and there beside the altar stood the bridegroom-no other than Charles Le Maitre. "They lived many happy years together; and when Monsieur was in every respect a better, though still a strange, man, the Femme Noir' appeared again to ním once. She did so with a placid air, on a summer night, with her arm extended towards the heavens. "The next day the muffled bell told the valley that the stormy, proud old master of Rohean had ceased to live." REMARKABLE LITERARY IMPOSTURES. GEORGE PSALMANAZAR. ON Tuesday, the 23d of May, 1763, died, at his lodgings in Ironmonger Row, Old Street, St. Luke's, the eccentric individual who had for many years been known in England by the assumed name of George Psalmanazar. His real name and nation have never transpired. The secret he kept so religiously in his life-time was buried with him. A sense of shame, according to his own confession, had sealed his lips upon the subject: he deserved, he said, no other name than that of the Impostor. Psalmanazar is now only remembered as the author of a strange fabrication, called "A Description of the Island of Formosa," of which place he professed to be a native. Without having even travelled out of Europe, he invented an account of an Asiatic island, and preserved sufficient consistency in his narrative to obtain for it, for a time, almost universal credence. Long after the imposture was discovered and confessed, the book was quoted as genuine, and it is admitted to carry with it an air of fact and reality, which does credit, at any rate, to the ingenuity of the author. an overgrown youth, and taller by a head and shoulders than himself." Here he gave way to idle habits: instead of graver studies, he and his pupil occupied themselves in learning the flute and violin ; and, as a natural consequence of his thoughtlessness and indolence, he became dissatisfied and unsettled. At length he resolved to return home, and commence a new course of life. Having no money, he begged his way, in fluent Latin, accosting none but clergymen and persons of condition, and found this so profitable that he formed a taste for a wandering life, which he was afterwards unable to conquer. We need not dwell minutely on his subsequent adventures. His first step in the art of deception was to procure a certificate stating him to be "an Irish priest who had been persecuted for his religion." He soon resolved on a bolder speculation. In his college days he had heard the Jesuits speak of India, China, and Japan; and his imagination was warmed by their descriptions. It occurred to him that a Japanese convert to Christianity would be an object of interest. He accordingly forged a certificate setting forth the fact. His scheme succeeded. In his own words, "he travelled many hundred leagues through Germany, Brabant, and Flanders, under the notion of being a Japanese converted from heathenism by some Jesuit missionaries, and brought to Avignon by them, to be further instructed, as well as to avoid the dreadful punishment inflicted on all that turn Christians in Japan." His miserable appearance everywhere excited compassion; and even the wayside beggars regarded him with contempt. After many vicissitudes of fortune, he found himself in the garrison town of Sluys, where he attracted the attention of a Reverend Mr. Innes, the Scotch chaplain of a regiment staBut little interest, perhaps, now attaches to a fabri- tioned there. This gentleman immediately took a cation once so famous. There was, however, (if we remarkable and most suspicious interest in the alleged may use the word,) a completeness about the imposture Formosan, whom he forthwith persuaded to visit Engwhich renders it remarkable. Psalmanazar's great land. He wrote an account of him to Dr. Còmpton, difficulty was to support the character he had assumed. Bishop of London, who, when Psalmanazar arrived There was nothing of the Asiatic in his appearance; in England, received him with interest and kindhe was surrounded by sceptical inquirers, and fre-ness. He had by this time become an adept in the quently puzzled with questions and objections; but his hardihood and ingenuity enabled him to maintain his ground, and baffle his most pertinacious opponents. In the narrative of his life, which, in a spirit of penitence, he drew up in after years, he has given an interesting account of the strange adventures of his youth, from which we will extract a few particulars. He was born, he says, in "the southern part of Europe"-most probably, it has been suggested, "beneath the bright sky of Languedoc." His mother was a good and pious woman, whom he seems to have truly loved. At the age of six he was sent to a free-school taught by two Franciscan monks, where his remarkable quickness made him a favourite with his masters, and laid the foundation for his future ruin. He was afterwards removed to a Jesuit college, the course of study in which he minutely describes. Upon leaving college, he was engaged as a tutor in what he calls a middling family.". His pupil was art of deception. He