The Sun. — London, England, 1859-07-21 00:00:00

BANQUET TO MR. CHARLES SEAN. A grand banquet was given last night, in St. James's-hall, to Mr. Charles Kean, in admiration of his genius and talents as an actor. It orig inated with a number of his contemporaries at Eton Col lege, comprising many now either distinguished for rank and wealth, or eminent as statesmen, authors, or soldiers ; and they thought that the most fitting occasion for such a celebration was the present time, when Mr. Kean is about to relinquish his management of the Princess's Theatre, where for some years past he has obtained an almost world wide fame for his artistic and splendid representa- tions of Shakspere's master-pieces. The Earl of Carlisle, an " Etonian," had con sented to take the chair, but owing to his selection by her Majesty, subsequently, for the position of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, he was unable to be present, and the Duke of Newcastle, ano th er Eton scholar, kindly consented to become his substitute. The capacious and gold-bespangled hall was taste fully decorated for the entertainment, flags and banners being suspended from the walls, and a large and choice collection of evergreens and exotics being placed on the raised platform in front of the organ. There were six tables, extending nearly the whols length of the hall, and one placed transverse at the top of each, bearing magnificent candelabra, vases of flowers, and pots of growing grapes of the richest and most tempting quality. Covers were laid for about 400 persons, and fully that number attended. The galleries were set aside for the ladies, who appeared in full evening costume, and added much to the brilliancy of the scene and to the enthusiasm exhibited during the evening. Mr. Charles Kean sat on the chairman's right, and at the same table were Viscount Exmouth, Lord John Manners, M.P., Colonel the Hon. James Lindsay, M.P., Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P., Right Hon. Spencer Walpole, M.P., General Sir J. Burgoyne, Bart., G.C.8., Sir W. Minto Farquhar, Bart., M.P.,Mr. C. J. Selwyn, M.P., Sir Francis Hastings oyle, Bart., Mr. Sergeant Kinglake, M.P., Mr. Wm. Vansittart, M.P., Mr. T. E. Moss, of Liverpool, Mr. Wm. Platt, Mr. W. C. Long, Mr. P. L. Powys, M.P., Mr. Lewis Lloyd, Mr. C. E. Johnston, Rev. R. Lewis Browne, and Lieut.-Col. M. Bruce. Among the rest of the company we ob served Sir E. Perry, M.P., Sir John Johnstone, Bart., Mr. W. M. Thackeray, Mr. A. Borthwick, Mr. Beresford-Hope, M.P., Mr. Sims Reeves, Mrs. Charles Kean entered the gallery while the dinner was proceeding, and, on being recognised, was most enthusiastically cheered, all the company rising to do her honour. The dinner being over, and "Non nobis Domino" having been sung by the choir of Eton College, The Noble CHAIRMAN proposed " The Queen," which was responded to with the customary enthu siasm, and followed by the " National Anthem." The next toast was The Prince Consort, Prince of Wales, and the rest of the Royal Family." The CHAIRMAN, in proposing it, expressed a hope that the Prince of Wales, in his next tour, would pay a visit to one of the greet colonies of England. (Loud cheers.) He also spoke in terms of high eulogy of the Duke of Cambridge, who, he said, was devoting the whole of his energies to the reorganisation of the British army, The toast was drunk with the utmost cordiality. Then came " The Army and Navy," to which General Sir I. Burgoyne replied. The CHAIRMAN, in rising to propose the toast of the evening, said—l deeply regret that this duty has not fallen to the lot of him who was originally intended to perform it. Before I propose the toast let me say one word. with reference to the origin of this banquet. Many of you know that every son of Eton looks back with feelings of the tenderest affection to the school in which he was educated. (Cheers.) Many of you even, who have not been educated at Eton, may know that there is a sort of freemasonry amongst us which draws us together, nn ler whatever circumstances, and in whatever q uarter of the world we may be thrown. (Cheers.) Well, then, we Etonians, contemporaries of Charles Kean, although we have amongst us th e names of some of the most distinguished mei which the country has produced—generals, statesmen, philosophers, poets, and others—desire to show that we have now a son of Eton who has brought fresh lustre to the school, and to whom, therefore, we are anxious to express our admiration. (Cheers.) But we felt, at the same time, that in such a demon stration it was the right of all to join. We, the Etonians, instituted it, but we felt it was right to call upon you to participate in it. We felt that the fame of Charles Kean was the property of all. (Cheers.) It was at Eton he began his pireer, but he has now grown his growth, and has become the property of his age and of his country. Therefore we invited you to join in this banquet, and in that testimonial which is to be the consequence of it. (Cheers.) It would occupy you too long if I were to attempt to give anything like a biography of our guest; but I may perhaps be pardoned if, in this assembly, initiated by Etonians, I mention that