512 A Talt. Tranjlatedfrom tht

to think how his timorous hand could deal such mortal blows; but he cleared up his amaz-ment, sighing: Ah, my dear casket! my dear mother ! The remainder or the voyage was without any rr.olcltation. He lands in t lie harbour of the city where he was born. With his casket under his arm, and muffled up in his cloak, he enquires where he may find his mother. Be ing come to her wretched lodging-, the nuise, who opened the door, would not let him in till she had the patient';, leave*, and went back to know her pleasure. Mrs. Disbures was surprized to hear that any one wanted to ste her. The distress (lie was in had long since kept away all those who, in the course of ihe world, are called friends, and charity alone now bestowed some visits on her; she therefore desired the nurse to ask the person's name who was at the door. Her son, who overheard her, in the heat of emotion cried out, It is Jzcquo; and pushing open the door, hasted to his mother's bed, where, throwing himself on his knees, without being able to speak, he killed one of her hands. Ah, son! cried' his mother, your presence and ten« derness increases the detraction of my heart. I own before that just <God, wh" punishes me for my unjust harshness, that I did not deserve so virtuous a fan. More site would have said, but her son stopped her mouth w'irh a. rapturous embrace, the first time such 3 favour had been permitted him; and such a lively fense had he of it, that he was scarce himself. The priest and the physician coming in, interrupted the affecting scene. Jacquo, with the greatest humility, thanked them for the kindnels they had shewn to his mother, conjured th-.m to save her.

•rench c/M. de Marmontel. Btitish

and assured them that he was able to pay them for their attendance, pointing to his dear casket, dearer to him on account of the use for w hich it was designed. If the son's extafy was a moving fight, the mother's contusion and felt-accusations could not be heard without pity. She openly charged herself with barbatiry, and wished for life only to expiate her former guilt, by all the tenderness which such a son so well deserved. The priest and the physician added their tears to those which nature and repentance had drawn. The very same day J.icquo had his mother removed to a more decent place, where the was attended with the greatest care; and the joy of having so excellent a son, dispelling the black humour which infected her blood, she was soon out of danger. Jacquo was supremely happy in the fortunate situation which he had so ardently desired; yet his being at so great a distance from a person whom he esteemed no less than he loved, would not long allow him the full enjoyment of his happiness. His mother, who now was become more fond of him than ever flic h id been of her elder son, saw, with concern, that Jacquo had tome secret uneasiness; file urged him to disclose his Ivart to her, and learnt what he had forsaken in order to come to her assistance. Her affection for him redoubled, and she offered to go wilh him to Marrintco. Jvcquo, who would never have taken on him. to ask such a savour, received it with transport. They left Fiance sion after; and the beautiful widow, who had withstood the great matches offered to her during her lover's absence, at his fiilt visit consented to go with him to the altar. Her generous behaviour endeared

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Account of Mr. Macklin's New Piece called The True-born Scotchman, lately performed at Dublin.

Dramatis Persons.

Sir Pertinax Mac Sycophant Mr. Macklin

Ijerton (his son) Mr. Mossop

Lord Lumheihcad Mr. Dawson

Sidney (a clergyman, tutor 7 Mr. Dexter,

to Egerton) 5 since dead

Lady Mac Sycophant Mrs. Usher

Constants (an orphan de-? .... . . .

.. 1 . V <• Miss Amorosi

pending on her) J

LadjRodolphadaughter to? j^r|

Lo.d Lumberhead S

MtlviU (an unknown stranger) Mr. Usher.

CIR Pertinax Mac Sycophant is a Scotsman of very small original fortune, who has obtained a baronet's patent, and arrived at a high pitch of power and interest, by cringing and fawning on the great men at the helm in England. He has two sons, the eldest of whom, on somr family dispute, he has disinherited; the youngest has been left an elhte of three or four thousand a year, by a relation of his mother's, on condition ot bearing his name of Egerton. This youny gentleman is supposed to have been educated in England, and to have nothing of ihe Scotsman about him. His father, whose thoughts are entirely employed in contriving schemes for he aggrandizement of his family, projects a match between his sen ind lady Rodolpha, daughter to lord -umberhead, a young English lady, ybo-had been brought up in Scot