had invented a language in a peculiar character, which he wrote with ease, from right to left, after the manner of the orientals; a new division of the year into twenty months; and an original system of mythology. In order to gain still greater credit for his story, he would eat nothing but raw meat and vegetables, and he soon became fully reconciled to this disgusting diet. At the request of Bishop Compton, he translated the Church Catechism into the Formosan language, which was examined by many learned individuals, and pronounced 66 regular and grammatical." Having been so far successful, and curiosity having now attracted to him a numerous circle of friends, he commenced writing in Latin his famous Description of Formosa, which was translated for him as it went through the press. The composition of this work occupied him two months, and he was at the time scarcely twenty years of age. Although much of it was pure invention, he derived a great part of his materials from a genuine account of the island written by Candidus, a Dutch minister, and from Varenius's Description of Japan. In order to avoid any variance from the statements he had made from time to time in conversation, he was compelled to insert many improbabilities in his narrative that he would gladly have omitted or altered. "Thus," he says, having once inadvertently in conversation made the yearly number of male infants sacrificed in Formosa to amount to 18,000, I could never be persuaded to lessen it, though I had often been made sensible of the impossibility of so small an island losing so many males every year, without becoming at length quite depopulated." its improbabilities, the book was devoutly believed in. Psalmanazar was sent to Oxford, and maintained there by the Bishop of London. He seems at college to have indulged in many irregularities, and to have displayed, as might be expected, a total want of principle. From the 20th to the 32d year of his age he describes as "a sad blank." We now approach the second period of Psalmanazar's life. The first, it must be confessed, was sufficiently infamous; but in the latter part of his life he endeavoured by sincere and bitter penitence to atone for his youthful errors and disreputable impostures. Dr. Johnson, who at this period knew him well, often stated that he was the best man he had ever known. The immolation of children he makes a character-"I have heard Johnson," said Mrs. Piozzi, "freistic feature in the religion of the islanders, and he gives rather a strange account of his own escape. "My father had three sons by his first wife, of which I was the youngest: my eldest brother was free from being sacrificed, as the law directs; the second was but one year and a half old when his heart was broiled, and before the turn came to me I was near eight years of age: my father was extremely concerned for me, especially because my brother was almost eat up with a cancer. . . . . My father then, considering the short life of my brother, and that he should have no heir or successor if I was sacrificed, he went to the high priest, and used all the arguments he could invent to induce him to spare me. The high priest replied, he was sorry it happened so, but the laws of God were to be preferred to the good of a family, and even of the whole country. . . . . At last, my father, seeing nothing would do but money, offered him a large sum to accept of my brother. This argument prevailed: so my father sent the money and my brother." ... Many persons naturally wondered that a stripling of twenty could give such an account of himself. According to his own story, he could not have been much more than sixteen when he left the island, and it was not thought likely that a youth of that age could have made the minute and shrewd observations recorded in the volume. Dr. Halley, again, puzzled him by inquiring about the duration of the twilight in Formosa, and how long every year the sun shone down the chimneys. As a further example of some of the improbabilities and monstrosities contained in the work, we quote the commencement of one chapter, which is entitled "Of our manner of eating," &c. "All who can live without working eat their breakfasts about seven of the clock in the morning; first they smoke a pipe of tobacco, then they drink Bohea, green, or sage tea; afterwards they cut off the head of a viper, and suck the blood out of the body: this in my opinion is the most wholesome breakfast a man can make," &c. The first edition of this remarkable romance was soon exhausted, and another called for. In spite of (1) In a former chapter we are expressly told that neither clocks nor watches are known in Formosa, and that their mode of measuring time is alto, ether different from the European method. quently say, that George Psalmanazar's piety, penitence and virtue, exceeded almost what we read as wonderful in the lives of the Saints:" and when the great lexicographer was asked, whether he ever contradicted Psalmanazar, "I should as soon," he said, "have thought of contradicting a bishop.” Psalmanazar's powers of conversation must have been considerable. In his Life of Johnson- that rich store-house of literary gossip-Boswell has preserved this little dialogue "He (Johnson) praised Mr. Duncombe of Canterbury as a pleasing man. 