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the language, and then if the society declined their share of the burden, there might be some ground for the charge-but, în that case, it is highly probable that the society would not only largely contribute,--but if their annual receipt were incompetent, would liberate some part of their funded property to meet the exigency.

Still perhaps it will be urged, that an accession of above £10,000 in one year to the funds of the society, by the legacy of the Rev. Mr. Canning, may justife an enlargement of the missionary concerns. Certainly it may, but the legacy is destined to a particular purpose by the legator, that is, to the procuring and supporting missionaries in foreign parts: it cannot be applied to forwarding translations. And til the missions themselves can be put upon some better footing than that, in which the present annual account states them to be, the society must pause, and wait for advice, and act with circumspection, before this benefaction can be applied to any extension of its missionary concerns.

The evil does not arise from the society, but from the circumstances of the times. English missionaries do not offer,-and German missionaries in the present distracted condition of that country are not to be procured. Added to which, so much novelty in doctrine has sprung up in Germany, in consequence of French principles on one hand, and wild enthusiasm on the other, that every missionary who might offer, is not to be accepted without great caution. With the Lutherans of that country, we have long acted in concert, and not found our confidence misplaced. The Lutheran church has furnished us with a Ziegenbalgh, a Swartz, a Gericke, a Jænicke-men who would have done honour to the primitive ages of the church; and if successors worthy of these devoted servants of Christ could now be procured, no expence, consistent with the general designs of the society, would be spared.

So far this vindication of the society.— It may not be amiss to add, that, at the request of the Bible Society, this Chinese MS. was examined by Mr. Taylor, the engraver, who reported that the expence of engraving it,, might be contracted to about £3,500, after which the printing of any number of copies, might be continued at pleasure. But the advice given by that gentleman after his inspection, was, that certain passages of the same Gospel, should be selected, and engraved, on ten or twelve plates, at the expence of £100, or thereabouts, by way of experiment, whether such a work could be introduced into China, at all. For it seems reasonable to suppose, that if a small volume, or roll, of

five or six leaves, could not be circulated among the Chinese people, that the attempt to circulate a large and bulky volume, was hopeless. The principles on which this cautious advice was suggested, have been amply justified by events in the Empire of China, [Comp. Panorama, Vol. I. pp. 578, 627. Vol. II. p. 1057.] which are not the first instance of the fatal effects attending too much publicity of religious zeal, in that country.

DEROGATORY DANGERS ATTENDANT ON THE

SITUATION OF ACTRESSES.

[From Public Characters of 1807, p. 179, &c.],

We shall not be suspected of concurring with every sentiment comprized in the following extract: nor of applauding the style, or the choice of expression in which the writer has thought proper to convey his observations. The same remarks from the pen of a grave author, might have been liable to the imputation of prejudice against dramatic amusements; but as no such accusation will be credited in the present instance, it is fair to conclude that this evidence is unexceptionable in proof of some of the difficulties to which morals are exposed in theatrical engagements, and of some of those degradations under which public taste, national manners, and even com

mon sense, are debased. The difficulties attendant on dramatic writers, have not escaped our notice, [Comp. Panorama, Vol. I. p. 313.} a part of those which surround dramatic performers, especially of the female sex, may be contemplated in the present instance. [Comp. Panorama, Vol. II. p. 46.]

Her's is a career of danger; she has no solitude to which she may retire, and avoid the persecutions of the gorgon and the satyr; detraction pursues her steps; and the spirit of libertinism, disguised as love or friendship, invades the remotest shades of her repose. To be known to have been in peril gives sufficient premises to malice to conclude that ruin has ensued. Many lovely women have lost their reputations from this very cause. Imperious circumstances having placed them under temptations to deviate from the right path, they are supposed to have fallen., To be put to trial, and to be condemned, are the same things with the generality of the world. It is enough for the malignant envier of youth, beauty, and celebrity, to hear it applauded, to see it attended by the admiration of men of taste, rank, and talents, to guess that it has been betrayed. If the malicious do not sin

cerely believe the surmise, they do not hesitate to speak as if they did; and yet, perhaps, it would be difficult to find the circulator of a cruel tale that did not believe it; for, judging by their own hearts (which we are all apt to do), they cannot conceive the possibility of being virtuous from principle; of preserving honour at the expence of ambition, and, hardest trial of all, of love!

