cipio della loro vita ad alcuno mestiere, dirizzano si l'animo loro a quella persona della necessità che ad altro non intendono. E però che l'abito di virtù, sì morale come intellettuale, subitamente avere non si può, ma conviene che per usanza s'acquisti, e elli la loro usanza pongono in alcuna arte, e a discernere l'altre cose non curano, impossibile è a loro discrezione avere. Perchè incontra che molte volte gridano viva la lor morte e muoja la lor vita, pur che alcuno cominci. E questo è pericolosissimo difetto nella loro cecità. Onde Boezio giudica lo popolare gloria vana perche la veda senza discrezione. Questi sono da chiamare pecore e non uomini. Che se una pecora si gettasse da una ripa di mille passi, tutte le altre l'anderebbono dietro. E se una pecora per alcuna cagione al passare d'una strada salta, tutte l'altre saltano, eziandio nulla veggendo di saltare. E io ne vidi già molte in un pozzo saltare per una che dentro vi saltò, forse credendo saltare un muro, non ostante ch'il pastore piangendo e gridando con le braccia e col petto dinanzi si parava. La seconda setta contro al nostro volgare si fa per una maliziata scusa. Molti sono che aniano piu d'essere tenuti maestri, che d'essere; e per fuggire lo contrarie cio è di non essere tenuti, sempre danno colpa alla materia dell'arte apparecchiata, ovvero allo strumento. Siccome il mal fabro biasima il ferro appresentato a lui; e lo mal Cetarista biasima la cetra;—cre dendo dar la colpa del mal coltello e del mal suonare al ferro e alla cetra, e levarla a sè. Cosi sono alquanti, e non pochi, che vogliono che l'uomo gli tenga dicitori, e per scusarsi del non dire, o dal dire male, accusano e incolpano la materia, cio è lo volgare proprio, e commendano l'altro, lo quale non è loro richiesto di fabricare. E chi vuole vedere come questo ferro si dee biasimare, guardi che opere ne fanno gli buoni e perfetti artefici e conoscerà la maliziata scusa di costoro che biasimando lui si credono scusare. Contro questi cotali grida Marco Tullio nel principio d'un suo libro che si chiama libro del fine de'beni. Però che al suo tempo biasimavano lo latino romano, e commendavano la grammatica Greca. E così dico per somiglianti cagioni che questi fanno vile lo parlare Italico; e prezioso quello de' Provenza,' &c. &c. The lyric poetry of Italy was not indeed invented or perfected, though greatly improved, by Dante. It is mentioned by himself in his prose works, that lyric composition had been introduced above a century before, by Sicilian poets, into Italy;' from which time it was gradually cultivated, down to Guido Cavalcanti, who produced some very fine essays-the finest until those of Dante, who in that kind was, in his turn, surpassed by Petrarca. But still the germs of all that is most enchanting in the strains of Laura's lover, may be found in the verses which had previously celebrated Beatrice. The following is the opening of the canzone which his friend Casella so courteously sang to him in Purgatory. Amor che nella mente mi ragiona Dice; oh me lassa! ch' io non son possente Perchè il nostro pensier non ha valore Di ritrar tutto ciò che dice amore. One of his sonnets begins with these four exquisite lines,-to which nothing equal can be found in Petrarca in his happiest moments. Ne gli occhi porta la mia donna amore Unwearied reading, and a profound knowledge of the Italian language, and of the rise and progress of Italian civilization, are the essential requisites for illustrating the age, the genius, and the works of Dante. It requires active and persevering industry to ransack libraries, and peruse manuscripts of the 13th and 14th centuries, not even yet brought to light. We would further recommend, that the age of Dante should be accurately distinguished from that of Boccacio and Petrarca. This distinction has never been observed in the literary history of Italy; and the consequence has been, that notions the most different have been confounded with each other. It was about the decline of Dante's life that the political constitution of the Italian Republics underwent a total and almost universal change, in consequence of which a new character was suddenly assumed by men, manners, literature, and the church. It may be observed, that Dante, notwithstanding the number of his biographers, has not yet had a historian. Among the pieces relating to this poet, either unpublished or but little known, which