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and the number of those burnt, at the highest estimation, could not amount but to three or four hun. dred thousand;, the daily portion of each bath must have been very small. What strange materials for heating these cauldrons-old parchments and rolls of papyrus!! There must have proceeded a most

exquisite perfume for the four thousand baths, and the whole city. These two ingredients might have well given an insufferable smoke, but could not serve to heat water, This last absurdity is one of the reasons, not the least strong, against the recital of Abulpharagius.

4. Conjectures on the ultimate fate of the library.

If it be then true, as it appears, that in 640, the time when Alexandria was taken by Amrou, the celebrated library no longer remained; in what manner was it dispersed and destroyed after 415, when Orosius assures us he had seen it? We will first remark, that Orosius speaks only of some cases which he saw in the temples, and not of the library of the Ptol, emies, which was deposited in the Serapion. Recollecting also the troubles and the constant wars, of which Egypt was the theatre, from the time of the first Roman emperors, we must be astonished, that there remained any traces of the library in posterior times. Under Commodus the temple of Serapis suffered much by a fire, but with out being totally destroyed, when the library must of course have been much injured. We also know the devastations, which the malicious genius of Caracalla made fn Alexandria. The Museum was demolished. Under Aurelian the whole of the Bruchion was destroyed. This emperor took the city and delivered it to the plunder of his soldiers.

Theodosius the Great, at last, stimulated by the exhortations of the bishop of Theophilus, reduced to ashes in the year 391 the Serapis. It is very certain, that all the buildings attached to the temple were at this time a prey to the flames. The destruction of the li

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brary must then be imputed to the christians; and we can hardly doubt, that the blind zeal of the early ages induced men, little enlightened, to destroy books and monuments which they thought might perpetuate or remind them of the worship of idols. If, after this, any portion of the library remained, it is probable that the second Theodosius, as fond of books as Ptolemy, might have appropri ated them to his own use. ter this any thing had remained at Alexandria, what must have be come of it during the wars which took place in its walls between Cy rillus and Orestes; and during the commotions which agitated it under the emperour Marcian? It is very probable, that there were then very considerable drafts upon it. The monks transferred many vol umes to their monasteries; the emperours of the east toConstanti, nople,and to other cities,where they established schools. There is then no doubt that, towards the commencement of the ninth century, a large quantity of ancient books was found dispersed throughout Egypt.

Leo Africanus relates, that the caliph Mamou sent into Syria, Armenia, and Egypt many persons with a commission to col lect and purchase ancient books, and that they returned loaded with inestimable treasures.

Further let us recollect, that under Heraclius the Persians took

and pillaged Alexandria, which the library, unless it had been mi, they abandoned a short time after- raculously preserved, of which wards; then came the Arabs, who unhappily we have no record in could not possibly discover there the history of literature,

FOR

THE ANTHOLOGY,

LETTERS FROM EUROPIL.

No. 2.

Naples...appearance of the streets, houses, and people...strada Toledo....

the villa...suburb of Kiaja. Naples ranks as the third city place of the Spirito Santo, in which in Europe in point of size ; its pope there is a a colossal equestrian ulation is said to amount to six statue. The street contains sev. hundred thousand, but more prob- eral superb palaces of the nobility. ably it contains less than two I reside with a friend who has a thirds that number. It stands at noble apartnient in a palace on this the extremity of its beautiful bay, street, from the balconies of which and one side extends nearly to the I take great pleasure in regardbase of mount Vesuvius. It is ing the crowds with which it is built at the feet and on the sides of thronged. The carriages are very several hills, the highest of which numerous and driven with a veloci. rises about midway between each ty, which seemed to me dangerous estremity, and is crowned by the and unfeeling to the crowd on foot ; castie of St. Elmo. As the area though I am told, and believe it to on which the city is constructed be true, that, as the people are is not very extensive, the houses aware of this, they take care to get rise to the height of seven and out of the way, and, if they drove eight stories, and are many of them slower, the obstruction would be so very large and magnificent. great that they would never get a

The streets are remarkably long. The population of this city is clean, having a descent from the a motley mixture,composed princihills into the bay, into which the pally of beggars, monks, and solrain washes all the dirt. The diers. The dresses are of all forms pavement of them is the finest in and colours, and have many of the world. It is hewed from the them a whimsical look. This fine Java in square pieces of equal size, street is disgraced in some places and is laid in mortar ; there is no by being made a market place, and sideways, but the whole street is the stalls obstruct the sides of the even as a floor. This mode of pa- way. ving is expensive at the moment, Some of the houses are built but is very durable, as there are of lava entirely, others have only very few carts or heavy vehicles in the foundations of lava and the the city.

