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: To the author of the SCOTS MAGAZINE,

SIR,

THE

HE Italians are generally believed to have been the firft, who, after the revival of letters, gave fpecimens of a true poetical genius: and it is certain, that in the age of Dante and Petrarque, no other nation could furnish a contemporary writer to emulate either the force and fublimity of the one, or the elegance and pathetic tenderness of the other. But they are mistaken who attribute the revival of Poetry to thofe illuftrious bards. The best of the Italian authors, and thofe great geniufes themselves, confefs, that they were but imitators, and that the Poets of Provence, to whom they looked back as to the writers of a former age, were their masters and models. Pietro Bembo, Sperone, and Equicola, affirm, that the Troubadours of Provence [xxxvii. 37.] first infpired the Italians with the taste of Poetry; and Petrarque, in his Trionfo d'Amore, has recorded the names of a great many of the Poets of that country; omitting, as he fays, to mention a thousand others, whofe works he had read e a cui la lingua Lancia e fpada fu fempre e feudo e elmo; intimating, that being men of birth, and following the profeffion of arms, they were no lefs remarkable, for their heroic deeds than their poetical genius.

The removal of the Papal feat from Rome to Avignon, first introduced the Italians to an acquaintance with the compofitions of the bards of Provence. At that time arofe Dante and Petrarque: but many ages before that, under the old Counts of Provence, the Troubadours, so called from their inventive genius, were in high esteem and reputation. Count Raymond Beranger, who married Richilda, niece of the Emperor Frederick I. having entertained that prince, while in Provence, with feveral pieces of the poetry of the country, they were fo much to his tafte that he compofed an epigram in that dialect, in which, enumerating what each country had most worthy of admiration he ranks the Provençal Poetry above that of all other nations. The epigram is curious, as giving a specimen of the language.

Plas mi Cavalier Francés
Et la donna Catalana,
Et l'ouvrar del Ginoès
E la cour Caftellana,
Lu cantar Provençales.

VOL. XXXVIII.

The style of the compofitions of the Troubadours was very various. They were the first inventors of the Sonnet, which afterwards became fo much in vogue with the Italians. Long after the extinction of the Provençal Poetry, the French Poets produced volumes of fonnets in imitation of the Italians. This taste prevailed from the time of Francis I. to that of Lewis XIII. The fonnets of Ronfard, Du Bellay, Jodelle, and Baif, were thought by their countrymen to equal, if not to exceed thofe of Petrarque. But no unprejudiced critic will be of that opidion: for although thofe poets, particularly Ronfard, have fomewhat of the tendernefs of Petrarque; yet they have refined upon his quaintnefs, and fall infinitely fhort in harmony of numbers. After the age of those I have just now mentioned, our English poets caught the infection, and ftrove to imitate the Italian fonnet, with as little fuccefs as the French had done. The fonnets of Spenfer, of Drayton, and Ben Johnson, are the worst of their compofitions. A Scotch bard, in the reign of Charles I. William Drummond of Hawthornden, though far inferior to his model Petrarque, is yet fuperior to all who have written fonnets in English. That fpecies of compofition, at leaft the fashion of compofing volumes. of fonnets, is now defervedly exploded.

The Poets of Provence compofed likewife Paftorals, Ballads, and Syrventes, or Pafquinades, in which they fatirized both their civil and ecclefiaftical governors. But the compofitions in which they most excelled, were extempore dialogues, chiefly on the fubject of love. Thefe were contests of skill, in which two bards ftrove for the fuperiority, before judges, who pro-. nounced fentence likewife in verfe. Thefe Poetical contests they called Tenjous. This fingular faculty of extempore compofition, which feems to have been common to the ancient bards of moft nations, is yet kept alive in the Italian improvifatori, and in fome degree among the Spanifh peafants.