it is now 35 years ago since he, and I, and others sit ting at this table, were associated together in that school. (Cheers.) That as a scholar he was dis tinguished, you may judge from what you have seen of him in after life—(cheers) —that as a boy he was popular, I appeal to the friends assembled around me at this board—(cheers) —but that he was no book-worm merely I may prove by this fact, that while the hon. secretary of this festival was captain of a boat, he was second captain, and pulled a stroke in a match cf six, of which six, it is a curi ous fact, there are four at the present moment in this room. Such was his prowess, and such was the honest rivalry in which he indulged. I believe it was a drawn match ; at any rate it was celebrated by a joint breakfast of the boats' crews at Eton. (Laughter.) In the very year he left Eton he entered on the stage. It would be impertinence in me to refer to the circumstances which induced that step, but I may mention, as an additional clement to his credit, that his education had not tended to such a career. Six years afterwards he performed on the boards of Covent Garden for the last time with his distinguished father, who died shortly afterwards. On that occassion he also acted with another—with Miss Ellen Tree— (loud cheers, the company rising and waving their handkerchiefs)—with her who has since been the partaker of all his labours and all his glories, and is now the happy participator in the honours which are showered upon him to night. (Cheers.) Gen tlemen, it would be absurd in me to attempt to de scribe the state of the stage at the period Mr. Chas. Kean entered upon it, but I may allude to this fact, that for some time previously there had been a com plete severance of dramatic poetry from the theatre, and that while dramatic poetry occupied the highest position in the imaginative literature of this coun try, while every one delighted in the poetry of the Elizabethan age, Shakspere had been nearly ex cluded from those boards upon which it has been his object and his delight to introduce the most beautiful conceptions of his genius, and to remedy the evils which he found existing. Gentlemen, in the days of ancient Greece the drama and the theatre were the most effectiveinstruments in form ing the character of that remarkable people ; and if it is not the same at this moment, they are at any rate an index to the social status of a people, and we may trace in succession the feelings, sentiments, and moral opinions of this country, if we look back to the coarseness of language which prevailed in the time of the Tudors, degenerating into pure ob icenity, and to what is even worse, the profligacy of heart and sentiment which marked the reign of Charles ll.—(hear, hear) —and I believe that if there is not a complete revival of what we would wish to see, at any rate there is an improvement in the tastes of the people. Having referred to an cient Greece, I may observe that those actors were considered to be worthy the highest honours of the State, and it is strange indeed that in this land of literature and art, wilst the followers of art — sculptors, painters, poets—receive at least some Portion of their meed of praise, approbation, and respect—and, so far from grudging it, I say they do not receive as much as they ought to do—(hear, hear\ ,-- lievertheless, I say it is strange that the branch of art th e most rare and the most difficult in which to arrive at excellence seems to be cast into the shade and to be treated almost with obloquy—at any rate with indifference, Honour, then, the man who has raised the fromstag:ee. what it was when he entered upon it. What is th e stage now? I do not mean to say he found it M the state I have represented it ; but he raised it materially, and introduced reforms which were begun by the great Garrick, followed up by the two K embles and his fath er, an d mature d by himself. (Cheers.) I allude of course to his Shak sperian revivals. We all know their merits—we have heard them criticised, but th eyhave outlived criticism. His fame, however, does not rest alone on those revivals. He has shown a versatility i n hi s art—he has shown a knowledge of the human char acter—he has shown the influence of mind overthe passions of men. I say he has shown all these thing s in a way that proves he is no copyist—that he is no mannerist—that he is not a man with one idea only. (Cheers.) Moreover, he is a great historical painter. I see distinguished professors of t he art of painting in this room, and I ask them whether they do not look on Mr. Kean as a rival ? We know that their productions, happily for them, descend fresh from the easel to posterity, while, unhappily fo r him, his productions perish the same evening, and leave no thing but their fame behind them. (Cheers.) The weenery not only forms lessonsin art, but lessons in L'istory. Many of us are attached to the science of ar ,lhxology. I look on Mr. Kean as one of the great arcs hxologists of the day. He has had a reason for eve r) 'thing. There is nothing which he has intro duced on the stage for which he has not had an authori 'ty. For every one of his representations of Shakspere there