daily disencumbered, and a very considerable part of this Grecian
city is unveiled. We entered by the Appian way, through a narrow
street of marble tombs, beautifully executed, with the names of
the deceased plain and legible. We looked into the columbary below
that of Marius Arius Diomedes, and perceived jars containing the
ashes of the dead, with a small lamp at the side of each. Arriving
at the gate, we perceived a sentry box in which the skeleton of a
soldier was found with a lamp in its hand: proceeding up the street
beyond the gate, we went into several streets, and entered what
is called a coffee house, the marks of cups being visible on the
stone; we came likewise to a tavern, and found the sign (not a very
decent one) near the entrance. The streets are lined with public
buildings and private houses, most of which have their original
painted decorations fresh and entire. The pavement of the streets
is much worn by carriage wheels, and holes are cut through the side
stones, for the purpose of fastening animals in the market place;
and in certain situations are placed stepping stones, which give us
rather unfavourable ideas of the state of the streets. We passed
two beautiful little temples; went into a surgeon's house, in the
operation room of which chirurgical instruments were found; entered
an ironmonger's shop, where an anvil and hammer were discovered; a
sculptor's and a baker's shop, in the latter of which may be seen
an oven and grinding mills, like old Scotch querns. We examined
likewise an oilman's shop, and a wine shop lately opened, where
money was found in the till; a school in which was a small pulpit
with steps up to it, in the middle of the apartment; a great
theatre; a temple of justice; an amphitheatre, about 220 feet in
length; various temples; a barrack for soldiers, the columns of
which are scribbled with their names and jests; wells, cisterns,
seats, tricliniums, beautiful Mosaic; altars, inscriptions,
fragments of statues, and many other curious remains of antiquity.
Among the most remarkable objects were an ancient wall, with a part
of a still more ancient marble freze built in it as a common stone;
and a stream which has flowed under this once subterraneous city,
long before its burial; pipes of Terra Cotta to convey the water
to the different streets; stocks for prisoners, in one of which a
skeleton was found. All these things incline one almost to look for
the inhabitants, and wonder at the desolate silence of the place.
The houses in general are very low, and the rooms are small, I
should think not above ten feet high. Every house is provided with
a well and a cistern. Every thing seems to be in proportion; the
principal streets do not appear to exceed 16 feet in width, with
side pavements of about three feet; some of the subordinate streets
are from 6 to 10 feet wide, with side pavements in proportion; these
are occasionally high, and are reached by steps. The columns of
the barracks are about 15 feet in height; they are made of tuffa
with stucco; one third of the shaft is smoothly plastered, the rest
fluted to the capital. The walls of the houses are often painted
red, and some of them have borders and antique ornaments, masks,
and imitations of marbles, but in general poorly executed. I have
observed, on the walls of an eating room, various kinds of food and
game tolerably represented; one _woman's_ apartment was adorned
with subjects relative to love; and a _man's_ with pictures of a
martial character. Considering that the whole has been under ground
upwards of seventeen centuries, it is certainly surprizing that
they should be as fresh as at the period of their burial. The whole
extent of the city, not half of which is excavated, may be about
four miles. It is said that Murat employed no less than 2000 men in
clearing Pompeii, and that Madame Murat attended the excavations in
person every week. The present government have not retained above
100.
After visiting this extraordinary place, which certainly is the most
interesting of all the wonders of Naples, we examined the museum of
antiquities at Purtici. The collections of ancient paintings are
curious and instructing, some of them containing exquisite pieces of
art; one room is filled with representations of fruit and flowers,
well painted and freely handled; some grapes in particular are
remarkable for execution, quite transparent, with the touches of
light on them judiciously placed to give effect and clearness. A
second room contains various ornaments painted in a masterly manner,
and with considerable ingenuity in the design. A third is covered
with various animals and birds. Another apartment is filled with
landscapes, but these are all extremely bad, having no perspective,
nor any truth of colouring: indeed it would seem that the ancient
painters had never given their mind to that delightful branch of
the art. One landscape, however, with all its faults, interested me
greatly, and that was a view of ancient Puteoli, (now Pozzuolo,)
about six miles from Naples, supposed to have been painted before
St. Paul landed there. The picture is, of course, very different
from the present state of the city, but still a likeness may be
traced, if we keep in view the site of the various temples and other
objects, the foundations of which are still visible.
