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•rdotu experiment. You would bo incurring a great expense, and only get laughed at for your pains by nil the court-monkeys. I could tell you many talcs of their inhuman disposition, their inhospitable treatment of foreigners, their peculiar grudge against our country. Even if it bo in your fates that you shall go °to reside in! England, at least do nothing to precipitate the event."

There is in these words something of the bitterness of an exile; Scaliger had been ten years in Holland when this was written. But he never speaks in this way of his hosts, the Dutch, though all the honor and consideration with which they treated him, did not' compensate him for the loss of his own country. This ill-repressed antipathy to English! manners is the more remarkable because Scaliger had no Catholic sympathies. The I repulsion was not one of creed. In common' with all the Protestants, he looked to Eliza- I beth as the protector of the reformed inter-! es^in Europe. In spite of community of political interest his freer nature could not accommodate itself to the starched puritanical t reserve which formed the typical character j of the English gentleman of that age, and | was the very mould in which our domestic '• virtues were originally cast.

In this patriotic spirit he returned to France only to find that his own country of- • fered neither hope of an honorable career, I nor opportunity of studious retirement. It J was in a blaze with Civil War—that which 1 is styled by historians the second war of re- • ligion (15G7-8). In this, and in the third which grow out of it, Scaliger was involved I through his connection with the La RochePozay family. For three years he led an unsettled camp-life; moving from chateau to chateau in the train of his patron, if not actually fighting under his banner. lie lost many of his early friends in the murderous fights; was cheated out of his patrimony during the period of lawlessness j and noted with despair the steady progress of religious faction audits concomitant barbarism among the noblesse, penury and misery among the peasantry. The political horizon of France and of Europe was overcast by the portentous shadow of Spain—the Spain of the Jesuits and the Inquisition; of Phillip II. and the Armada. The hearts of the brave and free were failing them for fear. That fatal temper was forming, mixed of fanaticism and infidelity, which bioke out afterwards in the St. Bartholomew and the League. France was no longer a place for letters or learning. It was indeed scarcely a time to complain of the neglect of science when virtue itself was in danger of perishing; when, under the auspices of the' infamous Catherine, perfidy, disloyalty, and

treachery, were becoming religions duties. Scaliger determined to withdraw from the sickening scene. Disgusted with life almost before he had entered upon it—he wtfs (1570) in his thirtieth year—he quitted Poitou and took refuge at Valence, in Dauphine. The comparative security of this remote province, and the fame of Cujas, the greatest civilian who had arisen since the revivial of letters, had drawn hither a crowd of auditors from all parts. Cujas received him with open arms as a friend, not -as a pupil, and shortly succeeded in raising him from his despondency. He entered with bis usual zest into the spirit of the place, undertaking the study of the Roman Law, to which he had been till then a stranger. His proficiency was rapid, and Cujas would have had him embrace the profession, offering him an assistant-professorship. But Scaliger was true to himself. He never for a day hesitated as to his own career, or played with this and that.. He had vowed himself to philology, and he remained faithful to it as his only and sufficient calling. He would master the Civil Law but as an instrument of philological inquiry. How indispensable a knowledge of this Uying tradition of Rome is for the understanding of tho empire, scholars have always recognized. What light may be reflected bock from the imperial law upon the earlier period of the republic has first been shown in our own day by the brilliant results educed by Professor Mommsen and the school forming around him. Cujas, too, was, not only a great lawyer, but a great critic. Scaliger pronounced—but this was before Casaubon had published—D'Aurat and Cujas the only living critics capable of making a conjectural emendation. Cujas' valuable collection of MSS. was treasure-trove to Scaligcr. He fell upon them, and was almost testily complained of by their owner " d'avoirdepucellA les manuscrits." In his will Cujas had left his books to one who knew so well how to use them.

This was after the death of his only son. But three years before his own death, Cujas* second wife brought him a daughter, and Scaliger did not get a single volume. The library, as well as the very considerable fortune which the father had amassed, were speedily dissipated by Susanna Cujas, in the course of her wild career.

Upon these days of his peaceful retirement in Dauphine Scaligcr always looked back with a peculiar satisfaction, though a sad one. He thought that if ever creative impul»e stirred within him it was then— .

"Tune, tune poeta, tune Apollini carus
Vixi; Ciimcuis tune amicuti uudivi;
Nee uil.i surdo plectra rnovimu* Phoebo."