'He used to come to me; I did not seck much after him. Indeed, I never sought much after anybody.' Boswell: 'Lord Orrery, I sup. pose?" Johnson: No sir; I never went to him, but when he sent for me.' Boswell: Richardson?' Johnson: Yes, sir; but I sought after George Psalmanazar the most. I used to go and sit with him at an alehouse in the city.' He During the latter portion of his life, Psalmanazar supported himself entirely by literary pursuits. wrote several articles for the Universal History, and, amongst other compilations, a genuine account of the island of Formosa, to serve as a counterpart to the description he had forged. There can be no question about the sincerity of his repentance; he would speak of himself, on all occasions, as a despised, dishonoured, and degraded being, who had forfeited all claim to the regard and respect of society; and he commences his narrative by avowing "his steady resolution publicly to disclaim all the lies and forgeries he had formerly published in that monstrous romance (the Description of Formosa), and at any rate or risk to take the shame to himself, and make a free confession of the whole imposture." Psalmanazar's Will is a singular document, and bears out all we have said respecting his penitence and humility. It is entitled "The last Will and Testament of me a poor sinful and worthless creature, commonly known by the assumed name of George Psalmanazar. "One clause is worded as follows: "And it is my earnest request, that my body be not inclosed in any kind of coffin, but only decently laid in what is called a shell, of the lowest value, and without lid or other covering which may hinder the natural earth from covering it all around." THE TRIUMPHS OF TEMPER. "And, trust me, dear, good humour will prevail, } NOBODY reads Hayley in our days, I fancy! and one might steal largely, or, to use M. Dumas' language, one might make very extensive "conquests" from that well-nigh forgotten poet, without much danger of detection. Yet Hayley was once what is called a great Poet. Some seventy years ago he was the rage, the lion of aesthetic coteries, (only the word aesthetic had not yet travelled out of German circles,) the darling of the Della Cruscans, the admired and imitated of the Blue-stocking Society;-wits and fops, and belles, and literary ladies, all swore by him; that is to say, the two last named classes uttered "their pretty oath, by yea and nay," built upon the name of Hayley. And now what has become of his immortal fame? Why, probably, my young reader, of either sex, may be asking "Who is Mr. Hayley ?" and "What on earth has he to do with the present subject ?" Rise up and enlighten this new generation, oh, sage and stately Anna! immaculate Seward! fair, but verbose critic! Most formal and most correct of gossipers! Oh, hear this generation, and tell it who was Hayley! Methinks the shade of the departed "tenth muse" appears before me. I see the soft grey hair rise rebellous from the confining cushion; it stands erect, in critical and affectionate indignation; and a cloud of perfumed powder is shaken forth upon the ample brocaded petticoat. In grandiloquent dialect she proclaims the merits of "The Triumphs of Temper;" she points out the author of that great poem with her fan, and calls him "Apollo's favourite, the immortal Mr. Hayley," and, with a polite, but very distinct sneer, challenges posterity to surpass his excellence. The sight of Anna Seward brings forth to one's fancy those other lights of the time, looked upon as Hyperions in their own town; or, as she herself with alliterative felicity has styled them, "Lichfield Luminaries." They too will bear testimony to Hayley's contemporary fame; if not by their praise, yet by their jealousy. Here comes Dr. Darwin rolling along in his carriage; pursuing the medical profession and the Muse, in his daily drives. He has been very successful this morning, apparently; for he leans back with a sort of self-glorification in his face, and while he fingers the guineas with one hand, measures out the syllables of his polished couplets with the other; composing the last line first, as a careful peruser of the "Botanic Garden" can readily believe. Yes; the muse has been propitious to-day, and he declaims with extreme satisfaction "Hail, adamantine steel! Magnetic Lord! King of the prow, the ploughshare, and the sword! True to the pole, by thee the pilot guides His steady helm amid the struggling tides, Braves with broad sail the immeasurable sea, Cleaves the dark air, and asks no star but thee!" Yonder moves "the young and gay philosopher, Mr. Edgeworth," to quote the elegant Anna's own words, that universal favourite with the ladies, who had so many wives, and so many other good things which help to make a man happy, or