be wondered at that we find so few publications on general subjects, than that we find any at all. The whole number of the Greeks, scattered up and down the Turkish empire and elsewhere, may amount, at most, to three millions; and yet, for so scanty a number, it is impossible to discover any nation with so great a proportion of books and their authors, as the Greeks of the present century. "Ay, but," say the generous advocates of oppression, who, while they assert the ignorance of the Greeks, wish to prevent them from dispelling it, "ay, but these are mostly, if not all, ecclesiastical tracts, and consequently good for nothing." Well, and pray what else can they write about? It is pleasant enough to hear a Frank, particularly an Englishman, who may abuse the government of his own country, or a Frenchman, who may abuse every government except his own, and who may range at will over every philosophical, religious, scientific, skeptical, or moral subject, sneering at the Greek legends. A Greek must not write on politics, and cannot touch on science for want of instruction; if he doubts, he is excommunicated and damned: therefore his countrymen are not poisoned with modern philosophy; and as to morals, thanks to the Turks! there are no such things. What then is left him, if he has a turn for scribbling? Religion, and holy biography: and it is natural enough that those who have so little in this life should look to the next. It is no great wonder, then, that in a catalogue now before me of fifty-five Greek writers, many of whom were lately living, not above fifteen should have touched on anything but religion. The catalogue alluded to is contained in the twenty-sixth chapter of the fourth volume of Meletius's Ecclesiastical History. From this I subjoin an extract of those who have written on general subjects.

George Ventote, a lexicon in French, Italian, and Romaic.

There exist several other dictionaries in Latin and Romaic, French, etc.; besides grammars, in every modern language except English.

Amongst the living authors the following are most celebrated: +

Athanasius Parios has written a treatise on rhetoric in Hellenic.

Christodoulos, an Arcarnanian, has published, in Vienna, some physical treatises in Hellenic.

Panagiotes Kodrikas, an Athenian, the Romaic translator of Fontenelle's "Plurality of Worlds" (a favorite work amongst the Greeks), is stated to be a teacher of the Hellenic and Arabic languages in Paris; in both of which he is an adept.

Athanasius, the Parian, author of a treatise on rhetoric. Vicenzo Damodos, of Cephalonia, has written "eis rò μeσoßapßapov," on logic and physics.

John Kamarases, a Byzantine, has translated into French Ocellus on the Universe. He is said to be an excellent Hellenist and Latin scholar.

Gregorio Demetrius published, in Vienna, a geographical work; he has also translated several Italian authors, and printed his versions at Venice.

Of Coray and Psalida some account has been already given.

LIST OF ROMAIC AUTHORS.*

Neophitus, diakonos (the deacon) of the Morea, has published an extensive grammar, and also some political regulations, which last were left unfinished at his death.

Prokopius, of Moscopolis (a town in Epirus), has written and published a catalogue of the learned Greeks.

Seraphin, of Periclea, is the author of many works in the Turkish language, but Greek character; for the Christians of Caramania, who do not speak Romaic, but read the character.

Eustathius Psalida, of Bucharest, a physician, made the tour of England for the purpose of study (xáρiv μałńσews); but though his name is enumerated, it is not stated that he has written any thing.

Kallinikus Torgeraus, patriarch of Constantinople: many poems of his are extant, and also prose tracts, and a catalogue of patriarchs since the last taking of Constantinople.

Anastasius Macedon, of Naxos, member of the royal academy of Warsaw. A church biographer.

Demetrius Pamperes, a Moscopolite, has written many works, particularly "A Commentary on Hesiod's Shield of Hercules," and two hundred tales (of what is not specified), and has published his correspondence with the celebrated George of Trebizond, his contemporary.

Meletius, a celebrated geographer; and author of the book from whence these notices are taken.

Dorotheus, of Mitylene, an Aristotelian philosopher: his Hellenic works are in great repute, and he is esteemed by the moderns (I quote the words of Meletius) μerà TOV OOVκυδίδην καὶ Ξενοφώντα ἄριστος ̔Ελλήνων. I add further, on the authority of a well-informed Greek, that he was so famous amongst his countrymen that they were accustomed to say, if Thucydides and Xenophon were wanting, he was capable of repairing the loss.