Among the innumerable pictures which are crowded in several rooms, I
shall mention the following, which, on slight examination, appeared
to be among the best: _Sophonisba drinking the juice of Hemlock_,
admirable in expression; _an Infant Hercules strangling Serpents_;
_Jove_; _Leda and the Swan_; _the Graces_; _a Venus_; _Education
of Bacchus_; _a Medusa's Head_:--these are all slight, but it is
that slightness which conveys character and refinement of taste; a
_Theseus_ as large as life, in a fine attitude and good expression:
Two allegorical figures, representing the river _Nile and Egypt_;
_the Education of Achilles_; _a beautiful Female suckling an
aged Man_, (corresponding to the Roman Charity,) most delicately
expressed: An _Academy of Music_, the figures small, exquisitely
painted; harps and flageolets are the only instruments. Among the
curious pictures is the interior of a school, in which the master is
represented flogging a boy, who is upon another boy's back; so that
the practice of _horsing_ is sanctioned by very ancient authority.
Our attention was likewise attracted by a shoemaker's and a cook's
shop; these last are but indifferently designed and painted; a
Wilkie or an Allan would smile at such productions. All these
are in fresco, on stucco grounds, and with a considerable polish
on the surface. It does not seem that any glazing colours have
been used, the effect being produced entirely by body colour. The
ancients, however, as Pliny informs us, had a dark, yet transparent
mixture, which they laid over their highly finished works, to give
the delusion required. From the freshness and clearness of the
colouring, they seem to have had the advantage of painting in oil,
so far, at least, as durability is of advantage.
The museum at Portici likewise contains many statues and busts of
considerable merit; besides a great variety of culinary articles,
and specimens, of calcined barley, beans, paste for bread, part
of a roll, mustard-seed, straw, rye, pine tops, figs, cloth like
tinder, fish nets, with corks attached to them, spunge, soap, rings,
earrings, combs, thimbles, looking-glasses of polished metal, and
a variety of emblems of luxury and taste, admirably executed. We
examined them all with the keenest interest, though the impression
would have been more gratifying, had they been left in the ancient
towns in which they were discovered.
From the Pennsylvania Gazette, Nov. 18, 1736.
WASTE OF LIFE.
BY. DR. FRANKLIN.
Anergus was a gentleman of a good estate, he was bred to no
business, and could not contrive how to waste his hours agreeably;
he had no relish for any of the proper works of life, nor any taste
at all for the improvements of the mind; he spent generally ten
hours of the four and twenty in bed; he dozed away two or three
more on his couch, and as many were dissolved in good liquor every
evening, if he met with company of his own humour. Five or six of
the rest he sauntered away with much indolence: the chief business
of them was to contrive his meals, and to feed his fancy beforehand,
with the promise of a dinner and supper; not that he was so very a
glutton, or so entirely devoted to appetite; but chiefly because he
knew not how to employ his thoughts better, he let them rove about
the sustenance of his body. Thus he had made a shift to wear off
ten years since the paternal estate fell into his hands: and yet,
according to the abuse of words in our day, he was called a man of
virtue, because he was scarce ever known to be quite drunk, nor was
his nature much inclined to lewdness.
One evening, as he was musing alone, his thoughts happened to take
a most unusual turn, for they cast a glance backward, and began to
reflect on his manner of life. He bethought himself what a number
of living beings had been made a sacrifice to support his carcase,
and how much corn and wine had been mingled with those offerings. He
had not quite lost all the arithmetic that he learned when he was
a boy, and he set himself to compute what he had devoured since he
came to the age of man.
"About a dozen feathered creatures, small and great, have one week
with another (said he) given up their lives to prolong mine, which
in ten years amounts to at least six thousand.
"Fifty sheep have been sacrificed in a year, with half a hecatomb
of black cattle, that I might have the choicest part offered weekly
upon my table. Thus a thousand beasts out of the flock and the
herd have been slain in ten years' time to feed me, besides what
the forest has supplied me with. Many hundreds of fishes have, in
all their varieties, been robbed of life for my repast, and of the
smaller fry as many thousands.
"A measure of corn would hardly afford fine flour enough for a
month's provision, and this arises to above six score bushels; and
many hogsheads of ale and wine, and other liquors, have passed
through this body of mine, this wretched strainer of meat and drink.