miserable, (as the case may be,) to say nothing of that thing called literary fame, which ordinary men and "Lichfield luminaries" prize highly. There, too, is the eccentric Mr. Day, who mystifies and surprises the correct and point-device Anna, while she speaks admiringly of his genius, and with womanly kindness of his generous disposition. Now, Mr. Day, with all his faults of person and of mind, is a far more interesting individual than even the fair Muse of Lichfield herself; not merely for the sake of "Sandford and Merton," but because he had originality of intellect, and a queer character and temper of his own; and was crossed in love, and had some curious and impracticable ideas about educating a wife for himself; which ideas he endeavoured to carry out, as Miss Seward relates, and failed signally-poor man! There was more true poetry and romance about Mr. Day, than in the Hayleys, and Darwins, and Edgeworths, and Sewards. One cannot help wishing that Sabrina (the subject of his educational experiments) could have borne to be made into a Spartan woman by him; that she had let him fire pistols at her without flinching, as he desired, and drop hot sealing wax on her bare arms, without screaming. She might have saved herself all her terrors and pains if she had been a good girl, and loved her tormentor and master. The said theoretic tormentor had a heart in his large, awkward frame, and would gladly have yielded it up to Sabrina's keeping, and would have thrown his theories aside, and, in that case, have been a happy man at last. She might then have shaken her auburn locks, and laughed lovingly in his ugly, earnest face; and covering up her white arms in the skirts of his long coat, she might have commanded her master to put away his odious sealing-wax, with tolerable certainty that he would have made a bonfire of all the writings of all the stoic philosophers rather than sear one pin's point of her little finger. But the Fates were adverse, and "Sabrina fair" did not like her ugly tormentor of a guardian any better than she liked the pistols and the burning wax; and utterly repudiated the idea of becoming his wife. So he let her do as she liked, and gave her a portion when she married some one else. His pet system was destroyed, and his beautiful pupil was gone; leaving him to become a crabbed, stern old bachelor. And then, when all his young dreams had vanished, and he was misanthropical, and despised womankind, and would not have given a button to be loved, even by the object of his first passion; when he had learned to do without love, that perverse goddess, Fortune, grinned in his face, and sent him a rich gift in that kind. The hard, cynical, uncouth Mr. Day became loved, venerated, almost adored by a gentle lady, who devoted her life, fortune, and liberty to him, reaping in return but a small harvest of thanks. He who during his youth sought in vain for love, valued it not when it came unsought in middle age; and the woman who sacrificed what others called the pleasures of life to subject herself to his harsh temper and cold severity, made a vow never to see the light of the | their children, lest when they become men and women sun after his death,-and kept it. This is a very good instance of the contradictory way in which things fail out on this earth. Desire a thing eagerly, with your whole soul, and you will not get it ;-cease to care for it,-take rather a dislike to it, and down it will fall in prodigious quantities at your feet. Ah! I see before me the huge form of Dr. Johnson;-that recals me to a sense of duty. I cannot presume to speak of that great man as a mere “Lichfield luminary," and I retire back to my title, for which I make my acknowledgments to Mr. Hayley, beg pardon of the reader for this long digression, and proceed to business. Of all the minor tyrants of domestic life, ill-temper is the most triumphant-the most detestable. Ladies, do not think the few remarks I am about to offer on this subject are addressed solely to masculine spirits: Gentlemen, my observations do not apply solely to the ladies. Ill-temper is of various kinds, but the three main divisions are these:-the hasty and violent; the peevish and cross-grained; the sullen and vindictive. We have even seen cases in which an individual favoured society with all three by turns; but we hope, and believe, that such cases are rare. Let us face the subject fairly. We are all of us-at least, very nearly all of us-liable to some kind of ill-temper. I am not so fortunate as to be an exception to this rule myself; and, owing to this and various other circumstances, I happen to know a great deal about ill-temper and its effects. Its causes, too, have sometimes presented themselves to my observation; and it is on this branch of the subject that I should like to say a few words, believing that we can remove the cause in many cases, if we fairly set about it. There are two causes of illtemper which are more to be pitied than any other, and are more easily pardoned. These are, want of health, and