et sans asile. — On peindra en quelques mots sa detresse et ses souffrances ineessamment croissantes a la nou- velle du supplice de la plupart de ses partisans. Edouard est sur le point de tomber entre les mains des soldats charges de le saisir. — II ne peut trouver d'asile que dans le cha- teau d'un seigneur anglais, Tun de ses mortels ennemis. — Le prince se presente devant cet homme : 4; Le fiis de vos rois, lui dit-il, vient vous demander du pain et des habits. Recevez en echange ces miserables vetements : peut-etre un jour vous me les rapporterez a Londres dans le palais de mes peres." Effet de cette noble confiance. — Le seigneur anglais lui fournit les moyens de s'echapper. — Le bruit de cette genereuse action se repand. — Le seigneur anglais est cite en justice eorarae coupa- ble de haute trahison. — II se defend. — Aveu de son crime. — II decrira Tetat miserable du prince. — Pouvait-il violer envers lui les lois de l'hospitalite ? II rappellera quel a ete son devouement pour la maison de Hanovre et la haine bien connue qu'il porte aux Stuarts. — Doit- il etre confondu avec ceux qui ont favorise la criminelle entre- prise du pretendant ? Peroraison vive et pathetique. — Que celui-la soit le premier h le condamner qui, a sa place, n'eut pas agi de meme.. COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PtJPlLS. 163 NARRATION ET DISCOURS, Sans autre appui que sa faible puissance et sa noble vertu, le descendant des rois d'Angleterre, Tin fortune Charles-Edouard, avait entrepris de conquerir trois royau- mes. II s'etait souvenu que ses aieux etaient des rois, il paya bien cher ce souvenir. A ce nom de Stuart, qui lui rappelait la gloire de ses anciens jours, PEcosse s'etait soulevee, et s'etait elancee sur l'Angleterre ; Londres meme avait fremi du bruit des premiers succes d'Edouard, Mais bientot le desastre de Culloden fit tout rentrer dans le silence ; les proscriptions et les bourreaux aneantirent les debris d'un parti qui naguere menacait de tout envahin Proscrit, errant au hasard sur cette terre pleine des mal- ' heurs de sa famille et de ses propres revers, souillee du sang de son ai'eul, arrosee du sang de ses partisans, n'ayant pas un ami qui soulageat ses douleurs en les partageant avec lui, force de cacher son rang sous des habits em- pruntes, Charles-Edouard cherchait en vain un asile ou il put reposer son front qu'auraient du ceindre trois diademes. Chaque jour ses partisans que le malheur avait fletris du nom de rebelles, expiaient sur l'echafaud leurs perilleux devouement ; et lui-meme, entoure des satellites du vain- queur, et pour ainsi dire prisonnier dans le royaume qu'il etait venu conquerir , derobait a. peine aux soldats de Cum- berland sa tete proscrite. Que faire ? ou se refugier? Chaque instant ajoute a. sa detresse, et bientot il n'a plus que le choix du danger. De toutes parts les soldats ap- prochent ; ils vont le saisir : un seul asile pent encore le derober pour quelques moments aux poursuites du vain- queujr ; c'est le chateau d'un seigneur anglais, ennemi mortel d'Edouard et de sa famille. Ainsi ce prince, naguere entoure de dix mille combattants devoues a. sa cause, accueilli par les acclamations de tout un peuple, aujourd'hui deplorable jouet de la fortune, ne pouvait plus se defendre que par la pitie qu'il inspirait. II ne s'agissait plus de conquerir un trone, mais de sauver sa vie. II n'etait plus temps d'hesiter. La faim, Je danger toujours croissant, le desespoir, le decident ; il se presente devant cet homme : " Le fiis de vos rois, lui dit-il, vient vous de- mander du pain et des habits. Je sais que vous etes mon ennemi ; mais je vous crois trop genereux pour- abuser de ma situation. Prenez ces miserables vetements : vous 164 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. pourrez me les rapporter un jour dans le palais des rois de la Grande-Bretagne." Le malheur avait accable Charles-Edouard ; mais, en ce moment, l'exces meme de l'infortune lui avait rendu tout son courage et toute sa dignite. Edouard suppliant, Edouard dans la detresse, etait plus grand qu ; il ne l'aurait ete au milieu des pompes de Westminster. La haine se tut dans le coeur du seigneur anglais. Emu de tant de revers, touche de tant de confiance, il favorisa la fuite d'Edouard, et sa vie du moins fut sauvee. Mais cette genereuse action ne pouvait etre longtemps ignoree. De- nonce comme coupable de haute trahison, le seigneur an- glais comparut devant ses juges avec cette noble tranquillite qui n'abandonne jamais l'innocence. " Jusqu'a ce jour, dit-il, c'est les armes a la main, c'est sur un champ de bataille, et non pas devant un tribunal que j'ai justifie ma fidelite a mon pays. Aujourd'hui, accuse de trahison, je n'essaierai pas de racheter ma vie au prix d'un lache desaveu : il est vrai, citoyens, j'ai recu sous mon toit le jeune Stuart, et j'ai protege sa fuite. Est-ce la trahir les lois ? J'ose le demander, de toutes ces lois, boulevard inexpugnable de nos libertes, en est-il une qui proscrive l'hospitalite, qui aneantisse ses droits partout respectes ? Parlez, en est-il une qui nous ordonne de trahir l'etranger refugie sous notre tok, de tromper sa confiance, de repousser son infortune ? Une telle loi, qui ferait fremir les nations les plus barbares, fut-elle meme etablie dans le reste du monde, serait-ce chez un peuple libre qu'il faudrait l'invoquer ? Mais c'est un rebelle que j'ai recu dans ma demeure ; je suis devenu complice de sa rebellion. Ah ! citoyens, etait-il encore rebelle ce mal- heureux qui, en proie aux horreurs de la faim et de la maladie, avait a peine assez de force