Marinus Count Tharboures, of Cephalonia, professor of chemistry in the academy of Padua, and member of that academy, and those of Stockholm and Upsal. He has published, at Venice, an account of some marine animal, and a treatise on the properties of iron.

Marcus, brother to the former, famous in mechanics. He removed to St. Petersburg the immense rock on which the statue of Peter the Great was fixed in 1769. See the dissertation which he published in Paris, 1777.

SCENE FROM O ΚΑΦΕΝΕΣ.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ITALIAN OF GOLDONI, BY SPIRIDION VLANTI.

Platzida, from the Door of the Hotel, and the others.

Pla. Oh, God! from the window it seemed that I heard my husband's voice. If he is here, I have arrived in time to make him ashamed. [A servant enters from the shop.] Boy, tell me, pray, who are in those chambers.

Serv. Three gentlemen: one, Signor Eugenio; the other. Signor Martio, the Neapolitan; and the third, my lord, the count Leander Ardenti.

Pla. Flaminio is not amongst these, unless he has changed his name.

Leander [within drinking]. Long live the good fortune of Signor Eugenio!

[The whole company. Long live, etc.] (Literally, Nà Sî, và (j, May he live.)

Pla. Without doubt that is my husband. [To the serv.] My good man, do me the favor to accompany me above to those gentlemen: I have some business.

Serv. At your commands. [Aside.] The old office of us waiters. He goes out of the gaming-house.] Ridolpho [to Victoria on another part of the stage]. Courage, courage, be of good cheer, it is nothing.

Victoria. I feel as if about to die. [Leaning on him as if fainting.]

[From the windows above all within are seen rising from table in confusion: Leander starts at the sight of Platzida, and appears by his gestures to threaten her life.] Eugenio. No, stop

con.

* It is to be observed that the names given are not in chronological order, but consist of some selected at a venture from amongst those

blood.

who flourished from the taking of Constantinople to the time of Meletius.

†These names are not taken from any publication.

Leander. I will give you cause to repent this. [Menacing with his sword.]

Eugenio. I fear you not. [He attacks Leander, and makes him give back so much, that, finding the door of the dancinggirl's house open, Leander escapes through, and so finishes.]

Don Juan.

NOTE 49.

LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF "MY GRANDMOTHER'S REVIEW."*

MY DEAR ROBERTS.

As a believer in the church of England-to say nothing of the state-I have been an occasional reader and great admirer of, though not a subscriber to, your Review, which is rather expensive. But I do not know that any part of its contents ever gave me much surprise till the eleventh article of your twenty-seventh number made its appearance. You have there most vigorously refuted a calumnious accusation of bribery and corruption, the credence of which in the public mind might not only have damaged your reputation as a clergyman+ and an editor, but, what would have been still worse, have injured the circulation of your journal; which, I regret to hear, is not so extensive as the "purity" (as you well observe) "of its, etc., etc., etc.," and the present taste for propriety, would induce us to expect. The charge itself is of a solemn nature, and, although in verse, is couched in terms of such circumstantial gravity, as to induce a belief little short of that generally accorded to the thirty-nine articles, to which you so frankly subscribed on taking your degrees. It is a charge the most revolting to the heart of man from its frequent occurrence; to the mind of a statesman, from its occasional truth; and to the soul of an editor, from its moral impossibility. You are charged then in the last line of one octave stanza, and the whole eight lines of the next, viz., 209th and 210th of the first canto of that "pestilent poem" Don Juan, with receiving, and still more foolishly acknowledging the receipt of, certain moneys, to eulogize the unknown author, who by this account must be known to you, if to nobody else. An impeachment of this nature so seriously made, there is but one way of refuting; and it is my firm persuasion, that whether you did or did not (and I believe that you did not) receive the said moneys, of which I wish he had specified the sum, you are quite right in denying all knowledge of the transaction. If charges of this nefarious description are to go forth, sanctioned by all the solemnity of circumstance, and guaranteed by the veracity of verse (as Counsellor Phillips would say), what is to become of readers hitherto implicitly confident in the not less veracious prose of our critical journals? what is to become of the reviews? And, if the reviews fail, what is to become of the editors? It is common cause, and you have done well to sound the alarm. I myself, in my humble sphere, will be one of your echoes. In the words of the tragedian, Liston, "I love a row," and you seem justly determined to make

one.

