thrown into a state of the greatest agitation, andered we had lighted on a treat a choice collecan adjournment was at once moved and carried. tion of tales, possessing an intrinsic interest of Lord Chatham was first taken to the house of Mr. subject, and a still greater extrinsic interest, arisSargent, in Downing street; and when he had in some measure recovered, he was removed to his ing from the circumstance of their having furnished own residence at Hayes; where, after lingering for a few days, he expired on the 11th of May, in the seventieth year of his age. On the evening of his death, the House of Commons, on the motion of Colonel Barré, voted him a funeral and a monument in Westminster Abbey at the public expense. A few days afterwards, an annuity of 4000l. was settled upon the heirs of the Earl of Chatham, to whom the title should descend; and a public grant of 20,000l. was made for the payment of his debts. We regret that our limits will not permit us to pursue this interesting subject further. The Modern Orator is, however, a work which can well afford to stand or fall upon its own merits; and we heartily recommend it to the careful study of all who either delight in observing the forms and shapes which genius of the highest order once took in others, or are themselves desirous of catching a ray from the fires which still continue to burn, even amid the ashes of the mighty dead. From Fraser's Magazine. warp for the woof of many a bard of fame. Being of a benevolent disposition, we wish to enable others to taste of that which has afforded pleasure to ourselves; and so, for the benefit and delectation of those of our readers who may not have met with the Gesta, we shall proceed to give a brief history of the work, and then invite their attention to a few specimens of its contents, interspersed with extracts and remarks that will tend to show the influence it has had on English poetical literature. For infants, "the strong wine of truth" must be mingled with "the honeyed waters" of amusing story; and when man's mind is childish, through imbecility or want of education, it too must have instruction conveyed to it in the concrete rather than the abstract, being unable, or unwilling, to admit a principle, unless that principle be clad in an example. The monks of the middle ages were aware of this fact, and, therefore, in their preaching, endeavored to fix the attention of their benighted hearers by striking narratives; striving afterwards, by the somewhat strained applications" they tacked on to them, to awaken their sluggish, slumbering consciences. The Gesta Romanorum is an assortment of such tales, carelessly copied from oriental, classical, and German writers, and generally stated to be the composition of Petrus Berchorius, who was prior of the Benedictine convent of St. Eloi, in Paris, in 1362. Pisistratus, however, might as justly be called the author of the Iliad; for all that Berchorius did was to string together "stirring stories," that, long before his time, had been told by orators in at large; the works of Hume, Gibbon, Robertson, their weary gaping into wonderment. An imitaBeattie, Soame Jenyns, and, generally, all those tion of the work, slightly differing in contents volumes which "no gentleman's library should be from the original, and qualified with a dash of without;" the histories of Flavius Josephus, (that GESTA ROMANORUM. . It is a strange old quilt of diverse patches, Sombre and gay, to suit the tastes of all. -Old Play. DEAR, quaint Charles Lamb, in his Detached Thoughts on Books and Reading, lisps out this drollery : I can read anything which I call a book. There are things in that shape which I cannot allow for such. In this catalogue of books which are no books biblia a-biblia-I reckon court calendars, directories, pocket-books, draught-boards bound and lettered on the back, scientific treatises, almanacs, statutes cope and cowl, to make their congregations change learned Jew,) and Paley's Moral Philosophy. With nationalism to suit the taste of its probable readthese exceptions, I can read almost anything. I ers, (just as now-a-days French Vaudevilles are bless my stars for a taste so catholic, so unex-adapted to Adelphi audiences,) was produced in cluding. England by a monk, at a very early period; and to this version Shakspeare appears to be indebted for the plots of several of his plays. I confess that it moves my spleen to see these things in books' clothing perched up on shelves, like false saints, usurpers of true shrines, intruders into the sanctuary, thrusting out the legitimate occupants. To reach down a well-bound seroblancef a volume, and hope it some kind-hearted' play-book; the insular edition. then, opening what "seem its leaves," to come bolt upon a withering population essay! To expect a Steele, or a Farquhar, and find-Adam Smith! So much by way of introduction. Now for our specimens, selected both from the continental and NO. 1. A SAUCY THIEF. We can keenly sympathize in the disappointment that "Elia" so whimsically describes, having "many a time and oft" put forth our hand to A fair face was the emperor Leo's chief delight. To enjoy it to the full, he caused three images to be made in the form of women, dedicated a temple to their service, and ordered all his subjects to grasp what we fondly deemed would prove a clus- worship them. The first stretched forth its hand, ter of delicious thoughts, and found, to our chagrin, that its grapes had been gathered from a vine of Sodom. It was, therefore, with no small delight that, on taking down the book that gives its title to the present article, from a very dusty shelf in our library, some months ago, we discov as though in the act of benediction, having on one a We would observe, en passant, that the recorded "Gests" are by no means exclusively those of the Ro mans. In fitting these with an English dress, we have derived considerable assistance from the Rev. Charles Swan's elegant translation of the Gesta. The notes appended to it have also been laid under contribution. of its fingers a golden ring, which bore as its motto, "My finger is munificent." The second had a golden beard, and on its brow was written, "I have a beard; if any one be beardless, let him come to me, and I will give him one." The third was clad in a golden cloak, whilst on its breast gleamed forth, in shining characters, " I care for nobody." These three images were made of stone. When they had been placed upon their pedestals, the emperor decreed that if any one should take away ring, beard, or cloak, he should be doomed to some most ignominious death. It happened, notwithstanding, that a low scoundrel entering the temple, and perceiving the ring upon the finger of the first image, immediately drew it off. He then went to the second, and took away the golden beard; and, to finish up his work, robbed the third image of its golden cloak. The theft was soon discovered, and the culprit dragged before the emperor. When charged with the crime, he replied with great coolness, "My lord, suffer me to speak. When I entered the temple, the first image held out its finger towards me, as though it would tempt me to take the ring; and when I read the motto, 'My finger is munificent,' I thought it would be very rude to refuse the obliging offer, and, consequently, took it. When I approached the second image, and saw its golden beard, I reasoned thus with myself, 'The maker of this statue never had such an appendage to his chin, for I have often seen him; and, without question, the creature should be inferior to its creator; ergo, I ought to take the beard.' Any scruple as to the propriety of appropriating it that might still trouble me, was removed when I perceived, in characters most clearly legible, 'I have a beard; if any one be beardless, let him come to me, and I will give him one.' I am beardless, as your majesty may see, and, therefore, took away the proffered beard for two good reasons; firstly, that the image might look more like its maker ; and, secondly, that I might cover up my own bare chin. I carried off the golden cloak, partly from a feeling of benevolence, because I thought that a mantle of metal would in summer be burdensome to the statue, and in winter but a poor protection from the cold; and partly from a feeling of indignation at its haughty boast, 'I care for nobody.' "My good sir," retorted the emperor, "the present trial is one of law, and not of logic. You are a robber, and so you must be hanged!" And he was. Instead of the prosy moralization that follows this story in the Gesta, we will give Gower's happy rendering of it: Ere Rom-e came to the creanceb Him list-e for to do honour Unto the temple Apollinis; And made an image upon this, The which was cleped Apolló, Was none so rich in Rom-e tho.d We shall make it our rule to omit the "applications." Belief. • Called. d Then. Of plate of gold, a beard he had, The which his breast all over spradde. Of-gold also, withouten fail, His mantle was of large entayle.b Be-set with perrey all about, Forth right he stretched his finger out, Upon the which he had a ringTo see it, was a rich-e thing, A fine carbuncle for the nones, d Most precious of all stones. And fell that time in Rom-e thus, There was a clerk, one Lucius, A courtier, a famous man; Of every wit, somewhat he can, Out-take that him lacketh rule, His own estate to guide and rule; How so it stood of his speaking, He was not wise in his doing; But every riot-e at last Must need-es fall, and may not last. After the need of his desert, So fell this clerk-e in povérte, And wist not how for to risé, He cast his wit-es here and there, He looketh nigh, he looketh far, Fell on a time that he come Into the temple, and heed nomes Where that the god Apollo stood; He saw the riches, and the good;h And thought he wold-e by some way The treasure pick and steal away. And thereupon so slily wrought, That his purpose about he brought. And went away unaperceived; Thus hath the man his god deceivedHis ring, his mantle, and his beard, As he which nothing was afeard, All privily with him he