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Leader (1850-1860), 5th June 1858, Edition 2 of 2, Page 18

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      Cardinal Mezzofanti. The, Life Of Cardin...

      Anaonz the ibrioer must be reckoned , we fear , thai ; which Headley , the * ' Adtiboa c £ America , " ielAtes . While Metaoa & nti was as yet hut an obscure-priest in the north of Italy , he was called one day to confess two foreigners ^ condemned for piracy , who wene to ^ fee / executed next day . On entering their cell , he found them unable to understand a word He xitteretL Overwhelmed with the thought ^ that the criminals should leave the world without the consolations of religion , he returned to h . is room , resolved to acquire the language before morning . This task he accomplished , and next day confessed the two men in their own tongue . Whatever credit may be due iottis story , it is undoubted that Mb progress as a linguist was magical ; he explored the literature of the East and West , and- in the midst oi

      troubled times and great personal misfortunes during the wars of the French Republic and the Empire , persisted in his ascetic devotion to learning . Tt must be admitted that , at least after 1815 , he was not without Munificent patrons , and that lie stood in high favour at the Papal Court . Men of all nations delighted to converse with him , atnonir others Byron , who termed him a monster of languages , the Briareus of parts of speech , a walking polyglot , who should have been interpreter to the Tower of Babel . In the midst of these studies he was interrupted , in 1820 , by an attack of ill health , which induced the physicians to order peremptorily the discontinuance of his lectures for six months .

      Front that time ,. however , his memory became one prodigious receptacle of languages and dialects , ancient and modern , Oriental and European , dead and living , and with men of all nations was lie able freely to converse . It was not enough that he could beat Byron in the slang of Billinsgate , roar down a Cornish bully in his own dialect , gossip with . Frisean peasants , argue with all the sages of Persia and Asia Minor , confute Buddha and Brahma themselves without the aid of an interpreter ; but he would be a Welshman in Wales and . an Abyssinian in Shoa ; he would dive into the Romaic poetry and Syxiac legends ; he would siog in th-eir own tongues the songs of Sicily and Poland ^ to him Mahratta was . an enjoyment and Algonquin , a luxury . It was not enough , that he inew Himdostani so long as he remained ignorant of that which was spoken in ^ Guzerat : and -when he had mastered

      the speech of China and Ceylon , theHmorana , Amarrina , and Angolese barbarisms , then he mastered Irish , and -the Etruria Celtic , and played with the Eugubian Tables ; next , be ptraned in Mexican and Peruvian , and rfcnrgett over the langttages of Russia ^ and this enormous gathering of erudition lusted until , during the French revolution of 184 & , he died . in 1846 he himself stated that , io . wlidle or in part , he knew seventyeight languages and dialects , and lavs nephew , Gaetano Minarelli , has compiled a list of one hundred and fourteen . But , as Dr . Russell shows , these statements must be cautk > uBly examined and explained . His own estimate is that -fi & ezzofantispoke with rare excellence , frequently tested , thirty Lin uiuc

      guogra , uucuuji , uuu uuiuij buiuuciiuj teaieuj ( jicvcu rarely ana less perfectly , / and eight in a few sentences and conversational forms . Fourteen he was known to have studied from books , but not to have spoken , while he spoke or understood the peculiarities of at least £ fty special dialects , ranging from those of K-iang-SL and Huquan to the Somersetshire . and LowlandScotch , & ona the Berber to theQuipusooan , from the JDebreczeny to the Ancient Gothic and Majorican . With this summary before us we are hardly disposed to question the priority as a linguist assigned by Dr . Russell to Cardinal Mezzofanti . Most readers , -we are sure , will be interested in this remarkable narrative of intellectual industry .

      5^6. : * - ¦ . - ¦/ J^H E L ^A^Bb ^^ -. ...

      5 ^ 6 . : * - ¦ . - ¦/ j ^ H E L ^ A ^ BB ^^ -. ___ . TjjgLJ ?^ June , 5 , 1858 .

      Friends At Their Ow1st Fireside. Friends...

