AN ESSAY

ON THE

ERRORS OCCASIONED BY OUR PASSIONS.

THE passions lead us into error, because they fix our attention to that particular part of the object which they present to us, not allowing us to view it on every side. A king passionately affects the title of conqueror. Victory, says he, calls me to the remotest part of the earth; I shall fight; I shall gain the victory; I shall load mine enemy with chains, and the terror of my name, like an impenetrable rampart, will defend the entrance of my empire. Inebriated with this hope, he forgets that fortune is inconstant, and that the victor shares the load of misery, almost equally with the vanquished. He does not perceive, that the welfare of his subjects is only a pretext for his martial phrenzy; and that pride alone forges his arms, and displays his ensigns: his whole attention is fixed on the pomp of the triumph.

Fear, equally powerful with pride, will produce the same effect; it will raise ghosts and phantoms, and disperse them among the tombs, and in the darkness of the woods, present them to the eyes of the affrighted traveller, and seize on all the faculties of his soul, without leaving any one at liberty to reflect on the absurdity of the motives for such a ridiculous terror.

The passions not only fix the attention on particular sides of the objects which they present to us, but they also deceive us, by exhibiting the same objects, when they do not really exist. The story of a country clergyman and an amorous lady, is well known. They had heard, and concluded, that the moon was peopled, and were looking for the inhabitants through their telescopes. If I am not mistaken, said the lady, I perceive two shadows; they mutually incline to each other: doubtless they are two happy lovers.-O fie! madam, replied the clergyman, those two shadows are the two steeples of a cathedral. This tale is our history, it being common for us to see in things what we are desirous of finding there: on the earth, as in the moon, different passions will cause us to see either lovers or steeples. Illusion is a necessary effect of the passions, the strength,

or force, of which is generally measured by the obscurity into which they lead us. This was well known to a certain lady, who being caught by her lover in the arms of his rival, obstinately denied the fact, of which he had been witness. How! said he, have you the assurance?-Ah! perfidious creature, cried the lady, it is plain you no longer love me, for you believe your eyes before all I can say. This is equally applicable to all the passions as well as to love. All strike us with the most perfect blindness. When ambition has kindled a war between two nations, and the anxious citizens ask each other the news, what readiness appears, on one side, to give credit to the good, and, on the other, what incredulity with regard to the bad! How often have Christians, from placing a ridiculous confidence in monks, denied the possibility of the antipodes! There is no century, which has not, by some ridiculous affirmation or negation, afforded matter of laughter to the following age. A past folly is seldom sufficient to show to mankind their present folly.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE POCKET MAGAZINE.

S.

ABSURDITIES OF THE FRENCH LANGUAGE. SIR, I HAVE heard it asserted by many Frenchmen, that the English language, strictly speaking, has no grammar; that it is a compound of plagiarisms, and that no successful attempt has ever yet been made, to reduce it to grammatical rules or precision. Admitting this indiscriminate censure, which I will confess is partly just, it would seem that they arrogate perfection to themselves for the structure of their own tongue; and any person, acquainted with the natural vanity of a Frenchman, cannot fail to draw a similar conclusion.

That the French should entertain a very exalted opinion of their language, may perhaps be deemed excusable, when we reflect on its popularity, and how generally it is used as a medium of conversation in all parts of Europe. Whether this preference is deserved, I shall not digress so far from my present subject as to inquire, though it certainly would admit of dispute;

but I will endeavour to give one or two reasons, why it does not deserve to be considered the best; and to prove, on the contrary, that many of its points present the most glaring absurdities.

Taking common sense for my guide, a quality, bythe-bye, not eminently possessed by our opposite neighbours, I shall mention a few instances, for which I will thank any of their savans to render any thing like a satisfactory explanation.

1. That a Frenchman should sacrifice sense to sound is not remarkable; but it certainly does present a very striking mark of the national character. Suppose, for instance, we take this sentence:

"My absence was inevitable."

If the substantive absence, is in the feminine gender, then, according to all the rules of propriety and of grammar, the pronoun my should be feminine also, to agree with it; but the French do not stand on such niceties: they express the phrase thus:

"Mon absence etoit inévitable."

