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had been exerted to produce most overpowering effects upon the imagination, by an unequal combination of beauty and splendour, the devices of the priests, or the natural tendency of the votaries of superstition, invented some legends which should give the work supernatural claims to the
pular reverence. “The skill of Phidias received,” says É. “the testimony of Jupiter himself. The work being finished, the artist prayed the god that he would make known if he was satisfied, and immediately the pavement was struck with lightning, at the spot where, in my time, stands a vase of bronze.” But the grandeur of the workmanship was most relied upon to blend in the mind the intellectual idea and the material image of the divinity. “Those who go to the temple,” says Lucian, “imagine that they see, not the gold extracted from the mines of Thessaly, or the ivory of the Indies, but the son himself of Saturn and Rhea, that Phidias had caused to descend from heaven.” We have the record of Livy that the effect which this wonderful statue produced upon the mind was not limited to the superstition of the multitude. Up to ..he time of Antoninus, the reputation of this great
work still drew a wondering crowd to Elis; for Arrian mentions, that this chef-d'oeuvre of art was such an object of curiosity, that it was held as a calamity to die without having seen it. A new career of splendour was opened to Phidias by the magnificence of Pericles. The ancient temples had statues of gold and ivory but they were not colossal. It was for him to create those gigantic monuments which would cause the shrine to appear too small for the divinity, and thus bring the idea of the infinite and finite into a contrast too powerful for the senses to withhold their homage. The peculiar merit of this idea of Phidias did not consist in his mere adoption of the colossal form, but in his employment of a minute material to produce in combination the effect of a vast solid surface. The idea of colossal statuary doubtless belongs to the infancy of art. We find the gods of the Hindoo mythology of about three times the height of ordinary men, in the caves of Elephanta; and M. Deguignes saw images thirty feet high in a pagoda of China. The Greeks probably received the taste for the
colossal from the Egyptians—Penny Magazine.
It is a proposition which, though trite, is not the less among the animals with which she has peopled the surface true, that nature compensates for the deficiencies observed of the globe, we universally find that what one wants in in some of her works, by peculiar advantages. Thus strength or courage, it possesses in artifice and cunning.—
In the same manner the mole, whose defect of the organs of sight is so notorious, is endowed with powers of hear: ing so acute and so delicate, as to be enabled by means of them to shun the most imminent dangers with which it may be threatened. That this principle likewise extends to the human species, the subject of the present article furnishes a remarkable instance: | Thomas Inglefield was born Dec. 18, 1769, at Hook, in Hampshire. He came into the world without either arms or legs. Though nature, by denying him those members, appeared to have rendered him unfit for almost all the purposes of life, yet she had bestowed on him such industry and ingenuity, that, notwithstanding the great disadvantages under which he laboured, he acquired the arts of writing and drawing. For a person in his situation, these exertions appear almost incredible; but it is not the less true, that Mr. Inglefield himself etched portraits and other drawings very neatly. The manner in which, by long practice, he attained the facility of performing these operations, was by holding his pencil between the stump of his left arm and his cheek, and guiding it with the muscles of his mouth. Mr. Inglefield resided some years since at No. 8, in Chapel street, Tottenham-court-road, London, and was visited by most of the nobility and gentry, to witness his performances, by which he obtained many presents. Many instances of the ingenuity of persons in a similar situation, both in this and in foreign countries, might be adduced. One or two will suffice:—Joseph Fahaye was born at Spa, in the bishopric of Liege, and exhibited himself at Paris in 1779. He was born without arms, but employed his feet for all the purposes of hands. He could help himself to eat and drink, take snuff, used a tooth-pick after his meals, mended his pen, and wrote a neat hand.— He could thread a needle, and make a knot at the end of the thread with admirable dexterity. He could play at cards, tetotum, and cup and ball; could charge and fire a pistol; could spin wool and cotton, and turn the wheel at the same time; he could carry a chair and dig with a spade, and cultivated his garden himself. Before his removal to Paris, he had been the school-master of the village, where he generally had between fifty and sixty pupils. A similar phenomenon was seen at Vienna in the year 1777. It was a young man born without arms and hands, who painted portraits extremely well with his toes. Being born of a genteel family, he did not make an exhibition of himself, and only worked in the presence of his friends and acquaintance.—British Eccentric Biography.
THE FALLS OF ST. ANTHONY.
