cuted as the abilities and learning of their authors might permit. The author of the logic published shortly after a translation of the mathematics of Segnert, and a version in modern Greek of a little book, attributed to Voltaire, and entitled, Essai historique sur les dissentions des Eglises de Pologne. This was the same ecclesiastic who gave us afterwards in 1786 and 1791, his translations in Greek verse of the Georgics and the Æneid of Virgil. This last production, the notes to which attest abundantly the industry, zeal, and erudition of the translator, might have had great success as a mere literary work, had it been at all possible to transpose the beauties of one dead language into another; but it, at all events, should be saved from oblivion by the impartial observer, because it forms one of the most characteristic symptoms of the present fermentation in the spirit of Greece, and because it announces, that the happy revolution which is in its progress in that country, has taken such a direction as nothing can any longer impede. And yet, it was only in the year 1788, that is to say exactly two years after the publication of the Georgics, that De Pauw, in his recherches philosophiques sur les Grecs, declared, in the face of all Europe, with the tone and confidence of an inspired seer, that ignorance and superstition had infixed themselves so deeply and so firmly in the minds of the Greeks, that no human force or power ever could extirpate them. Had he taken the trouble to inform himself of the actual state of the Greeks, and to reason like a philosopher, (as he had been pleased to promise in the pompous title of his book,) this man would have seen and concluded, that when a translation of Virgil appears among a people almost in a state of barbarism, it is a sure evidence that the spirits of that people are in a state of fermenta

tion.

But let us come back to the epoch when Greece first received treatises on natural philosophy and logic, written after the manner of the enlightened nations of Europe. Here we are presented with such a connected chain of causes and effects, such a concurrence of varied and yet co-operating circumstances, that it is altogether impossible to assign to each its due rank in the order of events, or to appreciate with

exactness the influence which each of them may have had on the moral revolution which is at present going on among the Greeks. Perhaps the attempt to do so would, at the best, be an useless and unphilosophical one, since, among no people of the world, was any revolution, either moral or political, brought about in a regular manner by the operation of insolated causes. It is sufficient, if we indicate in their natural order, the most considerable of those occurrences which we regard as having brought about the present state of things in Greece.

In the colleges of Greece, attached for ages to the philosophy of Aristotle, (or rather, we should say, to the dreams of his commentators) with the same devoted superstition which had changed among them the nature of the most simple of religions,-in these colleges a very great proportion of the professors regarded the appearance of the new books above mentioned as an useless and absurd innovation. The students, on the contrary, considered it as a curious circumstance, concerning which one ought at least to be prepared to say something. This curiosity of the young men, although sufficiently rewarded by the acquisition of the new logic, would perhaps have remained useless to the nation, had the Greeks continued to be still as poor as formerly, and to vegetate in the same discouraging condition which had been the deplorable fruit of their oppression. The first concern of man is, at all times, to make sure of his means of subsistence; and as these means are curtailed in proportion to the political oppression under which we live, to overcome the difficulties of his situation, is, in general, a sufficient occupation of intellect for one existing under a brutal despotism. It is only after having provided for the necessities of nature, by rendering the means of subsistence less precarious, that men begin to cast their eyes about them, and seek to enlarge the sphere of their intelligence. Such, in all ages and countries, has been the march of the human spirit, and such it has been and is among the Greeks. At the epoch of which we speak, the Greeks were not indeed free, nor by any means so rich as the inhabitants of a country so remarkable for the variety and abundance of its productions

Venetians from Candia and the Peloponnesus, and penetrating into the heart of Germany, dared to besiege, and almost succeeded in taking, the capital of the Empire. Russia has for ever dissipated this superstition, and demonstrated to all Europe that that immense volume of power which she regarded as the muscular bulk of a vi gorous constitution, is, in truth, only an unwieldy dropsy, which must, sooner or later, conduct the Ottoman empire to its destruction. But the effects of this glorious war were by no means confined to undeceiving the European nations. Russia, anxi ous at that time to gain the favour of a nation which she hoped one day to reckon among her subjects, employed, a few Greeks in her war with the Porte, and attached them to herself by honours and rewards of every kind. These new auxiliaries embraced, with a youthful ardour, the cause of the court of St Petersburgh, and the success of its armies was indeed, on dif ferent grounds, the object of the wishes and prayers of their whole nation. Some thought of nothing but revenging themselves on their oppressors; to others the cause of Russia appeared to be the same with that of religion, and in the Russians they saw with pious satisfaction, the future restorers of their ruined or polluted temples. A third party (and these were those men of true good sense, of whom so few can be found in any country, or indeed in any age) looked upon the Russians in no other light than that of a nation destined to prepare the Greeks for liberty. In the meantime, in consequence of the peace concluded between the belligerent powers, the Greeks were again obliged to submit themselves to their ancient yoke; but they did so with sentiments very different from those which they had entertained before quitting it. Persuaded thenceforth that their oppressors were men who could be beaten, nay, knowing that they themselves had beaten them by the side of the Muscovites, and thinking it by no means impossible that, under the guidance of able commanders, they might beat them alone they felt within them, for the first time, the sparks of a pride, which has been prevented from some fearful explosion only, by the unexampled moderation with which, from this time, the Turks began to conduct themselves. For the

