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; MLCHEISET ON THE REFOBMATTON. La S&fbr...
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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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The Phasis Of Matter. The Phasis Ofmatte...
fo « fr « rfe * e «* atea c 6 ll » i are bomogenebus in structuref and have no organs Srforammr Varied and definite functions , but that the gradual appearance Sbraans in increasing variety and definiteness of function is the measure of ascending complexity of vital organisms . Nevertheless , his mode ot statement leads to his third -error : — # 3 rd . " The possession of organs is so striking and important a peculiarity of living beings , that it is very common to call such beings organic beings to distinguish them" from rocks , & c . This may be common language ; but ao pne > speaking the language of sci ence calls a fungus or an amoeba an organic being because of its organs . . . , ~ x a ' \ ffie examples we have cited , which might be multiplied , suffice to inai " cafe the real defect of the work—namely , want of clear conception , and trom
jtJQ ^ setiuent want of precise expression . Xet , m parting ur . Jvemp , « f te must in justice once more admit that his work contains a mass ot tacts , I & ich ; will be instructive , and which , were there no better works easy of access , would command attention . His aim has been a little too ambitious . He has not supplied a place lef t vacant by existing works . But he has bestowed some care on the compilation of a mass of information , for which many will be thankful .
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; Mlcheiset On The Refobmatton. La S&Fbr...
; MLCHEISET ON THE REFOBMATTON . La S & fbrme . Par J . Michelet . D - Nutt - a ^ Hts-v ^ lumfe ^ bn the Reformation , in which M . Michelet continues his History of France , is much more satisfactory to us than its predecessor on the Renaissance . It is less of a comment on history , and more of a history ; it has less of theatrical effect and more of sober delineation . The student must not come to it for a close narration of details or for a presentation of documentary evidence , for- 'M . Michelet , though writing from extensive and accurate knowledge , does not make it his object to communicate that knowledge i tself * -Ibut so to use its digested results , that the reader may see as in a panoramic view the true significance and relations of men and events , feut he will find on the whole a masterly survey , though he may wish that the writer would less frequently adopt the oracular style of the inspired prophet , and that he would more frequently indicate the significance and tendency of characters and events by special facts as well as by general statements . .....
SLu 53 te historian could hardly have a grander and more varied subject to tMJOUpy his canvafe . The birth of the French Reformation among the simple VandoSpfcf the AlpBy the Austrian Empire under Charles V . representing the reaction against the Protestant movement , and the Turkish power forming a check on Austrian predominance , and in some degree lifting up the pressure of Catholicism from central Europe , —these are the principal forces Gf -which M ; Michelet traces the agency . The individuals whom he depicts with the care and closeness of portraiture , are Francis I ., whose romantic fortunes'have led ^ to so strange an idealisation of his gross and dajstardly nature , his devoted and accomplished sister , Margaret of Navarre , the vicious queen-mother Louise of Savoy , and the Constable Bourbon . But instead pf ' fe // t »< 7 what M . Michelet has done , we shall perhaps do our readers better Ber * ic © if we translate a few of his frequent and picturesque passages , and fthtea sAditf theixt something of What he has done .
• ' ,,. ' ; , . ,. ¦' - ;> - ; . , . MABGAKET OF NAVARRE . . v ^ . ' podr poet ^ a charming prose -writer , she had a delicate , rapid , and subtle iritelligeoqe , which tried . its wings at every subject , alighted for a moment , never penetrating beneath 4 he surface , touching the earth only with the point , of her foot . Wemusit , However , ' except the mystic jargon of the period , -with which , following the guidance cCrbterheavy spiritual director Briconnet , she often loaded her light wing 3 . That this iwyeticism ' . was .. a preservative , to her ,, I do not believe ; on the contrary , it is one of the ' speedy ways to . a fall . ' A much better guarantee was the laugh , the light irony , tfce gentle soicaarn with which , she met the sighs of her admirers . And there was 1 l 0 e merjt in infa ! abptiijeiice , for she had in her heart two passions which created for itfe ^ a ^ oi ti W one was the love of science , the infinite curiosity whicH ' niadeher piiriaue the studies least apt to attract women , languages ' and 4 vvi ^
^ SVvIA B ^ UUtt iVf ) 4 VftU 4 UK * A < 3 A AJLUML , JUttHIl VU AJTAQOJU . UUU * fl »«« A \ jf . « v ^ v « . a » s « v < w . . > Tne other pas ^ ioMrps the astonishing worship , the love , the faith , the ' hope , the perfect devotion . whichsheliad , from birth "till death , for the least worthy of all divinities , her Wither Francis t . Thert art very few portraits of Margaret . That of Versailles is , I thfrik , one 6 f mere iirtagination suggested by some portrait of Francis . The true effigy is the reverse of a medal which bears on the other side her mother , Louise of SaWy-i ; ; Itiis . a . slight image r a sketch , but full of revelations ,: / opening up a whole character ) : and it ; corresponds so well and so precisely with all the written documents , thj ^^ i fc inakeaionoeatplaim , "Thiaia the truth . " . . . . . It seems that the Savoyarde , o ^ iwhom she was the first child , made her apprenticeship >« maternity by this fragile and refined creature , the , puroielixjr of . the race , of Valois , before moulding U gros garyon quiadta , tout , | he true son of Gurgantua . Into him she poured all the carnal and . sensual plojricnts' of her strong nature , so that , with considerable talent , the lM But his