It is barely possible, certainly improbable, that the writer might have been in jest; but this only aggravates his crime. A joke, the proverb says, breaks no bones;" but it may break a bookseller, or it may be the cause of bones being broken. The jest is but a bad one at the best for the author, and might have been a still worse one for you, if your copious contradiction did not certify to all whom it may concern your own indignant innocence, and the immaculate purity of the British Review. I do not doubt your word, my dear Roberts; yet I cannot help wishing that, in a case of such

* "Bologna, Aug. 23, 1819.-I send you a letter to Roberts, signed 'Wortley Clutterbuck,' which you may publish in what form you please, in answer to his article. I have had many proofs of men's absurdity, but he beats all in folly. Why, the wolf in sheep's clothing has tumbled into the very trap!"-Lord Byron to Mr. Mur

ray.

Mr. Roberts is not, as Lord Byron seems to have supposed, a

vital importance, it had assumed the more substantial shape of an affidavit sworn before the lord mayor Atkins, who readily receives any deposition; and doubtless would have brought it in some way as evidence of the designs of the Reformers to set fire to London, at the same time that he himself meditates the same good office towards the river Thames.

I am sure, my dear Roberts, that you will take these observations of mine in good part: they are written in a spirit of friendship not less pure than your own editorial integrity. I have always admired you; and, not knowing any shape which friendship and admiration can assume more agreeable and useful than that of good advice, I shall continue my lucubrations, mixed with here and there a monitory hint as to what I conceive to be the line you should pursue, in case you should ever again be assailed with bribes, or accused of taking them. By the way, you don't say much about the poem, except that it is "flagitious." This is a pity-you should have cut it up; because, to say the truth, in not doing so, you somewhat assist any notions which the malignant might entertain on the score of the anonymous asseveration which has made you so angry.

You say no bookseller “was willing to take upon himself the publication, though most of them disgrace themselves by selling it." Now, my dear friend, though we all know that those fellows will do any thing for money, methinks the disgrace is more with the purchasers: and some such, doubtless, there are; for there can be no very extensive selling (as you will perceive by that of the British Review) without buying. You then add, "What can the critic say?" I am sure I don't know; at present he says very little, and that not much to the purpose. Then comes "for praise, as far as regards the poetry, many passages might be exhibited: for condemnation, as far as regards the morality, all." Now, my dear good Mr. Roberts, I feel for you, and for your reputation; my heart bleeds for both; and I do ask you, whether or not such language does not come positively under the description of “the puff collusive," for which see Sheridan's farce of "The Critic" (by the way, a little more facetious than your own farce under the same title), towards the close of scene second, act the first.

The poem is, it seems, sold as the work of Lord Byron; but you feel yourself "at liberty to suppose it not Lord B.'s composition." Why did you ever suppose that it was? I approve of your indignation-I applaud it-I feel as angry as you can; but perhaps your virtuous wrath carries you a little too far, when you say that "no misdemeanor, not even that of sending into the world obscene and blasphemous poetry, the product of studious lewdness and labored impiety, appears to you in so detestable a light as the acceptance of a present by the editor of a review, as the condition of praising an author." The devil it doesn't!-Think a little. This is being critical overmuch. In point of Gentile benevolence or Christian charity, it were surely less criminal to praise for a bribe, than to abuse a fellow-creature for nothing; and as to the assertion of the comparative innocence of blasphemy and obscenity, confronted with an editor's "acceptance of a present," I shall merely observe, that as an editor you say very well, but, as a Christian divine, I would not recommend you to transpose this sentence into a sermon.