Superiority of attractions is sufficient to provoke the spleen of a thousand disappointed coquets; and when those attractions are become an object of public conversation; when the smiles of their fair possessor would be regarded by men of pleasure as a feather in their cap of vanity; these men are inclined to make vain boasts, and to recount favours which they never received. This is one way of tarnishing a bright character; and the other is, to hum and ha, and shake the head, at the virtue which presumption has found to be impregnable. Unhappy pre-eminence! when the height on which the innocent stands makes her only a surer aim for the arrow of falsehood!

ner, or apparel, she renders herself obnoxious to the charge of indelicacy, nay, of impudence; and anist of course be shunned by the women, and despised by the men.

But in the case of the fair representer of Captain Macheath, she who, by the hard en forcements of obligation, was constrained to shew the entire symmetry of her little form, from the period when she personified Cupids and Sylphis, till she gradually, approached maturity, through the various male characters of pages, genii, &c.; she could not, with any justice, have been accused of outraging her own modesty, or even decorum, in putting on the character of Captain Macheath. We repeat, she did well in two instances: she undertook an arduous part to serve a brotherperformer, and she accomplished what she undertook. But did her audience well, to load her with applauses in the theatre; to speak with ardour of the delightful actress, and yet blame her for giving occasion for that pleasure? Inconsistent, ungrateful, public! Libertine even in your most innocent amusement! While you applaud, you blame; while your praises seduce, your rigour condemns! Every lover of female delicacy; of the timid step, the downcast eye, and blushing cheek; of interesting, virtuous, and patient, woman, must deprecate the prevalence of the taste which unsexes females, and puts them in the place of men, on our different stages. They are excused; but the public, who declare a more lively admiration of them while under nietamorphose than when they appear as nature had intended; and the mercenary authors who write to gratify so vicious a fancy, are unpardonably to blame. The actress herself is pledged to take whatever character the manager assigns to her; and she is no more reprehensible for appearing as Sir Harry Wildair, or Captain Alachcath, than the soldier would be when he obeys his commander's exdid travagant orders, and strives to seize some post no outrage to her modesty. There is no more that is out of his line, and beyond his powers. necessity in reason to interdict the women of The soldic forfeits no honour in the repulse; England from wearing the usual close habit the disgrace falls upon his general. The acof a man, than there is against the men in trees loses no virtue by appearing without the Turkey for usurping the common garments of gates of modesty; they who called her forth, women, and apparelling themselves in petti-and they who hailed her approach, are the coats. Distinctions of dress are laws of custom only; and by the custom of seeing the limbs of one sex displayed, and those of the other always concealed, ideas of decency and indecency become attached to the obeying or disobeying of these customs. Hence, in the north of Europe, a female adopting any part of the male attire is accused as an infringer of a proper law, and condemned as having inade a breach in modesty. When vanity is the mover in the assumption of any unusual garb; when a woman, at its command, steps out of the common mode, and intrudes upon the fashions of the other sex, either in gait, man

In the summer season of 1792 miss was prevailed upon by Mr. Johnstone (for his benefit) to undertake to play the part of Macheath o his Lucy and old Bannister's Polly. Loud applauses followed this monstrous cast of characters. Miss acted with discrimination and spirit. The public were pleased, were intoxicated every lip moved in gay approval of the sprightly little captain. It was well; at least the character was well dressed, well sung, and well acted; and well in miss who, in taking the part, merely complied with one of the many caprices which her profession is obliged to submit to. But such absurd, unqualified, and reiterated, testimonies of approbation, were not well in the public.

In assuming the male garb miss

culprits; they stand at the bar of injured delicacy; it is they who affront woman in thus tearing off her veil, and setting her before the multitude.

When the respectable and charming woman is degraded to play the jockey in buckskins, a whip and jacket, when girt up in a recruit's uniform she is made to go through the manual exercise before a shouting and vulgar mob, the eve of delicacy turns away, and that of friendship closes on the scene. When such low and gross characters are to be performed on the stage, let those take them who have abandoned all claim to respect;

LAVATER.