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Turks became humble and discouraged exactly in proportion as the Greeks plucked up spirit, in so much, that they felt themselves absolutely compelled to treat, with an appearance of respect, those whom hitherto they had regarded as mere beasts of burden. Other circumstances combined to sink their spirits. The Russian consuls, under the influence of the most glori ous peace which the empress had just concluded with the Porte, exerted a species of dictatorial authority all over the Levant. More than once they rescued Greeks from the vengeance of the government, on pretence that they had become Russian subjects, or had serv ed with the armies of Catharine. On the other hand, the bashaws and gov ernors of provinces, who, under the sway of religious fanaticism, had hitherto been accustomed to receive the edicts of the Porte as so many de crees of Heaven, began to perceive, in consequence of the very war in which they had been engaged, that the statue which they adored rested only upon feet of clay. They now began to receive the orders of their emperor with haughtiness, and with the air of being partners, rather than subjects, of his throne, Not a few of these bashaws even lifted the standard of rebellion, and there are several, at this moment, over whom the Porte retains no more than a shadowy and precarious species of superiority. This disobedience, another result of the same cause which had inspired the Greeks with courage and confidence, has contributed, in a collateral manner, to fortify and perpetuate these sentiments in their bosoms.

The inhabitants of the Archipelago carried on all their commerce, previous to this time, in vessels of very inconsiderable size; chiefly accustomed to the petty traffic between one island and another, the utmost extent of their voyages never went beyond the Black Sea or Egypt. But at this epoch, the new direction of commerce, of which we have already spoken, the new riches diffused among the nation, and not improbably the diminution in the authority of the government, suggested to some persons of superior consequence the idea of building large merchant ships, in imitation of the western Europeans. The first vessels of the new construction produced a striking effect on all eyes, excepting those of

the government. Whether from ignorance, or from disdain, or, in fine, from the necessity and the convenience of seeking, among the Greeks, those sailors for the Turkish ships of war, which it could not find among its own nation, the Porte, although by nature abundantly suspicious, paid no attention whatever to this infant marine of the Greeks. Nay more, it is said that this marine was in some measure favoured by the government at its commencement, one of those unintelli gible blunders which we should never be astonished to meet with in the an nals of despotism. Most certainly, had the Turkish rulers been able to foresee that the Greeks would one day come to possess a mercantile fleet of several hundred vessels, the greater part of them furnished with ordinance, they would have stifled this dangerous marine at its birth. At present they are prevented from checking its ultimate progress by the very assistance which they have derived from it in their own fleets; for the ignorance of their nation in regard to all marine affairs, is quite as profound, as if their seat were still in the heart of Asia, many hundred leagues distant from the coast.

It is impossible to calculate all the effects which the establishment of this marine may produce in the sequel, or to foresee what influence it may hereafter exert over the destinies, either of the oppressed or of the oppressing nation. It is more easy to observe what it has already effected. In the first place, by favouring the commerce of the Greeks, and increasing their pecuniary resources, this marine powerfully assisted in the increase of the means of instruction. The islanders, who were formerly, in common, the most ignorant part of the whole nation, begin to feel the necessity and the advantage of education, and rival each other in the devotion of their means for the erection of schools and colleges. On the other hand, by the happy influence which this marine has had on the mind of the government, whose despotism it has in a certain degree mitigated, the islanders have acquired and communicated to the rest of the nation an energy of soul unknown among Greeks since the time when their country lost its freedom. Masters of a great number of excellent vessels, framed by their own hands, in a man VOL. IV.

ner at once solid and elegant, and manned in general by mariners who have among themselves ties of union arising from blood or marriage; these men, upon the slightest suspicion of any extraordinary oppression, can em bark the rest of their families, and place themselves under the protection of the first nation wise enough to ap preciate their value.

