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5 jo Compendium Hi/It
sides, that the Poictevins, afraid of being treated as rebels, abandoned the field, and that a great part of the French army, being seized with the like panic, behaved as il!; but, however this matter passed, it seems to be certain, that king John retired to his castle at Partenai, resolved to wait there for the event of the campaign in Flanders, where the best of his own troops were, and indeed the combined forc?s ot the whole confederacj', under the command of the emperor in person : and as there never was a campaign of more importance to France than this, we .sliall be obliged to treat it more particularly, though at the fame time as succinctly as it is possible. ■ King Philip believing it more honourable, and not at all more dan*gerous, to meet than to expect his enemies, advanced as f<r as Tournay, with an army of fifty thousand nien, the flower of his forces, and commanded by the principal nobility of France, such as Eudes duke of Burgundy, Robert count of DreiiX, Philip his brother, Peter Courtenai count of Nevers, all, in the modern ilile, princes of the blood, Stephen count of Sanrerre, John count of Ponthieu, Gauchtr count of St. Paul, twenty-two other lord"; carrying banners,twelve hundred knights, and between six and (even thousand gens d'arms. The emperor Otho, pn the other side, had with him the earl of Salisbury, bastard 12'4' brother to king John, Ferdinand count of Flanders, Rainald count of Bologne, Otho duke of Limburgh, William duke of Brabant, Henry duke of Lorrain, Philip count of Namur, seven or eight German princes, thirty bannerets, and an army superior in number to (bat of Philip. Thj two armies
ry of France, British
met near the village of Bouvines, on the Z71I1 of July. The emperor laboured to outstretch the French lint, giving the command of the right wing to the earl of Flanders, the left to the count of Bologne, and remained himself in the center, encircled by his great lords. The army of France was disposed in order of battle by brothet Guerin ot the order ot the knights hospitallers, and biihop elect of Seolis ; and to the excellent disposition he made, cotemporary writers ascribe the fortuneof the day. The king was in the center, the duke of Burgundy commanded the right, and the count de St. Paul the left. The right was broke in the beginning of the action, but tallied and recovered their ground; the left sustained the attack of the allies, without giving way; but the heat of the battle was in the center, where the emperor was once taken, but rescued; Phiiip wounded in the throat, dragged from his horse, and in the same instant of time exposed to the most imminent clanger of being cut to pieces, taken, or trampled to death, it the brave men who were about him had not delivered him. This engagement lasted from noon till about five o'clock, when the allies were totally routed, chiefly through the misfortune of having the fun s!l the ti.ne in their eyes, whereas the French had it on their barks. The counts of Flanders and Bologne, three other great counts, four German princes, and twenty-five bannerets, were taken prisoners. Philip returned to Paris, which he entered in triumph, the two counts ot Flanders and Bologne following in chains. He afterwards advanced towards Poitou, with an intent to crulh John and his adherents to
pieces; but upon the interposition of the pope's legate, the submission os John by Randal earl of Cheiter, and a present of sixty thousand pounds sterling, he was prevailed upon to admit of a truce for five years; for which he is exceedingly blamed by the modern French writers, who are amazed that he should lose so fair an opportunity of completing the re-union of all that John held in France. The character of this prince considered, who was one of the best statesmen, and one of the most ambitious princes the French ever had, is sufficient to persuade us, that he had his reasons for acting as he did; and a sufficient attention to certain facts that lie scattered in the eld writers, will enable us to distinguish what these motives were. He was sensible before the battle of Bouvines, that it was his own power rather than any regard for the king of England, that had raised so powerful a confederacy; he knew they had intelligence throughout his dominions, and even in his very camp; nay, he was so suspicious of some
about him, that, when he heard divine service before the action began, he caused a crown of gold to be placed upon the altar, and told all the lords present, that, as they fought not for him but for the honour and independency of France, if they knew any one amongst themselves more worthy to wear it, he was ready to place the ctown upon his head, and to fight under his command; which generous proceeding extinguished all disaffection on that important day; but, after his return to Paris, he came to know so distinctly how dissatisfied the bulk of the nobility were at the increase of his power, that he thought it an improper juncture to augment it, and chose rather to amass money that might enable him to pay an army of his own, than to lifk his pet son any longer in one, where the troops of the crown bore but a small proportion to those of his vassals, whose army it was in effect more than his own.
[To it continued.]
Anecdote of the Dutch's j/MARLHOROUGH.