The sympathy of Cujas had first rallied him from a state of intellectual despondency. In the circle gathered round the great jurist he found, for the first time, a congenial sphere: a new and promising field of study opened before him. The enthusiasm for his science, which Cujas knew how to inspire into his pupils, communicated itself to Scaliger. Politics and party passions were banished from this sanctuary of Themis. "Nihil hoc ad edictum pra:toris " was the playful way in which Cujas was wont to stop dispute which began to take a political turn. Twenty years younger than Cujas, Scaliger would inspire no jealousy in his master, whose reputation was now established beyond the reach of rivalry. In the voluntary homage of the young law-students, who flocked from every quarter round the "pearl of lawyers," was laid the foundation of that universal fame to which Scaliger slowly rose. Upon this growing celebrity Cujas placed the stamp of his own countersign, when, in his published "Commentary on the Digest," he accepted an emendation as supplied him by " doctissimus Josephus Scaliger, a quo pudet dissentire." Here, too, was formed, among other friendships, one most valued by Scaliger and only broken by death, with De Thou (Thuanus), the future president of the parliament of Paris. The " History " of De Thou, once the source in which every practical statesman sought political wisdom—Johnson designed to translate it, Pitt quoted it in parliament —is now scarcely known except to professed historians. In his "Own Life" (De VM Sitd), De Thou thus speaks of his intimacy with Scaliger:—

"It was at Valence that my friendship with Joseph Scaliger was commenced, lie had gone thither, on Cujas' invitation, in company with Louis do Monjosieu and George I)u Bourg. Tin - friendship, begun in the daily intercourse of Valence, has been continued since, cither by personal communication or by correspondence, for the space of thirty-eight years uninterrupted. This friendship is the pride and pleasure of my life. All the calumny and misrepresentation which it has occasioned me, are, in my opinion, balanced by the satisfaction of an intercourse so honorable and so delightful to me. I know that I have been reproached with it by mischievous men; but I both glory in it publicly, and cherish, it in my own breast. As for Scaliger's sentiments on religion, I solemnly iiffirm that I never heard this great man dispute on the controverted points of faith; and I am well assured that he never did discuss them but upon provocation, and then reluctantly. Independently of hi.- religious opinions, were there not in Scaliger the most transcendent attainments of human erudition •' And did not the singular endowments bestowed upon him by Heaven claim the veneration of all worthy men t"

This apology for a friendship with a Huguenot is a humiliating confession of the degraded state of public opinion in France at the time it was written. But it belongs to a later period, 1601.

This time of sunshine at Valence was as transient as the happy days of our life too commonly are. It was, just that brief interval of about two years which separated the third war of religion from the St. Bartholomew (1570-72). That bloody night, however, was not the occasion of Scaligcr's leaving Valence. Queen Catherine had tleputed Monluc, Bishop of Valence, to negotiate the crown of Poland for her son the Duke of Anjou. Cujas recommended Scaliger to the bishop as one of his retinue. On the 22nd of the fatal month of August, 1571, Scaliger, who happened to be at Lyons on business, received notice to meet Monluc at Strasburg. He set off, taking the route through Switzerland, and slept at Lausanne on the dreadful night of the 24th, ignorant of the tragedy then enacting in Paris. Not till he reached Strasburg did he learn the horrid news. The other members of the embassy had already arrived at the rendezvous, but Monluc did not make his appearance. Disconcerted by the failure of their chief, 'and fearing to remain so near the French frontier, while alarming accounts were hourly coming in of the fury of the Catholic populace in the provincial towns, the party determined on dispersing. Scaliger was too glad to regain the shelter of Swiss territory. He bent his steps, naturally, to Geneva.

For Scaliger, cs we have said, was a Huguenot. The date of his conversion, a step so decisive of the color of his future life, cannot be fixed to a day, only because there was no formal adj uration and reception. He was brought up in the Catholic faith, in which his lather had died. * But the opinions of Julius had taken towards the close of his life a very liberal complexion. Not that he embraced Lutheran tenets, but he was disgusted with the wickedness of the dominant churchmen. In his series of " The Saints" there is a short poem addressed to St. Peter, which might have been written by a Protestant, and which the Jesuits accordingly mutilated when they reprinted the volume. "Though my father," said Joseph, "had not a knowledge of true religion, yet, had he lived in these days of the Jesuits, he would have hated them j for any thing like falsehood and hypocrisy was what he could not abide." It was not, however, till Joseph had been four years in Paris, and had completed his university course, that he was first taken by a friend, M. de Buzauvalle, to hear a reformed preacher. After this he submitted to the regular instruction of a Huguenot pastor, and attended his last mass during; his stay at Rome, in 1660 probably, when he was twenty-six years of age. We may allow the predisposing causes of this conversion to have been the bias received from .bis father's philosophical opinions, from the example of Turnebus and De Salignac, and the indignation excited in young and generous minds by the cruelties with which the government sought to put down the reformed j opinions in France. In Scaliger's youth hardly a day passed on which some unhappy Huguenot was not roasted alive for his religion. Such brutal scenes most surely revolt those minds which they do not subdue. But,