To the Editor of the Literary Panorama,

SIR,-All your readers will no doubt agree with your correspondent HERMIT *, that they have received great pleasure in perusing the various accounts of customs and manners dispersed throughout your instructive Miscel lany.

and if there be no such actresses in our thea- | taste for vice can never make vice virtue); in tres, let there be no such plays in our theatres vain appeal to the plays of Shakspeare as an authority. If they do not produce such creThe revolution of manners which the revo-dentials on the presumption of having an iglution in France spread over all Europe, even norant jury, they must be ignorant them to the very centre of its courts, produced laxity selves, else they would know that the witness on one side, and an extreme stiffness on the they have brought forward will give evidence other. Urbanity, modesty, politeness, and on the other side. Shakspeare inust ever speak the graces, seemed to fly before anarchy, im- for nature. There were no female actresses pudence, and effrontery, and all the wild vaon the stage during the reign of Elizabeth; riety of rudeness. The really civilized and and to avoid unnatural assumptions of a differ-.. worthy took alarm at this; and the bond of ent sex, he put as many of his female charac division was drawn very tight. Women are ters, as the management of his plot would alnow either too facile in yielding their conver- low, into the habits of men. As boys were to sation to men, or too reserved in withholding personate his Imogen, Viola, Rosalind, &c. it. Unamiable as a cold demeanour may he preferred humouring Nature, before the seem, they who adopt it know that it is one egregious absurdity of forcing her to a grotes means of defending that ground of respectabi- que compliance with his own fancy. lity on which the female character rests. When men cease to regard women with that reverence which restrains them from attempt ing personal freedoms; and when, instead of the bow of salutation, and polite inquiry after health, the rough seizure, shake by the hand, and familiar "How d'ye do?" are substituted; to repel such impertinence a chilling and distant air must be worn. Could the lovely sex freeze the coxcombs into lumps of ice, and transport them to the North seas, they might find much congenial society amongst the bears of the polar star. In short, it is the duty of every woman of delicacy to sacrifice the softer graces of the gentle queen of beauty, when called upon, to assume in their place the severer mien of a Diana, whose dignity will not brook intrusion. Such curbs in the hand of the fair are highly requisite to preserve public decorum and private happiness. The decent reserves which are maintained between the sexes hold them in their proper stations and distances. But when the approach is not only made close, but with a shock, all the roughnesses and deformities of each are dis covered and felt. An ugly equality is introduced; a disgusting familiarity: and where folios in his book case, lettered Physiognomiugliness and disgust cohabit, love is smother-cal Cabinet, and left the room. He returned ed in the cradle. Nothing so pure can exist in contaminated air; and the breath of his nurse is pestilence. There is a sprite (who sometimes assumes the name of the gentle god of soft desires"), a serpent-form, the detestable anteros! He may be engendered in the fog; for his food is poison, and his touch is more baneful than the plague: it gives inquietude, misery, contempt, and death.

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The stage, from its many disagreeables, and the despotic powers of its rulers, is far from being a station of safety, either for the character or the feelings. The feeling of delicacy is wounded, as was before said, when a woman is constrained to appear as a man: and therefore the authors of these monstrous transformations (if they mean to be honest men) in vain plead the public taste in their favour (a)

Ás remarks on celebrated characters may be equally entertaining, I have taken the liberty of transinitting to you a few relating to the celebrated Swiss Physiognomist, from the tra

vels of a Russian nobleman.

After a

"When I had rung the bell," says M. Karamsin, "there appeared a tail slender man of a pale complexion, whom I instantly knew to be Lavater. He conducted me to his closet, and welcomed me to Zurich. few questions about my journey, he said, "Have the goodness to call again. I am bu sy at present: or stay and read, or look over any thing you please, and do just as if you were at home." He then shewed me some

several times to fetch a book or some paper, but immediately left the room again. At length he entered it, took me by the hand, and conducted me to a company of literati.

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Lavater has an extremely venerable appearance; a firm resolute air; a long pale face; piercing eyes, and a very grave lock, All his motions shew animation and agility. and he utters every word with energy. 'In his tone there is something dictatorial, which is probably a consequence of his profession, but is corrected by a look of the most undissembled candour and simplicity of heart.

"When I called the next day, I found Lavater writing a letter. In half an hour the room was filled with visitors. These visits

* Vide Panorama, Vol. III. p. 560..

would be troublesome to any other person; but Lavater told me that he was fond of seeing strangers, and that he learnt many new things of them.