COON after the battle of Oudenarde, the dutchess of Mailborough made a tour to Flanders, under pretence of complimenting the duke on that victory, but in fact to inform him of the cabals of his enemies, which it was not safe to entrust on paper. Her grace landed at D'inkirk, where she lay all night; and in the morning, her thoughts being intent, perhaps, upon more important concerns, though she had given a great deal of trouble in the Inn, yet the went away and forgot the usual present to the chamber
maid. The girl, who interpreted this neglect to her grace's want of generosity, thought of an expedient to make herself amends; and with this view site purchased a number of phials, and then filling them, carefully corked them up, and scaled them; this done, slie caused it to be rumoured abroad, that she had a quantity of the dutchess of Marlborough's Eye-water, which her grace, at her departure, had put into her hands to sell. It was, in reality, the dotchefs of Marlhorough s water that filled the bottles,
and the humour succeeded to the girl's wisti; the Eye-water was bought for the novelty by rich and poor, and the cures it performed were so wonderful, that the fame of its virtues reached the dutches* at the English camp. Her grace recollected her omission, and was not a little nettled at the wench's stratagem, but could not then help it. In her return home, however, (he lay again at the same inn; and as the wench was putting her to bed at night, Child, said (he, I hear you have a famous Eye-water to fell; I have a mind to be a purchaser. The girl, quite confounded, and ready to sink, saintly said, it was all disposed of. What quantity might you have of ir, .said the dutchess f Only a few dozens, replied the girl. Well, said the dutchess, prepare your bottles, and you now may have a larger quantity of the genuine fort. The girl was miserably perplexed, and could not tell what to say; but fell into tears, and dropping upon her knees, confessed her indiscretion, and humbly implored her grace's forgiveness, promising never to offend again in the like manner. Nay, but indeed, child, said her grace, you must make
up some for me, for I have heard an excellent character of its sovereign virtues. Being assured her grace was in earnest, the replied, (he should be obeyed. -iHer grace's intention was, to prevent her Eyewater being any more hawked about in Dunkirk; and therefore, in the morning, she ordered her young doctress, in her own presence, to bottle every drop of it, to cork it up safely, and seal i', as she had done the former; by which the discovered that the girl had actually procured her grace's arms to her new nostrum, a circumstance (he had not before dreamt of. Well, my dear, said the dutchess, I find you are a mistress of your trade; you make no scruple to counterfeit a seal. Madam, said the girl, you dropt the seal in the room, and that put me in the head of it. And what might you gain, said her grace, by your last supply? Fifty livres, replied ttte girl. Very well, said the dutches?, please to restore the seal, and there is double that sum for you ; putting five louis d'ors in her hand ; adding, with a stern look, and a severe tone of voice, Beware of counterfeits, husley.
Reflections tn tbt Imitation ef the A N c r E R T J.
To the Authors ef the
*TpHE contrariety of opinions, instability of taste, and difference of judgment, is in no instance more conspicuous than in the applause which irritation met with from the antients, and the censure which unavoidably attends such bold freedoms from the moderns.—To ac
count for such a manifest difference in sentiment, certainly requires • greater depth of thought than I can pretend. The arguments on both fides are too powerful either for ma to enforce or console. It is, however, palpable to any one of the smallest observation! that the Roman
writer! their conquered rivals, the Greeks and, indeed, from their professed imitations, j*hey seem to us to have taken ir ii. granted, that such liberties were not only excusable, but even a demonstration of their judgment. Virgil not only raised the structure of his Æneid upon the model of the Iliad, but he even took some of his brightest thoughts, and sublirnest images, from that poem: and still, we find none of his cofemporaiies exclaiming against his freedoms, owing, perhaps, either to their bring conscious of the like assistance, or to the taste of the Augustan age. According to the opinion of the moderns, it is an incontrovertible tiuth, that Virgil was no original poet, and yet, perhaps for those very reasons by which he incurs th,^ iharge, the ancients pronounced him an original. And this paradox will I hope disappear, if, by the word original, we signify, as the ancients leem to have done, a strengih of judgment joined to a sublimity of thought. This definition once ad;niited,'it must follow, that Virgil was what the ancients thought him; bur if, according to the modems, an original writer is one, who, unassisted by another, and without being indebted to any one for either thought or hint, produces a truly great and noble work, the former definition must certainly vanish. By the former, Virgil is an original, and that too in the highest fense, since the requisites of originality are nobly conspicuous in him; and by the latter he is in danger of incurring even (pardon the expression) the charje of plagiarism. To decide the question, however, let us ask, WhetherVinjU could have wrote a poem every way equal to the Iliad, 0 Sober 1764.