Jean de Notre Dame of Aix, in a difcourfe upon the poetry of Provence, has reckoned up to the number of feventyfix bards or Troubadours who had compofed Tenfons and Syrventes. Among thefe are the names of Emperors, Princes, and other illuftrious men; Frederick I. Emperor of Germany, a King of Arragon; Beranger Count of Provence; and what is pretty remarkable, Richard Coeur de 4 D

Lion,

Lion, King of England. This last prince,
whofe beft character was that of a true
knight-errant, poffeffed in a high degree
every elegant as well as manly accom-
plishment. He was the moft intrepid ca-
valier, the handsomeft perfon, the great-
eft orator, and the best poet, of his time.
But his love of glory was ftronger than his
love for his fubjects: In the fpace of ten
years which he reigned he was but eight
months in England. During a fifteen
months captivity in Germany, he beguil-
ed his hours of folitude in compofing ver-
fes, and finging. To this laft talent it is
faid he was indebted for his delivery from
perpetual imprisonment. An English tra-
veller walking beneath the windows of the
caftle where Richard was confined, and
amufing himself with finging a part of a
catch or canon, was furprised to hear a
voice from the windows, which fung a
counterpart to the fong in the fame Eng-
lifh words. On looking upwards, the
traveller efpied the prifoner, and entering
into converfation, difcovered him to be
his fovereign. He returned with hafte to
England; and bringing tidings of their
prince, of whofe fate all his fubjects were
ignorant, they immediately purchafed his
release for a large ranfom. This story of
Richard, (I have forgot where I have read
it), whether true or not, is at leaft of a
piece with the romance of his whole life.
Among the illuftrious Poets of Provence
mentioned by Petrarque in his Trionfo
d'Amore, is

Giaufre Rudel, ch'uso la vela e'l remo,
A cercar la fua morte.
Geoffrey Rudel, who plied the fail and oar.
To meet his fate upon a foreign shore.

The story alluded to in the above coup let, is another inftance of the romantic fpirit of the fame age. Rudel was a cele brated Poet of Provence. Some of his countrymen, on their return from the Crufades, having filled his ears with the praises of a Countess of Tripoli, whom they defcribed as a paragon of perfection, the Poet caught fire from the defcription, and compofed many paffionate fonnets; which, to his misfortune, were conveyed to his illuftrious miftrefs. She was grateful to the bard who had advanced her name and honour, and wrote him fome kind letters. Thefe were fo violent in their effects upon this romantic enamo rato, that, on the pretence of a pilgrimage to Jerufalem, he undertook a voy; age to Tripoli. Falling fick of a mortal,

distemper on the paffage, it was propofed during a violent ftorm to throw him overboard; but the ship came into port be fore this defign was put in execution.— The Countess hearing of his arrival a Tripoli, came to vifit him in the ship; and giving him her fair hand, the eme tion was too great for his spirits, for in endeavouring to speak, he funk down, and expired.

The Provençal Poetry was in great efteem for feveral centuries, but loft its reputation upon the death of Jane 1. Queen of Sicily, and Countess of Provence. Her fucceffor Lewis I. and his fon Lewis II had no relish for that art; which, wanting its recompence, gradually declined. Scarce any remnants now fubfift of the works of the Troubadours: their memory is preferved only from scattered fragments, and the honourable mention made of them by the Italian Poets, who rose upon their ruins. I am, &c.

SIR,

Hat the late Mr David Hume was, and what were his real principles, have long been the subject of warm dif pute.

I mean not here to inveftigate e ther, but leave him and them to a mor unerring Judge. I cannot, however, be altogether filent, when your correfpondent from Aberdeen (forgetful of the humane maxim, De mortuis nil nifi bonan, and no lefs forgetful of the interefts of vir tue) has attempted to mislead the young and the thoughtlefs, by impofing a cha racter no where to be found but in the r veries of his own imagination. [455-]

He tells us," That Mr Hume's cotemporaries beheld in his character the molt agreeable contradictions, the virtus of humanity unfhaken by the most ab Jute fcepticifm, the moral duties of the life flourishing under a total disregard « any other, and even the graces and teof a Chriftian in a fpeculative enemy to the Chriftian faith."