pour implorer la pitie au nom de ses miseres ? Qu'importait alors que ses aieux eussent regne ? Le petit-fils de Jacques II n'etait plus qu'un suppliant. Qu'importait alors une naissance, un nom qu'il aurait voulu se cacher a lui-meme, et qui, par le souvenir du pass6, rendaient le present plus accablant en- core ? Etait-ce un ennemi redoutable celui qui n'aspirait plus qu'a s'enfuir d'un royaume qu'il s'etait d'abord flatte de conquerir 1 " Ah ! s'il edt encore conserve cette injuste et chime- rique esperance, ce n'est pas dans ma demeure qu'Edouard COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 165 eat cherche un refuge ! Ma haine bien connue pour sa famille, mon devouement pour ma patrie, n'etaient pas ignores de Stuart lui-meme. Je pouvais avoir pitie d'un proscrit suppliant ; mais devenir le complice d'un ennemi de l'Etat, favoriser sa criminelle entreprise, marcher sous la banniere d'un rebelle ! j'aurais prefere la mort a cette trahison. Quand autour de moi chacun s'armait pour soutenir de coupables desseins, j'ai pris les armes aussi ; mais c'etait pour combattre ce meme parti que Ton m'ac- cuse aujourd'hui d'avoir favorise. Allez interroger le champ de bataille de Culloden : je ne recuserai pas son temoignage. " Si ma fidelite cependant parait encore suspecte, s'il en est un parmi vous, citoyens, qui ne puisse pardonner a celui qui combattit Edouard rebelle d'avoir sauve la vie d'Edouard vaincu, fugitif, suppliant, s'il en est un qui me condamne, qu'il se leve, qu'il jure que soncceur aurait ete ferme a toute pitie ; qu'inaccessible a tout sentiment d'hon- neur et d'humanite, qu'insensible a ce prestige entrainant de la grandeur abaissee, il aurait vendu aux bourreaux la tete de l'infortune dont la noble confiance reclamait un asile au nom des droits sacres de 1'hospitalite. .... Mais, comme je l'espere, s'il n'est pas dans cette enceinte, que dis-je ? dans l'Angleterre tout entiere, un citoyen capable de prononcer un tel serment, ne punissez pas un soldat de- voue, un citoyen fidele, d'avoir fait ce qu'a sa place vous auriez tous fait comme lui," IMILCON A BOSTAR, AVANT LA BATAILLE DE ZAMA. 202 ANS AVANT J.-C. Argument. — II annonce a son ami qu'une bataille decisive va se livrer le jour suivant. Une conference sans resultat a eu lieu entfe Annibal et Sci- pion. II revele a son ami les secrets de l'entrevue a laquelle ii assistait, l'impression produite sur lui par la vue du jeune Scipion, par sa reponse ferme quoique mesuree. II a surpris lui-meme les inquietudes d'Annibal ; il Va en- 166 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. tendu se plaindre de ses envieux. — Annibal a perdu i'espoir ; mais sa baine survit encore. II termine sa lettre, en s'abandonnant a de tristes pressenti- ments. LETTRE. La fierte romaine ne s'est pas dementie ; la treve est rompue : demain nous livrerons bataille ; demain Carthage sera reine du monde ou esclave de Rome. Annibal, sous un exterieur calme et serein, est devore d'inquietudes : pour la premiere fois peut-etre sa prudence s'eet trahie ; j'ai penetre comme malgre lui dans son cceur, et je suis encore epouvante de ce que j'ai decouvert. Mais avant de te faire part de mes craintes, je veux te raconter l'en- trevue qu' Annibal eut avec Scipion. Je suis seul, en proie a d'affligeantes pensees ; le soin de t'ecrfre peut seul faire diversion a de trop justes alarmes. Scipion etait dans sa tente seul avec Lelius et deux autres chefs ; Annibal, de son cote, n'admit a. la conference que Magon, ton pere et moi. Quand ces deux grands hommes furent en presence, ils se saluerent sans rien dire ; et, comme saisis Pun pour l'autre d'une secrete admiration, ils resterent quelque temps a. se considerer. Annibal prit la parole, son discours fut simple et modeste, rempli toute- fois de noblesse et de dignite : il etait aise de voir combien il en coutait au vainqueur de Cannes d'avouer devant un rival si jeune ses revers et sa faiblesse. Pendant son dis- cours, j'observais Scipion. Un air de grandeur et de mo- destie, de sagesse et d'audace annoncait un de ces hommes privilegies qui, jeunes encore, trouvent dans leur genie l'experience de la vieillesse. Sa physionomie, ou la can- deur se melait a la bonte, s'anima aussitot qu'Annibal voulut parler des conditions de paix, et, quand il rappela indirectement la mauvaise foi de nos senateurs, Toeil noir de Scipion etincela d'indignation. II mit pourtant plus de moderation dans sa reponse qu'on n'en devait esperer d'un vainqueur de trente ans : elle fut courte et un peu fiere ; il finit par nous proposer la guerre ou des conditions plus dures que jamais. Le silence d'Annibal fit voir qu'il aimait mieux tenter une demiere fois le sort des armes, que d'imposer a Carthage un joug si rigoureux. am COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 167 Au sortir de Pentrevue, Annibal se montra, contre sa eoutume, pensif et reveur. Je marchais seul aupres de lui, et sa demarche inegale m'avertit bientot du trouble de son ame. II vit que son emotion m'avait frappe, et ne pou- vant plus contenir la violence de ses sentiments, il me toucha assez rudement sur l'epaule : " Mes ennemis, dit-il, repetent sans cesse que mon ambi- tion ne connait d'autre patrie que le tumulte d J un camp ; aujourd'hui peut-etre ils reconnaitront si j'aime Carthage : c'est pour elle qu'apres quinze ans de triomphes Annibal se fait refuser la paix par des Romains ! . . . Grands dieux ! continua-t-il avec vehemence, si Carthage est a la veille de perir, est-ce Annibal qu'il faut accuser, lui qu'on a vu triomphant faire trembler Rome dans ses propres