we have had occasion to see, is an interesting letter, which we shall subjoin with the same orthography in which it may be read in the Laurentine library at Florence. * About the year 1316, the friends of Dante succeeded in obtaining his restoration to his country and his possessions, on condition that he should pay a certain sum of money, and, entering church, there avow himself guilty, and ask pardon *Those who wish to see the original, may find it in that library, by the following references. Pluteum 29, Codix 8, page 123. of the Republic. The following was his answer on the occasion, to one of his kinsmen, whom he calls Father, ’because perhaps he was an ecclesiastic; or, more probably, because he was older than the poet. From your letter, which I received with • due respect and affection, I observe how much you have at heart ، my restoration to my country. I am bound to you the more gratefully, that an exile rarely finds a friend. But, after mature consi، deration, I must, by my answer, disappoint the wishes of some little minds; and I confide in the judgment to which your impartiality • and prudence will lead you. Your nephew and mine has written to me, what indeed had been mentioned by many other friends, that, by a decree concerning the exiles, I am allowed to return to Florence, provided I pay a certain sum of money, and submit to the humiliation of asking and receiving absolution; wherein, my Father, I see two propositions that are ridiculous and impertinent. I speak of the impertinence of those who mention such conditions to • me; for, in your letter, dictated by judgment and discretion, there is no such thing. Is such an invitation to return to his country glorious for Dante, after suffering in exile almost fifteen years? Is it thus then they would recompense innocence which all the world knows, and the labour and fatigue of unremitting study? Far from the man who is familiar with philosophy, be the senseless baseness of a heart of earth, that could do like a little sciolist, and imitate the infamy ، of some others, by offering himself up as it were in. chains. Far ⚫ from the man who cries aloud for justice, this compromise, by his money, with his persecutors. No, my Father, this is not the way that shall lead me back to my country. But I shall return with hasty steps, if you or any other can open to me a way that shall ⚫ not derogate from the fame and honour of Dante; but if by no such way Florence can be entered, then Florence I shall never enter. • What! shall I not everywhere enjoy the sight of the sun and stars? • and may I not seek and contemplate, in every corner of the earth under the canopy of heaven, consoling and delightful truth, without first rendering myself inglorious, nay infamous, to the people • and republic of Florence? Bread, I hope, will not fail me.'† 4 + In licteris vestris et reverentia debita et affectione receptis, quam repatriatio mea cure sit vobis ex animo. grata mente, ac diligenti animaversione concepi, etenim tanto me districtius obligastis, quanto rarius exules invenire amicos contingit. ad illam vero significata respondeo: et si non eatenus qualiter forsam pusillanimitas appeteret aliquorum, ut sub examine vestri consilii ante Judicium, affectuose deposco. ecce igitur quod per licteras vestri mei: que nepotis, necnon aliorum quamplurium amicorum significatum est mihi. per ordinamentum nuper factum Florentie super absolutione bannitorum. quod si solvere vellem certam pecunie quantitatem, vellemque pati notam obl et absolvi possem et redire at presens. in quo qui Yet bread often did fail him. Every reader of his works must know by heart the prediction addressed to him by the shade of his ancestor in Paradise. (Parad. Cant. 17.) Thou shalt prove how salt is the taste of the bread of others, and how hard the road is going up and down the stairs of others.' But there is another passage in which, with designed obscurity, and a strength of expression and feeling which makes the reader tremble, he discovers an exact portrait of himself in a man who, stripping his visage of all shame, and, trembling in his very vitals, places himself in the public way, and stretches out his hand for charity. It was by such sacrifices he preserved his principles and sustained the magnanimity of his character. ART. III. Mélanges d'Histoire et de Litterature. 8vo. pp. 454. Paris. 