bore the name of Magus. This, by the ignorant
multitude in Naples, &c., who had been taught to reverence
his tomb, was translated from its true acception as
a proper name, to a false one as an appellative:
it was supposed to indicate, not the name, but the
profession of the old gentleman. And thus, according
to the belief of the lazzaroni, that excellent
Christian, P. Virgilius Maro, had stepped by mere succession
and right of inheritance into his wicked old grandpapa’s
infernal powers and knowledge, both of which he exercised,
doubtless, for centuries without blame, and for the
benefit of the faithful.
[3] “Strange,” &c.—Yet
I remember that, in “The Pursuits of Literature,”—a
satirical poem once universally famous,—the
lines about Mnemosyne and her daughters, the Pierides,
are cited as exhibiting matchless sublimity.
Perhaps, therefore, if carefully searched, this writer
may contain other jewels not yet appreciated.
[4] “Very nearly forgotten.”—Not
quite however. It must be hard upon eighty or
eighty-five years since she first commenced authorship—a
period which allows time for a great deal of forgetting;
and yet, in the very week when I am revising this
passage, I observe advertised a new edition, attractively
illustrated, of the “Evenings at Home”—a
joint work of Mrs. Barbauld’s and her brother’s,
(the elder Dr. Aikin.) Mrs. Barbauld was exceedingly
clever. Her mimicry of Dr. Johnson’s style
was the best of all that exist. Her blank verse
“Washing Day,” descriptive of the discomforts
attending a mistimed visit to a rustic friend, under
the affliction of a family washing, is picturesquely
circumstantiated. And her prose hymns for children
have left upon my childish recollection a deep impression
of solemn beauty and simplicity. Coleridge, who
scattered his sneering compliments very liberally
up and down the world, used to call the elder Dr.
Aikin (allusively to Pope’s well-known line—
“No craving void left aching in
the breast”)
an aching void; and the nephew, Dr. Arthur
Aikin, by way of variety, a void aching; whilst
Mrs. Barbault he designated as that pleonasm of
nakedness; since, as if it were not enough to be
bare, she was also bald.
[5] “Murderous;” for it was his
intention to leave Aladdin immurred in the subterraneous
chambers.
[6] The reader will not understand me as attributing
to the Arabian originator of Aladdin all the sentiment
of the case as I have endeavored to disentangle it.
He spoke what he did not understand; for, as to sentiment
of any kind, all Orientals are obtuse and impassive.
There are other sublimities (some, at least) in the
“Arabian Nights,” which first become such—a
gas that first kindles—when entering into
combination with new elements in a Christian atmosphere.
CHAPTER IV.
THE FEMALE INFIDEL.
Copyrights
Autobiographical Sketches from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