murailles, lui qui, depuis trente-six ans, a sacrifie aux interets d'une ingrate patrie, sante, fortune, parents, tout, jusqu'a sa fierte ?" EfTraye de Pavenir terrible qu'il venait d'entr'ouvrir : " Eh quoi I lui dis-je, parce que Scipion s'est jete dans l'Afrique, faut-il desesperer du salut de Carthage ? Rome aussi, du haut de ses remparts, a vu l'ennemi couvrir ses campagnes." " Sans doute, reprit-il, je fus a Cannes et a Trasimene tel que tu vois Scipion ; mais plut au ciel que Carthage fut maintenant telle que Rome etait alors ! Les Romains trouvent sans peine dans leur patriotisme des ressources immenses et toujours renaissantes ; mais nous, le tresor public est notre seul rempart ; quand il est epuise, nous sommes vaincus. Que veut-on que je fasse d'un ramas d'etrangers lies a la cause qu'ils defendant par un vil in- teret ? Qui, sans doute, si mon experience peut sauver Carthage, Carthage sera sauvee ; mais, quand le gouvernail est brise, a quoi sert Thabilete du pilote ? J'ai cru un ins- tant qu'en depit d'elle-meme Carthage commanderait au monde ; mais, du jour ou Neron fit jeter dans mon camp la tete d'Asdrubal, je n'ai plus desire qu'une chose, la paix avec les Romains." Je ne pus m'empecher de lui dire : " Aviez-vous done oublie le serment que vous fites si jeune entre les mains d'Amilcar V " Peux-tu bien le penser 1 • reprit-il d'un ton severe ; oublier la haine que je dois au«: Romains ! Non, jamais ; je suis ne avec elle, avec elle je veux mourir. Ce desir de 168 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. paix naissait de Pimpuissance de soutenir mes triomphes. Que veux-tu ? quand le lion de nos deserts, epuise de fa. tigues et de blessures, se condamne un instant au repos, sort-il pour cela moins furieux et moins terrible de ce som- meil d'un jour 1" II allait continuer ; mais la vue du camp et la voix des sentinelles, qui de loin saluaient leur general, le rappela tout a coup a sa prudence ordinaire : " Jeune homme, me dit-il, je me suis oublie ; tu as penetre les secrets de mon ame ; fais en sorte que nous n'ayons pas a nous repentir, moi de mon imprudence, toi d'une curiosite peut-etre teme- raire." Je voulais Passurer de ma discretion ; il mit un doigt sur sa bouche, et soudain son front s'eclaircit, son visage reprit sa confiance et son audace habituelle. Arrive dans sa tente, il assembla tous nos chefs, leur annonca la bataille, et d'un air de gaite donna les ordres necessaires. Chacun repondit par des protestations de devouement et de fidelite : Annibal temoigna sa satisfaction et declara qu'il voulait etre seul ; sans doute fatigue de la gene qu'il s'impose en public, il desire se livrer sans temoin aux mortelles inquie- tudes dont je l'ai vu agite. Bostar, je m'arrete ici : quand tu recevras cette lettre, le sort de Carthage sera decide. Puisse le ciel ne pas jus- tifier les craintes d'Annibal ! Puisse PAfrique devenir pour Rome une autre plaine de Cannes ! Adieu, Bostar ; quel que soit Parret du destin, ton ami ne se montrera pas indigne de ce nom ; helas ! c'est peut-etre la derniere fois qu'il m'est permis de te donner le doux nom d'ami. Bos- tar, cette idee est dechirante ; mes yeux se remplissent de larmes ; mon courage s'amollit ; je me hate de fermer cette lettre. Non, ce n'est point la veille d'une bataille qu'il faut ecrire a son ami. GISCON EN FAVEUR D'AMILCAR.— 480 ans avant j.-c. Priambule. — Chez les Carthaginois, les generaux etaient responsables des evenements de la guerre. On avait etabli un tribunal qui punissait un revers comme un crime d'Etat. Plus de deux cents ans avant la premiere guerre punique, Amilcar, le capitaine le plus estime de son temps, ayant COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 169 €l6 deficit en Sieile par Gelon, se precipita lui-meme dans un bucher ou, pendant le combat, il avait fait brftler des victirnes en l'honneur des dieux. Giscon, fils d'Amilcar, fut cite a Carthage devant le tribunal redoutable qui jugeait les generaux vaincus : il devait justifier la conduite de son pere, et subir lui-meme la sentence dont on eut puni Amii- car, s'il eut survecu a sa defaite. Argument. — Giscon commence a la fors avec fermete et avec douleur, en disant qu'il se s'attendait pas qu'on put, apres la mort de son pere., ajouter encore a son infortune. — On vent qu'il rende compte a des juges de la conduite d'Amilcar. — Amilcar a fort longtemps servi la republique. — II l'a defendue de son sang. — II est mort pour elle dans les plaines de la Sieile : voila ses crimes. Pourquo^i le courage malheureux serait-il criminel? — Carthage seule a donne aux nations, l'exemple de ces accusations" bar- bares. — Qu'elle punisse les traitres a la patrie, mais qu'elle honore, qu'elle console le brave guerrier et le bon citoyen trahi par la fortune. Amilcar, vainqueur tant de fois, s'est assez cruellement puni lui-meme d'un seul revers. — II vivrait peut-etre encore pour la gloire de Carthage, s'il n'eut redoute Tinjustice de ses conci- toyens. — Que du moins on ne poursuive pas sa memoire! — Qu'on nefietrisse pas son nom ! Quand Amilcar serait coupable, son fils ne devrait pas etre responsable de ses fautes. — Mais Giscon consent avec joie a se charger du crime. — Qu'on le condamne, pourvu qu'on respecte la memoire de son pere- DISCOTJRS. J'etais done encore destine a cette cruelle infortune, et le ciel, apres la mort d'Amilcar, me reservait d'autres coups ! O mon pere ! apres avoir vu ta gloire tomber de- vant Gelon, apres t'avoir vu te sacrifier toi-meme sur Pautel des dieux immortels, comme une grande victime destinee a detourner de Carthage leur celeste courroux, devais-je m'attendre que la fortune ajouterait encore a mes maux, et que, malgre l'amertume de mes regrets, toutes mes larmes ne seraient point pour ta cendre ! Je croyais voir, a Car- thage, le defenseur de la patrie pleure par ses concitoyens, et ce sont ses concitoyens qui accusent sa memoire ! 