land from her childhood, at the desire of her grandmother, from whom she has inherited a large fortune.— But Egerton has engaged his affections to Constantia, a beautiful orphan of good family, whom lady Mac Sycophant has taken into her house, in pity to her distressed situation. This virtuous maid returns his love on honourable terms; and he, being resolved to marry her, applies for that purpose to Mr. Sidney the chaplain, who refuses to perform the ceremony, partly from a consideration of his duty to Sir Pertinax, his patron, and partly on account of a strong attachment he himself beats to the young lady.— Mean while, every thing being settled between lord Lumberhead and the knight, the latter thinks it high time to introduce his son to lady Rodolpha.—This is done, and they are left alone together:—He, with a generous openness, declares his pre-engagement to another woman; and she as frankly confesses her fondness for his own brother, who, on his father's displeasure, had sought shelter in Scotland, where she had known him. Sir Pertinax, having no knowledge of this conversation, •mentions the matter to Egerton, es a thing in which he had no doubt of bis concurrence. The young man

• refuses 5 r4 Account ef Macklin'/ T

refuses to comply, and, after many struggles, owns his love for Constantia, and declares his fixed resolution never to marry any one but her. The father at first is thunderstruck, but, after recollection, resolves to try the following expedient in order to effect his purpose. He sends for Sidney, and offers to give him Constantia in marriage, with a large portion. He, tho' enamoured of her, most generously refuses; the knight then proposes to him to contrive that Egerion should debauch her, which would as effectually hinder the march, offering at the fame time to make his fortune more than equal to his most sanguine expectations. The honest chaplain rejects all his offers with the highest resentment, and they pnrt not greatly jileased with each other, Sir Pertinax telling him, that "since he won't pimp for his master, he must never hope to rife in the church." While the knight is revolving these things in his mind, he happens to intercept a letter directed to Constantia,which, on opening, he finds subscribed with the name of Melvil, and full of the most tender expression?. On questioning a servant, he is informed that this Melvil is a concealed lover of the young orphan's, and that it is shrewdly suspected he has had unwarrantable freedoms with her,from the presents she has sent him, and the frequent interviews they have had together. Sir Pertinax, transported with this intelligence, hastens to fliew the letter to his wife rnd son, who remain in She utmost horror and astonishment, not being able to account for it otherwise, than by supposing Constantia an abandoned profligate. She is ordered immediately to leave the house, without beijig told her crinsv and

ue-born Scotchman. British

Sir Pertinax now makes no doubt of his son's complying with his inclinations, and marrying lady Rodolpha.—In the interim, Melvil, tbe supposed lover, comes to the hcuf>, and is found not to be Constantii's paramour, but her father, by nans Harrington, a decayed gentlemsr, who had borne arms with honoir in the service of his country. This reconciles all seeming contradiction;, and exhibits Conflantia's character in the most amiable point of view; Egerton owns his previous marriage with her, and lady Rodolpha her inclination for Sir Pertinax's eldest son.—Upon this, not to lose the advantage of such an alliance, the knight declares his intention of taking him again into favour, and the marriage between him and lady Rodolpha is soon agreed on.

The most material objection to this performance, is the tediousnesi of the dialogue, and the immoderate length of the chief character; for, in order to shew Sir Pertinax in the greater variety of different views, he has hurried on the catastrophe so as to make it unnatural, by its excessive suddenness, and the want of preparation for it. There seems also to be a fault in Sidney's love for Constantia; by its being disclosed si early, we are led to imagine, that the poet intends to make use of it to thicken the plot ; instead os this we- hear not one word of it, except what he himself nr.er.tions in the fi:st srene, and it serves no purpose tit merely to heighten his own character, which Is of no great consequence to the play. This come<i' is both leca! and temporary ; for rr.i satire is confined to the Scor.-h. t» the present times, and even to tb

preftnt A n; so that it i< •

qu.ltion whether the many cxqi.is''

«>r -'--I *TpHE Franciscans and Dominicans had been at open variance ever since the thirteenth century. The interest of the Dominicans declined very much among the commonalty, for paying less honour to the Virgin than the Cordeliers, and denying, with St. Thomas, her being born without sin: whereas the Cordeliers ingratiated themselves every where, by preaching up the immaculate conception as mentioned by St. Bonaventure. Such was the animosity between these two orders, that a Cordelier preaching at Francforr, in 150^, on the Virgin, and seeing a Dominican come in, cried our, that he thjnked God for not being of a sect which dishonoured the very Mother os God, and poisoned emperors with the host. The Dominican, named Vtgan, called out to him that he lied, and was a heretic. Down comes the Franciscan from his pulpir, stirs up the people, and laying on his adversary with the crucifix, drives him out of the church, so that Vigan was left for dead at the door. In 1504, the Dominicansheld a chapter, in which it was resolved to be revenged on the Cordeliers, and to put an end both to their interest and doctrine, by employing the Virgin herself against them. The place chosen for transacting this scene was Berne; during three years several stories were spread about of the mother of God appearing, and upbraiding the Cordeliers with the

Mag. Voltaire'/ Account es the Reveluticn in Switzerland. jjj

strokes of humour which it abounds this last production of Mackliu's is

with,, will be understood at the dis possessed of such merit, as to entitle

tance of twenty or thirty years, its author to a place among our btst

However, upon the whole, 1 think comic writers.