Kftl ^ ^ u cr ^ ture ' yas nevertheless akin to both the pig and the monkey . Was he refeTClm ^ y' / jV ^ b lihovirfl ? Margaret Bister is certain ly ihe grandchild of the P ^ fii : j 0 h $ * l [ i | r 6 f ^^ face , early worn and faded , of tioble , refined , a \ M tang-aiAVi , dinVJtafees . She says herself , without the least coquetry , when writing W y ^ tt ' n ^ r ' p ^ rdbna : 'fVouraunt , " or " Your old mother . " . . . This exquisitely # Ma'tjifcrto ; n , ' . had her whole life filled by a unique sentiment , which one knows not how tb ;^ a ^ . j '; i ^ y Sf \ ir iohcta hip' ? fraternity ? maternity ? Something of all these , no dftjubt {"' and not bno' of these names is unsuitable . The second volume of her letters , 4 ' ddressed entirely to the king , astonish , and confound us , hot by the vehemence but b ^; t ^ lOVaria ' bie ; pe'rrhahonce bf a sentiment always "' the same , which haa neither pljfasGs ' noi * crises bf ^ ' diminution' br of increaso—neither high nor low . Never was the liA ^ r ' iiA '' AKHA't A *\ i' $ * v * } ivt' + tl * i al * fc . A )>» tK ' jllli ' tlin ^ . hdIamo In 4 kA «« FMlfl '«« Hiif > ia tlltYYlill n + l > l 1
b ' e ^ or ^' thts . ^ Theyhav ^ nothing to compare with it . The more tension they have the morb readily do ttyey break asunder ! The only thing that reminds one of these letters i ^ H ^ o linjnenao and oharming collection of Madame de ' 'So " vigne' ' 9 letters . Those of Margaret are often' equally Charming ( for example , when' nbe writes to the captivo king of what his children aro doing ) , and above all , they are equally passionate—they express « n emotion equally inexhaustible . 'Another point of resemblance is tlio Jiard fcvity and inconstanoyof the beloved object . > Francis I , is lik « Madumo de Grignan . Hedovtos , I » e is , touched for tho moment . ., But moat , of ton , he haa little to say in l * tara .. TJifs terrible fixity , during fifty years , who would holdout under it ? SometM <* Mi ; he loses patience , ho ia hard and tyrannical . This nature ,, so dependent , is « 6 i ^ Ucntly-hi « property to use or Abuse ; « vor since ho was born ho lias had this being to « dvre him , whatever ho may do . He will think it natural enough to ask , if ho
happens to want it , the life , the heart , the blood of ^ tbis being , without its ever occurring to him that he asks too much . . . ' . ' . Mere love is hot ; so robust a passion . This not only resists jealousy and time , unkindness , mortifications , but much more r it resists the terribly prosaic changes which take place in the face , the temper , the health of Francis . When I think of the distressing portrait we have of him ( about fifty years of age ) , cruelly -disfigured , less by age than by diseases , I admire the magic iAism through which she invariably saw this sun .
THE TURK IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTPBT . Christian war , justice of Christian peoples , Christian moderation , & c . —all these phrases have been erased from our languages by the sack ofRome , of Tunis , and of Antwerp , by Pizarro and Cortez , by the slave trade , and ttie extermination of the Indians . What more did the Turks , even under Selim ? Under the other Sultans , especially under Solyman , they taught the Christians moderation in war , and gentleness in victory . Solyman made great efforts to save Rhodes from pillage . He consoled the Grand Master for his defeat , telling him : " It is the common lot of princes to lose cities and kingdoms . " And turning towards Ibrahim , the intimate confidant of his thoughts : " It is not without sorrow that I turn this aged Christian out of his home . " To Francis I ., when a prisoner , he recals , by a noble and delicate allusion , his grandfather Bajazet , the prisoner of Timour : " Take courage . It is no new thing for princes to fall into captivity . Our glorious ancestors were not the less victors and conquerors . " The horror inspired by the Turks was due especially to the
immense clouds of irregular troops of savage tribes which hovered around their armies . As to the armies of the Turks , strictly speaking , their marvellous order , ther discipline , was the astonishment of the sixteenth century . In 1526 , two hundred thousand men traversed the whole empire , by the roads alone , avoiding all cultivated fields , and without taking a blade of grass . Every plunderer was hanged instantly , even if he belonged to the military chiefs and judges . In 1532 the envoy of Francis I . surveys with astonishment the prodigious army of Solyman , whose camp covered thirty miles . " Astonishing order , no violence . Tradesmen in perfect safety , even women going and coming , as in a European city . Life as safe , as free , and as easy as in Venice . There is such complete justice , that one is tempted to believe the Christians are now Turks , and the Turks become Christians . " Except Venice and a few Frenchmen , no one in Europe understood the question of the East . Luther on this subject , as on that of the German peasants , understood nothing ; his genius abandoned him . If he has a glimmering , if he perceives for an instant that the real
