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none of his assailants wore French. From : of the volume, Drusius, professor of Hebrew whatever cause this proceeded, it was not at Franeker. In this epistle, written in a

from any lurking sympathy. Neither then nor since have his Catholic fellow-countrymen shown any remorse for having exiled their illustrious compatriot, or made any attempt to "reclamer" him as their own. Flanders and Germany were the positions from which the Jesuit guns were pointed against Lcydcu. At Antwerp, Louvain, and M iin/, they had establishments for training their literary banditti. Here renegades from Protestantism were received, and were especially welcome if they could bring contributions of scandal against their old associates. Having lived with the Protestants, they knew their friends' weak points; ruined in character themselves they were zealous to ruin others. If an imputation could not be made to look plausible, it could be made to look black; quantity was not stinted j they •were laid on, says Scaliger, "by the wagon load." Martin Delrio, who had taught at Liege and Louvain in Scaliger's neighborhood, but was now removed to Griitz—one of the Jesuit strongholds for the blockade of Germany—opened the game in 1601. Delrio's language is comparatively decent. It is a noisy lament over Scaliger as a blasphemer and contemner pf the "authority of the Church," in denying the genuineness of the writings of Dionysius, and in having affirmed that monarchism was unknown in the Apostolic age. He goes on to a personal description of Scaliger, offensive and insulting, but not wholly untrue; a caricature rather than a libel. Delrio, in fact, was only a light skirmisher put forward to draw Scaliger's fire. But it would not do. The man was too inconsiderable. Scaliger took no notice, or awarded him only a conversational sarcasm.

The trenches, were, therefore, opened on a new quarter. Scaliger had that feeling for his Hebrew attainments which we often have for that point which we are conscious is not exactly our strongest. His reputation as an Orientalist was a tender point with him. Berarius, a Jesuit of Mainz, who had some skill in Hebrew, was set on with this bait. They printed for him at their press in Mainz a book on "The Three Jewish Sects" (Trihcercsion), in which, quite by the way, some of the Hebrew criticisms in the "De Emcndatioue" were called in question, but without violating the received courtesies of controversy. Scaliger could not resist the temptation. Though not replying himself, he appended to a friend's reply to the book a contemptuously-savage demolition of Scrarius; and, flndiug his hand in, he could not refrain from a castigation of Delrio by the way. More important was

vein of caustic humor, in which Scaligcr has never been surpassed, ho throws down his challenge to the whole Order: "Till now he had kept silence under their provocations. If the ofl'ence were repeated he should not take it so quietly in future." Friend and foe felt that this epistle was a declaration of war. The Heidelberg Calvinists congratulated themselves upon this out-spokeimcss; and the Jesuits no longer delayed the production of their heavy artillery. In 1605 Carolus Scribonius, rector of the Jesuit College at Antwerp, produced the "Amphitheatrum Honoris." The " Amphitheatre" is not directed against Scaliger only; it includes the Calvinists generally. It is difficult to give the English reader any idea of this production. It must suffice to say that it is one of the most shamelessly beastly books which have ever disgraced the printing press. The leading characters among the Reformed are brought up one after another, and the most filthy imputations alleged against them, without the smallest evidence, or the pretence of it. Even the titles of its chapters could not be reproduced in these pages. In any moral condition of society the compiler of such a mass of ordure would have been driven from among men as a pollution of his species. But fifty years of Jesuit reaction had told terribly on the moral sense of Europe. Scribonius was a defender of the Church, that was enough. The "Amphitheatre" speedily reached a second edition, to which a new part was added, spiced with fresh turpitudes, and a special chapter on Scaliger. Nothing gives a more shocking impression of the depravity of party-spirit in those times than the hearty reception given to this infamous production. It has not a single redeeming point; neither wit, eloquence, piquant scandal, nor plausibility of imputation. It is a cesspool of filth, in which sectarian hate and an impure imagination do not seek to disguise themselves by any arts of composition. Good men were aghast, and recoiled from this "Amphitheatre of .Horror;" but the Catholic public applauded; and where an attempt was made to get the sale of the book prohibited in France, Henry IV. interfered in its favor, and sent the author a message of encouragement, and letters of naturalization as a citizen.