I after allowing for these influences, we must look within rather than without, for the momentum which Scaliger's religious convictions obeyed. The creed of a scholar or a man of science is often a matter of small interest to him; he wears the religion of his country as he does its garb. With Scaliger it was not so. He could not have been a Catholic. For his knowledge was not a professional skill, a linguistic, a verbal art, or a literary taste. His criticism was to him an instrument of truth. Philology was not an amusement for the ingenious, but the mode of ascertaining the true sense of ancient records. And the controversy as it came to stand at the end of the century between Catholic and Protestant was much more one of interpretation than it has since become. We now think Scaliger's dictum, "All controversies in religion arise from ignorance of criticism" (Non aliunde dissidia in rdigione pendent quam ab ignoratione Orammaticce, 1 Scalig. p. 86), somewhat overdrawn. But it was almost litrrally true at that time. Not only had the Catholic theologians rested their case on all sorts of false renderings and expositions of the Scripture and fathers, on supposititious* documents, on historical frauds, on exploded hypotheses, but their principle of interpretation was a rotten one —the principle, namely, that that is the true sense of a text which is conformable to the received doctrine of the Church. A clear, scientific insight into the laws of interpretation inevitably forces the mind which arrives

, at it to rebel against such a maxim. The spell is broken, and it becomes aware that

* that may be the true sense of Scripture which the Church may have ruled to be heresy. It was, therefore, impossible in the sixteenth century for a consummate critic to be other than a Protestant. "Jamais superstitieux ne flit docte," is a saying of jScali, ger which intimates his consciousness of the real alliance between knowledge and the Protestant faith. And, in another conversation, he says of his Augsburg correspondent,

Welser—" Romanism (siiperstitio) prevents Welser from knowing more than he does." A mere antiquary like Sigonio, Latinists like Lipsius or Muretus, textual critics and collators of MSS., might be either Catholic or Protestant, as it happened. But where character and intellect, knowledge and will, are intimately blended, the entire man is of a

Eiece and uniform; his opinions are no >nger matter of accident or impulse; he is the law unto himself. The whole of Scaliger's utterance, whether in conversation or in his books, is stamped with this noble surrender of the understanding to the truth, whatever it might be, as the inevitable law of his thoughts which he had no choice but to obey.

The name of Scaliger appears in the cityregister as admitted citizen of Geneva, 8th September, 1572. Geneva became again at the St. Bartholomew, what it had been thirty years before, on occasion of the edict of Chateaubriand, the city of refuge for the unhappy Protestants flying from death. It was now filled with refugees from all parts of France, and they were received, as before, with hearty welcomes. Among other former friends whom Scaliger fell in with here was one of the Valence circle of students, Claude Groulart. His name stands next on the register to that of Scaliger as "Ecolier de Dieppe," admitted on the same day. He became one of a number of young students whom Scaliger gathered round him here, as he did afterwards at Leyden, giving them regular instruction and more general encouragement and guidance in their studies. Groulart returned to France on the restoration of order, and rose to distinction in his native province in the only way in which advancement was attainable, by conforming to the Catholic church. He was afterwards one of the most strenuous advisers of the abjuration of Henri IV.