Account os the extraordinary Adventure which occtr/toned the Reveluticn brought about by Zwinglius in Switzerland.—From Voltaire.

doctrine of the immaculate conception, faying, it was blasphemy, taking away from her Son the glory of having washed her from original sin and hell. Against this the Cordeliers played other apparitions. At length, 1 507, the Dominicans, having gained over a young lay-brother, named Yetfer, made use of him to convince the people in their favour. It was the current opinion in the convents of all orders, that a novice, who had not professed, quitting the habit, continued in purgatory till the final judgment, unless delivered by prayers and donations to the convent.

The Dominican prior went one night into Yetser's cell, muffled in a kind ol gown, painted all over with devils, and having heavy chains on him ; with him also were four ugly dogs, and his mouth, in which had been put a small round box full of tow, cast forth flames. This prior laid to Yetfer, that he was an old monk, thrown into purgatory for having quitted the habi', bur that he should he delivered, if Yetfer would be so kind as to have himself scourged by the monks in his favour, before the great altar. This Yetfer did not fail to comply with, and thus delivered the said foul from purgatory. Soon after the grateful soul appeared to him in a white radi.int habit, informing him, that it had been freed from purgatory, and adrr.:::ed into heaven,

516 Antedate os Oliver Cromwell.

and recommending to him the honour of the Virgin so impiously

slandered by the Cordeliers.

Some days after, St. Earbara, to

whom brolher Yetser paid a great

devotion, appeared to him: it was

another monk th3t played the part

of St. Barbara; she told him that

he was sainted, and that the Virgin

cemmiflioned him to do her justice

Egainst the blaspheming Cordrliers.
At last down comes the Virgin

herself through the cieling, attended

by two angels: she ordered him to

declare, that she was born in original fin, and that the Cordeliers were

her son's greatest enemies. She farther told him, that she would honour him with the five wounds,with which St. Lucy atid St. Catherine had been favoured.

The following night, the monks having given the brother some opiated wine, they pierced his hands, feet and fide. -On his awaking he found himself all over blood. He was told that thole were the stigmata promised him, and made by the blesud Virgin; and in this cortdi


tion was he exposed to public tin at the great altar.

In the mean time the poor brether, simple as he was, conceits that the blessed Virgin's voice »si no other than that of the sub-prior, began to suspect the fraud. On tbi it was thought proper to disparci him by poison; and, at his receivirj the communion, they gave him i host sprinkled with sublimate cow five; but the acridity made him cist it out of his mouth; immediate!' the monks seized him, and bound him as a sacrilegious person. Ta save his life, the poor creature promised that he would never reveal the secret, and confirmed his promise on another host; but some time after, finding means to make his escape, he went, and, on oaili, made a deposition of the whole affair before the magistrates. The process lasted two years, and terminated in the burning of four Dominicans before one of the gates of Berne, on the ill of May 1509, O. S. the sentence bein<» pronounced by a bitliopdelegated trom Rome.


"p\ÆR. Jeremy White, one of Oliver — Cromwell's domestic chaplain", a sprightly man, and one of the chief wits of the court, was so ambitious as to make his addresses to Olivet's youngest daughter, the lady Frances. The young lady did not discourage him; but in so religious a court, this gallantry could not be carried on without being taken notice of. The Piotector was told of it, and was much concerned thereat: he ordered the person who told him to keep a shift look out, promising, if he could give him any substantial

proofs, he should be well rewarded, and White severely punished. The spy followed his business so close, that in a little time he dogged Jerry White, as he was generally called,to the lady's chamber, and ran immediately to the Protector to acquaint him that they were together. Oliver, in a rage, hastened to the chamber; and, going in hastily, found Jerry on his knees, either killing the lady's hand, or having just kissed it. Cromwell in a fuiy asiced whnt vs; the meaning of that posture before his daughter, Frank? White, «i:hJ


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