1817. THI HIS volume has never, we understand, been published; and it is accompanied by no preface or notice which might lead the reader to a knowledge, either of the author, or of the grounds for believing in the authenticity of its contents. But having accidentally obtained a copy, and been informed at the same time of its history, we feel justified in giving our readers an account of it, which there is no reason for believing will prove offensive in any quarter. dem duo ridenda et male perconciliata sunt. Pater, dico male per, conciliata per illos qui tali expresserunt: nam vestre litere discretius et consultius clausulate nicil de talibus continebant. este ista revocatio gloriosa qua d. all. (i. e. DANTES ALLIGHERIUS) revocatur ad patriam per trilustrium fere perpessus exilium? hecne meruit conscientia manifesta quibuslibet? hec sudor et labor continuatus in studiis? absit a viro philosophie domestico temeraria terreni cordis humilitas, ut more cujusdam cioli et aliorum infamiam quasi vinctus ipse se patiatur offerri. absit a viro predicante Justitiam, ut perpessus injuriam inferentibus. velud benemerentibus, pecuniam suam solvat. non est hec via redeundi ad patriam, Pater mi, sed si alia per vos, aut deinde per alios invenietur que fame d. (Dantis) que onori non deroget, illam non lentis passibus acceptabo. quod si per nullam talem Florentia introitur, nunquam Florentiam introibo. quid ni? nonne solis astrorumque specula ubique conspiciam? nonne dulcissimas veritates potero speculari ubique sub celo, ni prius inglorium, imo ignominiosum populo, Florentineque civitati me reddam? quippe panis non deficiet. * See Purgat. Cant. 11. towards the end. The editor and compiler is Mr Quintin Crawford, a very respectable gentleman, of a Scotch family, but who has long been settled at Paris, where he is alike known for his hospitality and for the elegance of his literary leisure. Having become possessed of the original papers, which form the groundwork of this volume, he appears to have justly thought that the press furnished the best means of preserving them; and we trust that he will be further prevailed upon to allow the public at large access to them. Some of them are indeed curious and interesting, in a high degree, to the lovers of Literary History. Those tracts which are not expressly stated to be the productions of others, we presume are written by Mr Crawford himself. The first piece relates to Abelard and Eloisa, and the Paraclete. It consists of two modern letters upon the story of those unfortunate persons, written by a person whom Mr Crawford praises highly as a sound and sagacious critic, but does not name; and of two antient epistles from Petrus Venerabilis, Abbot of Cluni, to Eloisa, together with a catalogue and short account of all the Abbesses of the Paraclete, to the number of twenty-nine, justly regarded by the editor as only interesting to the families from which those holy persons sprung, and a few Papal Bulls respecting the same establishment. The author of the two critical letters, rather triumphs a little too much over his unfortunate predecessors-upon his superior felicity and discernment in the rectification of certain points of much antiquarian importance, chiefly connected with the grand matter of dates: But this is by immemorial usage the undoubted right of all criticks and antiquaries; and we must allow him the praise of adding considerably to the knowledge hitherto possessed on the subject. The common story, indeed, of Abelard being employed as a tutor to Eloisa, and his being punished as soon as her uncle knew of her dishonour, is exceedingly remote from the truth. It is well known that Abelard was a person of the very highest eminence in philosophy and all the literature of his age; that he became enamoured of Eloisa, and tempted the avarice of the old Canon, Hubert, with whom she lived, by offering him a large board on condition of his taking him into the house;that the Canon added to the bargain, the further obligation of instructing his niece;-and that upon her proving with child, they both made their escape, she lying-in at his sister's, and he soon after returning-apparently without any loss of respectto prosecute his studies, and continue his school of philosophy. Our author fixes the date of her delivery in the year 1118, when she was eighteen, and he thirty-eight years old. He soon found means to appease Hubert, by promising marriage; but Eloisa, |