is the exact costume, the exact scenery, and the exact furniture of rooms which, we have every reason to believe, from other sources, existed at the time. (Cheers.) But he has done more; he has introduced groups on the stage in a manner approaching to the marvellous. The way they are organised, drilled, brought upon the stage and moved about without confusion, is worthy any general in the service. (Laughter and cheers.) He has, in acting Shakspere, answered the question of the great Shakspere himself— " Can this cock-pit hold the vasty fields of France ?" Mr. Kean has proved that it can, and until he made the attempt no one dreamt of such a thing. Well, with what spirit has he entered upon his career ? He has done so in no commercial spirit. (Cheers.) Without neglecting the interests of his family—and we should respect him the less if he had neglected them—he has been actuated by a pure love of his art, by a love of his profession, and by a noble spirit. (Cheers.) He no doubt feels the truth of the lines— " The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For those who live to please must please to live." By that sentiment he has been properly influenced; but he has never allowed the love of gain to induce him to swerve for one moment from that clear line of duty which he has chalked out for himself. He has followed his career regardless of every selfish consideration, and I am certain he has now his re ward in the approval and admiration of the public. (Cheers.) At the same time his hand has ever been open to assist the poor and needy, more especially with regard to his own profession. (Cheers.) I remember the meeting in the Princess's Theatre about twelve months ago, when he eloquently advocated the cause of the Dramatic College, and proved not only that his eloquence and his ser vices were at the command of the charity, but that his purse was equally so. (Cheers.) As our guest has to follow me, I do not think I should be justi fied in adding one word more in advocating the toast. You know his public merits ; many of you know his private virtues—(cheers)—and therefore I will only ask you to drink to the health of one whose virtues and whose private character have brought around him a wide circle of affectionate and admiring friends—(cheers)--to one whose zeal in his profession, amounting almost to enthusiasm, has led him to prove that a theatre may be made, not merely a vehicle for frivolous amusement, or, what is worse, dissipation, but that it may be erected into a gigantic instrument of education for the instruction of the young, and for the edifi cation as well as the amusement of those of ma ture age. (Cheers.) I ask you to drink to his health as one who has exalted the character of the British drama. I ask you to drink his health as one whose benevolence and charity many a down trodden brother and sister of his art has felt and blessed. I ask you to drink to the health of one whose genius has illustrated and• whose cha racter has elevated the profession to which he be longs. (Cheers.) Finally, I ask you to drink his health as one whom I may term, if figuratively, yet without exaggeration, the hierarch of that glorious temple in which Shakspere is enshrined. (Loud cheers.) The toast was drunk with oft-repeated rounds of applause, in which the ladies in the gallery cor dially joined. The enthusiasm of the company having some what abated, Mr. KEAN, on rising to return thanks, was rap turously applauded. He said—My Lords and Gentlemen, when I entered this room and took my seat in presence of this distinguished company, as the invited guest of the evening, I felt and appre ciated at its full value, and, I trust, with becoming pride, the flattering position to which your favour has exalted me ; but it was impossible for me to anticipate the kind and gracious eu:ogiums of the noble chairman, so warmly and eloquently expressed, and your enthusiastic response. lam totally unable to thank you as I ought or as I wish. I throw myself on your indulgence, entreating you to believe in the sincerity of my feebly uttered sentiments, and to pardon my poverty of language in consideration of the overflow of my heart. (Cheers.) Amongst the leading influences of human character the ties of kindred occupy a fore most rank ; next to these, perhaps, may be placed the associations of boyhood, the remembrance of those happy days, at school or college, when life " first put forth the tender leaves of hope "—when all was spring and sunshine—when our young minds were engrossed with the present, and the gathering clouds of the future were unseen or dis regarded. All these thronging visions of the past come back upon me at this moment, after the lapse of more than 30 years, with the freshness of yes terday, and with that pure enjoyment which only such revived feelings can impart, as I look upon many of the faces by which I am sur rounded, and consider the originating impulse that gave rise to the present brilliant assem blage. (Cheers.) To be thus recognised and pre sen' ed, as it were, anew to the public as the fellow student and early companion of men who have I inherited or achieved the highest honours and the purest fame—men as