And yet you say, "the miserable man (for miserable he is, as having a soul of which he cannot get rid) "-But here I must pause again, and inquire what is the meaning of this parenthesis? We have heard of "little soul," or of "no soul at all," but never till now of "the misery of having a soul of which we cannot get rid:" a misery under which you are possibly no great sufferer, having got rid apparently of some of the intellectual part of your own when you penned this pretty piece of eloquence.

But to continue. You call upon Lord Byron, always supposing him not the author, to disclaim" with all gentlemanly haste," etc., etc. I am told that Lord B. is in a foreign country, some thousand miles off it may be; so that it will be difficult for him to hurry to your wishes. In the mean time, perhaps you yourself have set an example of more haste than gentility; but "the more haste the worse speed."

clergyman, but a barrister at law. In 1792 he established a paper called "The Looker-on," which has since been admitted into the collection of British Essayists; and he is known, in his profession, for a treatise on the Law of Fraudulent Bankruptcy. In 1834 he also published the Memoirs of Hannah More.

Charles Phillips, barrister, was in those days celebrated for ultraIrish eloquence. See the Edinburgh Review, No. Ivii.

NOTE 50.

Anglicanus;" which, I presume, being interpreted, means Scotch Presbyterian.+ I must here observe,-and it is at once ludicrous and vexatious to be compelled so frequently to repeat the same thing,-that my case, as an author, is

MAGAZINE, No. XXIX., AUGUST, 1819.

Why, how now, Hecate? you look angrily."-Macbeth.

"The life of a writer" has been said, by Pope, I believe, to be "a warfare upon earth." As far as my own experience has gone, I have nothing to say against the proposition; and, like the rest, having once plunged into this state of hostility, must, however reluctantly, carry it on. An article has appeared in a periodical work, entitled "Remarks on Don Juan," which has been so full of this spirit, on the part of the writer, as to require some observations on mine.

In the first place, I am not aware by what right the writer assumes this work, which is anonymous, to be my production. He will answer, that there is internal evidence; that is to say, that there are passages which appear to be written in my name, or in my manner. But might not this have been done on purpose by another? He will say, why not then deny it? To this I could answer, that of all the things attributed to me within the last five years,-Pilgrimages to Jerusalem, Deaths upon Pale Horses, Odes to the Land of the Gaul, Adieus to England, Songs to Madame La Vallette, Odes to St. Helena, Vampires, and what not, of which, God knows, I never composed nor read a syllable beyond their titles in advertisements,-I never thought it worth while to disavow any, except one which came linked with an account of my "residence in the Isle of Mitylene," where I never resided, and appeared to be carrying the amusement of those persons, who think my name can be of any use to them, a little too far.

I should hardly, therefore, if I did not take the trouble to disavow these things published in my name, and yet not mine, go out of my way to deny an anonymous work; which might appear an act of supererogation. With regard to Don Juan, I neither deny nor admit it to be mine-everybody may form their own opinion; but, if there be any who now, or in the progress of that poem, if it is to be continued, feel, or should feel themselves so aggrieved as to require a more explicit answer, privately and personally, they shall have it. I have never shrunk from the responsibility of what I have written, and have more than once incurred obloquy by neglecting to disavow what was attributed to my pen without foundation.

The greater part, however, of the "Remarks on Don Juan" contain but little on the work itself, which receives an extraordinary portion of praise as a composition. With the exception of some quotations, and a few incidental remarks, the rest of the article is neither more nor less than a personal attack upon the imputed author. It is not the first in the same publication: for I recollect to have read, some time ago, similar remarks upon "Beppo" (said to have been written by a celebrated northern preacher); in which the conclusion drawn was, that "Childe Harold, Byron, and the count in Beppo, were one and the same person;" thereby making me turn out to be, as Mrs. Malaprop✶ says, “like Cerberus, three gentlemen at once." That article was signed "Presbyter

* In Sheridan's comedy of "The Rivals."

+ See Blackwood, vol. iii., p. 329. Lord B., as it appears from one of his letters, ascribed (though unjustly) this paper to the Rev. Dr. Chalmers!