15 170 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. On vent que je rende compte a des juges de la conduit© d' Amilcar : citoyens, consultez ces drapeaux suspendus aux voutes de vos temples, ces images des villes vaincues qui couvrent les murs de vos portiques, tant de glorieux trophees qui s'elevent au milieu de vos places ; ils vous re- pondront mieux que moi ! Amilcar a defendu la republique de son sang ; il a agrandi sa patrie par ses eonquetes ; pen- dant de longues annees, il n'a vecu que pour elle, et il est mort pour elle dans les champs de la Sicile. Voila ses crimes : si quelqu'un lui en sait d'autres, qu'il se leve et 1'accuse. Mon pere a, dit-on, deshonore nos armes. Les ombres sanglantes de tant de heros immoles dans les plaines de Syracuse demandent vengeance a Carthage. Amilcar a trahi la patrie, il a merite le supplice. Eh quoi ! citoyens, depuis quand nomme-t-on trahison le courage maMieureux ? Quand vous choisissez parmi vous un chef a vos armees, ce titre dont vous le revetez le rend-il invincible ? Vous doit-il compte des coups de la fortune et des arrets du destin ? Quel autre peuple fit jamais un crime a un capi- taine d'avoir succombe sous un ennemi plus puissant, et punit jamais du supplice sa valeur trompee par la fortune ? Vous seuls avez donne aux nations l'exemple de ces accu- sations barbares. O Carthage ! quand cesseras-tu de pre- parer toi-meme par ton ingratitude des triomphes a tes ennemis ? Tu veux toujours vaincre, et tu fais tout pour etre vaincue. Tu exiges des victoires sous peine du sup- plice ; mais tu ne vois pas que tes sanglantes lois ne peu- vent qu'efFrayer le genie du guerrier, et le rend re inutile a la gloire ? Eh ! quel homme, a l'aspect d'Amilcar vaincu, oserait sur sa tete repondre de la victoire ? Qui voudra de l'honneur dangereux du commandement, alors qu'entre la victoire et le supplice il ne voit point l'espoir de se rele- yer d'une premiere defaite ? Quels ennemis desespereront du triomphe, quand ils te verront si prompte a prevenir dans le sang de tes plus redoutes capitaines le renversement de leur puissance ? Le guerrier qui a succombe en de- fendant courageusement la patrie, da'ns ton aveugle ven- geance le confondras-tu avec le traitre qui, trafiquant de l'honneur de tes armes, aura vendu pour de Tor le droit d'egorger impunement tes soldats ? Livre au supplice les traitres a la patrie : leur sang ne saurait couler assez tot pour l'exemple des hommes ; mais honore, console le brave COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 171 guerrier et le bon citoyen trahi par la fortune ; ta clemence le fera bientot invincible. Aujourd'hui, Carthaginois, que vous donnera ce sang que reclame votre inexorable colere ? Amilcar, vainqueur tant de fois, ne s'est-il point assez cruellement puni lui- meme d'un seul revers ? S'il n'eut connu Carthage et son impitoyable injustice, il vivrait encore, ce heros ; il vivrait pour la gloire de la patrie, pour la ruine de ses vainqueurs. Detestez done cette necessite de la victoire qui jusqu'ici, plus que le fer ennemi, a cause vos defaites en vous ravis- sant vos grands hommes. Si votre vengeance justement redoutee a force Amilcar a mourir vaincu, ah ! du moins ne poursuivez pas sa memoire ! que ce nom, si longtemps pour vos soldats le gage assure de la victoire, ne soit pas honteusement fletri, et que vos ressentiments s'arretent de- van t son torn beau ! Et moi, que vous trainez devant ce tribunal, quand Amilcar serait coupable, devrais-je done etre responsable de ses fautes ? Depuis quand a-t-on charge un fils inno- cent des crimes de son pere ? Les liens du sang en font- ils necessairement son complice ? . . . . Mais non, char- gez-moi du crime, j'y consens avec joie ; seulement, vous n'avez demande qu'un coupable, ne prenez aussi qu'une victime. Mon pere, par une mort glorieuse, s'est derobe a l'infamie du supplice : que cette infamie retombe sur ma tete ; condamnez-moi ; mais que votre ressentiment s'eteigne dans mon sang, et respectez la memoire d 'Amilcar. Peut- etre vos neveux se souviendront-ils quelquefois de mon sup- plice ; mais j'aime mieux que Ton dise que Carthage a ete injuste envers Giscon qui n'avait rien fait pour elle, qu'in- grate envers Amilcar qui fut si longtemps son appui. CINEAS DANS LE SENAT ROMAIN.— 279 ans avant j.-c. Argument, — Cineas commencera par le temoignage du res- pect et de l'admiration qu'il eprouve a la vue des senateurs as- semble^. — Les Romains ne lui paraissent pas moins grands au milieu du senat que sur un champ de bataille. II rappellera modestement les succes de Pyrrbns. — II s'arretera sur le caractere de ce prince, sur son amour de la gloire, sur ses 172 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. destinees qui l'amenent en Italie du fond de 1'Epire, et qui sem- blent le reserver pour de plus grandes conquetes. II ne fera pas un portrait moins flatteur de la puissance, du patriotisme du genie des Romains. — Faut-il que ce grand peuple et ce grand roi soient toujours en guerre, tandis qu'une alliance sincere et la reunion de leurs armes leur livreraient Pltalie ! — Mais de quel cote l'orgueil cedera-t-il ? — De quelle part viendra la premiere demande ? — Puisque les dieux ont permis que Pyrrhus remportat la victoire, sans doute ils veulent que ce soit