"And what have I done all this time for God or _man_? What a vast
profusion of good things upon a useless life, and a worthless liver!
There is not the meanest creature among all these which I have
devoured, but hath answered the end of its creation better than I.
It was made to support human nature, and it hath done so. Every crab
and oyster I have eat, and every grain of corn I have devoured, hath
filled up its place in the rank of beings with more propriety and
honour than I have done: O shameful waste of life and time!"
In short, he carried on his moral reflections with so just and
severe a force of reason, as constrained him to change his whole
course of life, to break off his follies at once, and to apply
himself to gain some useful knowledge, when he was more than thirty
years of age; he lived many following years with the character of
a worthy man, and an excellent Christian; he performed the kind
offices of a good neighbour at home, and made a shining figure as a
patriot in the senate-house; he died with a peaceful conscience, and
the tears of his country were dropped upon his tomb.
The world, that knew the whole series of his life, stood amazed at
the mighty change. They beheld him as a wonder of reformation, while
he himself confessed and adored the divine power and mercy, which
had transformed him from a brute to a man.
But this was a single instance; and we may almost venture to write
MIRACLE upon it. Are there not numbers of both sexes among our young
gentry, in this degenerate age, whose lives thus run to utter waste,
without the least tendency to usefulness!
When I meet with persons of such a worthless character as this, it
brings to my mind some scraps of Horace,
Nos numerus sumus, & fruges consumere nati.
----Alcinoique Juventus
Cui pulchrum fuit in Medios dormire dies, &c.
PARAPHRASE.
There are a number of us creep
Into this world, to eat and sleep;
And know no reason why they're born,
But merely to consume the corn,
Devour the cattle, fowl, and fish,
And leave behind an empty dish:
Though crows and ravens do the same,
Unlucky birds of hateful name;
Ravens or crows might fill their places,
And swallow corn and carcases.
Then, if their tombstone, when they die,
Ben't taught to flatter and to lie,
There's nothing better will be said,
_Than that they've eat up all their bread, }
Drank all their drink, and gone to bed._ }
There are other fragments of that heathen poet, which occur on such
occasions; one in the first of his satires, the other in the first
of his epistles, which seem to represent life only as a season of
luxury.
----Exacto contentus tempore vitæ
Cedat uti convivia statur----
Lusisti satus, edisti satis atque babisti;
Tempus abire tibi.
Which may be thus put into English:
Life's but a feast; and when we die
Horace would say, if he were by,
Friend, thou hast eat and drank enough,
'Tis time now to be marching off:
Then like a well-fed guest depart,
With cheerful looks, and ease at heart;
Bid all your friends good night, and say,
_You've done the business of the day._
LESSONS ON THRIFT.
Published for general benefit, by a Member of the Save-all Club.
The caprice of men at different periods has delighted to make much
of some darling qualities idolized as virtues, while others, which
could not be mistaken for vices, have been tacitly scorned as only
fit to occupy grovelling minds, and avert reproach from those who
could not aspire to praise.
Among the latter we discover Frugality. What writer has ever
thought of making his hero an economist? With a disposition to
avoid unnecessary expense, it has long been assumed that a sordid
and despicable parsimony must invariably be found, and the world
has been accustomed to bestow its tenderest sympathies on the gay,
florid, open-hearted rake, who having manifested a disposition to
give, where he had nothing of his own to bestow, ruined those honest
tradesmen who were credulous enough to trust him, and qualified
himself for genteel society by visiting the King's Bench or the
Fleet; while the man who disdained to be generous at the expense
of others, who would not affect splendour which his means were
inadequate to sustain, in fine, who denied himself enjoyments for
which he could not honestly pay, has been treated with unsparing
ridicule as a mean and pitiful plodder. Our citizens and traders
have wisely joined to laugh this character out of countenance, and
to applaud the swindling pleasantries of a profligate. Let them look
to the effects of this--let them look to their legers, and see if
they have not been merry _at their own expense_.
If there be any truth in the remark dropped by one of the greatest
ornaments of British literature, that "it would be well if fewer
possessed the superfluities, and more the comforts of life;" in
times like the present, it is desirable that mankind should be
weaned from the admiration of that which ought never to have been
defended--that madness and dishonesty should no longer be depicted
as the gracefully irregular flow of youthful gayety; and that the
modest virtues which find a friend in the author of "Lessons on
Thrift," should be recalled from that exile to which they were
doomed by sordid dissipation and unreflecting folly.