Beza and the managers of the Genevan Academy—a quasi-university set up by Calvin with a view to supply ministers to the French churches—were urgent with Scaliger to settle among them as a teacher in the institution. He was very reluctant. He never had any taste for lecturing; but he yielded at last, predicting that he should not satisfy the expectations formed of him. On the 31st October, 1572, according to an entry in the register of.the "Venerable Company," he was admitted "Professor of Philosophy." Here he read on Aristotle's "Organon," and Cicero's "De Finibus." The students' judgment was, "Monsieur Scaliger did not beat about the bush like the rest, but explained his author." Groulart, who had begun Greek late, said, "he stopped him." Groulart's Latin version of three orations of Lysias is reckoned among the best specimens of translation, and was praised as such a century later by Huet—a credit it probably owes to its having been looked over by Scaliger. Geneva, however, with its ecclesiastical police and the petty tyranny of its pastors, was, at best, but a tolerable abode. Every other interest was there as nothing in comparison with church interests, and church interests were there understood in a narrow spirit of sect which denounced all Protestant communities beyond the strictly Calvinistic. To the ordinary discomforts of exile was added for the refugees the misery of want—alms the re. public was itself too poor to give. Thej must work j and in a little town and territory so overcrowded with foreigners, the supply of labor was out of all proportion to the demand. Calvin, in inviting a French seigneur to expatriate himself, had warned him " not to suppose he was coming to an earthly paradise. Our people here arc so wretchedly off, that I am almost ashamed to speak thereof. You will have here the pure word of God, and that is all. As for comforts, you will have to take that which God shall give you, and to do without those of which he shall think fit to deprive you." That Scaliger was not ungrateful for the shelter afforded him, we gather from some verses written at Geneva, in which he says—

learnt more with Scaliger in a month than tunes of that family, which was throughout with others in a year, because he never went' that turbulent period engaged on the royaloft' into useless jnattcr, and no difficulty ist side. Their possessions lay in Touraine,

"... mctu dejectus, obsitus lurtu,
Atratus, exspcs, in tuum sinum f'ugi
Geneva, quo; me patria: cxulem terra
Blanda atquc arnica caritate fovisti."

But lecturing was irksome to him. "His vocation," thinks his intimate friend Vertunien, in 1574, is not "caqueter en chaire et pedanter." When afterwards, at Leyden, Scaliger counts among his blessings that here he "is not deafened with the harangues of professors, or the impertinences of fanatical preachers" ("nullis cathedris pedagogorum obstrepimur, nulla nos fanaticorum concionatorum mendicabula obtundunt."—To Casavbon, January, 1601), we see what were his reminiscences of Geneva. He took his leave in the summer of 1574, and returned to France; not, however, to Valence, which Cujas had now quitted, but to Poitou and the protection of his friend and patron de La Roche-Pozay. .

Of the next twenty years of Scaliger's life (1074-1594), hardly any events are recorded, because there were few to record. We only know that he was domesticated with the Lord of La Roche-Pozay, sharing the for

Poitou, La Marche, etc., the centre of French Calvinism, and therefore the most exposed to the ravages of the Catholic troopers. In times of peace, the family, and Scaliger with them, were continually on the move from one chateau to another, in the old seiguorial fashion. In times of disturbance, they secured themselves in their castle of Preuilly (in Touraine), which was sufficiently strong


___ Scaliger _ , _

which he gradually amassed a considerable number, were at Abain, and the continual separation from them was a great hindrance to him * in his various undertakings. Far from being glued to his desk, he was perpetually in motion, ready to take his turn of garrison-duty in case of necessity; not unable or disinclined to join a party for lit, cliassc, and to spear a boar with his own hand. In 1581 he is paying a visit of condolence to Cujas, who was now at Bourges; in 1583 he is at Nerac, at the court of the king of Navarre; in 1584 he paid a visit to

Paris; in 158C he is staying in Provence: and though we know that he did not in all

.his period quit France, it should seem that this is by no means a full account of all his journeys in different parts of the kingdom.

however, has to be years, there was left

As this locomotion,

spread over twenty _, ,

ample time for steady labor. In this respect, command of his own time, Scaliger's position, humble as it was, was not unfavorable. If a man were desirous, at that day, of devoting himself to classical learning, the only bread-winning profession open to him was that of teacher (pedant they called it) in a university or a school. Whatever might be the case in Italy, in France church endowments were not employed to reward or promote learning. The Huguenots had no endowments, and the ministry among them was, if no longer the road to martyrdom, at least a life incompatible with any secular study. Scaliger is almost a solitary instance of a man who gave up his life to study, without being attached to a university. He was not married. His personal wants were few, and provided for by the liberality of his friend de La Roche-Pozay. The remains of his mother's fortune enabled him to provide himself with the most necessary books. He found himself thus, in the maturity of his powers and the fulness of