bare; And when the wardens were aware Of that their god despoiled was, They thought it was a wondrous case, How that a man for any weal Durst in so holy plac-e steal, And nam-e-ly, so great a thing! This tale cam-e unto the king, And was through spoken over-all. But for to know in special, What manner man hath done the deed, They soughten help upon the need, And maden calculatión, Whereof by demonstratión The man was found-e with the good. In judgment, and when he stood, The king hath asked of him thus : "Say, thou unsely Lucius, Why hast thou done this sacrilege ?" "My lord, if I the cause allege," (Quoth he again) "me-thinketh this, That I have done nothing amiss. Three points there be, which I have de Whereof the first-e point stands so, That I the ring have ta'en away. Unto this point this will I sayWhen I the god beheld about, I saw how he his hand stretched out, And proffered me the ring to yere ; And I, which wold-e gladly live Out of poverte thro' his largess, It underfang so that I guess; And therefore am I nought to wite.1 In the city of Rome stood an image, on the middle finger of the right-hand of which was traced, "Strike here!" Many wondered what the inscription meant, but no one had discovered its signification, when a learned clerk, hearing of the image, came to examine it. He, noticing the shadow that the sunlight made it cast, took a dreaming, unless I take back something solid to convince them that I have been in a land of realities." Whilst he was thus soliloquizing, he cast his eyes upon a table covered with golden cups. He put forth his hand and took a goblet, but had no sooner placed it in his bosom than the archer struck the carbuncle with his arrow, and shivered it into a thousand fragments. The whole building instantly was filled with Egyptian darkness, and the hapless clerk sought in vain for some mode of egress. After having long wandered in the gloom of its labyrinthine passages, he died a wretched death. NO. III. WORDS ARE WIND. Shakspeare, as we have hinted above, was a great filcher from the Gesta, but we have only room here to give the original of his King Lear, with a few other selections illustrating detached portions of his plays. The wise Emperor Theodosius had three daughters. Wishing to discover which of them loved him best, he said to the first, "How much do you love me?" "More than myself," was the reply. Pleased with her affection, he gave her in marriage to a mighty king. Then he came to the second, and asked her how much she loved him? "As much as I do myself," she answered. The emperor married her to a duke. Afterwards, he inquired of his third daughter, "And how much do you love me?" "As much as you deserve, and no more," was her somewhat pert response. Her father thought an earl was good enough for her. Some time after this the emperor was beaten in battle by the King of Egypt, and driven from the land he had long ruled so wisely. In his distress he naturally thought of his affectionate first-born; and, writing an epistle to her with his own hand, entreated her, in most pathetic words, to succor spade and began to dig where the shade of the him. Her husband was willing to assist his finger fell. He soon came upon a flight of stairs, father-in-law to the utmost of his power; but the which led down into a cave. Descending these unnatural daughter declared, that five knights only steps, he entered the hall of a princely palace, in which there were a number of men seated at table. They were all attired in the most costly fabrics of the loom, but not a sound escaped their should be sent him, to remain with him until he could regain his crown. Theodosius was heavy of heart when he saw but five horsemen riding towards him, instead of the countless spears that lips. In one corner of the apartment he observed he had hoped soon to see bristling on the horizon; a bright carbuncle, gleaming like a little sun. but he concealed his emotion, and wrote off for aid Opposite, and aiming at it, stood an archer, on to his second daughter. She was willing to find whose brow was written, "I am what I am; my him food and clothing fitting for his rank, during arrow is inevitable; yon stone of light cannot the continuance of his misfortune; but would not escape its stroke." The clerk, amazed at what he suffer her "doughty duke" to lead an army into saw, entered the bedchamber, where he found the field in his behalf. The emperor, almost in lovely ladies clad in purple, but all as silent as the despair, applied, last of all, to his third daughter; grave. He next went to the stables, and admired and she, shedding full floods of tears when she the magnificent horses tethered in their stalls; he heard of her father's melancholy circumstances, touched them-they were stone! He visited in prevailed upon her lord to raise a valiant host, by succession every building in this strange domain, means of which Theodosius was quickly enabled and having feasted his eyes on all their various to resume the imperial purple. Grieved that he riches, returned to the hall, purposing