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dp > of aaaieeated cells , are homogeneous in structure , and haye no organs tTerfonmnf ? Varied and definite functions , but that the gradual appearance of 4 > rganVin increasing variety and definiteness of function is the measure 9 f ascending complexity of vital organisms . Nevertheless , his . mode of statement leads t 6 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 bemgs & distinguish them" from rocks , &c . This may be common language ; but bo . one speaking the language of science calls a fungus or an amceba an organic being because of its organs . . -The examples we have cited , which might be multiplied , suffice to indicate the real defect of the work—namely , want of clear conception , and Consequent want of precise expression . Yet , in parting from Dr . Kemp , We must in mstice once more admit that his work contains a mass of facts ,
- * &ich * nllbisinstructive , arid which , were there no better works easy ot decess , ' w 6 ulo ! command attention . His aim has been a little too ambitious . He has not supplied a place left 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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; MICHELET ON THE REFORMATION . La Jteforme . Par J . Michelet . *>• Nutt . Tmjs volume on the Reformation , in which M . Michelet continues his History of France , is much more satisfactory to us than its predecessor on the Rent * trance . 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 itself , but 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 , ^ ufe he wUl 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 we ll as by general statements .
% -The historian could hardly have a grander and more varied subject to ojecupy his canvas . The birth of the French Reformation among the simple Yaudois * > f the Alps , the Austrian Empire under Charles "V . representing th # ; 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 q £ 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 dastardly nature , his devoted and accomplished sister , Margaret of Navarre , the vicious queen-mother Louise of Savoy , and the Constable Bourbon . But instead oi-ief ' Gng ' y rhaiM . Michelet has done , we shall perhaps do our readers better service if we translate a few of his frequent and picturesque passages , and thus show them something of what he has done . aii '* ' •' '' - ' ¦¦¦'¦' ¦ '• ' MARGARET OF NAVARRE .
happens to want it , the life , the heart , the blood of this being , without its ever occurring to him that he asks too much . . . "' . Mere love is not so robust a passion . This not only resists jealousy and time , unkindness , mortifications , but much more : 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 hy diseases , I admire the magic prism through -which she invariably saw this sun .
^ liipdpitibet , "' £ charming prose writer , she had a delicate , rapid , and subtle lntelhgeiaceV which tried its wingsat every subject , alighted for a moment , never penetrating berieaththe surface , touching the earth only with the point of her foot . We must , tiMever , pxcepVthe mystic jargon of the period , "with which , following the guidance of ; aeViieavy spiritual director Briconnet , she often loaded her Ifght wings . That this niysticism was a preservative to her , I do not believe ; on the contrary , it is one of tie sjieedy ' ways to a fall . A much better guarantee was the laugh , the light irony , tKo gentle sarcasm with which she met the sighs of her admirers . And there wa 3 little merit fo this abstinence , for she had in her heart two passions which created for itSf a continual alibi against all others . The one was the love of science , the infinite cfiriosity Which made her pursue the studies least apt to attract women , languages and ev % i erudition , leading her from Latin to Greek and from Greek to Hebrew . . . . Tn ^' ottie ' r passion was the astonishing worship , the love , the faith , the hope , the perfect devotion which she had , from birth till death , for the least worthy of all divinities , her
brdthertfcancid II' There are very few portraits of Margaret . That of Versailles is , l 4 hink , ' ' oiM'tof < mere imagination suggested by some portrait of Francis , The true ef&gp . U the . reverse ' of . a medal which bears on the other side her mother , Louise of &mtpyf . n 11 * fc »» slight image , a sketch , but full of revelations , opening up a whole character ; and it corresponds so well and so precisely with all the written documents , tb ^ t it makes one exclaim , "This is the truth . " ... It seems that the Sayoyarde , of jwhon > ohVwaa the , first child , made her apprenticeship in maternity by this fragile arid refined creature , the ' pure elixir of the race of Vnlois , before moulding k gros garcon qui g&ta tout , the true son of Gargantua . Into him she poured all the carnal an ' a sensual elements of her strong nature , so that , with considerable talent , the Rabelaisian creature was nevertheless akin to both the pig and the monkey . Was ho ldgitunate ? " - Who knows ? But Margaret his Bister is certainly the grandchild of the po ^ tTCfliarWof'Orleans . She has the face , early worn and faded , of noble , refined , aftfl * long-standing races . She says herself , ' without the least coquetry , when writing t $ yotmg « r persons :- "' Tour aunt , " or " Your old mother . " . . . This exquisitely ptyrc person had her whole life filled by a unique sentiment , which one knows not how t 6 name ;' love ? friendship ? fraternity ? maternity ? Something of all these , no