      FRIENDS AT THEIR OW 1 ST FIRESIDE . Friends at their own Fireside ; or , Pictures of the Private Life of the People called Quakers . By Mrs . Ellis . Two "Volumes . Bentley . A wobxhjt Quaker of sufficient means has lately proposed a prize for the best Essay explaining the causes of Quaker decline . The statistics of the Society show a marked decrease in the number of members , and the Friends themselves generally attribute this to the constant emigration of their sect to America , or to the feebler endeavours now made to gain proselytes . It is probable that the diminution can -admit of another explanation ; but the fact is , that the true ^ type of the Quaker , —though it may still be found occasionally w & ere railways have scarcely penetrated , is almost as rare as the cassowary now at the Zoological Gardens , or as that peculiar species of rat which we have nearly succeeded in exterminating from our island . Some twenty years ago it was remarked that the young adults of the society

      were attacked by a nervous disease-, and more recently it has been observed that there is a tendency for the men of the sect to oomplete , not the allotted age of man , bwt only the much shorter life of fifty . The suppression of all emotion , and the erring from honest nature ' s rule , will produce a strain upon the nerves that not unfrequently ends in imbecility , if not madness ; and in amall communities much mischief must have arisen from the system of intermarriages . Quakers have had as little choice in questions of the hewb ae members of the Eoyal Family itself ; and to fall in lovo outside the charmed circle was squhr & lent to a formal expulsion . Since the time of which we speak , the Society has undergone the extremes of change , and it is scarcely possible -to recognize , in the present altered modes of life , the exclusive , formal , and sharply-defined characteristics of the " neutraltantecT Friend of the last generation . . Quakers have been dracaed into society by the exigencies of the times in Tfhich wo live ; but while the main body baa been faithful to its manners an-d . custom ^ numbers have become very " , " and others have renounced their opinions and left the soct , either for the sake of their conscienceor for convenience .

      , HMDtb . Ellin ' s book as not an essay on the decline of Quakerism , but we think tohe might fairly claim the prize . She is solicitous to give an exact picture' of the domestic and social life of the Friends as they lived fifty years ago , wlwm sofas were an undreamt-of luxury , and when it was forbidden to enforce a simple statement by anything so positive us sayino "I antWB-o . ? ' " Without any set intention , owr authoress hits the right nail on the heady and all her early impressions only drive the conviction home to our mmds v that Quakerism has effected its own destruction by its unnatural restwuntfl , which are at variance with instinct , impulse , reason , and everything « lae . Even in the most rigid times tho mombera showed a tendoncy

      to break through restrictions . The women made up for colour and for "" "" their costume by the costliness oftheir materials ; and their linen " i muslins were of the very finest and-most exquisite manufacture TV little thought they were paving the way for lace and "bu gles , and tint tt " establishment of a wealthy Friend in 1858 would havenothing to distin ' h it " from that of any other person , and not unfrequently ' might compete elegance and luxury with that of tlie most fashionable . " The channe l been gradual , but it is natural . It would have delighted Charles £ amJ > who deplored the wide gulf that separated the ? Quakers from " the world »' In writing to Bernard Barton , he begged him to write something to makp Non-Quakers reconciled to his doctrines , by " showing something like then in mere human operations . " Here " Elia" confusedly leaves off ? ¦ Pei-ka he was afraid bf treading & n the prejudices of tie Suffolk Quaker . Mrs . Ellis ' s pictures look like transcripts from the life , and experience has taught her that a careful observer need not invent , for nature neve tires of romancing it for them . Her book is delightfal as a novel , and at the same time it is valuable and instructive , for it is the history of a sect . whose peculiar observances , in their very strictest sense , have almost become ' a ' tradition . - The loves and troubles of the younger brandies of two or three -well-to-do Quaker families serve to bring out many characteristic

      traits , and we have betrothals , weddings , funerals , and social meetings with all the quaint belongings of fifty years ago . The hero of the "book is one Reuben Law , the outset of whose career , when he winces under the perpetual restraint of petty formulas , quite prepares-our mind for the ultimate change in his appaTel and condition . He brings upon himself misery and Tuin by falling in love with a charming girl who is not a " Friend . ' His sister Susannah , although not the . loveliest , is certainly the most winnin g of the several heroines- Some might prefer Dora ot Lydia , -whose loves were tolerably unruffled , and whose very faces—by their pre . ttiness—were rebels to the true faith . It is Susannah who bears her griefs sweetly , and through sorrow looks " more beautiful than beauty ' s self . " Outwardly she conforms , and her look is self-possessed , while she is conscious of the earthquakes beneath her feet . Paul Rutherford is her lover . He . is a . shake'in drab , who offers his hand and heart after he has been for some time married to a woman beneath him in circumstances . Susannah meets and ' recoo-nizes her 'r ival . °