lui qui demande la paix. DISCOURS- Senateurs, envoye par le roi mon maitre, pour trailer de la paix avec la Republique, tout ce qui s'offre a. ma vue redouble en moi Phorreur de combattre un si grand peuple et le desir de meriter son alliance. Jusqu'a ce jour, je n'avais eonnu des Romains que leur bravoure dans les batailles, leur mepris de la mort, leur amour de la liberte ; je n'avais vu qu'une b-rillante jeunesse et des heros. Aujourd'hui que je contempt e ces peres de la patrie, aussi vene rabies par leur age que par leurs vertus, ces vieillards consulaires. qui servent FEtat de leurs conseils, apres Pavoir servi de leurs bras, et dont le repos est encore un bienfait pour Rome, mon admiration s'accroit, mon ame se confond. Je vois que si les monarchies font quelquefois briller sur les trones des vertus isolees, il n'appartient qu'aux Etats libres de nous presenter a. la fois ce groupe de vertus, ce cortege de talents qu'enfantent Pemulation et Pegal'ite ; et que, si PEpire n'a qu'un seul Pyrrhus, Rome renferme une assemhlee de rois. Et ne croyez pas, senateurs, qu'en vous comparant un souverain, je veuille ou flatter mon maitre ou rabaisser la majeste romaine : je sais que vous haissez les rois, et que vous poursuivez en eux le litre qu'ont porte les Tarquins ; mais je sais aussi que vous reverez et le divin Romulus et le pieux Numa ; que plus d'un monarque etranger merita votre estime et votre alliance, et que vous proclamates vos amis Porsenna PEtrurien et Gelon de Syracuse. Eleve d'Alexandre et descendant d'Achille, Pyrrhus est digne a la fois de son education et de sa naissance, de son aieul et de son maitre. Son caractere est forme sur ces illustres modeles : ambitieux comme le vainqueur^de COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 173 Darius, mais de l'ambition des grandes ames ; tourmente, comme le fils de Pelee, du besoin de la celebrite ; indocile au repos ; aimant mieux une belle mort en Italie qu'une obscure vieillesse en Epire, l'instinct de la gloire plutot que 1'envie de vous nuire l'a arrae contre vous. II voulait moiiis proteger Pinjure de Tarente, que trouver dans Rome une illustre rivale, dont il put triompher avec honneur, par laquelle il put etre vaincu sans honte. Combien de fois, au ,milieu de cette sanglante melee ou la fortune seconda ses efforts, il s'ecria, couvert de sueur et de poussiere : " Qu'on me donne une armee de Romains et je soumettrai le monde !" Combien de fois il laissa echapper ces mots heroiques : " Alexandre, eusses-tu dompte de pareils ennemis ?" Et, rentrant dans le camp apres la victoire, il soignait vos blesses, renvoyait vos prisonniers sans rancon ; puis depo- sant la pourpre et l'epee, le faste de la grandeur et les marques de la mefiance, il allait conferer avec Fabricius ; c'etait une lutte de valeur et de magnanimite. Et qu'on ne dise pas que sa clemence est l'effet de la crainte, et que cette moderation envers les autres n'est que prudence pour lui-meme. Pyrrhus a Tame trop haute pour vous crain- dre ; il ne sait que vous estimer. 11 connait tous les exploits de vos peres et les miracles de vos heros ; la resistance d'Horatius Codes, la Constance de Mucius, la fuite de Clelie. Que dis-je ? lui-meme eprouve en ce jour que cette renommee, qui avait passe fe mer et penetre jusqu'en Epire, ne l'avait point faussement instruit de la grandeur romaine ; il reconnait que les fils de Decius et de Camille sont egaux a leurs peres, et que la generation presente est egale aux generations des siecles passes. Et quels plus beaux exemples que ceux de nos jours ! Si Dentatus refusa For des Samnites qu'il avait vaincus, Fabricius refuse les presents d'un rei qu'il a sauve de pieges domestiques, et ne veut d'autre recompense que l'estime d'un ennemi et la louange de ses concitoyens. Levinus, battu, resiste encore et ne desespere point de la Republique ; une armee detruite, une autre la remplace plus florissante et plus belle que - la premiere, aussi en- flammee par la precedente defaite que d'autres le sont par une victoire. Et ne vous etonnez pas, senateurs, d'en- tendre vos louanges dans la bouche d'un ennemi : je cede a l'admiration qui m'entraine, et je vous expose en meme temps les sentiments de Pyrrhus envers Rome. 15* 174 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. Eh quoi ! faut-il que ce, grand peuple et ce grand roi se fassent une guerre eternelle, et se combattent par les armes, quand ils sont unis par le coeur ? Ah ! bien plutot, qu'ils emploient a dompter les nations ces forces qu'ils epuisent contre eux-memes ! qu'ils unissent ensemble leur puissance et leurs destinees ! Et qui pourrait desormais resister a. l'ascendant du Capitole et de l'Epire, quand les fils d'Enee et ceux d'Achille marcheraient sous les memes etendards, quand on verrait les vieux compagnons de Camille et ceux d'Alexandre se donner la main pour marcher a la conquete du monde ? Bientot l'ltalie entiere domptee, depuis la voluptueuse Tarente jusqu'aux montagnes de la Gaule, ne serait que le prelude d'une si vaste entreprise ; la Sicile aussi reconnaitrait votre puissance, et de la, transportant vos aigles en Afrique, vous iriez avec nous soumettre 1'or- gueil et l'opulence de Carthage, et prevenir par sa ruine les dangers de vos descendants et peut-etre les desastres de 1'avenir. Mais cette alliance, si neeessaire et si glorieuse, qui le premier osera la proposer ? de quel cote Porgueil cedera-t- il ? laquelle s'abaissera, de la majeste royale ou de la fierte republicaine ? Grace aux dieux immortels, la question est enfin decidee : Pyrrhus vient d'acquerir par une victoire le droit de parler de la paix, et Rome, qui rougissait de la demander, pent la recevoir sans honte. C'est moins un bienfait que Pyrrhus ofFre qu'une recompense qu'il implore ; on ne dedaigne point pour allie celui qu'on estima comme ennemi, et le vainqueur d'Heraclee est digne d'etre citoyen de Rome. En meme temps, senateurs, songez que votre sagesse pent h&ter en ce jaur l'accomplissement de vos grandeurs et le$ destinees du Capitole,. POLIGNAC AUX DEPUTES HOLLANDAiS. 