doubt ; , and not one of these names is unsuitable . The second volume of her letters , addressed entirely to the king , astonish and confound us , not by the vehemence but by the invariable permanence of a sentiment always the same , which has neither pfiaaos nor crises of diminution or of increase—neither high nor low . Never was the bbty So'Constantly 6 n the strotoh . All tho passions in the world must bo humiliated before this . ¦ They have nothing to compare with it . Tho more tension tlioy have the more readily do they break asunder . Tho only thing that reminds one of these letters itf'the immense and charming collection of Madame de SeVignd ' a letters . Those of Margaret are often equally charming ( for example , when Bhe writes to tho captive king of what his children are doing ) , and above all , they are equally passionate—they express an emotion equally inexhaustible . Another point of resemblance is tho hard Unity and Inconstancy of tho beloved object . Francis I . is like Madame de Grigimn . H * lovee , he , fa touched for the moment . But most often , he has little to say in re turn . This terrible fixity , during flfty yoara , who would hold out under it ? SometimqQ , ho lopes pafionce , lie is hard and tyrannical . This nature , so dependent , is © SwWlUyrhle property to use or abuse ; ever since ho was born he has had this being to adore him , whatever ho may do . Ho will think it natural enough to ask , if he
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THE TURK IN THB SIXTEENTH CENTURY . J Christian war , justice of Christian peoples , Christian moderation , &c . —all these I phrases have been erased from our languages by the sack of Borne , of Tunis , and of I Antwerp , by Pizarro and Cortez , by the slave trade , and the extermination of the I Indians . What more did the Turks , even under Selim ? Under the other Sultans , I especially tinder Solyman , they taught the Christians moderation in war , and gentle- 1 ness in victory . Solyman made great efforts to save Rhodes from pillage . He con- m soled the Grand Master for his defeat , telling him : " It is the common lot of princes W to lose cities and kingdoms . " And turning towards Ibrahim , the intimate confidant m of his thoughts : " It is not without sorrow that I turn this aged Christian out of If his home . " To Francis I ., when a prisoner , he recals , by a noble and delicate allusion , fj 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 j victors and conquerors . " The horror inspired by the Turks was due especially to the m
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 oJr 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 ! 1 ^ Why did he not leave this absurdity to our Gallicans ? To the peasants , he said : 1 " 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 ' 1 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 bis 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 a hundred links to Austria . The Protestant princes and the terror of the people , and 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 tho 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 bamer 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 j 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 tho one side , from Paris , from Venice , on the other side , from Constantinople , stretched out the hand to each other across Europe , and , while cursed by her , saved her .
La terro eut beau freniir , lo ciel eut beau tonner , they not the less carried out witli an impious audacity the holy work which , by the reconciliation of Europe and Asia , created the new equilibrium , tho more enlarged order of modern times ; substituting for Christian harmony tho harmony of humanity .
THE V 1 I-I . AS OF ITALY . Lombardy was no longer what it had been . It had suffered cruelly , lost immensely , j But , as happens in these great shipwrecks , tho chosen places where the remnants uro ^ concentrated seem all tho richer . I can believe , therefore , without difficulty , that tho abbey and the -villa arranged for the King of Franco would recal either tho Granges . of Sforza , or tho Pouzzolo of the King of Naplo ^ and other voluptuous retreats which I are made known to us by description . These villas were ravishing from the mixture of art and nature , of rural economy , such aa the Italians love . Our ch&Uavx , still military , seemed in their feudal haughtiness to cast to a distnnco tho lnbour of tho fields , the land of the peasants ; splendidly wearisome , they offered as tho solo promenade to their captive mistress a dismal terrace , without water or shade , whore 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 of
themselves freely around in parks and varied cultivation . Tho companions Charles VIII ., who wcro tho first to sco them , have given pictures of them , full of feeling . Guarded at the vestibule by muto inhabitants of alabaster or porphyry , surrounded with porticoes " it mignons fencstrages , " those charming dwellings concoiilml within not only a dazzling luxury of draperies , of beautiful silks , of Venetian cryfltnl * of a hundred colours , but also exquisite coutrivancos for pleasure and utility , in which everything was foreseen ; various collars , elaborate kitchens and laboratories * , < 1 } ' ° 1 » bods of down , and oven Flemish carpets , on which , protected from tho marble , a tiny foot might placo iteolf on rising from tho couch . Aerial terraces , hanging gardens , tho most varied prospects ! Close by , the idyllic labours of the fields , To the gushing waters of tho marble fountain the stag , as well as the cow , coming fearlessly in tlio evening—tho huy-harvost or tho vintngo—a Virgilian Hfo of guntlo labours . AH tU | a set in tho frame of a solemn distance—the inarblo Apennines , or the Alps with tUoir eternal suoAVa .
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Leader (1850-1860), Sept. 15, 1855, page 892, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2106/page/16/
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