universally esteemed for their talents, their integrity, and their benevolence, as for their exalted rank and social importance—such a crowning episode in the pilgrimage of life is surely more than enough to compensate for years of toil, and to obliterate for ever the memory of past struggles, anxieties and disappointments. (Cheers.) How, also, am Ito find words in which to convey my sense of obligation to my unswerving patrons and supporters—the public ; that public who havo so frankly and generously responded to the present call, and whose co-operation was ever ready to promote what I conscientiously believed to be the blending of their most intellectual recrea tion with a true development of the best purposes of our national drama. Let me offer to their repre sentatives here my heartfelt gratitude— " Only I have left to say More is thy due than more than all can pay." You have done me a great honour—the greatest possible honour that could be conferred on a mem ber of the theatrical profession, and thus on the dramatic art itself—that art the progress and pro sperity of which cannot be otherwise than a sub ject of interest to every reflecting and educated mind • for the legitimate object of the drama is to contribute to the intellectual culture of mankind— to expose to view the secret springs of action, the most minute vibrations of the human heart—to exhibit the character of man under all its various and conflicting passions—to inspire sentiments which may serve tho purposes of truth and morality, whose end, as Shakspere has told us, both at the first and now, was and is, " To hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own fea ture, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time its form and pressure." (Cheers.) When these objects are not attained, the drama has not fulfilled its mission. It is not because the stage may be degraded from its higher purposes that its beneficial influence should be over looked or rejected. (Cheers, and cries of " Bravo !") All human institutions must neces sarily be defective in their organisation, compris ing within themselves mingled elements of good and evil. Imperfect in their source, they cannot be otherwise than imperfect in their exercise. The effect depends upon the care with which these ele ments are regulated, and the utmost that can be hoped for is a preponderance of good. Thus, in the natural world, we find plants possessing the con: trasted ingredients of health and destruction. Shakspere has described thil in one of his most familiar passages— " Within the infant rind of this small flower Poison hath residence and med'cine power; Two such opposed foes encamp them still In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will ; And where the worser is predominant Full soon the calker death eats up that plant." These lines contain a brief but comprehensive moral, which may be applied not only to the stage, but to everything in life, of whatever class or quality. It may be difficult to preserve a garden free from weeds, but who for that reason would root up the flowers, or abandon them to be choked ? That which con tains certain advantages to society at large surely should not be disregarded as an instrument of good because it is capable of misapplication. Its use and not its abuse, should be rendered most prominent, and its influence encouraged as a humanising agent in embellishing life, refining taste, and imparting knowledge. (Cheers.) Let it be remembered, in the words of our own immortal poet, " It is in ourselves that we are thus and thus ;" and that " There is good in everything." ' (Cheers.) The love of the drama is inherent in our nature, and must have been impla nted there for some beneficial purpose. For ages it has employed the loftiest intellect and asserted universal sway over the heart and mind of man. In no country throughout the world, past or present, has the poetical drama reached such perfection as in England, for the annals of genius and civilisation include but one Shakspere. (Cheers.) A stream of light has been poured upon the world's surface by that bright luminary which no change his influence stg his raysis felto over the evn every highe stclass and and the grade lowest Hen o darken, no time can obliterate. (Cheers.) authority has been appealed texts for to by the advocate, the e s h t i s ; judge, the statesman, nished sc a ien d ce, philosophy, patriotism, affection, charity, Truly has the greatn religion itself. (Cheers.) moralist,which contains Dr. Johnson, said, " Shakspere is a mine we find t gold and plenty. diamonds in inexhaustible y. Hi s wisdomar e. filled with practical axioms and domestic u From his works may be collected an entire system of civil and ec onomical p rudence ." And surely Dr. J o h n son was right, for where shall such boundless versatility of thou g ht and reasoning, THE SUN, LONDON, TITURSDAY EVENING, JULY 21, 18W such consummate knowledge of the human heart, with all its complicated mechanism ? such golden precepts to improve the conduct of life, and render men wiser, as well as better ? Not a turn of thought—not a fluctuation of feeling, was unknown to him ; for his comprehensive mind reached every