In 1607 the Jesuits followed up this first success by a second. The "Amphitheatre" had thrown dirt upon the whole Protestant body promiscuously, and only in the second edition had a point been made ngainst Scaliger in particular. He was now made the subject of a companion volume, devoted en

an epistle addressed to the friendly editor tirely to himself, his personal history, and character. The "Supposititious Scaliger" had cherished, in this inward persuasion, a (Scaliger HypobolimoMs) of Caspar Sciop- sensitive, even irritable, love of truth, whkh pius, is a thick quarto of lour hundred pages, | had made him abhor disguise and scorn pru

m which all the slander and gossip about Scaliger and his family which could be raked together in the Jesuit colleges in Italy and Germany is retailed as matter of fact. But instead of the obscure style and clumsy composition of the "Amphitheatre," the " Supposititious Scaliger" is set off by all the arts of an accomplished rhetorician. Scioppius •was a master of Latin style; he wields, with a force and nerve not inferior to Scaliger's own, a precise and pungent diction,—a terrible weapon in such a warfare and in the hands of such an adversary, reckless of truth and only intent upon wounding his opponent. We seem to see the steel of the assassin gbam cold and keen in the moonlight, as he withdraws it again and again to repeat his blow and make sure of his victim. A more judicious selection of a champion the Jesuits could not have made. No stronger proof can be given of the impression produced by this 'powerful Philippic, dedicated to the defamation of an individual, than that it has been the source from which the biography of Scaliger, as it now stands in our biographical collections, has mainly flowed. Such is the power of style! The Jesuits, in their most sanguine dreams, could never have hoped that the pure fictions of Scioppius would establish themselves throughout the literary world as the genuine tradition of the family history of the Scaligers.

Scaliger was in his sixty-seventh year when this terrible blow was dealt him. He might well reel under the shock. A man of irreproachable purity of morals, of religious habits, who had devoted every hour of his life to the pursuit of knowledge, and had done more than any Hving man to dignify the pursuits which all men agreed to honor, might at least have thought he had earned a peaceful if not an honored old age. And this was what it was come to! As the reward of his toil, himself and his ancestry were held u] to the execration pr ridicule of the world, am the world received the portrait with rapture. In denying his descent, the Jesuits had found out the heel of Achilles. Upon his belief in Ms noble blood his whole attitude and demeanor in the world had been founded. L his intellect had broken the bonds of opinion and enjoyed a freer scope and ampler range than that of ordinary scholars, it was because ho had started with a consciousness of bein^ the peer of the best and noblest in Europe. His princely birth was but the other side of his princely genius. He had sought and won this principality in letters as some small compensation for the territorial principality oJ which his forefathers had been robbed. He

denee, and now he found himself exhibited

to the world as an impostor and a cheat. A

sudden revolution had shaken the foundations of his authority. The proud fabric of his reputation was dashed to the ground amid the jubilant exultations of enemies and the cold condolence of friends. He was alone. Upon his single head was discharged all the venom of a triumphant party. The triumph, too, was not over himself, but over science and learning, and over Scaliger as their representative. On every side the work of the Reformation was being undone. A torrent of fanatical passion had set in, and was sweeping away all that the human intellect had for nearly a century been Bo laboriously constructing. It was time for him to go; his life had been lived in vain. Put away the " Thesaurus Temporum!" What are honor, truth, virtue, science ?—A dream. The Jesuits are masters of the world.

Recovered from his first consternation, Scaliger thought it necessary to reply_ to Scioppius' libel, though he had not noticed the " Amphitheatre." His " Confutatio Pabular Burdonum," published in his sixty2Jghth year, is one of the most vigorous specimens of Scaliger's unrivalled Latin style. For the general reader this little tract is the most attractive of any thing which he has left. It is overflowing with spirit and power, with historical knowledge and literary allusion. As a refutation of Scioppus it is most complete j but it had no success with the public. An answer never has. It is the privilege of slander that it does not admit of being removed, but attains its end by being uttered. Casaubon, indeed, was hearty and sympathetic; Heinsius was convinced; but the world regarded the sympathy of the devoted Casaubon as little as the indignation of the Leyden students. It was gratified to see Scaliger humbled, and it would not hear of any thing that might abate its gratification. He was made to feel the truth of what he had once said, " Nunquam major est vis calumnia; quam in causa optima." All consolation and support must be looked for within. The considerations he had himself, some eight years before, offered to a friend under a somewhat parallel infliction show the direction his thoughts would take in his own case. Thus he writes to John Casel, in 1600:—

