scenical applause (vos plaudite!), in that valedictory injunction he expressed inadvertently the true value of his own long life, which, in strict candour, may be pronounced one continued series of histrionic efforts, and of excellent acting, adapted to selfish ends.* L'honnête homme, writes an epigrammatic thinker, joue son rôle le mieux qu'il peut sans songer à la galerie.† Remember, says Epictetus, so to act your part upon this stage, as to be approved by the master, whether it be a short or a long one, that he has given you to perform. If he will have you to represent a beggar, endeavour to act the beggar's part well; and so, a cripple, a prince, or a plebeian. It is your part to perform well what you represent: it is his to choose what that shall be.‡ Thus spake the stoic philosopher. And how speaks the Christian divine? As the merit of an actor, says Robert Hall,§ is not estimated by the part which he performs, but solely by the truth and propriety of his representation, and the peasant is often applauded where the monarch is hissed, so when the great drama of life is concluded, He who allots its scenes and determines its period, will take an account of His servants, and assign to each his due, in his own proper character. Since the life of man is likened to a scene, "I had rather," writes John Milton, "that all my entrances and exits might mix with such persons only whose worth erects them and their actions to a grave and tragic deportment, and not to have to do with clowns and vices."|| And this, lest such a player have to echo, in spirit, if not to the letter, the bitter conviction of blinded, blundering Leontes-Io anche And I Play too; but so disgraced a part, whose issue The measure of a happy life, writes Lord Shaftesbury-he of the Characteristics-is not from the fewer or more suns we behold, the fewer or more breaths we draw, or meals we repeat; but from the having once lived well, acted our part handsomely, and made our exit cheerfully-or, to print it as he wrote it, for the lovers of old books' sake-" and made our Exit chearfully, and as became us.' It is well remarked by Archbishop Trench that we have forfeited the full force of the statement, "God is no respecter of persons," from the fact that "person" does not mean for us now all that it once meant. "Person," from "persona," the mask constantly worn by the actor of antiquity, is by natural transfer the part or rôle in the play which each sustains, as póσwжоv is in Greek, "In the great tragi-comedy of life each sustains a 'person;' one that of a king, another that of a hind; one must play Dives, another Lazarus. This 'person' God, for whom the question is not what 'person' each sustains, but how he sustains it, does not regard."++ * See the close of chap. ii. of De Quincey on "The Cæsars." § Funeral Sermon on the Princess Charlotte. Milton's Prose Works, vol. iii. p. 460, edit. 1848. Winter's Tale, Act I. Sc. 2. **Shaftesbury's Characteristics, vol. iii., Advice to an Author. A NEW ISLAND. Ar the present moment a phenomenon is becoming visible in the Mediterranean, which is attracting general attention to a considerable degree, and a great number of naturalists have already set out to investigate it more closely. A new island is in process of formation. The bed of the sea is rising out of the water, so that it will in a short time emerge above the surface. The spot where this is taking place is situated in the straits between Sicily and the African coast, and its position may be accurately defined by drawing a line between the Sicilian town of Sciacca and the small island of Pantellaria. Any one acquainted with the nature of this region will be aware that it represents a large volcanic territory, which is bordered on the north of Sicily by the Lipari Isles, the ever-burning Stromboli, and the island of Ustica; on the east by the venerable Etna; on the south by the abovementioned isle of Pantellaria, which is formed of lava and volcanic slag. The south-western coast of Sicily, with the rich sulphur beds of Girgenti, and the countless hot springs bubbling up round Sciacca, affords the most striking proof that here the outbursts of the mighty subterranean forces have not attained their limit, although they are not found on so grand a scale. The covering which has been formed in the course of ages over their fire has closed the connecting channels with the interior, where the lava is constantly seething, while we can notice in the deep crater of Stromboli the molten mass continually rising and falling, and the rarer outbreaks of Etna remind us that this safety-valve alone guarantees the existence of Sicily in statu quo. But though the ground in the southwest of Sicily seems to be so secure over the fiery interior, it cannot always resist the expansion. Although the latter is not always able to force its way through, it can produce mounds and swellings on the surface. Such a swelling is now rising so rapidly between Sciacca and Pantellaria that within a short time geographers will be again obliged to alter their charts of the Mediterranean-again, we say, because there has before been an island at this spot, which, as it seems, has more than once risen and sunk again. Among the boatmen of Malta a tradition survives about the former existence of such an island, and it is