1710 ANS APRES J.-C. Prtambule. — ^Le due de Marlborough, joint au prince Eugene de Savoie, avait abattu la puissance de Louis XIV, Apres les revers essuyes a Hochstett, a Ramillies, a Oute- narde, devant Turin, Louis XIV, voyant le triste etat ou la France etait reduite et les malheurs du peuple augmentes par les rigueur§ du fameux hiver de 1709, se resolut a de- COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 175 mander la paix aux Hollandais qu ? il avait autrefois traites avec trop de hauteur. Ses ofFres furent recites avec mepris par les allies : ils exigerent, entre autres conditions, qu'il detronat lui-meme, dans 1'espace de deux mois, son petit-fils Philippe V, roi d'Espagne. Le roi fit une reponse noble et magnanime a cette outrageante proposition. Au com- mencement de 1710, apres la bataille de Malplaquet, il fit rouvrir les negociations. II proposait d'abandonner Stras- bourg, les villes de Flandre, de raser ses places frontieres, de combler le port de Dunkerque, enfin de reconnaitre Parchiduc pour roi d'Espagne et d'abandonner son petit-fils a sa propre fortune, Les deux plenipotentiaries francais furent le mar6chal d'Uxelles, et le eelebre abbe de Polignac. Les deputes hollandais leur donnerent audience dans 1$ petite ville de Gertrudenberg, Argument. — Polignac dira que le roi son maitre, touche de Tetat deplorable de la France, vient eneore une fois demander la paix. — II supplie les allies de faire cesser une guerre sanglante, II parlera des sueees precedents de la France, en adoueissant par des managements oratoires ce que ce souvenir pourrait avoir de choquant pour les allies. La fortune est changee. — Le roi espere que les vainqueurs useront avec quelque generosite de leur victoire. Louis fait a l'interet de son peuple tous les sacrifices qui sont compatibles avec Thonneur et la nature.-*— Mais peut-il, sans se deshonorer, s'armer contre son petit-fils ? Nulle paix ne saurait etre plus avantageuse que celle que Louis XIV propose aux nations confederees. — Que peuvent-elles vouloir de plus ? — Demembrer la France ? — Mais Pequilibre de PEurope veut qu'elle subsiste. — On ne peut faire disparaitre du monde un royaume comme la France. II finira en disant qu'il ne faut pas reduire au desespoir une nation genereuse, decidee a s'ensevelir avec son roi sous les debris du trone. — Qui salt mieux que le peuple des Provinces- Unies tout ce qu'on peut emprunter de force a une situation desesperee ? NARRATION ET DISCOURS. Louis XIV, pendant un regne de quarante annees, s'etait montre comme enviroane de tous les prestiges de la victoire 176 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. et de la grandeur. II avait trouve la France dans cet etat d'effervescence qui suit d'ordinaire les grandes agitations politiques ; et, par la force de sa volonte, afFermissant, sans l'etouffer, cette energie nouvelle, il avait su la diriger et la faire servir aux projets de son ambition. II n'avait pas deguise son despotisme ; mais, a force de victoires, il avait rendu glorieux le joug qu'il imposait. Les courtisans, au theatre, applaudissaient aux maximes republicaines de Cinna ; mais a la cour, ils flechissaient devant le nouvel Auguste : Tesclavage m&me avait un air de grandeur. La Hollande vaincue, Rome bravee, Venise humiliee, Alger fbudroye, un Bourbon assis sur le trone d'Espagne ; tel etait l'imposant tableau que le regne de Louis XIV pre- sentait a. l'Europe etonnee. Une foule de grands homines dans tous les genres se pressaient autour du trone, et l'eclat de ce brillant cortege rejaillissait encore sur l'astre eclatant qui resplendissait au milieu d'eux. Pour lui, les arts adu- lateurs enfantaient chaque jour de nouveauix prodiges, le poete formait sur lui le portrait de tous ses heros, et la Prance, enivree de tant de gloire, lui avait donne le nom de grand, que l'Europe tremblante lui avait confirme. Mais tant de succes avaient en vain ravi Padmiration contemporaine : la posterite peut-etre aurait brise cette orgueilleuse idole ; peut-etre, pour associer Louis aux honneurs d' Alexandre, de Charlemagne et de Henri, la posterite plus severe aurait-elle juge qu'il ne suffisait pas d'un regne eclatant, mais sanguinaire, de conquetes bril- lantes, mais injustes. Ce titre de -grand, que Louis n'avait du qu'a. ses succes, le malheur le lui confirma ; et la sanc- tion d'une infortune noblement soutenue consacra ses pros- perites. La nature s'etait enfin fatiguee de tant d'efTorts ; et Louis, seul debris d'un regne, qui deja, pour ainsi dire, n'etait plus, avait survecu a. son siecle et a sa fortune. Philippe chanGelait sur le trone d'Espagne, un instant raffermi par la victoire inesperee d'Almanza. A Hochstett, la France avait perdu toutes ses conquetes ; a Ramillies, on avait combattu pour les frontieres memes du royaume ; et, dans la journee de Malplaquet, un autre Bedford sem- blait avoir ramene les temps d'Azincourt et de Poitiers. A son tour victorieuse, la Hollande insultait au faste d'une puissance tombee ; et gravant sur un orgueilleux airain ses recents triomphes, elle se vantait d 'avoir arrete dans sa course cet astre terni. Le vieux