"You must remember how envy waits on merit as inseparably as shadow on body. You would not be the object of this enmity if yon had not thus deserved it. I cannot recall any person of worth I Ik: . j ever known who lias not at some time or other been the victim of these mulcvo

lent passions, nnless by studiously dissembling his gifts, and painfully conforming to the fashion of living and thinking of those around. But if you cannot escape envy you may vanquish it: envy, itself, I mean, not the envious, which is but a poor triumph. Gifts of intellect and acquirements of learning are worth little if they do not furnish the soul with resources to meet the spite they excite. Perfer itaque et obdura. I am well acquainted with this sort of men, and am indeed daily exposed to their assaults. I can, however, afford to laugh at their stupid malignity, and despise their rage; and sustain myself by a good .conscience and lofty purpose."

If victory is not always granted us, we are sure of release. That hour was Very near at hand. The " Confutatio," -which robbed better work of some valuable hours, was finished in July, 1608. In October he began to feel symptoms, the meaning of which he well understood. The physicians who attended him complained of the difficulty of prescribing for one who was too well acquainted with the pharmacopoeia and the power of drugs. For two months it amounted to little more than a sense of uneasiness, against which he struggled as well as his strength permitted. He did not intermit his usual reading; he could take hardly any food, and his body was reduced to the fast stage of emaciation, but his mind was as vigorous as ever—" vigilant," says Heinsius, "like a soldier at his post." Up to the very last he was correcting Poly

bius, and had drawn a sketch of the pilttm from the description of that weapon in Lipsius' "De Re Militari." About Christmas he took to his bed j dropsy had declared itself :•—

"I came to him one morning,"—this is Hcinsiiis' narrative,—" and asked him how lie felt. 'My son,' lie answered, 'yousee me in extremis. I cannot any longer bear up against the distress I suffer. My body is worn out by lying here and by the stress of my malady. My mind is as active as ever. If my enemies could see me now, they would say it is the judgment of God upon me. You know how they have said it of others. But you can testify to what you have seen. Go on aa you have begun. Watch over the memory of him who has loved thee tenderly. God, I cannot doubt it, has thco in his favor. He will continue to do so; do thon onlv acknowledge that all thou hast is from him. Be not ostentatious of thy gifts; they will shine all the brighter. Whatever thou dost, shun arrogance and a haughty temper. Never do aught against thy inward convictions for the sake of adavncenjent. Whatsoever is in thee is God's alone. Dear son! thy Scaliger is leaving thee 1'"

On the 21st of January, 1609, at four in the morning, he fell asleep in Heinsius'arms. The aspiring spirit ascended before the Infinite. The most richly-stored intellect which ever spent itself in acquiring knowledge was in the presence of the Omniscient.

Coverdale's Bible.—Lowirdes says that there are only two perfect copies of this Bible: one in the British Museum, the other in the library of Lord Jersey. I, therefore, send you the enclosed cutting from the Southern Times of last December, as some of your readers may probably be glad to know that another perfect copy of Coverdale's Bible has been discovered :—

"interesting Discovery.—A few days ago, as some workmen were pulling down an old building formerly used as a glebe-house, and lately in the occupation of Mr. William Eagles, of Willscot, Oxon, they came upon a closet or oratory, which had been bricked up, and the wall •wainscoted, to accord with the panelling of the room, of which it formed a part. This closet contained about fifty volumes, probably concealed therein during the early days of the Reformation, to evade the penalties attendant on the possession of prohibited books, and consisted

chiefly of works of controversial theology, but including a copy of the first edition of the complete English Bible, printed in 1535, commonly called Coverdale's Bible, which was in perfect condition. Another of the books is entitled, Admonition to the Faithful in England, by John Knox, bearing the date 1554." —Notes and Queries. W. H. W. T.

Proverbial Sayings.—Can you throw any light upon the following rather mysterious similies:—

1. "As drunk as Chloe."