to effect a had given her credit for so little affection, when, precipitate retreat, for a feeling of awe began to as he had found, it was the ruling passion of her creep over him. "I have seen wonders to-day," said he to himself; "but should I tell them to my friends, they will all say that I have been * Acquit. b Garment. • Time. d Warm. e Many. heart, he willed his sceptre to his loving child. We shall now endeavor to prove that the Swan of Avon could occasionally condescend to assume the character of a mocking-bird in thoughts as well as plots, by giving a brace or two of what we mighty willed that he should not be lost, and an think our readers will admit to be very parallel angel, in the form of man, was sent to bear him passages: company. Having made each other's acquaintance, The mercy of a king is like refreshing dew, they walked on together towards a crowded city. gently falling on the summer grass. The Three They entered it at night-fall, and entreated shelter Monarchs. The quality of mercy is not strained: It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, Upon the place beneath. -Merchant of Venice. He is like a hanging apple. The surface is fair, but there is a wasting worm at work within; and it soon falls to the ground, rotten at the core.Human Life. An evil soul, producing holy witness, Merchant of Venice. The prince who is gentle as a lamb in war, but fierce as a tiger in peace, is unworthy of regard. Reconciliation. In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man In the Game of Shaci, the subjoined abominable libel on woman occurs: - Casta est quam nemo rogavit. We are aware that we ought to beg pardon of the ladies for echoing such a slur on the softer sex, even in Latin; but if any of our fair readers should feel inclined to take umbrage at it, we hope they will permit us to remind them that it is the silly slander of a melancholy old monk, who, being moped to death by his single wretchedness, maligned-like the fox in the fable -what he could not obtain. Congreve, in Love for Love, adopts the saying we have quoted, but makes man come in for a share of his satire: A nymph and a swain to Apollo once prayed; Their intent was to try if his oracle knew true. Apollo was mute, and had like to 've been posed, tried! at the house of a most noble captain. He took them in, gave them a sumptuous supper, and then conducted them to a bed-chamber decorated in the highest style of art. In the middle of the night the angel rose, and, going stealthily to an adjoining apartment, strangled their entertainer's only child, who was sleeping in his cradle there. The hermit was horror-struck, but durst not reprove his murderous companion, who, though in human form, exercised over him the influence of a superior being. In the morning they arose, and went on to another city, where they were hospitably treated by one of the principal inhabitants. This person possessed, and greatly prized, a massive golden cup: in the night the angel stole it. Again the hermit held his peace through fear. On the morrow they continued their journey, and having met a pilgrim on a bridge, the angel requested him to become their guide. He consented, but had not gone many yards with them, before the angel seized him by the shoulders, and hurled him into the stream below. The hermit now came to the conclusion that his companion was the devil, and longed for an opportunity of leaving him secretly. As the vesper bell was ringing they reached a third city, and again sought shelter; but the burgess to whom they applied was a churl, and would not admit them into his house. He said, however, that if they liked, they might sleep in his pigsty. Not being able to procure a better lodging, they did so; and in the morning their surly host received as his remuneration the purloined goblet. The hermit now thought the angel was a madınan, and told him they must part. "Not until I have explained my conduct," said the angel. "Listen, and then go thy way. I have been sent to unfold to thee the mysteries of Providence. When thou wast in thine hermitage, the owner of a flock unjustly put his slave to death, and by so doing moved thy wrath; but the shepherd, being the victim of ignorance and precipitate anger, will enjoy eternal bliss, whilst the master will not enter heaven until he has been tormented by remorse on earth, and purified by fire in purgatory. I strangled the child of our first host, NO. IV. HIS WAYS ARE NOT AS OUR WAYS." because, before his son's birth, he performed many Once upon a time there lived a hermit, who in a works of mercy, but afterwards grew covetous in solitary cell passed night and day in the service order to enrich his heir. God, in His love, is of his God. Not far from his retreat a humble sometimes forced to chasten, and beneath the tears No one needs to be told of what elegant poem the following story is the groundwork: of the sorrowing parent his piety will spring again. I stole the cup of our second host, because, when the wine smiled brightly in it, it tempted him to