walls constructed with fragments The strada Toledo may vie of softer stone, and stuccoed ; they with any street in Europe. It have, all of them, stone staircases. is nearly a mile in length and ter- The floors of the rooms, even of minates at one end in the Largo the bedchambers, are laid with del Palazzo, where the royal palace tiles or bricks. Each story is in. is situated, and in the other in the habited by a separate family, and

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the staircase is as commco as the it is much crowded with carriages, street, but not always so clean. that drive backwards and forwards The windows open down to the for an hour or two, and enjoy the floor, and are furnished with freshness of the evening. Some balconies.

of the equipages are brilliant, and The strada Kiaja is the shortest the ladies are fond of shewing communication between the sub- themselves and criticising each urbs of that name and the city. other's dress and

appearance. This street was formerly obstruct. Nothing can be more delicious ed by a high hill, which one of than this ride on the borders of the their sovereigns cut through ; but, bay. In our country we should in order to preserve the connection not think of taking an excursion hetween the two parts of the city for pleasure in an evening in the built on the hill, an arch was month of March ; but here nankin thrown across from one side to the clothes may be worn all winter, other, over which the street passes and the want of fire is seldom felt. forty feet above the pavement of The streets are not lighted ; a the strada Kiaja, which terminates few solitary lamps only are seen at the villa. This is a publick hanging before the picture of the walk upon the borders of the bay. virgin. The footmen behind the It is decorated with some fountains carriages carry torches, and people and statues ; among others the cel- in the street are generally preceded ebrated Farnese Bull. The group by a servant with a torch. During of figures which surround it are the early part of the evening the principally modern, though admi- number of these torches illumi. rably executed. Below the villa nates the streets sufficiently, and is the suburb of Kiaja, principally have a brilliant appearance, though inhabited by fishermen. The fash, the soot and smoke of them are jonable ride for carriages in the very inconvenient. They are ob. evening is called the Corso, and liged to extinguish them before extends from the villa down to they pass the palace, on account of Pausilino. It is more than a mile, the cannon which are kept loaded and the road lays all along the edge before it. of the bay. Towards the evening

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FOR THE ANTHOLOGY.
SILVA.

No. 12.
Spargit agreftes tibi Silva frondes.-Horace.
GRAY.

founded, for Johnson highly complis GRAY has had his full share of ments his Letters and his Elegy ; reputation, as a poet. Mason says, but, because he thought“the Bard” that he was one of the most learn- ridiculous, forsooth, he is prejued men in Europe, and was skilled diced. Warburton, Walpole, Gitin all arts and sciences; this bon, and Smith have praised him, Johnson hoped was true, but seems and perhaps justly ; but Gray's to intimate his doubts. Johnson admirers are not contented with is supposed to have had great the high applause, lavished on his prejudices against Gray ; I know name'; they demand for their fanot, that the supposition is well vourite universal acclamation, as if

he had more tenderness than Ovid, approaches of rain in the drought more martial pomp than Pindar. of summer. It flows as the vil. I have good reason to think, that lage brook, which gives a pleasant in his Elegy and his Bard he has sound, and makes the fields green been very much indebted to the and fruitful. I read him with Italian poets, particularly to Celio more pleasure than Pope, for I Magno and Petrarch. This sub- believe he has more exquisite senject I mean not now to investigate, timent; more of pure morals ; for I have not leisure ; and per- and more of that nature, which haps I might not flash conviction bursts out in Thomson, which on the idolaters of this poet. finds a ready entrance to every Some of my friends, whose taste heart, that is not corrupted by folin general I love, think differently ly, or rendered callous by a city from me ; but I candidly confess, life. He has written little poetry, I think the severities of Johnson yet that little is like beads, strung on Gray more justifiable, than the in holy rosaries, or the continuous encomiastick adulations of Wake vibrations of the harp at midnight. field.

All is musical and material in
Goldsmith's verses.