      " Hast thou found me , Oh , mine enemy ! " mightwell have "been ¦ Susannah ' s exclamation ; for there stood the -woman —the one only fceing in tbe ^ whole world on whoia it was impossible just now for her to Tbestow" a . loole of kindness . Nay , if the red flush , which suddenly overspread her countenance , and the quickened step and haughty bearing , which instantly transformed her into apparently a different being , might lie taken as an index to her feelings , there was not only nb kindness in her heart towards , this woman , but something very much like loathing , and almost hate . To meet this object in her path was , indeed , a terrible trial of those altered sentiments— those calm convictions which were to her so rich in peace and consolation to her trembling soul . Oh ! why had this shadow crossed her path at the very moment when the long frozen stream of feeling ; was just beginning to burst its icy bonds , and to flow again with warm and genial current , ministering health and gladness to the tide of life ?

      Perhaps if Susannah ' s feelings had iieen analyzed , it might have been discovered that some of a . less serious nature mingled with the repulsLon and abhorrence with which this unfortunate being was rejected . Her very countenance , so handsome in itself , but lax and bold in expression , would have been revolting to her under any circumstances . . ; and her dress a little above that of the working class , yet more distinguished by gay colours than good taste , did not tend to make the general impression more agreeable . Besides which , there was the memory of that laugh on tlie night-when she was first seen , and when she throw back tho imputation -cast . upon her companion with scorn as -well as defiance—all these , though comparatively trifles in themselves , and not assuming the form of any definite idea , had all so burnt their iiery way , ' along with deeper feelings , into the very centre of Susannah ' s heart , that she could not see so much as the outline of this "woman ' sfigure without desiring to escape as from some venomous or devouring monster . And then that child—ugb !

      Susannah shuddered as she became convinced that her steps were not only followed , but that she herself-was the object of pursuit . An instinctive sense of personal dignity prevented her from , so much as quickening her own pace beyond an ordinary Walk , but the woman stretched on , regardless enough of all dignity—all intrusion—of everything , in short , but the one purpose she-was determined to accomplish ; for there was something she must know , and of whom could she ask it now ? Poor wretch ! she was half distracted , and littlo dreamt of the sensation her approach vas awakening within that shrouded heart which boat so near her own ; und not only now , but which had so long been beating with an interest as intensely centred in the same object , viewing that object too through the same medium—tho ' partial colouring of woman ' s love . Alike in this , although she knew it not , but separated Wider than the poles by everything besides , thoug-h that also she did not know , tho woman walked on , until , at last , making a more determined effort , ahu confronted her companion , compelling her to stop , and then she spoko . The voice was not offensive , and her mnnner was so imploring , and si > earnest , it might have softened any lieart not previously steeled against her . i

      '' I beg your pardon , " she began , : but could you toll me where 1 might l ' iml Mr . Reuben Law ?" Susannah made no answer , but duvmting a littlo from the path , again went on . " Oh ! do toll me , if you . please , " said the woman , now almost sobbing and will king on . She was answered only by silence . Neither look nor movement indicated that her roquesfc was heard . *¦ ' But , perhaps , " the woman went on to say , " you yourself could tell me just what I want to know . There i » somebody -who was going to leave the country . Do you think he is gone ?" Still thero was no answer . The woman was losing patience . She was not naturaUy gifted with much . " Oh ! woman , " she oxclaiiined , " I shall die if you don ' t tell mo . Why you must know . Ho used often to coino hero . If you would only be so kind aato apeak to me —© no single word would do ; only tell me whether he lias gon ° or not . For the dear child ' s Bake , do toll me that , "

      Susannah had now reached a stile which looked very formidable to Iu-r , because of the advantage it would afford her unwelcome companion ; who , no doubl , made tho Ramo calculation upon this point of their intercourse , and kocping vorv close , .-s . iUI nothing more , until tho moment when Susannah ' s face was unavoidably Imlf-Lunuiil towards her ; when she ronowedher appoul , with still groator earnestness than h . 'ioie . The stile boi ^ g now botwoen them , Susannah fel t more courage ; and laying hoi- Jaand upon it for a moment as if to prevent tho woin » n passing , aho stud hastily , — "Go away . 1 bolievo tlioo to bo a bold , bad woman , "

  • Citation
    • Leader (1850-1860), June 5, 1858, page 18, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_05061858/page/18/