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In what light those who revere M Hume's memory moft, will view this dicrous defcription of their deceated friend, to give it no worfe epithet. not mine to fay; but, doubtless, contra dictions more glaring, more repug to common fenfe and univerfal experienc and fo diametrically oppofite to diviner velation, cannot well be fupported. T graces and temper of the Chriftian, with out the faith of a Chriftian; fceptici humanizing the heart; unbelief working

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by love; infidelity fhewing itself by good
works;
the duties of a prefent life Hou-
rifhing by denying a life to come; the fpi-
rit refigned and willing to die, from the
exalted hopes of going down to the duft
with the beaft that perifheth. Such are
the conradictions, the agreeable, the moft
agreeable contradictions, which your cor-
refpondent beheld in Mr Hume.

Whether this character, equally inju-
rious to the memory of Mr Hume and to
mankind, comes from one of his mistaken
=friends, or from a disguised enemy, may
be a question: but fure I am, the pen of
a Swift, or the pencil of a Hogarth, could
not have exhibited the object of fatire in
a more ridiculous, heterogeneous light;
the chief of Infidels, the best of Chriftians.
In fhort, Sir, if this gentleman does
not mean, under the mask of friendship,
to infult the afhes of the dead, it feems
prudent to fuffer his friend to reft in the
grave, crowned with the laurels which,
as an hiftorian and philofopher, his works
entitle him to, without attempting a mo-
nument facred to fcepticism and infideli-
ty, or to perfuade the world, upon his
ipfe dixit, that abfolute fcepticism has no
influence in weakening the ties of huma-
nity; that morality can flourish in its full
extent, where a state of retribution, and
all beyond the grave, is difregarded as idle
dreams; and that even the graces and
temper of a Chriftian may refide in the
heart, and influence the life, of one to
whom Chriftianity itfelf is a mere fable.
What a group of agreeable abfurdities!
how many beautiful impoffibilities have
we here! We have indeed heard of "the
form of godlinefs without the power;"
but your correfpondent has the honour
of finding out a character entirely new,
the power of godliness without the form.
It would be an unpardonable trefpafs
on your readers patience, to dwell long
er upon felf-evident contradictions; nor
fhall I further occupy your useful paper
than to set before them the following
beautiful lines of a celebrated poet*,
which place the unbeliever and his prin-
ciples in a light no lefs genuine than stri-
king, fufficient one would imagine to
ftagger infidelity itself.

What then is unbelief? 'Tis an exploit ;
A ftrenuous enterprife. To gain it, man
'Must burst thro' every bar of common feafe,
Of common fhame, magnanimously wrong.
And what rewards the sturdy combatant?
His prize, repentance; infamy, his crown.
Night thoughts, night 7. [vi. 561.]

Faith in the future wanting, is, at least
In embryo, every weakness every guilt;
And strong temptation ripens it to birth.
If this life's gain invites him to the deed,
Why not his country fold, his father flain?
Has Virtue charms?—I grant her heav'nly fair;
But, if unportion'd; all will Int'reft wed;
Tho' that our admiration, this our choice.
The virtues grow on immortality;
That reft deftroy'd, they wither and expire.
A Deity believ'd will nought avail :
Rewards and punishments make God ador'd;
And hopes and fears give Confcience all her

power:

As in the dying parent dies the child,
Virtue with Immortality expires.
Nature's firft with is endless happiness;
Annihilation is an after thought,
A monstrous with, unborn till Virtue dies.
And oh! what depth of horror lies inclos'd?
For non exiflence no man ever with'd,
But first he wish'd the Deity destroy'd-
London Chronicle, Nov. 25.

AN EDINBURGH CORRESPONDENT.

SIR,

Nov. 26. 1776.

Having long been perfuaded of the efficacy of a certain eafy and practicable method of preferving ships from fire, and obferving juft now in the news-papers, that the ingenious Mr Hartley [504.] propofes to enter upon fomething of this kind, I think it proper upon this occafion to publifh the notions I have entertained upon the fubject. These are contained in the following paper; eight printed copies of which were, on the 2d of January this year, tranfmitted to London, and fubmitted to fome gentlemen of eminence in the naval department. Although from their filence it would appear that they have not approved of the project, yet it is by no means intended by the prefent more general publication to fhew any difrefpect to their opinions. All that is meant is, that if at the long. run this method fhould come into practice, the reputation arifing from it may be properly afcertained.