But we must explain, as we proceed, to guard against mistake or
representation. We do not wish to return to that enviable state,
which we suppose some of our radical neighbours contemplate, when
they talk of a "state of nature;" namely, that in which the first
inhabitants of this island found themselves embowered in their
native woods. We do not sigh for that economical simplicity which,
according to Richard de Cirencester, made blue paint, applied to
the human body, a substitute for clothing; nor do we even lift
our voices against that most effeminate piece of luxury, as it
was considered by some at the commencement of Queen Elizabeth's
reign--the introduction of _chimneys to houses_. The votaries of
luxury may think that, in the last instance, we make but a very
slight concession; but the frightful effects of that departure
from old English habits was once thought very alarming. We read
in Hollingshed:--"Now have we many chimneys; and yet our tender
limbs complain of rheums, catarrhs, and pozes; then had we none but
reredosses, and our heads did never ache. For as the smoke in those
days was supposed to be a sufficient hardening for the timber of the
house, so it was reputed a far better medicine to keep the good man
and his family from the quack or poze, wherewith, as then, very few
were acquainted."
With all our reverence for economy, assuredly there are
practitioners of the present day whom we would prefer to _Dr.
Smoke_; even though calling in the former, we must submit to the
inconvenience of offering a fee. We do not sigh for the return of
those golden days, when our wise progenitors made the same aperture
act the double part of a window and a chimney, and when a log of
wood was considered an excellent pillow; but sometimes when our
reluctant hands are a little embarrassed to find the expected fee,
or our purses feel most _awkwardly convenient_ for the pocket, after
settling the lengthened bill, we do regret that those who prescribe
for us, when indisposed, must at the same time prescribe for their
own horses and carriages, and that the period is gone by when a
sufferer could hope for relief from the pill of a pedestrian.
Our author, to show the evil effects of luxury and extravagance,
even in a national point of view, gives the following narrative:
"The Seven United Provinces were at the height of their power and
prosperity about 1650, before England, recovering from a destructive
civil war, began to reclaim the dominion of the ocean.
"But in their successful periods the private virtues had also their
share, and parsimony, as usual produced wealth and industry. In a
conversation at Rotterdam this subject was discussed; and as the
parties mostly imputed the decline of their republic to political
causes, an opulent merchant said, that if the company would dine
with him on such a day, he would convince them that there were other
causes more in their power.
"The invitation was accepted, and it was hoped that the merchant
would explain his sentiments, by which they might improve their
speculations in commerce over a glass of wine, after an elegant
repast as he was accustomed to give. But what was their surprise to
find nothing on the table but salted herrings and table beer! They
ate, however, a morsel in silence and dissatisfaction, which the
master seemed not to observe, praying them repeatedly to eat and
push the glass. At length, when they began to look at their watches,
the master ordered in the dinner. At this word they brightened up,
when in came a leg of mutton, boiled with turnips, and a pot or two
of strong beer. This dish was little more satisfactory than the
other, as they expected very different fare in such a magnificent
house. There was, however, a great sacrifice of conscience and
veracity in praising the mutton and the beer. But some yawned,
and half the _gigot_ remained even among a numerous company, when
the master, seeing their distress, nodded unnoticed to an old
hoary-headed domestic, who alone had appeared along with the mutton,
and who stood respectfully at the sideboard to serve the bread
or the beer. He went out, and the company was left to a languid
conversation; their eyes saying more than their tongues.
"On a sudden the folding doors opened, and a train of twelve
servants entered, bearing on massy plate the choicest fish, flesh,
fowl, all the delicacies of the season. Two without livery took
their places behind their master; the others in splendid uniform
behind the guests. The number of wines presented was computed
at fifteen, and even the richest guests were astonished at the
splendour and variety of the festival.
"When an equal dessert was served, and the wine began to circulate,
a prudent and wary guest thought it was time to request our opulent
merchant to explain his sentiments, as he had promised. All were
fixed in mute attention when he made this memorable answer:
'Gentlemen, my sentiments are already explained; the lesson is
already given. When our ancestors were gradually rising to wealth
under the yoke of Burgundy, Austria, Spain, their frugality was
contented with our first dish, and they even blessed the inventor.