Mag. Ttiflttlions on the Imitation os tht Ancients, Jjj
writers did borrow very freely from supposing he had been deprived of 5J4 RtfU8ions on tie Imitation cf tht Ancients. British
his immortal model ? To determine this, let us examine whether some of ihe original bright parts in Virgil are cquaJ to ethers he borrowed from Homer. The reader for his satisfaction in this point, out of many instances, may turn to the third book of the Æneid, 571st line, where he may compare the description of an eruption of Mount Ætna, with a most beautiful simile closely copied from Homer, in which the fall of Troy is represented by a wild ash felled in the woods j Book the second, 626th line. If the preference is given to the original thought, then doubtless it will be allowed, that Virgil could have been an original poet, though perhaps he chose to display his learning and taste, in complaisance to an age which looked upon Homer as something preternatural, in illustrating his beauties, it being allowed that where he imitates he improves. Nor does this verdict detract from the praises of a poet, "Cujus vestigia semper at/cro." It only keeps the middle way between the extremes of madame Dacier and Scaliger: extreme?, I presume, notorious to every one : nor is Virgil singular in such bold freedoms; it is sufficiently known that his friend Horace was as much obliged to the ancients, and the only obstacle to the detection of his imitation is, that the treasures, from whence he carried off such glorious spoils, are lost. The reader may easily perceive that 1 mean the Odes of Pindar; most ot' which, it is generally allowed, have fallen a prey to the devastations of rime. From among the few that have reached our times, the learned have, at several times, pointed cut manifest imirations.and in particular 3 Z the
the beginning of that ode of Pindar, some of his roost glorious images
T/ca Qiov rtv Hp«a, &c. is translated, though certainly improved upon by the Roman Lyrick. The works of Pindar too, like those of •Homer, were doubtless in the hands of every learned man in the court of Augustus: yet we read of no exceptions made to such free imitations; and it would be an absurdity to supoose, that they could escape the observation of such- judges as Mæcenas, Verus, and Augustus himself, are allowed to have been. I shall pass over in silence Tibullus, Propertius, and the rest of the poets that adorned that glorious period, only making this observation, that they, not confining themselves to one ancient, boldly borrowed from every one whom they found to their purpose, Callimachus, Anacreon,&c. Perhaps she learned of the Romans were ambitious of having the spirit of Greek poerry transfused into their language, and therefore they not only indulged their poets in this liberty, but even encouraged them in it. From such indulgence the Roman language derived ali its boasted advantages; for, if those that composed in it had been then debarred from this liberty, I leave any one to judge how narrow, how circumscribed, it would ever aster have remained. Perhaps the Roman poets in this, as they did in many other things, pleaded the example of the Greeks before them, it being a certainty that they made no scruple in borrowing from one another. The ocritus, for example, copied his 19th Idyllium, Top K\nntiv nor EpwTrt, from an ode of Anacreon, entirely to the fame purpose. And if Hesiod is allowed to have been an older poet than Homer, then it Is pretty clear that the latter borrowed
from his predecessor. In pirticuhr Homer siys, that when Vulcan W3S thrown from heaven, he was one whole day before he reached the island of Lemnos. Now Hesiod, in his Theogenia, 720th line, tells us, that a smith's hammer would be nine days in falling from heaven to earth. Eecs* yap Nti*T*, &c It cannot be denied, but that Homer's thought infinirely surpasses that of Heliod in sublimity and nobleness of expression, and that at.first sight there appears scarce the least similitude; but still, when we consider circumstances apart, the resemblance must strike us. Hesiod says, that were a smith's hammer to be thrown from heaven, it would be nine days before it reached the earth. Homer fays, that Vulcan was one whole day in falling from heaven to earth. One is told us as a supposition, the other as a reality: but let us suppose that Hesiod tcld us, that the hammer was thrown from heaven, &c. Doubtless then the. resemblance would be pronounced visible; all the difference would be, that the one was a hammer that fell, and the other a god, a difficulty that would soon vanisli, and in its place the similitude would stand cinfest. Two or three more examples, and then I have done. Hesiod fays, that hell was such a horrid place, that even the gods hated it; STu^touffJ ©jo/Tsp. And Homer relates the fame circumstance in the fame words. The first poet, in his description of the battle between the gods and giants tells us, that Pluto, with all his ghosts, was terrified at the uproar in heaven. The fame circumstance in Homer has been too much the obiect of admiration for it to bave escaped observation. From