A Proposal for effectually fecuring Ships from being deftroyed by Fire, founded upon experiment, &c. by

Jan. 2.1776. THE method here propofed is in its na

ture extremly fimple; and, confidering the great importance of the end in view, it may be thought remarkable, that the merits of fo obvious and fo promifing an expedient have remained hitherto neglected. But few improvements are made to which 4 D 2

the

the like obfervations may not be applied; and the excellence of many improvements depends often upon that character of fimplicity which they are found to poffefs. In cafes of fire at fea, the criticalnefs of the fituation is often heightened by that fudden tumult, infatuation, and defpair, which universally prevails in the fhip. If any operations be conducted to avert the impending deftruction, the aim is, to fubdue the flames where they rage with the greatest violence. Though, in fo difmal an extremity, it is indeed natural to perfevere in making attempts where the danger threatens moft; yet there are grounds for thinking, that this method, if perfifted in for too long a time, muft in the end prove fatal.

It is well known, that fire and flame cannot fubfift without a quick and perpetual fucceffion of common air. For after any portion of air has once been fubfervient to the burning of bodies, it is immediately difqualified for the like purpose, by being deprived of that principle upon which inflammation entirely depends. This fact is very familiar; and in order in the prefent cafe to turn it to advantage, it ought to be recommended to the fhip's company, to betake themfelves to the deck, and as soon as poffible to fhut the hatches and other communications, that fo the fire within may become its own destroyer.

One particular advantage of this method would be, that the greater progrefs the flames had made, the fooner they would be extinguifhed by the rapid confumption of the confined air. And again, when in this calm and deliberate manner the fire has been fo far got under command, the communcations fome hours after may be opened, fo as to admitt an application of water in the common way, which would be now both fafe and effectual.

That fire fhould be thus directed to prey upon itself, is a thing which will ap pear reasonable to every one who has duly confidered the nature of inflammation, and how completely this depends upon the access of fresh air.

It will perhaps be obje&ted, That the conftruction of many fhips does not admit of that degree of clofenefs which is here required. But to this it may be an fwered, That an exact confinement of the air would by no means be necessary. This and other particulars have been made at least extremly probable, by some

experiments made in a small way, a contrived to be fimilar to a fhip on fire.

From fome of these experiments it a pears, that a very clofe confinement, no only almost instantly puts out a large lume of flame, but is attended with a very fpeedy fuffocation of every thing whic was ignited within; and from others, the even when the confinement is far from being complete, the flame very quick goes out; which is a thing of the l moment: and further it appears, that the beat and efficacy of the glowing emban can never, after due fuffocation, repn. duce flame, but ferve only to occafio fmoke from the lefs-ignited parts, un they turn languid, and waste into alb From one of the experiments, the cira lation of fresh air which was admitted was much greater in proportion than ver can take place by means of any opaings of a fhip that cannot be eafily com manded: for here the fituation of an up per and under fet of holes was fo contr ved, as to favour an ingrefs of fresh ai, and a difcharge of burnt air, upon the common principles of venting.

It is not meant to determine the preci analogy betwixt any experiments made i this fmall way, and the object to whic they allude: but if, from what has been said, it shall appear that the present schen: has a probability of fuccefs, it might be worth while to have a fet of trials made upon fome old hulk, properly fitted with combuftible matter; which would effec tually decide its merits one way or other. Here it may be fuggefted, that fuch a trial appears the more neceffary, as it might be unavailing to recommend or enjoin an expedient of this kind for practice, be fore its infallibility had been demonftrted by fome very direct and formidablelike experiments.

Were these to fucceed, a few fimple rules of preservation might be drawn from them, to be applied in the hour of dan ger, with the requifite truft and comi dence, in order to ward off a catastrophe of all others as yet the moft dreaded, a from its nature it is the most fatal.