"As the passage was curtailed in the press, I take this opportunity of restoring it. In the Quarterly Review (vol. xxi., p. 366), speaking incidentally of the Jungfrau, I said, 'It was the scene where Lord Byron's Manfred met the devil, and bullied himthough the devil must have won his cause before any tribunal in

for my own protagonist. It is unjust and particular. I never heard that my friend Moore was set down for a fireworshipper on account of his Guebre; that Scott was identifled with Roderick Dhu, or with Balfour of Burley; or that, notwithstanding all the magicians in Thalaba, anybody has ever taken Mr. Southey for a conjurer; whereas I have had some difficulty in extricating me even from Manfred, who, as Mr. Southey slyly observes in one of his articles in the Quarterly, "met the devil on the Jungfrau, and bullied him ;" and I answer Mr. Southey, who has apparently, in his poetical life, not been so successful against the great enemy, that, in this, Manfred exactly followed the sacred precept,-" Resist the devil, and he will flee from you."-I shall have more to say on the subject of this person--not the devil, but his most humble servant Mr. Southey-before I conclude; but, for the present, I must return to the article in the Edinburgh Magazine.

In the course of this article, amidst some extraordinary observations, there occur the following words :-"It appears, in short, as if this miserable man, having exhausted every species of sensual gratification,-having drained the cup of sin even to its bitterest dregs, were resolved to show us that he is no longer a human being even in his frailties,--but a cool, unconcerned fiend, laughing with a detestable glee over the whole of the better and worse elements of which human life is composed." In another place there appears, "the lurking-place of his selfish and polluted exile."-"By my troth, these be bitter words !"-With regard to the first sentence, I shall content myself with observing, that it appears to have been composed for Sardanapalus, Tiberius, the Regent Duke of Orleans, or Louis XV.; and that I have copied it with as much indifference as I would a passage from Suetonius, or from any of the private memoirs of the regency, conceiving it to be amply refuted by the terms in which it is expressed, and to be utterly inapplicable to any private individual. On the words "lurking-place," and "selfish and polluted exile," I have something more to say.--How far the capital city of a government, which survived the vicissitudes of thirteen hundred years, and might still have existed but for the treachery of Buonaparte, and the iniquity of his imitators,-a city, which was the emporium of Europe when London and Edinburgh were dens of barbarians,—may be termed a "lurking-place," I leave to those who have seen or heard of Venice to decide. How far my exile may have been "polluted," it is not for me to say, because the word is a wide one, and, with some of its branches, may chance to overshadow the actions of most men; but that it has been "selfish" I deny. If, to the extent of my means and my power, and my information of their calamities, to have assisted many miserable beings, reduced by the decay of the place of their birth, and their consequent loss of substanceif to have never rejected an application which appeared founded on truth-if to have expended in this manner sums far out of proportion to my fortune, there and elsewhere, be selfish, then have I been selfish. To have done such things I do not deem much; but it is hard indeed to be compelled to recapitulate them in my own defence, by such accusations as that before me, like a panel before a jury calling testimonies to his character, or a soldier recording his services to obtain his discharge. If the person who has made the charge of "selfishness" wishes to inform himself further on the subject, he may acquire, not what he would wish to find, but what will silence and shame him, by applying to the consulgeneral of our nation, resident in the place, who will be in the case either to confirm or deny what I have asserted.§

I neither make, nor have ever made, pretensions to sanctity of demeanor, nor regularity of conduct; but my means have been expended principally on my own gratification, neither now nor heretofore, neither in England nor out of it; and it

this world, or the next, if he had not pleaded more feebly for himself than his advocate, in a cause of canonization, ever pleaded for him.'"-SOUTHEY.

"Lord Byron was ever ready to assist the distressed, and he was most unostentatious in his charities; for, besides considerable sums which he gave away to applicants at his own house, he contributed largely, by weekly and monthly allowances, to persons whom he had never seen, and who, as the money reached them by other hands, did not even know who was their benefactor."-HOPPNER.