want of sense. The last is, perhaps, the chief cause of all bad temper. Single out the remarkably sensible men and women of your acquaintance, not the most witty, or the most versatile, or the most artistic minds,-(they may or may not be of the number,) but those who have the largest share of sound sense, and you will find that they are also the best tempered. Good sense is shocked and disgusted by the utter foolishness of ill-temper, just as much as good taste is by its ugliness. Good sense sees, at a glance, the impotence of rage, the stupid brutishness of a fit of the sullens, and the absurd waste of time and mental strength in peevishness and perversity. Things that we really despise have no power over our minds; and a man of sense knows that it is beneath him to give way to temper upon every petty occasion. The wise king of Israel has said "Greater is he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city." Those, therefore, who have a rebellious temper to subdue, have a task before them worthy of the highest ambition; and one which, by its fulfilment, will bring a rich reward of peace and love. Still, it is a task to which not many are adequate; and all parents should endeavour to prevent the growth of evil temper among VOL. VIII. they find it too hard a task "to rule their own spirits." Much may be done in infancy and childhood towards marring a naturally good temper, or mending a naturally bad one. Bring up a child among ill-tempered people, and it will become illtempered by force of habit and imitation; and vice versá. If a child be disposed to certain faults of temper, do not dwell upon them severely; pass them over as lightly as justice to others will permit, and be careful to put out of his way all temptations to a recurrence of them; by these means they may-nay, they certainly will become weakened by want of opportunity for action. We are so much the creatures of habit, that such a child may grow up a goodtempered man because he was prevented from forming a habit of getting into ill-tempers when he was a boy. Activity is another preventive of bad temper. People who have nothing to do but to trifle away their time are often out of temper. For this reason, women are more subject to fits of ill-temper than men: I say it with all due respect to the sex. There is my pretty friend Mrs. Supine, par exemple; she has positively nothing to do but to get up, every day, dress, drive out, dress again, dine, doze, drink tea, and go to bed. She has none of the idle occupations of ordinary ladies: reading hurts her eyes, letterwriting is too much trouble, she hates needlework, and cannot find time to attend to flowers. "Here is a state of things!" I thought to myself when I first knew her; "I hope, poor thing, she is stupid, or she must be very uncomfortable." Upon further acquaintance it appeared that she was not at all stupid, she was only indolent; and that she was very uncomfortable, for she was always out of temper. Her temper was so bad that she had no friends; no servant could remain in her house more than three months; and her husband sometimes wished that he too could give her a month's notice, and go. If he could have given her something to do, they might have been a happy couple; as it was, temper reigned triumphant over that luxurious household-and reigns there at this very moment. Ah! if Mrs. Supine had but half of busy Mrs. Brown's fourteen children, what a blessing it would be to Mr. Supine and all their acquaintances! not to mention my pretty friend herself. One grand cause of bad temper among men is dyspepsia. A man eats and drinks too much, or eats and drinks things which do not agree with him ;-his digestive organs are impaired-and his temper, in consequence. There's my friend the Rev. Gustavus Grumble. He was a merry fellow enough when we used to club for toffy at school. He has always been lucky through life. In all his doings he has prospered. In great-goes and little-goes he has never been plucked, but come off with flying colours; especially in that very greatest "go" for a clergyman, we mean the one in the matrimonial lottery. Gustavus drew a prize, and there never was a sweeter tempered woman than his Saccharissa. Ever since E that period Gustavus, has been living comfortably, | leon. It is to mitigate or ward off this desolation in nay, in good style, upon an ample benefice. But alas! alas! his dinners have been too good every day; and, at the end of twenty years, my friend is a dyspeptic domestic demon. He is angry with every one without cause; his wife is afraid to speak to him, for fear of ruffling his temper; his children get out of his way as fast as they can, for they know he will find fault with them. His parishioners do not love him, for he does not bring a healing balm to their sorrowing hearts, but a caustic querulousness. He has quarrels and lawsuits about tithes with all his neighbours. He rules the charity schools and their teachers with a rod of iron: he reads prayers like the murmur of an angry, sullen sea; and