Early the next morning he sent to invite me to go with him and a few friends into the country. We sat down to a plentiful repast, and joked and laughed. After dinner we sat down to play,-not at cards. Each took a piece of paper, upon which he wrote any question that came into his head. The papers were then mixed, again distributed, and every one had now to answer to the question he had received, and write down a new one. This game continued till the piece of paper was full, and then they were all read aloud. Many of the answers were well adapted to the subjects; but those of Lavater differed from the rest, as the moon from the stars. As an example, I will annex a few of the questions and answers.

"Who is the real benefactor?" A. "Ile who relieves present distress." The question, "Is the life of any particular person absolutely necessary for the completion of any particular purpose?" Was answered in the following manner ; "it is necessary, if he remains alive; but would be unnecessary, were he to die." Different words with

tions, to make his way at Court; but all his endeavours proved at that time fruitless. Disappointed in his ambitious hopes, he shut himself up in his country residence; and to avoid as much as possible the intolerable company of his lady, he gave himself up entirely to study. The laws of his country, and the laws of nations as publicly avowed in Europe, were the principal objects of his researches; and from that kind of study, he contracted a diffuse and pedantic manner of writing, which was afterwards conspicuous in all his productions.

After several years of political seclusion, Carvallo saw at last the long-wished-for prospect opening to his view; he had been a widower for some time, when, in 1745, he was sent to Vienna, on a secret mission. He was then forty-six years of age, but neither his time of life, nor his diplomatic occupations, prevented him from paying his addresses to a young countess of the Daun family, whom he married, shortly afterwards. This marriage was the principal cause of his fortune. The court of Vienna, where his lady's family was highly considered, interested itself powerfully in favour of Carvallo, and at the death of John V. King of Portugal, in 1750, King Joseph, his successor,

out any connection were then given, and each pointed him Secretary for foreign affairs. In

had to make sense of them, which gave occasion to a good deal of laughter."

Such were the recreations of the pious Lavater, who was basely assassinated by a Frenchman or a Swiss Should so benevolent and peacable a man have expected a death so cruel in his native city?" Lavater," says Cal. Masson," was a christian philosopher, ascetic and mystical, but tolerant and enlightened; an ardent and virtuous philanthropist, though systematical and credulous, It is to be regretted, for the sake of religion and philosophy, that he did not live some centuries earlier. He might then have rendered services to each, and would perhaps have

this situation he remained five years, without any marked pre-eminence over his colleagues; but, a calamitous circumstance soon gave him an opportunity of displaying the superior powers of his mind. Every one knows, that in 1755, Lisbon was visited by an earthquake, which laid the whole city in ruins: in that awful situation, the King, his ministers, and his courtiers, unmanned by terror, were incapable of any resolution, and vented their fears, in womanish superstitions. Mean time, fires had broken out in many places among the ruins and numerous banditti were ransacking the desolated city, as their lawful prey, Carvallo alone, undismayed in the general consternation, gathered some soldiers, and at their head, perambulated the ruins. He stopped the progress of the flames; punished the banditti on the spot; and, with the utmost presence of mind, and the greatest BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE ON THE MARQUIS activity, established regulations which saved

conciliated them."

I am yours, &c.

SCRIBBLER.

DE POMBAL: FORMERLY SECRETARY OF
STATE, AND PRIME MINISTER OF PORTU-
GAL,

Don Sebastian Joseph Carvallo Melho, so well known by the title of Marquis de Pombal, was born in 1699, of a noble Portuguese family, of the second rank. Eminently gifted with advantages of person, he married in the early part of his life, a Portuguese lady, of birth superior to his own and this ill-sorted union embittered his days. He, however, attempted, by means of his new connec

the remnants of Lisbon. The King recovered at last from his panic, and appreciating the courage of Pombal, from the extent of his own fears, considered him as a being of a superior order; and this minister's ascendangy over his weak mind, was thus established for

ever.