The falls of St. Anthony are fourteen miles below the confluence of the Mississawgaeigon. We reached the upper end of the portage at half past eight in the morning, and while the voyagers were busy in the transportation of our baggage, hastened to take a view of this celebrated cataract. The river has a perpendicular pitch of forty feet, with a formidable rapid above and below. An island at the brink of the falls divides the current into two sheets, the largest of which passes on the west of the island. The
rapid below the schute is filled with large fragments of rocks, in the interstices of which some alluvial soil has ac cumulated, which nourishes a stinted growth of cedars.This rapid extends half a mile, in which distance the river may be estimated to have a descent of fifteen feet. The rapid preceding the falls has a descent of about ten feet in the distance of three hundred yards, where the river runs with a swift but unruffled current over a smooth stratum of rock a little inclined towards the brink. The entire fall, therefore, in a little less than three quarters of a mile, is sixty-five feet. The rock is a white sand-stone, overlaid by secondary lime-stone. This formation is first seen half a mile above the falls, where it breaks out abruptly on the banks of the river. The perspective view is taken from a point about two hundred yards below the schute of the falls on the east shore, and a short distance west of the portage path. The scene presents nothing of that majesty and awe which is experienced in the gulf below the cataract of Niagara. We do not hear that deep and appalling tone in the roar of water, nor do we feel that tremulous motion of the rocks under our feet, which impresses the visiter at Niagara with an idea of greatness, that its magnificent outline of rock and water would not, independently, create. The falls of St. Anthony, however, present attractions of a different nature, and have a simplicity of character which is very pleasing. We see nothing in the view which may not be considered either rude or picturesque, and perhaps there are few scenes in the natural topography of our country where these features are blended with more harmony and effect. It is in fact the precise point of transition, where the beautiful prairies of the upper Mississippi are merged in the rugged lime-stone bluffs which skirt the banks of the river from that point downward. With this change of geological character, we perceive a corresponding one in the vegetable productions, and the eye embraces at one view the copses of oak upon the prairies, and the cedars and pines which characterize the calcareous bluffs. Nothing can exceed the beauty of the prairies which skirt both banks of the river above the falls. They do not, however, consist of an unbroken plain, but are diversified with gentle ascents and small ravines covered with the most luxuriant growth of grass and heath-flowers, interspersed with groves of oak, which throw an air of the most picturesque beauty over the scene. It is probable, too, that during the high floods of the Mississippi in the spring and fall, this cataract attains a character of sublimity, from the increased volume and tumult of the water, and the inundation of the accumulated debris, which presents at this season so rugged an aspect. It is said, also, that this accession of water produces a cloud of spray which must take away a certain nakedness in the appearance of the falls, that will strike every visiter who has previously enjoyed the sight of the Niagara. The European name of these falls is due to father Lewis Hennepin, a French missionary of the order of Recollects, who first visited them in 1680. The Indian name in the Narcotah or Sioux language is Owah-menah, or the falling water.—Schoolcraft's Travels.
THE MOUNTAIN DOCTOR.
A wealthy farmer, much affected with hypochondria, came to Langenau, to consult Michael Scuppach, better known by the appellation of the mountain doctor. “I have seen devils in my belly,” said he, “no fewer than seven.” “There are more than seven,” replied the doctor, with the utmost gravity; “if you count them right, you will find eight.” After questioning the patient concerning his case, he promised to cure him in eight days, during which time, he would every morning rid him of one of his troublesome inmates, at the rate of one louis d'or each.— “But,” added he, “as the last will be more obstinate and difficult to expel than the others, I shall expect two louis d’ors for him. The farmer agreed to these terms: the bargain was struck. and the doctor, impressing upon all present the necessity of secrecy, promised to give the nine louis d'ors to the poor of the parish. Next morning the
imaginary demoniac was brought to him, and placed near a kind of machine he had never seen before, by which means he received an electric shock. The farmer roared out lustily. “There goes one,” said the doctor with the utmost gravity. Next day the same operation was repeated; the farmer bellowed as before, and the doctor coolly remarked “Another is off!” In this manner, he proceeded to the seventh. When he was preparing to attack the last, Scuppach reminded his patient that he now had need of all his courage, for this was the captain of the gang, who would make a more obstinate resistance than any of the others. The shock was at this time so strong as to extend the patient on the floor. “Now they are all gone"
said the doctor, and ordered the farmer to be put to bed.— On recovering himself, the latter declared he was completely cured; he paid the nine louis d'ors with abundance of thanks, and returned in the best spirits to the village. —Cabinet of Curiosities.