Henceforth, therefore, put a seal upon thy presumptuous lips, and condemn not the All-wise in thy mole-eyed folly." The hermit, hearing this, fell at the angel's feet, and pleaded earnestly for pardon. He received it, and returned to his hermitage, where he lived for many years, a pattern of humility and faith, and at length sweetly fell asleep in Christ. shepherd tended his flock. Happening one day to fall into a deep slumber, a robber carried off his sheep. The owner of them, turning a deaf ear to the excuses of his servant, ordered him to be put sin. I cast the pilgrim into the water, because to death for his negligence-a proceeding which God willed to reward his former faith with evergave great offence to the hermit. "Oh, Heaven!" lasting happiness, but knew that, if he lingered any he exclaimed, "the innocent suffers for the guilty, longer here below, he would be guilty of a mortal and yet is unavenged by God! I will quit His sin. And, lastly, I repaid the niggard hospitality service, and enter the giddy world once more." of our third host with such a bounteous boon, to He accordingly left his hermitage; but the Al- teach him for the future to be more generous. The next of our eclogæ has been moulded by the plastic hand of genius into many forms. Perhaps the best known of these is the ballad of BethGêlert, in which Mr. Spencer has told the legend, as localized in Wales, in a very touching manner. NO. V. IL FAUT QUELQUEFOIS TENIR LA MAIN. The knight Folliculus was exceedingly fond of his infant son, and also of his falcon and his hound. It happened one day that he went out to a tournament, to which, without his knowledge, his wife and servants too went afterwards, leaving the babe in his cot, the greyhound lying in the rushes underneath it, and the falcon on his perch above. A serpent that lived in a hole near the castle of Folliculus, thinking from the unusual silence that it must be deserted, crept out of its retreat and entered the hold, hoping to find some food. Seeing the child it would have devoured him, had not the falcon fluttered its wings until it awoke the dog, which, after a desperate conflict, killed the wily intruder, and then, almost fainting through loss of blood, lay down at the foot of the cradle, that in the mêlée had been overthrown. The knight, on his return home, seeing the jaws of his greyhound red with gore, and not being able at first to find his child, thought that the dog had destroyed him; and, frantic with fury, plunged his sword into its faithful heart. Then, hearing a cry, he lifted up the cradle-coverlet, and saw his rosy boy just waking from a happy dream, whilst the huge coils of the dead serpent showed the peril he had so narrowly escaped, and the injustice that his father had so hastily committed. The knight, detesting himself for his cruel deed, abandoned the profession of arms, broke his lance into three pieces, and went on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where, after a few years, he died in peace. NO. VI. A MESSENGER OF MERCY. The Emperor Menelay made a decree, that if any guiltless captive could escape from his bonds and reach the imperial palace, he should be protected from his oppressors. Soon after the promulgation of the law, a knight was wrongfully accused, and cast into a dark dungeon. The light of his eyes was dimmed when he was thus cut off from the company of his brethren; but one mild summer morn, a nightingale came in through the little window of his cell, and sang so sweetly that he almost forgot he was deprived of liberty. As the knight treated his minstrel very tenderly, she flew into his bosom daily to cheer him with her song. One day he said to her, "My darling bird, I have given thee many a dainty, wilt thou not show me a kindness in return? Like to myself, a creature of the mighty God, O, help me in my need!" When the bird heard this, she flew forth from his bosom, and after having remained away from him for three days returned, bringing in her mouth a precious stone. Having dropped it in his hand, she again took flight. The knight wondered at the strange conduct of his songster, but happening to touch his fetters with the stone that she had given him, they instantly fell off. He then arose, and touched the doors of his prison: they opened. He rushed forth into the fresh, free air, and ran rapidly towards the emperor's palace. Here he was joyfully received, and his innocence being satisfactorily established, his persecutor was sentenced to perpetual banishment. This pretty little tale very probably suggested those beautiful lines in the Prisoner of Chillon : A light broke in upon my brain, It was the carol of a bird; The sweetest song ear ever heard, And tamer than upon the tree; And seemed to say them all for me! Or broke its cage to perch on mine, Sweet bird! I could not wish for thine; A single cloud on a sunny day, When skies are blue, and earth is gay. Our readers are convinced by this time, we should imagine, that many a thread in the mantle of the English Muse originally figured in the |