preaches like a spirit of desolation. This dreadful fate of Mr. Grumble I attribute to an over-indulgence in the good things of the table. a few instances, that we would awaken the reader's serious feelings now. "Prayer is the great remedy against anger; for it must suppose it in some degree removed before we pray; and then it is the more likely it will be finished when the prayer is done. If anger arises in thy breast, instantly seal up thy lips, and let it not go forth, for, like fire when it wants vent, it will suppress itself. Humility is the most excellent natural cure for anger in the world; for he that by daily considering his own infirmities and failings, makes the error of his neighbour or servant to be his own case, and remembers that he daily needs God's pardon and his brother's charity, will not be apt to rage at the levities, or misfortunes, or indiscretions of another; greater than which he considers that he is very frequently and more inexcusably guilty of." In contentions be always passive, never active; upon the defensive, not the assaulting part; and then also give a gentle answer, receiving the furies and indiscretions of the other, like a stone into a bed of moss and soft compliance, and you shall find it sit down quietly." Seriously, dear reader, we would commend to your attention the charms and graces of that beautiful household Lar-Good Temper. Never neglect to worship her. In the secret recesses of your heart offer up your forbearance and forgiveness of injuries, your self-restraint and self-denial to her, and she will By heeding these and similar exhortations to pabless you and gird you round with peace and content-tience and gentleness of spirit, you and I, dear reader, ment. It may not be that you, fair maiden, will be small though our spheres may be, can in some mcaloved because you are sweet tempered, "Non è bellezza non è senno, o valore, Che in noi risveglia amore;" sure drive out the enemy from our homes, and there, at least, check the triumphs of temper. With a hope that in such a work you may have all the success you deserve, let me now bid you farewell. STORY OF A FAMILY.' BY S. M. J. M. W. AUTHORESS OF "THE MAIDEN AUNT," ETC. CHAPTER IX. THE BIRTHDAY. but it is assuredly true that your chance of awakening love is increased thereby, and your power of retaining it, when once awakened, magnified a hundred fold. Youths and maidens, I preach no new doctrine, when I tell you that good temper is better than fortune, than station, than talents, or than beauty; and that without it they are but feeble agents in the attainment of virtue or happiness. "It is," as Jeremy Taylor says, "neither manly nor ingenuous to be ill-tempered. It proceeds from softness of spirit THE letters which Ida received from her father and pusillanimity; which makes that women are were brief, and came at long intervals. It was beyond more angry than men, sick persons more than health- the power of his self-discipline to write to her with ful, old men more than young, unprosperous and cala- the fulness and freedom of that affection which had mitous people more than the blessed aud fortunate. made the happiness of both, when he knew all the It is a passion fitter for flies and insects, than for per- while by what a blow the links which had bound them sons professing nobleness and bounty. It is trouble- were to be smitten asunder. It was strange to him some not only to those that suffer it, but to them that thus, as it were, to contemplate his own death in the behold it; there being no greater incivility of enterperson of another-to join in the tears that should tainment, than, for the cook's fault, or the negligence hereafter be wept upon his grave. For the first time of the servants, to be cruel, or outrageous, or unplea- in his life he felt actual cowardice-impotence of will sant in the presence of the guests. It makes marriage-prostration of mental strength; and this was espeto be a necessary and unavoidable trouble; friendships and societies and familiarities to be intolerable." In conclusion, let me quote a few more words from that most eloquent of divines, since they bear upon my subject, and express my meaning better than any I could use. They are grave, indeed, but we must remember that our subject is no mere bagatelle; it is one that affects the daily, hourly, the mortal and immortal life of the great human family. We venture to say that the triumphs of temper have desolated as many hearths as the triumphs of Sesostris or Napo cially painful to him, as it proved the incompleteness of the self-conquest at which he was aiming. Some- . times this view of the subject would press so forcibly upon him, that he would start up and snatch his pen with the sudden resolution to acquaint her at once with his state. He would write the first wordsMy dearest Ida,"—and then, pausing as the name brought before his mind in an instant the vision of those young clear eyes whose fountains were scarcely yet opened, of that pure unsunned heart, of that (1) Continued from p. 234. |