In Good's Book of Nature, we find the following amusing story relative to a ventriloquist, introduced by way of illustration of the art of ventriloquism, in a lecture on Voice, Language, &c. This singular art has given rise to a variety of extraordinary tales, and some of them of a very amusing kind.— The following, which I copy from M. Bordeau, a learned critic of the sixteenth century, is of this description, and I will for once break through our accustomed gravity in order to give it you. The gallant Francis I. of France had an equally gallant and very shrewd valet-de-chambre, of the name of Lewis Brabant, who was also a most skilful ventriloquist. Lewis Brabant had the misfortune to fall desperately in love with a young, very beautiful, and very wealthy heiress, whose father forbade his addresses in consequence of the disparity of his condition. The father however died soon after, and the courageous lover, unsubdued by a first repulse, was determined to try his fortune a second time, under favour of the new state of circumstances, and to see whether it would not be possible, upon a severe push, to call to his aid the art of ventriloquism, in which he was so considerable an adept. He accordingly waited upon the mother as soon as decency would allow, and once more submitted his proposals. But faithful to the views of her deceased husband, the mother of the young lady made no scruple of once more giving Lewis Brabant a direct refusal. While, however, she was in the act of doing so, a low, hollow, sepulchral voice was heard by herself, and by every friend who was with her, and which was instantly recognised as the voice of the deceased, commanding her to give her daughter's hand immediately to Lewis Brabant, whom the piteous spirit affirmed he now knew to be a most excellent and worthy man, and considerably wealthier than he had taken him to be when alive; adding, at the same time, that he was at that moment suffering a part of the pains of purgatory for having ill-treated, by his refusal, so exemplary a man; and that he would not be released from them till his widow had consented. All was mute astonishment; but Lewis Brabant appeared more astonished than the rest. He modestly observed, that whatever his merits or his virtues might be, he had no idea that they were worthy of being commemorated by a voice from the grave; but that nothing could give him more pleasure than to be made the happy instrument of extricating the old gentleman from the pains of purgatory, which it seemed he was suffering on his account. There was no doubt as to the voice; and consequently there was no doubt as to the path to be pursued; the mother, the daughter, the whole family, immediately assented with one accord, and Lewis Brabant had the honour to receive their commands to prepare for the nuptials with all speed. To prepare for the nuptials, however, required the assistance of a little ready money; but Lewis Brabant was destitute of such an article. It was necessary, neverthe
less, to procure it; and he now resolved to try whether the same talent which had obtained for him the promise of a wife, might not also obtain for him the material he stood in need of. He recollected that there lived at Lyons an old miserly banker of the name of Cornu, who had accumulated immense wealth by usury and extortion, and whose conscience appeared often to be ill at ease, in consequence of the means he had made use of; and it immediately struck him that M. Cornu was the very character that might answer his purpose. To Lyons, therefore, he went instantly poste-haste, commenced an immediate acquaintance with M. Cornu, and at every interview took especial care, on entering into conversation with him, to contrast the pure happiness enjoyed by a man whose conscience could look back, like M. Cor nu's , as he was pleased to say, on a life devoted to acts of charity and benevolence, with the horrors of the wretch who had amassed heaps of wealth by usury and injustice, and whose tormented mind only gave him now a foretaste of what he was to expect hereafter. The miser was perpetually desirous of changing the conversation; but the more he tried, the more his companion pressed upon him with it; till finding, on one occasion, that he appeared more agitated than ever, the ventriloquist conceived such an occasion the golden moment for putting his scheme into execution ; and at that instant a low, solemn, sepulchral mutter was heard, as in the former case, which was at last found to be the voice of M. Cornu's father, who had been dead for some years, and which declared him to have passed all this time in the tortures of purgatory, and from which he had now just learned that nothing could free him but his son's paying ten thousand crowns into the hands of Lewis Brabant, then with him, for the purpose of redeeming Christian slaves from the hands of the Turks. All, as in the last case, was unutterable astonishment; but Lewis Brabant was most astonished of the two : he modestly declared that now for the first time in his life he was convinced of the possibility of the dead holding conversation with the living, and admitted that, in truth, he had for many years been benevolently employed in redeeming Christian slaves from the Turks, although his native bashfulness would not allow him to