The revolution which is at this moment in the course of its operation a mong the Greeks, has necessarily pro duced effects diversified and modified according as it has had to encounter, in particular instances, more or less of barbarism, of resources, or of pas sions,-in a word, according to the different circumstances in which it has found the different towns or communities of the country. In the more considerable towns, which, even be fore the revolution, possessed some wealthy individuals, some colleges, and consequently some individuals who could at least read and understand the ancient writers,-the revolution has, as might have been expected, operated the earliest and the most effec tually. Already, in some of these towns, the buildings of the colleges begin to be enlarged, and instruction in the modern languages, and even in the sciences taught in Europe, is added to the ancient language of the country. The rich have books printed, translated from the Italian, the French, the German, and the English; they send, at their own expense, young men of superior acquirements and zeal to study in Europe; they give a much better education to their own children, without excepting those of that sex which had been hitherto excluded from all education whatever. They wait only for the return of those many young persons who are at this moment scattered over Germany, France, Italy, and England, in order to establish new colleges wherever local situation and other circumstances may permit. The love of instruction has been propagated and diffused with all the ra pid symptoms of a contagion, if we may make use of such an expression; and what affords of all other things the best augury for the future, this infection has reached the Greek clergy. Philosophy has forced the gates of the sanctuary, or rather she has descended thither, and now she comes 3 U

forth from thence, accompanied with a pure and enlightened religion, to instruct and purify the nation. A considerable number of the Greek ecclesiastics, far from opposing the instruction of the nation, are only occupied with the desire of instructing themselves. Germany possesses, at this moment, a great number occupied perpetually in translating excellent works into Greek. These respectable ecclesiastics have well perceived that the true piety is enlightened piety, and that true intelligence, far from being the enemy of religion, only prepares for her a better reception in the hearts of men. They have felt, that the gratitude of a nation for services such as they are actually conferring, is a very different thing from the blind incense which of old was lavished upon them by its superstition. We are the more delighted with an opportunity of doing justice to the Greek clergy, because in general they lie under the reproach of having most of all contributed to the degradation of this people. No-that reproach falls no longer with justice on any thing but a very small portion of the clergy, whose leaden weight will not, we hope, continue long to oppress either the sanctuary to which they never did honour, or the nation which is now too wise to honour them.

In short, such is the progress of the moral revolution of Greece, that the Greeks can no longer retrograde: they must go on. We may say more than eyen this; there exists at this moment in Greece such a number of educated men, that were it possible for western Europe to fall once again into darkness, Greece might once again have the privilege and the honour of restoring her to light. A single glance at the catalogues of the books translated within these few years into modern Greek, is sufficient to convince the impartial observer, that the literary men of Greece, at the present time, are much more numerous, and much more enlightened, than those which she produced in the fifteenth century -those ever-memorable men, who, flying from a country prepared by native despots for a foreign yoke, took refuge in the west of Europe, and repaid the asylum afforded to them, by

communicating the small remains of ancient knowledge which still remained in their possession.

The Greeks are extending their attention to their modern language as well as to their ancient. This idiom, sprung from that used by the great writers of antiquity, in the same manner as the French and Italian are from the Latin, possesses over these last the advantage of being rather less different from its original than they are from theirs. Notwithstanding, however, of this circumstance, the modern Greek is a new language, may be considered at this moment in somewhat the same stage of progress in which the French language was at the time of Montaigne. The men of education, who heretofore entirely neglected and despised this dialect, have of late been obliged to employ it in order to introduce foreign books to the acquaintance of the people, and in doing so they have necessarily been led to study its nature with more accuracy-to examine both what it does possess, and what improvements it is capable of receiving. Already this language, like every thing else in Greece, is in a state of revolution. Cultivated as it is by so many pens at the same moment, it is not easy to foresee where it will stop, or what its fixed and characteristic nature will be. If one may judge from its infancy, it affords the promise of uniting more good qualities than are easily to be found together elsewhere. As among the books translated into it, a large proportion are connected with the exact sciences, it may be presumed that one of these good qualities will be clearness. It still preserves many of the turns and inversions of the ancient language; but these, it is to be hoped, instead of banishing as obstacles of perspi cuity, they will endeavour as much as possible to reconcile and combine with that first of all qualities. In short, we would hope, that from this combination of elements, there may result a language wherein the flowers of imagination shall only serve as a graceful ornament to the mature fruits of

reason.

Such is the present state of civiliza tion in Greece.

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