Mon (my) is masculine, absence (absence) is feminine. Why this incongruity? Because, if it were ma absence, the collision of the two vowels would be offensive to the ear!! I could multiply instances, ad infinitum, but this will suffice.

2. The next grossiereté is their assigning genders to inanimate objects. Thus, pelle, a shovel, is feminine; fourgon, a poker, is masculine; moutarde, mustard, is feminine; poivre, pepper, is masculine. What reason they can give for these distinctions, I am at a loss to guess; for it is certain they have no clear rule to decide them.

3. That two negatives make an affirmative is a position few logicians will dispute; but perhaps the French are not logicians: be this as it may, the following phrase, in its strict meaning, bears a great resemblance to what the Irish would call a bull:

"Je vous n'aime pas."-"I do not love you." But translated word for word, it would read thus: "I don't not love you."

However absurd this may appear, it is their invariable rule to use two negatives to express one.

4. One more instance of their sacrifice of sense to sound.

There is, is expressed by Il-y-a.

Is there?

Y-a-t-il?

None

Of what utility is the t in this latter sentence? whatever; it has no meaning, and is perfectly useless. But the Frenchman can give you what he calls a reason. "If the phrase were merely transposed thus, Y-a-il? the contact of the vowels would be too barbarous for the ear; we therefore add the t, that the sound may be elegant." All this may be very well; but to an Englishman of common sense, these étourdéries form very great obstructions to the acquirement of a language, to which common fame has ascribed the most exalted character, for grandeur, elegance, and perspicuity. Your obedient servant,

10th August, 1818.

J. H. V -Y.

NATURAL PHENOMENA.

No. 8.-THE EARTHQUAKE AT LISBON, IN 1766.* THERE never was a finer morning seen than the first of November; the sun shone out in full lustre, the whole face of the sky was perfectly serene and clear, and not the least signal or warning of that approaching event, which has made this once flourishing, opulent, and populous city, a scene of the utmost horror and desolation, except only such as served to alarm, but scarcely left a moment's time to fly from the general destruction.

It was on the morning of this fatal day, between the hours of nine and ten, that I was sat down in my apartment, just finishing a letter, when the papers and table I was writing on began to tremble with a gentle motion, which rather surprised me, as I could not perceive a breath of wind stirring. Whilst I was reflecting with myself what this could be owing to, but without having the least apprehension of the real cause, the whole house began to shake from the very foundation; which at first I imputed to the rattling of several coaches in the main street, which usually passed that way, at this time,

* This Account is by a Mr. Braddock.

from Belem to the palace; but, on hearkening more attentively, I was soon undeceived, as I found it was owing to a strange frightful kind of noise under ground, resembling the hollow distant rumbling of thunder; all this passed in less than a minute, and I must confess I now began to be alarmed, as it naturally occurred to me, that this noise might possibly be the forerunner of an earthquake, as one I remembered, which had happened about six or seven years ago, in the island of Madeira, commenced in the same manner, though it did little or no damage.

Upon this I threw down my pen, and started upon my feet, remaining a moment in suspense, whether I should stay in the apartment, or run into the street, as the danger in both places seemed equal; and still flattering myself that this tremor might produce no other effects than such inconsiderable ones as had been felt at Madeira; but in a moment I was roused from my dream, being instantly stunned with a most horrid crash, as if every edifice in the city had tumbled down at once. The house I was in shook with such violence, that the upper stories immediately fell, and though my apartment (which was the first floor,) did not then share the same fate, yet every thing was thrown out of its place in such a manner, that it was with no small difficulty I kept my feet, and expected nothing less than to be soon crushed to death, as the walls continued rocking to and fro in the frightfullest manner, opening in several places; large stones falling down on every side from the cracks; and the ends of most of the rafters starting from the roof. To add to this terrifying scene, the sky in a moment became so gloomy, that I could now distinguish no particular object; it was an Egyptian darkness indeed, such as might be felt; owing, no doubt, to the prodigious clouds of dust and lime, raised from so violent a concussion, and, as some reported, to sulphureous exhalations, but this I cannot affirm; however, it is certain I found myself almost choked for nearly ten minutes.

As soon as the gloom began to disperse, and the violence of the shock seemed pretty much abated, the first object I perceived in the room was a woman sitting upon the floor, with an infant in her arms, all