marked on all old charts: other reports tell us that there was an island here at the beginning of the last century. All these rumours, however, possess less significance for us than those referring to an occurrence that took place some thirty years ago, because the events of that time offer, as it were, a programme of the phenomenon which is taking place at present. At that day everybody believed that the sea between Pantellaria and Sciacca had an average depth of from 5 to 600 feet. Measurements recently undertaken had confirmed this opinion, and had merely found to the east of the line a bank of less depth-the Nerita bank-on which fishermen of Trapani had long been accustomed to hunt for coral. On July 8, 1831, Francesco Tresiletti, the padrone of the Sicilian brigantine St. Gustavo, who had left Malta on the 6th, and was bound for Palermo, noticed a very peculiar appearance at this spot. Shortly after noon he perceived at about a distance of two miles and a half, and to the northwest of the ship, a large mass of water rising, for which he steered, in order to convince himself that he had seen correctly. When he had drawn within a distance of three-quarters of a mile from the phenomenon, he heard a thundering noise. Soon after a blackish waterspout rose to a height of above 80 feet, and with a greater breadth than that of a ship of the line. In about ten minutes the water sank again, but a dense mass of smoke rose in its place, which overcast the whole horizon. The outbreak was repeated every quarter of an hour: the oscillation of the water was felt aboard the vessel, and numerous dead and dying fish floated on the surface. sea. At Sciacca, the already-mentioned nearest Sicilian town, nothing was as yet known of the occurrence, for a dim horizon hid the view out to It was not till July 12 that a great quantity of small pieces of lava and pumice-stone was noticed floating on the water, and the fishermen, putting out to sea, were obliged farther on to force their way through them with their oars. With no slight surprise they found a number of freshly-killed dead fish, which they collected and carried to Sciacca for sale. No one could explain the reason, till early on the morning of the 13th an ascending column of smoke was noticed from the coast on the horizon, and, when it became dark, flames were visible in it. It was now certain that a new volcano had been formed in the sea. At this time the well-known German geologist Frederick Hoffmann, who died, unfortunately, at too early an age, and from whose reports we borrow the following facts, was engaged in a scientific journey through Italy. He heard news of the wonderful occurrence at Palermo, and at once set out with his companion, in order to investigate the phenomenon more closely. On July 20 he arrived at Sciacca. While many miles off, he had noticed the smoke column at sea from rising-ground, and on the coast he found the fine sand of the shore covered with a thick layer, but none of the boatmen had the courage to convey the travellers to the remarkable spot. The population of the town collected in the cool evening on the terrace looking out upon the sea, which forms the Piano de San Domenico, and, with their eyes fixed on the fiery column of smoke, listened with reverential silence to the echoing thunder, whose peals generally lasted a quarter of an hour and longer. But no one felt excited enough to brave the discomforts of a short sea voyage in order to examine the phenomenon at the place of eruption, or even to satisfy their curiosity about a subject which formed the topic of general conversation. At length the German savants succeeded in hiring one of the small coasters, called Schifazzi, which are the property of the brave men of Trapani, and on the afternoon of the 24th they reached the spot where the pillar of smoke rose from the sea. With astonishment they saw here a new island risen from the sea, whose circumference they found to be about 3000 feet, while its height was 60. Immense masses of steam rose uninterruptedly from it, and floated away in large balls. "These clouds," writes Hoffmann, "looked magnificent as they rolled away noiselessly, like heavy masses of snow or bales of fresh cotton piled on each other, and, loosely joined together, formed the gigantic column which incessantly marked the spot of their origin. At intervals of two or three minutes black outbursts of slag rose to a greater or less height in the dazzling white central mass. The steam-clouds rose more violently, and rolled down to the sea with a very considerable breadth. The island disappeared at such moments, and the heaving sea seemed to be internally connected with the puffing steam and torrent of slag, till the motion of the wind drove the mist away." Then the light pillar of smoke rose again majestically to a height of at least 2000 feet in the blue sky, and the travellers proposed letting down the boat and landing on the freshly-risen coast of this new creation, on which the waves broke gently and regularly. But the scene suddenly changed. Thick clouds of steam were suddenly followed by very black eruptions of ashes, and slag, sand, and stone, uninterruptedly belching forth, soon formed a menacing black column, whose height above the level of the sea was at least 600 feet. New explosions