avow it publicly. The mind of the old miser was distracted by a thousand contending passions. He was suspicious, without having any satisfactory reason for suspicion; filial duty prompted him to rescue his father from his abode of misery; but ten thousand crowns was a large sum of money even for such a purpose. He at length resolved to adjourn the meeting till the next day, and to change it to another place. He required time to examine into this mysterious affair, and also wished, as he told his companion, to give his father an opportunity of trying whether he could not bargain for a smaller sum. They accordingly separated, but renewed their meeting the next day with the punctuality of men of business.The place made choice of by M. Cornu for this rencounter, was an open common in the vicinity of Lyons, where there was neither a house, nor a wall, nor a tree, nor a bush that could conceal a confederate, even if such a person should be in employment. No sooner, however, had they met, than the old banker's cars were again assailed by the same hideous and sepulchral cries, upbraiding him for having suffered his father to remain for four-and-twenty hours longer in all the torments of purgatory; denouncing that, unless the demand of the ten thousand crowns was instantly complied with, the sum would be doubled; and that the miser himself would be condemned to the same doleful regions, and to an increased degree of torture. M. Cornu moved a few paces forward, but he was assaulted with still louder shrieks: he advanced a second time, and now instead of hearing his father's voice alone, he was assailed with the dreadful outcry of a hundred ghosts at once, those of his grandfather, his great-grandfather, his uncles and aunts, and the whole family of the Cornus for the last two or three generations, who, it seems, were all equally suffering in purgatory—and were all included in the general contract for the ten thousand crowns; all of them beseeching him in the name of every saint in the calendar to have mercy upon them, and to have mercy upon himself. It required more fortitude than M. Cornu possessed to resist the threats and outcries of a hundred and fifty or two hun: dred ghosts at a time. He instantly paid the ten thousand crowns into the hands of Lewis Brabant, and felt some pleasure that by postponing the payment for a day, he had at least been able to rescue the whole family of the Cor: nus for the same sum of money as was at first demanded for his father alone. The dexterous ventriloquist having received the money, instantly returned to Paris, married his intended bride, and told the whole story to his sovereign and the court, very much to the entertainment of all of them.
What is genius, but the faculty of seizing and turning to account every thing that strikes us; of co-ordaining and breathing life into all the materials that present themselves; of taking here marble, and there brass, and building a lasting monument with them If I were not assured that Mirabeau possessed in the highest possible degree the art of appropriating the knowledge and the thoughts of those around him, I should not believe in the stories told of his influence. The most original young painter, who thinks he owes every thing to his invention, cannot, if he really has genius, come into the room in which we are now sitting, and look at the drawings with which it is hung, without going out a different way from where he came in, and with a new supply of ideas. What should I bewhat would remain to me—if this art of appropriation were considered as derogatory to genius 1 What have I done! I have collected and turned to account all that I have seen, heard, observed; I have put in requisition the works of nature and of man. Every one of my writings has been furnished to me by a thousand different persons, a thousand different things—the learned and the ignorant, the wise and the foolish, infancy and age, have come in turn-generally without having the least suspicion of it—
to bring to me the offering of their thoughts, their faculties, their experience; often they have sowed the harvest I have reaped; my work is that of an aggregation of beings taken from the whole of nature; it bears the name of Goethe.
ITEMS OF NEWS.
The war in Portugal still lingered; Bourmont remained in force in the interior, and appeared to have no inclination to give over the contest.
The statement that the Pope has given permission to the Catholics in this country to eat meat on #. proves to be a mistake. It was Saturday instead of Friday.
It is stated officially, that 400 Fench soldiers are shot annually.
The Bank of South Carolina declines receiving the United States
deposites. W. Daniel declines his appointment as Attorney General of the United States. - This is most assuredly one of the strangest countries in the world. While in Canterbury, Ct. the colored people are prohibited from learning to read, in the borough of York, Pa.. they have been recently allowed to vote. W. L. Garrison has been arrested in Canterbury, Ct. on five writs for alledged libels on five citizens of that place. Forty physicians in Albany and seventy-six in Boston have certified, that, in their opinion, men in health are never benefitted by the use of ardent spirit.
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