If you take
THE PLANE TREE.

away any thing, you injure the The platanus of the Romans whole, for the little palace in fairy should be called “ the old batche land was made of precious stones, lor,” for it never united its branch- and the dwarf jewel in the corner es with the tendrils of the vine. was as necessary,as the queen diaHorace calls it “ cælebs," and Mar- mond, shining in the centre. Goldtial “ vidua," for the grape vines smith's histories are not excellent. were never married to the plane They were written for booksellers tree, as to the elm and others. or bread, and therefore composed Old batchelors also love to drink in a hurry, without reflection or much wine ; they grow fat from labour of research. His « Vicar the juice of the grape, and delight of Wakefield” is well known, and in constant potations. So the plane his “Citizen of the World” I read tree was nourished by wine, as we with more delight, than the “ Pers learn from Pliny, “ compertum id sian letters” of Montesquieu. I maximè prodesse radicibus ; doc- am afraid that his volume of Esuimusque etiam arbores vina po- says is little read ; but they contare ;” “ it was found to be very tain a full harvest of sense in a nutritious to the roots of the plane style, simple and easy, without tree ; and thus we have taught Swift's nudity of figure, and with even trees to drink wine.” Ma- out Hawkesworth's ornamental crobius and Valerius Maximus at- decoration. test the same fact. An old batchelor is a mere plane tree.

NATURE IN WINTER.

How inexhaustible is nature, GOLDSMITH.

how creative of pleasure! That Who shall be compared to man is not ethereal, who can look Goldsmith ? His verse is softer to abroad on the world without emothe ear, than the pearl of the sea tion, and then retires into the litto the nerve of vision. When I tle chamber of his soul, indifferent am tired with other reading, its in- and careless of what is without. duence is gentle, like the silent in the winter I cannot loiter in pine

woods, or climb the nut-trees as in ingbroke he acquired no splendour autumn, yet I love to look on the of declamation in prose, for he elm in a clear and cold morning, probably despised it from Pope when the boughs and branches are he did not learn to love imagery hung with ice diamonds, which and sentiment in poetry, because the sun makes most curious and perhaps he thought he might not beautiful. Even the little snow. equal his friend, or because his bird twitters a short note, which I mind delighted in reflection, more like ; and the note is much louder, than in fancy. He resembled Arwhen he pecks the spider from buthnot in wit and sense, yet Arunder the eaves of the wood-house, buthnot’s works do not please like where he was sleeping and dream- the writings of Swift. Johnson ing of the Aies he had caught in has praised Arbuthnot, but it is the past summer. I am not ex- now difficult to discover the reaclusively attached to books or to sons of the elogy. The rhymes nature; for how melancholy should of Swift have been often praised, I have often been, if I could not but never beyond their real merit. philosophize with Tully on the There is no laborious search for vanity of life, or soar to heaven, in correspondent words ; no alterarapt imagination, with Milton. But tion of sense for the convenience I should be a brute if I saw the of the term ; but all the rhymes slanting sun in winter, and did not are musical, and the sense of the admire the steadiness of his course, whole poem is connected by the though his warmth was feeble, perfect regularity of the individual and his dominion transitory. E- parts. If Pope and Goldsmith ven in this northerly month of Feb- are studied for harmony of rhyme, ruary, I remarked that the currant Swift should be added, and so bushes were a little green in the create a triumvirate. buds, & I picked a small flower,purple and white, from a bed of straw- WARBURTON

DRAYTON. berry vines, where the earth was WARBURTON speaks of “ one warin and full of coming fruitful- Michael Drayton." A giant may ness. All have their reveries. I mention a dwarf with contempt, shelter myself with Thomson and a lion may despise a contest and his robin, with Cowper and with a kid ; but it did not become his minnows, and with Burns and even the hierophant of England to the family bible.

allude obscurely to the author of

“ Polyolbion” and “ the Barons' SWİFT.

wars." Drayton has all the quaintThe great excellence of Swift ness of Spenser. He had an eye, is his manly thinking. His style that looked carefully and curioushas no ornament, but is close, cor- ly on nature, and a mind, that did rect, and terse. He did not care not despise learning. His fancy for figures to decorate superficial was creative and peculiar, of which thoughts ; he well knew that his his description of the bosom of a deep sense in pure, easy terms fair lady is an eminent example. would engage the head and heart Warburton himself had a towering of every thinking reader. He is a imagination ; a haughtiness of plain gentleman, who tells honest- character, looking high, and carly what he believes, and his belief rying proclamation of importance. was solid and rational. From Bol. He marched in his episcopal robes,

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