In their second period, when the noble house of Orange, when Maurice
of Nassau was establishing our power in the East and West Indies,
and commercial wealth began to overflow all our ports and canals,
still habits of prudence occasioned economy, and our rich senators
dined on plain mutton, and drank wholesome beer. The dinner I have
had the honour to give you is a very moderate specimen of our
present existence. Add the luxury and pomp of houses, furniture
and equipages, and judge, as you well can, of the difference of
expense--a difference which, I would venture to say, would have,
even for one year, been regarded as a fortune by our bearded
ancestors.'"
BEAUTIES OF THE MICROSCOPE.
Nothing can be more curious than the appearance exhibited by
_mouldiness_, when viewed through a microscope. If looked at by the
naked eye, it seems nothing but an irregular tissue of filaments;
but the magnifying glass shows it to be a forest of small plants,
which derive their nourishment from the moist substance which
serves them as a base. The stems of these plants may be plainly
distinguish; and sometimes their buds, some shut and some open.
They have much similarity to mushrooms, the tops of which, when
they come to maturity, emit an exceedingly fine dust which is their
seed. Mushrooms, it is well known, are the growth of a single
night; but those in miniature, of which we are speaking, seem to
come to perfection in a much less space of time than that; hence we
account for the extraordinary progress which mouldiness makes in a
few hours. Another curious observation of the same kind is, that
M. Ahlefeld, seeing some stones covered with a sort of dust, had
the curiosity to examine it with a microscope, and he found that it
consisted of small microscopic mushrooms, raised on pedicles, the
heads of which, round the middle, were turned up at the edges. They
were striated also from the centre to the circumference, as certain
kinds of mushrooms are. He further remarked, that they contained,
above their upper covering, a multitude of small grains shaped like
cherries somewhat flattened, which he suspected were the seeds; and
finally he observed, among the forest of mushrooms, several small
red insects, which probably fed upon them.
The _lycoperdon_, or puff-ball, is a plant of the fungus kind, which
grows in the form of a tubercle, covered with small grains, very
like chagreen. If pressed, it bursts, and emits an exceedingly fine
kind of dust, which flies off under the appearance of smoke. If some
of the dust be examined with the microscope, it appears to consist
of perfectly round globules, of an orange colour, the diameter of
which is only about the 1-50th part of the thickness of a hair,
so that each grain of this dust is but the 1-125000th part of a
globule, equal in diameter to the breadth of a hair.
The _farina of flowers_ is found to be regularly and uniformly
organized in each kind of plant. In the mallow, for example, each
grain is an opaque ball, covered over with small points. The farina
of the tulip, and of most of the liliaceous kind of flowers, bears a
striking resemblance to the seeds of a cucumber: that of the poppy
is very like grains of barley, with a longitudinal groove in them.
There are certain plants, the leaves of which seem to be pierced
with a multitude of small holes. Of this kind is the _hypericum_, or
St. John's wort. Now, if a fragment of this be viewed with a good
microscope, the supposed holes are found to be vesicles, contained
in the thickness of the leaf, and covered with an extremely thin
membrane; and these are thought to be the receptacles which contain
the essential and aromatic oil peculiar to the plant.
The view exhibited by those plants which have down, such as borage,
nettles, &c. is exceedingly curious.--When examined by a microscope,
they appear to be covered with spikes. Those of borage are, for
the most part, bent so as to form an elbow; and though really very
close, they appear by the microscope, to be at a considerable
distance from each other. The entire appearance is very similar to
that of the skin of the porcupine.
If a needle be viewed through a microscope, though exceedingly fine,
it is well known the point will appear quite blunt, more like a peg,
broken at the end, than a sharp pointed steel needle. The edge of
the finest set razor, when seen through a microscope, will appear
more like the back of a penknife, full of irregularities, than what
it really is. In these respects the works of art, when carried to
the highest pitch of perfection, will not bear to be compared with
the operations of nature. The latter, exposed to the microscope,
instead of losing their lustre and high polish, appear so much the
more beautiful and perfect in regularity and order. When the eyes
of a fly are illuminated by means of a lamp or candle, and viewed
through this instrument, each of them shows an image of the taper
with a precision and vivacity which nothing can equal.