[This probably refers to the lady so often mentioned in Prior's Poems, who was notorious for her bibacious habits.]

2. "As mad as a hatter."

They appear to be quotations from or references to, some piny or novel of a past age. —Notes and Queries. W. E.

From Bentley's Miscellany. THE CLONMEL TRAGEDY.


"We sec the ground whereon those woes do lie, But too true pvonncl of all these piteous woes We cannot without circumstance descry.

Romeo and Juliet.

Of the character and nature of Irish murder we have many essays written, and manifold are the leading articles in the Times especially, and in other publications occasionally, denouncing it, commenting on its horrors, and dilating upon the extensive agency in organizing crime which exists in the country where it is dominant. I would address myself to those who read these talented £tad gii'tcd productions, who weigh the cogency of their arguments, and who accede to the truth of their corollaries. I would solicit their attention to the details of a fact which came before my own notice, and which lives in my memory recorded as one of those incidents which time, changes of scene, or events of more importance intervening, could never serve to obliterate from it. It is not a statement treating of the agrarian crime which so often has shown itself in that unhappy country; it is not the narrative of deeds which were the impassioned result of an injured and infuriated tenent being goaded to frenzy by a cruel and tyrannizing landlord; it is not the story of the efl'ect which designing and delusive priestcraft had produced by working on the impulsive passions of men who were sunk in barbaric ignorance or brutalizing superstition ; it is the "round unvarnished tale," treating of what happened subsequent to an event of a commonplace . kind. It was very many years ago that I was stationed with my regiment in the town of Clonmel, in Ireland. Of all the young officers which then belonged tp the corps,% there was not one, in personal appearance, talent, or gayety of manner, could match with the youthful Frederick Clany. His fortune was ample, and his liveliness of temper, undaunted spirit and pleasantry, rendered him a universal favorite with his brother officers, and a guest whose society was much courte_d by all the gentry with whom he came in contact. In stature he was above the middle height, and his frame was both athletic and graceful. At the period I speak of his age was twenty-two, and there were few indeed who could excel him in feats of agility and strength; his countenance had the promise of openness and generosity,' that ruddy hue of health and glow of youthful exuberance of spirit, and that faultless symmetry of features, which tended to prepossess the minds of all that he was thrown in company with—most especially

the fair sex—and to elicit the truth so often advanced by many writers, that "a good face is a good letter of introduction." I can fancy him now before me, his jocund laugh, his ready_ wit, his prompt and energetic language, his facility of investing all subjects, whether refined or sportsmanlike, whether of the school or of the stable, whether intellectual or material, with the interest •which passion and earnestness can give them. Could it, then, be a matter of surprise that such a being should succeed in winning upon the affections of a young and artless female? Of all the temptations which the the tempter has arrayed as the most fascinating lure to lead the youth of sanguine temperament to sin and to transgression, love presents the most engaging appearance j of all the charms that fancy could present to the gay and ardent temperament, the presence of beauty was the most powerful to influence the taste and to control the actions.

There was a young female, a Quakeress, who resided in the town at the house of her father, and, as is usual with the persons of that persuasion, he was engaged in business. His shop was the usual resort for purchasers of haberdashery and fancy articles; it was much frequented, and the officers, amongst others, used to go thither, as well from idleness as from the attraction which the graces of the young person who presided at the counter presented—and she was one of the fairest and loveliest specimens of youth and beauty of the age of eighteen that it was possible to conceive—her figure tall, her features of Grecian mould, her face of a softness congenial to the choicest of Guido's colorings; in look, voice, manner, and deportment, she would have well become the scenes alloted for ladies in the highest rank of life, and her mild, hazel eyes of bewitching innocence in their expression, could make one quite forget all the circumstances of her situation, and imagine that one was in presence of a being whose sphere was to adorn the drawing-room, or move the "cynosure of many eyes " in the brilliant assembly. The extreme neatness and simplicity of the costume which is peculiar to her sect, contributed to render more engaging the characteristics of beauty which nature had endowed her with ; and amongst all the females which met the admiring glances of the young and gay in the neighborhood, there certainly was none who shared them so largely as the fair Emilia Graves, and her education seemed far superior to what one would expect from the daughter of a Quaker in a provincial town.