Pombal abused this ascendancy but too much. He kept his master in a state of almost degrading subserviency; while he was himself surrounded with all the outward pomp and trappings of absolute power, to dazzle the eyes of the gaping multitude. He ob

tained a body of horse-guards, under pretence of his personal protection. Wherever he went, his coach was preceded by eight or ten horse-men, with drawn sabres, making way for him; and a smaller number followed it. But, the object he had most at heart, was that of humiliating the high Portuguese nobility. There was an absolutely exclusive distinction established in Portugal, between seven or eight families of that class, and the rest of the nobility. They boasted of being free from all blóts; such as intermarriages with moors, jews, and negroes, judgments of the inquisition, &c. Το preserve this purity spotless, they intermarried among each other only: M. Pombal attempted to annihilate this distinction, so humiliating to the rest of the nobility. It was a customary thing for him, to make use of the King's authority, to farther his own designs; and he had recourse to it in this undertaking. He forbad in the name of his Majesty such and such marriages, which he knew were in contemplation, between members of these exclusive families; he thus forced them to stoop to the second class for connections, which answered the double purpose of lowering their pride, and of elevating that class to which he himself belonged.

Before Pombal's administration, the Portuguese noblemen made it a constant practice to set at defiance even the most sacred laws; but he soon curbed their licentious spirits, by the most inflexible restrictions; they murmured, but they trembled, and obeyed-even the continuation of their titles depended on the King's will, and consequently on the minister's whim; by the custom of Portugal, the son of a deceased nobleman cannot as sume his father's title, till it is confirmed to him by the King-this confirmation Ponbal often withheld for eight or ten years; by such means he reduced them to the blindest submission, though accompanied with the most inveterate hatred. It was, especially, on his birth-day, that he received from them those unanimous testimonies of seeming obsequiousness, which he well knew how to appreciate this was a day of triumph for his pride, and for his malignity. He then beheld collected in his palace, the most illustrious, and the proudest grandees, of Portugal. In that crowd of suitors, he took a secret pleasure in remarking such a one, whose father he had brought to the block; such another, whose brother lay at that very moment in a dungeon, by his orders, &c.

This unlimited power extended even over the ministers, who seemed to share with him, in a certain degree, the King's confidence. The Marquis of Pombal was nominally minister of the interior only; but, in fact, he presided likewise over all the other departments. His colleagues, decorated with empty

titles, did nothing but through him, as they sometimes were forced to own. M. Pombal often kept them in ignorance of the business of their own offices; every thing went through his hands; and he entered into the minutest details. A note was once brought to him for signature, containing only a permit for a traveller to take post-horses, he found fault with the style, and dictated another. He was indefatigable in the labours of his office; busy from the dawn of day; he never had fixed hours for his meals; he usually dined very late, and eat most voraciously; for which he was visited by frequent indigestions. After dinner he used to take a ride in a coach, with a monk, a relation of his, who was said to be a man of uncommon stupidity. This man was his sole company; and that ride was his only recreation. He soon afterwards returned to his closet, where he remained occupied till late at night. He had two secretaries to write under him; they were mere machines, without any understanding, without eyes; he had trained them himself, and they were constantly at his disposal. One of them was a German, whom he had brought from Vienna: he made him at first his footman, then his porter, and lastly, his secretary. These two poor scribes were often so overloaded with business, that both were ill at the same time.

Notwithstanding his excesses in living, and his laborious life, the Marquis de Pombal enjoyed a state of health, so robust, that he indulged the strong hope of a long career. At the age of seventy-seven, shortly before his disgrace, he used to talk about finishing the rebuilding of Lisbon, and even of building a palace for the King; as if he had been in the vigour of youth. Excessively attached to life and to honours, he was no less addicted to the love of money; he even committed the most shocking vexations, to gratify his rapacity. He often confiscated the property of those whom he sacrificed to his ambition or to his resentment. Born to a small fortune, he had accumulated about £15,000 a year; an immense revenue for Portugal! He had built on his estate of Oeyras the finest mansion in the country; but that magnificent residence displayed no taste, because he was himself deficient in that respect; and he had only employed Portuguese artists. For the same reasons, Lisbon, which he has raised from its ruins, is far from gratifying the eyes of connoisseurs. Monstrous defects are strikingly obvious in the finest quarters of the town: and above all, in that famous square Prazo del Comerção, where he has placed a micnument to the late King.

This capital, however, in its restored state, evinces in a striking manner the power, and the activity, of the Marquis de Pombal. The other parts of the country, also, were gradually

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