* Dr. Bel-nays, p. 173, says nt Preuilly, quoting De Kevcs, p. 6<J. But n comparison of that letter with //). ad Lips., p. 68, leads us to the conclusion that they were kept at Abain.

his knowledge, enabled to give up his un- tempts to bring the rules of criticism, Simdivided mind to literature, to grasp it as a pie though they seem, into the clear light in whole, and so to conceive and execute a which they stand before a modern editor. series of master-works, distinguished by the \ Both in establishment of text, and in accucomprehensiveness of their range from the I mulation of aids to right interpretation, three fragmentary patchwork of the commentators, hundred years have, it may well be supposed, and by the fresh life of genius which per- added not a little. But we need not forget

vades them from the dull compilations of erudite antiquaries.

In 1577 he brought out at the Paris press

our obligations to those who first taught criticism to walk in the road in which it should go, who reclaimed it from a hap-haz

of Robert Estienne an edition of the three ' ard guess-work, and made it a rational proLatin elegiac poets—Catullus, Tibullus, and ! cedure subject to fixed laws. This Scaliger'a Properties. In this and in the " Festus," j editions of the " Catalecta," of Festus, and which he had printed at the same place the the three erotic poets did. They did it, too, year before, he showed what he could effect, with a mastery over not only the language, if he chose, in that branch of criticism which | but the literature, which was then the cornrestores corrupted text. This very subordinate exercise of ingenuity was then rated, doubtless, far beyond its real value. Yet even here the prevailing procedure was conducted on erroneous principles. The Ital

ians had been the great offenders. Their scholars had destroyed the integrity of the text of the Latin classics by thrusting upon it any and every alteration which occurred to them as an improvement or a novelty. Emendation was, with them, a pastime with which an idle hour might well be whiled away when society was not to be had. Even the systematic correction of a complete author was too large an undertaking for this enervated generation, and the Italian presses produced nothing but volumes of miscellaneous criticism or desultory marginalia. The better specimens of this class, such as the " Varia? Lcction^s " of Muretus, or those of Petrus Victorius, contain little else but trifling remarks, or the common anecdotes repeated from Plutarch or Suetonius, betraying the poverty of the land, and making ns aware that the Italian man could not get beyond the reading or the sphere of thought wh'ich he reached in his school-days. .This frivolous toying with literature could only be expelled by presenting a model of thorough treatment. The two French critics who preceded Scaliger, Lambinus, and Turncbus, had done much to introduce a more manly turn of thought and a more sustained industry with this department. They had, too, entered upon the field of Greek—a language which lew Italian scholars had ever mastered, and for which they had now become wholly incompetent. But even Lambinus and Turnebus do not rise beyond the thought of making classics an instrument of education —of euiting "in usum studiosic juventutis." Sealiger first showed the way to that sound notion of textual criticism in which the genuine tradition is made the basis, and alteration is only permitted on condition of establishing itself by rigorous proof. True, it has required a long experience and many at

mon language and literature of all educated persons, and the result was to attract general attention to Scaliger even beyond university circles. It began to be understood that a man had arisen who could not only do better than any one else what everyone else

was doing, but who was able to lead the way to a new method of treatment of ancient literature—a method which promised incalculable results.

No sooner had Scaliger, by his "Catullus," etc., placed himself by common consent at the head of textual critics, than he took leave forever of diorthotic criticism, and struck out a now path. He saw his way to a task, to which the restoration cf texts in their integrity, even could it be completely achieved, was but a stepping-stone. Leaving editing to others, he threw himself upon the material contents of the books, and embarked alone of all the eorly philologers upon the unexplored ocean of primitive history— a voyage in which he had no predecessors, and, till within the present century, no followers.

The transition to the new field of labor was his edition of Manilius ^1579), the five books of whose "Astronomica," the most difficult of the Latin classics, offer to the inteq>reter a scries cf puzzles which frightened off the smaller critics. Scaliger grappled with the problem, and, mathematicians assert, rather forced his way through it by sheer dint of arm than solved it. As his object was scientific, and not philological, he did nothing for the text except where necessary for his purpose, viz. to make Manilius a peg on which lo hang a representation cf the astronomical system of the first century, A.D. The Manilius was, in fact, but an introduction to a comprehensive chronological system which he brought out in 1583 in "Be Emendatione." By this grand effort of genius, Scaliger may be said to have created for modern times 'the science of chronology. Hitherto the utmost extent of chronological skill which historians had possessed

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