To those who are unacquainted with the style of locality which comprises the idea of an Irish town, it may be necessary to say that the ruin, the dilapidation, the dirt, the poverty of the houses, the destitution, the haggard and reckless appearance of the halfnaked inhabitants of its lower orders, and the uncouth and half-savage appearance of the toi-disattt gentry, or squireens, were much more striking, and much more unmixed with the leaven of English refinement and English usages at the period that I speak of than they are now. At the time I speak of, Clonmel was not an exception to general rule, which set down the provincial towns in that country as wretched in almost every respe»t, and devoid of all that could contribute to render them the agreeable residence of the gentry, or the home of the respectable. The neighborhood had its pleasant walks and romantic localities, and some of these quite realized the idea of what I have heard expressed with regard to Irish scenery as contrasted with English, the outline of it being bolder and more romantic •when viewed as a landscape at a distance, but much less pleasing in detail than English'scenery is found to be. Of the walks, I think that by the river Suir was the pleasantest, and afforded the most agreeable Tiews and greatest variety. The paths, lying close by its deep and broad waters, are wide, and extend in an interrupted course north and south. From Clonmel to Carrickon-Suir, a distance of ten miles, the way is beautifully diversified by high and lowlands, villas, cottages, and forest scenery, and mountains in the distance, and the bank of the river forms a margin wide enough for many horsemen to ride abreast on it. By these banks a retirement much more pleasing than any pleasure which is to be found in scenes of "painted pomp," can be easily procured by following the winding of the stream for a short distance from the town of Clonmel.

Very shortly after Frederick's arrival his notice was arrested by the appearance of the fair Quakeress. Very many were the occasions that he passed and looked in, without further ostensible object than the purchase of what the shop afforded. Very frequent was their conversation on matters which their mutual positions rendered unimportant and apparently on most cdfemonplace subjects—previous to his taking an opportunity of showing the interest which she excited in his mind. Many and many times repeated also was this before she even appeared to notice it, more than as the light ebullition of a young and impetuous mind, or the casual display of a thoughtless and mirth-loving spirit. But the plainspoken and homely nature of the language which those professing her creed were in the habit of using, led her to lend easy and confiding credence to

any declaration which assumed the appearance of sincerity, and her mind had never seen initiated into the artificial and deceitful plausibility which those long habituated to ;he ways of the world are so well aware of j so, when he told her so often that he felt an interest in her welfare, that he loved her, and cared for nothing but her, she began at last to suppose that these protestations were only preliminaries to his more serious intentions, ind to flatter herself with a belief that he who talked so much of her welfare would eventually take the honorable steps to insure it. From listening to approving, from allowing of private conversation to sanctioning private interview, the gradations proiTclrc! in a way most dangerous to the hopes and the prospects oLa girl professing strict propriety; and she, unconsciously as it were, was dragged into a surreptitious compromise of her self-respect, which compromise at first she would have looked upon with horror, but eventually she was tempted to disregard. But further than the lightness of behavior of* granting a stolen interview to one whom she fully believed was about to declare himself more openly, no individual has ever laid to her charge, and no breath of disparagement to her virtue has ever ventured to mingle with the mention of her name. After some time their acquaintance had become from his frequent visits, so intimate, that he used to visit in the evenings at her house, and converse with her family. These visits were, however, short, and evidently meant by him as a blind to lull her suspicions, and to induce her sister to believe all was going on honorably and favor- * ably to her interests. They were also studiously timed, so as to take place when her father was away from home. That his conversation and his manners should have been highly interesting to her, and that her love had become' of the strongest character, no one could possibly doubt, and it was, accordingly, no matter of surprise that after a process of time he induced her tp allow of their meeting together unknown to others, to walk by any of the roads where they might be likijly to remain most unobserved. The road by the river Suir was selected as a place the most favorable for those interviews, and* many autumn evenings used they to walk there, and to converse on the many subjects which his art of pleasing, or his talent of making himself interesting to fair listeners, rendered so easy and familiar to him. At first, the long evenings of autumn rendered those walks a much less formidable occurrence to a young female than a nocturnal ramble would be, but as the season advanced and the nights fell early, the necessity of meeting him at hours which would

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