monarque, presque soli- COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 177 taire au milieu de cette cour si brillante autrefois, tandis que tout ofFrait a ses regards le pompeux souvenir de ses victoires passees, apprenait a chaque instant la perte de ses generaux, la prise de ses villes, la deroute de ses armees. II demanda la paix : il humilia sa fierte devant ces memes Hollandais, si dedaignes quand ils n'etaient que libres et pauvres. Les Etats-Generaux nommerent des deputes qui allerent attendre a Gertrudenberg les envoyes francais ; le marechal d'Uxelles et Pabbe de Polignac, charges de cette mission difficile, entrerent en conference avec les deputes hollandais, et Pabbe de Polignac prit ainsi la parole : " Messieurs, il est glorieux sans doute de s'obstiner contre les revers, et cette opiniatrete de resistance, dont la Hol- lande etonna le siecle dernier, merite a jamais Padmiration des hommes : il etait beau d'opposer au despotisme les efforts sans cesse renaissants d'une liberte tantot victorieuse, tantot corame ecrasee sous les debris fumants de vos villes, et toujours sortant du sein des ruines, infatigable, intrepide, prete a chercher de nouvelles victoires, a braver de nou- veaux revers. Mais, si un peuple libre s'honore de cette lutte obstinee contre la tyrannie, pour un roi, pere de son peuple, il est une gloire plus belle ; c'est de ceder a la fortune. Le roi mon maitre donne aujourd'hui ce rare et penible exemple ; il fait au bonheur de ses sujets le sacri- fice de sa gloire ; ou plutot, il met sa gloire a assurer leur felicite. Si Pbonneur du guerrier permettait ce sacrifice, Phonneur du monarque en fesait un imperieux devoir. La France epuisee par ses victoires passees et ses revers presents, en proie aux horreurs d'une desastreuse disette, a eleve vers le trone une voix suppliante : Louis a entendu ses gemissements, et son ame genereuse a ete profonde- ment emue de tant de calf -mites. Assez grand pour ne pas craindre de s'abaisser, il demande encore une fois la paix ; il ne rougit pas du malheur de ses armes, puisqu'il a les Hollandais pour ennemis, et ne desespere pas de sa fortune, puisque les Francais sont ses sujets. " Helas ! il fut un temps ou nous etions loin de prevoir qu'il nous faudrait un jour fonder nos esperances sur la generosite de nos ennemis ! Nos prosperites constantes semblaient nous garantir de nouvelles prosperites ; et des armees invaincues paraissaient invincibles. Nous ne pou- vions rien voir qu'a travers le prisme eblouissant de la for- 178 NEW ZETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION. tune : qu'une guerre fut legerement entreprise, qu'une agression fut peu motivee, nous n'osions douter de la justice de nos armes, quand la victoire, en les favorisant, semblait avoir pris soin de nous justifier. Les brillantes illusions epaississaient sur nos yeux leur bandeau, et, si nos regards se detachaient du spectacle pompeux de nos grandeurs pre- sentes, c'etait pour parer l'avenir des grandeurs nouvelles que revait notre orgueil victorieux. Ah ! messieurs, qu'il est difficile de resister a cet enivrement de la prosperite ! Pour les peuples, cornme pour les hommes, la prosperite est une epreuve plus difficile que l'infortune. Et nous aussi, peut- etre, trop seduits par des reves de gloire et de grandeur, et mollement berces par la fortune, avons-nous trop longtemps ferme les yeux sur des realites moins flatteuses !" Que le reveil a ete soudain et terrible ! Eh ! quand il serait vrai que l'Europe ait gemi sous le poids de notre grandeur, tant de revers enfin n'ont-ils pas du nous ab- soudre ! A votre tour, messieurs, craignez de vous laisser entralner par le prestige de la victoire : usez avec modera- tion de vos succes, et montrez-vous ainsi dignes d 'avoir vaincu. Ce n'est pas chez un peuple libre qu'un calcul mercantile d'interet doit prevaloir sur les sentiments gene- reux ; mais ecoutez cet interet meme : puissants aujour- d'hui, songez a mettre votre fortune a l'abri des revers. Songez que c'est en n'abusant jamais de la victoire que vous pourrez la fixer sous vos etendards, ou du moins vous mettre en etat de ne pas craindre ses vicissitudes. Vous avez fait assez pour votre gloire et pour votre grandeur ; craignez d'etre Finstrument d'une ambition etrangere, et d'elever de vos propres mains l'edifice d'une puissance qui tot ou tard deviendra dangereuse pour la votre. Vous vous etes armes, dites-vous, contre le despotisme dictatorial de Louis XIV ; mais voyez la mer couverte de vaisseaux anglais ; voyez ces flottes dominatrices de l'Ocean, et appelant la fortune des bouts de l'univers ; voyez ces armees nombreuses cantonnees au sein de nos villes, et ce parlement orgueilleux remerciant son heros des victoires que vous avez achetees au prix de votre sang ; voyez ce Francais transfuge donnant des ordres a vos soldats, et combattant avec vous pour les interets de son maitre. Ne craignez-vous pas de relever de vos propres mains le colosse tombe de la maison d'Autriche, et d'imposer a PEurope et a vous-memes le joug de l'insulaire 2 II fut un temps, COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 179 messieurs, ou la Hollande disputait a PAngleterre le sceptre maritime, et ne versait pas son sang pour la maison d'Au- triche ! Que les Anglais nous haissent, qu'ils nous com- battent, leur politique l'exige ; et leur ambition doit s'armer contre le peuple qui seul en Europe peut la reprimer. Mais, si Louis a defendu par les armes le choix libre d'un monarque et de ses sujets, peut-on accuser son ambi- tion ? peut-on la craindre apres tant de revers ? peut-on la soupconner enfin, quand Louis, pour obtenir la paix, ne repousse aucun sacrifice ? Oui, messieurs, le roi mon maitre court au devant de la paix. L'humanite et Pinteret de son peuple l'exigent : il le reconnait, et n'a plus d'autre ambition que le desir de rendre la paix a PEurope et le repos a ses sujets. A cette ambition il sacrifie ses con- quetes, ses droits, sa famille meme. II renonce a la souve- rainete de P Alsace ; il consent a raser toutes ses places depuis Bale jusqu'a. Philipsbourg.; a detruire les fortifica- tions de Dunkerque et a combler ce port si longtemps re- doutable. II laisse aux Etats-Generaux Lille, Tournai, Ypres, Conde, Maubeuge, et leur territoire ; il rend les villes de Strasbourg et de Brisach : enfin il ofFre de recon- nattre Parchiduc pour roi d*Espagne, et (sacrifice plus penible pour son grand cceur) il promet de ne pas secourir le roi d'Espagne, son petit-fils, et de Pabandonner a sa for- tune. Des places qu'il doit donner en garantie et sa parole royale repondront de sa fidelite a. remplir ses engagements. Est-ce la, dites-moi, ce despote intraitable qui reve encore l'asservissement de l'Europe ? est-ce la cet orgueil qui se revoke contre Tidee de tout sacrifice ? Ah ! si Louis a repousse des conditions que ni Phonneur, ni la nature ne lui permettaient pas d'accepter, faut-il en accuser sa fierte ? et ne sont-ils pas coupables de ce refus ceux qui, ambitieux de poursuivre la guerre, proposent a. un roi de France la honte de son trone et le deshonneur de son peuple ? Eh quoi ! Louis peut-il, de son autorite, faire descendre son petit-fils d'un trone ou il ne Pa pas fait monter, ou Pont appele les libres suffrages du peuple espagnol, ou le main- tient Pamour de ses sujets? Doit-il done s'armer contre lui ? Se reunir aux eternels ennemis de la France pour combattre un peuple qui, loin de Pattaquer, vient d'honorer sa famille et son trone par un choix glorieux ? Et quel droit aurait-il d'attenter a la liberte de la Peninsule ? Quel droit aurait-il de lui imposer un nouveau maftre ? et, s'il 180 NEW 2ETETIC METHOD FOR COMPOSITION* eonsentait a ce deshotiileiir, s J il airciait mieiix faire 1st guerfe a ses enfants qu'a ses ennemis \ les Francais le suivraient- ils contre tin prince du sang royal de France ? Pas plus sans doute quails n'auraient suivi notre Henri-le-Grand, si le premier article du traite de Vervins eut arrae la France contre la liberte de la Hollande. Que veulent-ils done de plus, ces hommes insatiables de combats, dont les propositions de paix sont des outrages et des declarations de guerre ? Et, fussent-ils encore cent fois victorieux, que peuvent-ils demander davantage ? Vou- draient-ils detroner Louis ? Ont-ils un autre archiduc pretendant a. la couronne de France ? Mais, quand ils parviendraient a la lui placer sur la tete, croyez-vous que les Francais ne reclameraient pas bientot, les armes a la main, leurs souverains legitimes ? Croyez-vous qu'ils sup- porteraient longtemps une dynastie que l'etranger leur aurait imposee ? La moderation de nos ennemis se con- tente-t-elle de vouloir demembrer la France ? Mais croyez- moi, messieurs, cette esperance n'est pas moins illusoire. Quand un de nos rois, prisonnier dans Madrid, consentit a. ceder une de ses provinces pour sa rancon, il ne fut pas maitre de tenir sa parole ;. et les Bourguignons declarerent qu'ils ne consentiraient jamais a. cesser d'etre Francais pour devenir Allemands. En vain la France, cent fois terrassee, serait-elle partagee entre ses ennemis, en vain imposerait-on aux vaincus les lois, les moeurs, le nom meme du vainqueur : sujets de l'Angleterre ou de l'Empire, ils se souviendraient qu'ils sont Francais et rien ne pourrait les contraintre a l'oublier. On ne force point, croyez-moi, la volonte ferme d'une nation ; et e'est en vain que tous les peuples de l'univers tenteraient de faire peser sur nos tetes un joug deshonoranf: ce joug serait brise. Pour faire disparattre du monde une puissance comme la France, il faudrait exterminer tous les Francais. Ce n'est qu'apres avoir foule le cadavre du dernier de ses citoyens, que nos ennemis pourraient se vanter d'avoir conquis la France. Et que leur servirait de 1'avoir conquise ? De combien de combats, de calamites, de desastres, cette conquete ne serait- elle pas le signal ? II faudrait se disputer le fer en main les lambeaux de cette proie sanglante ; et la puissance que le sort des armes aurait favorisee ne serait-elle pas bientot l'effroi de l'Eurqpe et de la liberte ? La France seule a maintenu xlepuis bien des siecles cet equilibre si necessaire COMPOSITIONS BY FRENCH PUPILS. 181 au repos de la Chretiente ; la France seule, protectrice du faible, effroi de l'usurpateur, a toujours interpose une me- diation armee entre les ambitions rivales de tant de souve- rains. Ici, elle opposait une digue insurmontable aux progres de Charles-Quint ; la, elle arretait Philippe II ; et, malgre la fureur de ses discordes intestines, elle protegeait votre liberie naissante. Cette liberie, messieurs, la France, qui vous a aides a la conquerir, peut seule vous la con- server : et vous la perdrez des que le bruit de la ruine de la France donnera le signal a 1'ambition desormais sans frein d'une puissance ennemie Mais, que dis-je ? : non, messieurs, tel n'est pas le sort qui nous attend. Ah ! si ces braves defenseurs du trone et de la patrie avaient pu m'entendre, ils auraient dementi mes discours. " Non, se seraient-ils ecries, non, le trone " n'est pas ebranle, puisque vingt millions de sujets fideles " se pressent encore autour de ce trone vainement menace. " Et,