constantly broke through the gloom of this terrific main body, and spread out like a rocket in gerbs on the top of it. Heavy masses of sand and scoria were driven up, and a dark broad stripe of sand marked the track of their trajectory. Constantly, as the huge masses of sand and ash fell back from the highest point to which they were hurled, and then fell into the sea or on the crags in the shape of a thick black dust, snowy heaving masses of steam were formed, and the appearance of the black column, with its white crown, was indescribably beautiful as it stood out against the grey background. Bright flashes of lightning darted through the black ashy cloud, and were regularly followed by a lengthened clap of thunder. Thus the island grew through the regularly recurring eruptions day by day, and with its dimensions altered its appearance. The violently-blowing west wind drove the light material to the northeast; hence, on this side, an elevation was formed, while on the southwest side the orifice of the funnel-shaped crater scarce rose above the level of the sea. Hoffmann calculated the highest point at 60 feet in July. On August 2, it was at least 200 feet high, and the greatest elevation it attained in the course of the first half of this month was about 180 feet. The south-west side, which at the commencement had allowed the sea to enter the chimney of the volcano, rose to a height of about 50 feet, and the whole acquired the appearance of a hill sunk in at the top, whose height, though it had risen but so short a time from the bottom of the sea, reached about 800 feet. The volcanic power can produce such changes at the present day in the apparently firmly-rooted earth. Three weeks had not elapsed since the first news had spread, and the island was not yet finished, when the English, on August 2, took formal possession of the island, with all the ceremony of maritime law, though it had risen within Sicilian waters. Towards the end of September, Hoffmann visited the remarkable spot for the second time, and simultaneously a French brig arrived, with Prevost, the academician, and Jourville, the artist, on board. The arrival of fresh material from the depths was at an end, but the little island had not obtained rest in consequence. Situated in the middle of the sea, and exposed to the attacks of wind and water, the loose components could not resist the combined efforts of the elements. The work of destruction was in full course. The undermining of the sea produced falls, and in sailing past the travellers constantly noticed large, freshly-loosened masses of sand roll down the assailed cliffs, and fall partly into the sea and partly carried off as dust by the sirocco. The almost circular outline of the island did not exceed 2000 feet in September, and its superfices had thus been reduced nearly one-half by this time. At the end of October its circumference was only 1600 feet; day by day the island became smaller, at last it disappeared entirely, and with the close of the year 1831 the waves were merrily rolling and the bright moonlight fell inquiringly on the spot where shortly before subterranean forces had piled up a monument of their incalculable effect. The four civilised nations, Italians, Germans, English, and French, had greeted this Anadyomene in their own peculiar fashion. The first by a curious timid mob, with open mouths and outstretched necks, the second by one of their first naturalists, the French by painting it, and the English by trying to occupy it. All, save the German, had one or several names cut and dry for it. The captain who planted the British flag called it Graham's Island, another Hotham Island, after the English admiral stationed at Malta; others, again, wished to ascribe its discovery to Captain Corrao, and gave the island his name; because it rose from the waves in July the French christened it Julia, or Isola Giulia; but by the Sicilians it was named Nerita, incorrectly so, as it did not rise from the coral bank of that name, or Isola Ferdinandea, in honour of their king, Ferdinand II. Of all these names the last was generally adopted, until it was forgotten, too, with the sinking of the island. The only monument with whose origin no execrable deed on the part of that king is connected, whose name brings no curse to the lips, was washed away by the sea. We have now reason to anticipate similar phenomena as in 1831. Whether the crater will open again, and whether permanent eruptions will be the consequence, is a question which is busily occupying the naturalists. The examination of this remarkable phenomenon must supply valuable results for the history of the earth. For this reason, and because most probably the period for observation will again be but a short one, the reappearance of this island, with its numerous names, is exciting general interest. It has not announced its presence this time by a tremendous eruption, but by a slow though constant uplifting of the bottom of the sea, which has for some time past been noticed by sailors. One day it will rise again above the surface, and invite the English to repeat the process of taking possession. But the island will return whence it came-it is an Undine which higher powers permit every now and then to enjoy for a short period the cheering warmth of the sun. |