Turk is Charles V ., he quickly retracts , and preaches submission to the Emperor with this distinguo : spiritual independence , temporal submission . As if the two things were separable ! as if , in every human act , the soul and the body did not go together ! Why did he not leave this absurdity to our Gallicans ? To the peasants , he said : " Be Christians , and remain the serfs of the princes . " To the princes , he said : " Be Christians , and serve the Emperor against the infidels . " That is all the remedy Christianity offers us . Of the two questions confused by this vertigo , the one , that of the people , was destined to remain uncomprehended , buried , sealed under the earth . The other , that of the Turk , is seen clearly only in Italy . ' . . . The enemy of Christendom is the Emperor , the nominal chief of the Christian republic . But for his pecuniary embarrassments , his monstrous empire would swallow up Europe . But now , precisely in 1525 , returns Cortez to lay at his feet the gold of Mexico . Every year , henceforth , the revenue of the mines , without control or discussion of States or Cortes , will aid him more and more . . . . . France , with so little moral vitality , and destitute of Indies , could not effectually oppose him . England distant , insular , will act little and by starts . If Henry VIII . divorces a Spanish wife , London remains not the less married to Antwerp . Will Luther and Germany be more efficient ? Will the Empire be the barrier against the Emperor ? The Catholic princes are united by leand
a hundred links to Austria . The Protestant princes and the terror of the peop , the insurrections of the peasants , are secondarily Protestants , but primarily princes . They are not likely to call to their defence the masses recently crushed . The only saviour is the Turk . Venice , quietly but energetically , efficaciously wrought upon this idea . It is she who , during ten years , and the ten most dangerous years , governed the Turkish Empire . A serious , attentive examination places the thing in full light . The Doge was eighty years old ; Venice was in its decrepitude . Neither he nor his republic could profit by the policy . But the world was the gainer . By three solemn blows the enemy was repulsed . The religious liberties of Germany , still young and vacillating , were saved by the Turks , Luther by Mahomet . And a solid barrier was raised—Ottoman Hungary—at the gates of Vienna . At last Venice , failing , bequeathed to France her office of mediator between the two religions , initiator of the two worlds—let us say the word , saviour of Europe . Let us accept frankly , in the name of the Renaissance , the injurious epithet which Charles V . and Philip II . so often threw out against us . France , after Venice , was the great renegade , who , aiding the Turk , defended Christendom against itself , preserved it from Spain and the King of the Inquisition . Let us give all honour to the men , the free and courageous spirits who , on the one side , from Paris , from Venice , on tho other side , from Constantinople , stretched out the hand to each other across Europe , and , while cursed by her , saved
her . La terro eut beau fre ' mir , lo ciel eut beau tonner , they not the less carried out with an impious audacity the holy work which , by the reconciliation of Europe nnd Asia , created the new equilibrium , tho more enlarged order of modern times ; substituting for Christian harmony the harmony of humanity . »*• THE VILLAS OF ITALY . Lombardy was no longer what it had been . It had suffered cruelly , lost immonsely . But , as happens in these groat shipwrecks , the chosen places whore the remnants arc concentrated seom all the richer . I can believe , therefore , without difficulty , that the abbey and the villa arranged for tho King of Franco would rccnl cither tho O ranges of Sforza , or tho Pouzzolo of the King of Naples , and other voluptuous retreats which are made known to us by description ; These villas were ravishing from the mixture of art and nature , of rural economy , such as the Italians love . Our chdtectux , still military , seemed in their feudal haughtiness to cast to a diatnnco the labour of tho fields , the land of the peasants s splendidly wearisome , they offered as tho aolo prohoro
menade to their captive mistress a dismal terrace , without water or shade , w I pined a few melancholy plants . On the contrary , the Italian villas , very superior in point of art and real museums , nevertheless admitted all sorts of gardens , extending themselves freely around in parks and varied cultivation . Tho companions of Charles VIII ., who wore tho first to see them , have given pictures of them , full ot feeling . Guarded at tho vestibule by mute inhabitants of alabaster or porphyry , surrounded with porticoes " it mignons fenastragea" these charming dwellings conconlca within not only a dazzling luxury of draperies , of beautiful silks , of Venetian orystnw of a hundred colours , but also exquisite contrivances for pleasnro and utility , in whiw > everything was foreseen ; various collars , elaborate kitchens and laboratories , aeop beds of down , nnd even Flemish carpets , on which , protected from tho marble , a tiny foot might place itself on rising from the couch . Aerial terraces , hanging gardens , the moat varied prospects . Close by , the idyllic labours of tho fields . To tho gushing waters pf tho marble fountain tho stag , as well as tho cow , coming fearlessly in the ovonlngT—t ; ho Imy-harvoat or tho vintage—a Virgilian lifo of gontlo labour ? . All _ tn s sot in tho ftwne of a solemn distance—tho marble Apennines , or tho Alps with tue » t eternal siiowb .
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), Sept. 15, 1855, page 16, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_15091855/page/16/
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