From Dr Prestwick's Treatife on Poisons.

lead, and a veffel full of water be set to stand If a room has been painted with white in it for twenty-four hours, the water will contract a most poisonous quality; which, if drank by any animal, will occafion in them convulfions, and kill them in a few hours.

A

A ketch of the cause and confequences of the difagreement between Louis XVI. and his Queen.

N France the women think they have an hereditary right to govern; even the miftreffes of the kings never gave up that point: no wonder then, if a fprightly woman of parts and beauty, and a queen too, fhould think herfelf neglected, if denied this trifling prerogative. But with a king, who was thought most likely of all others to give up this point, the has been mistaken, and her advisers removed from court. Choifeul, and fome other men out of power, in concert with the Queen, had laid a deep scheme, not only to put out the Comte de Germain, (a man of great abilities and honour), but alfo by a coup de main to overturn the whole court-fyftem, and bring about a thorough change of minifters and measures. The Queen commenced the action by propofing it to the King; but he told her in plain terms, that he had good and able counfellors; that he meant to act in all things for the benefit of his people, (and this alone is his real object); and defired the would mind her own department, and not interfere in matters of state. This brought on fome very warm altercation. The Queen retired, and became foon after very ill. Her phyficians told his Maefty, that fomething hung heavy on her mind; and till that was removed here was no hopes of conquering her liforder. The King immediately vifited her, took her by the hand, and exprefed his affection and concern, and his efire to know what it was that occaioned her chagrin ; when the again ouched upon the maneuvure the had fo much at heart: but the King, with the me manly firmnefs, infifted upon it, hat he never fhould interfere in mat ers of state: upon which the indignant-, y threw his hand out of hers, and the Ling as indignantly retired. Choifeul nd others of the Queen's private counl are banished the court, fome fay, nt to the Baftile, and the prefent miniry ftand their ground. Never were vo tempers more oppofite than thofe of e King and Queen of France: He is grave, quiet man, who avoids being en as much as poffible; the an animad fprightly woman, who wishes to be en, and to fee all the world.

Gentleman's Magazine.

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In our laft we gave the accounts published by authority of the King's troops getting poffeffion of New York [542.]; we shall here give extracts from private accounts.

An officer on board the Phoenix man of war writes thus, from New York, Sept. 16. "Lord Howe and the General have given our fhip the poft of honour once more. On the 13th inft. we paffed five ftrong batteries of the enemy, with three more men of war under our command. We loft but one man; as to our other damage, it was but trifling. On the 15th we covered our troops landing on New-York island. In the morning we anchored close to the rebels breaftworks, and lay within piftol-shot of fome thousands of them, intrenched up to their chins. About noon all our troops were ready, and the first imbarkation, confifting of 4000 grenadiers and light infantry, fet out from Long island in the flat boats, and fteered towards our hips. The rebels and we lay fix hours looking at one another, without firing a gun, but one, which we fired to make them look up, that we might be able to fee their heads, and judge of their numbers. Our fhip, the Orpheus, Carysfort, Roebuck, and Rofe, lay in a line along the fhore, with all our broadfides ready. The inftant that the flat boats came near us, we gave the fignal to clear the way for them, and we began firing on the enemy with eighty-five pieces of cannon from fix to eighteen pounders, befides swivels in our tops. In three quarters of an hour, not one rebel was to be feen within two miles of us, except the miferable wretches who were either killed in their breaftworks, or lying dead in the woods, killed by the great shot, or by the boughs of the trees. The whole army and navy say, they never heard so brifk a cannonading. By fun-fet all our troops, with fome of their artillery, were landed, without the lofs of one man on our side. This is the third time we have landed them in the fame manner. The rebels, who were in the intrenchments, almoft all threw down their arms, with their knapfacks, cloaths, and even their shoes, that they might run the fafter from our fhot, which was fufficient to make better men run, to tell the honest truth."

"Gen. Washington, after the land

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