thing, glancing " From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven." His faults reflect the manners of his day, not the character of the man. (Cheers.) Had the theatre never existed there would have been no field for the exercise of this mighty genius ; and who will be bold enough to assert that a mere human being was thus inspired by a benigh Provi dence for any other purpose than the advantage of his fellow-creatures ? (Loud cheers.) The stage is the surest medium through which the precious gems of this intellectual mine may be scattered amongst the multitude ; and, as actors, we may well be proud to be thus considered the trustees of this mighty treasure. It is our peculiar privilege to bring generation after generation face to face with the poet himself, giving vitality to his works in a manner which appeals to the senses, and teaches while it fascinates. The more Shakspere is known to the million the greater amount of bene ficial influence will be spread abroad, and such a result is not to be anticipated from the student in his closet, but from the actor in the theatre. In " Murphy's Life of David Garrick " an incident is related which may not be uninteresting to the present company. It is there stated that about the year 1737, amid the darkness which immediately preceded the advent of that wonder ful actor and distinguished man, the master works of our great poet were comparatively neglected, and had given place to frivolity and folly. The drama had, in fact, sunk into an abject condition. To the honour of the ladies of that day, it is told that feel ing the unhappy degradation of the national stage, a subscription was set on foot by them to dethrone buffoonery and restore Shakspere. (Cheers.) Should we ever again so far degenerate as to turn aside from the right path, I would appeal to " that heaven of beauty which now shines full upon us," entreating them to invoke the daughters of Eng land to hasten to our rescue, that under their angelic guidance we may be led back from our erringway into the lost track. Then might we say with the poet -0 woman, woman thou wast made, Like Heaven's own puro and lovely light, To cheer life's dark and desert shade, And guide man's erring footsteps right. (Cheers.) My lords and gentlemen, no words of mine can convey my gratitude for the priceless compliment you have bestowed upon me. I can only say that " my endeavours have ever come too short of my desires, yet filled with my abilities." The memory of this day will be cherished by my representatives when I am no longer amongst them, and I hope and believe will serve to stimulate the efforts of the rising actor, awakening in him the re flection that in the honourable exercise of his voca tion there is one reward ever open to him which no obstacle can prevent, no prejudice can withhold—a prize above all others to which he should zealously and steadily direct his aim—respect from the re spected. (Mr. Kean resumed his seat amidst great applause.) Mr. GLADSTONE, M.P., then proposed in eloquent terms " The health of the Chairman," which was duly honoured. Then followed the toast of "The Honorary Se cretary," which was also warmly responded to. The CHAIRMAN, in eloquent and appropriate terms, gave " The health of Mrs. Kean," which called forth another remarkable display of enthu siasm. Mr. KEAN in reply said—The graceful manner in which Mrs. Kean's name has been introduced to your notice through the kindness of the noble chair man, and the enthusiasm with which that name has been received by the present company, is indeed most gratifying to me. The compliment which I feel so deeply, is, I know, equally felt by my wife. Permit me, however, to entreat that in my anxiety to spare your time, you will not estimate the amount of our mutual gratitude by the brevity of my reply. (Hear.) Amid the complicated duties of manage ment the director of a theatre, like the general of an army, requires the assistance of an efficient staff. Mrs. Kean has been my first aide-de-camp, and never had commander one more able and more in defatigable. (Loud cheers.) She has been my solace in the hour of trouble, my counsellor in the hour of need. Her courage never flagged, her heart never failed. I may truly quote the words of Solomon : " She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness." Once again, my lords and gentlemen, accept my heartfelt thanks for the honour you have conferred on my partner, my friend, my wife. (Prolonged cheering.) The last toast was " Floreat Etona," proposed by Mr. S. H. Walpole, M.P. The dinner and wines were of a superior descrip tion, and redounded to the credit of Mr. W. Donald. A military band played during the evening in the upper gallery, and a large party of vocalists en livened the proceedings by their efforts. Mr. Harker discharged the duties of toastmaster THE MOCK PEACE. (From the Times.) No one less than an Emperor could render a complete justification of the Italian campaign. It may be questioned whether even Louis XIV., though the hero of more than one fruitless advance, could have explained satisfactorily a march to the Mincio. and a return minus fifty thousand men, and we will not say how much money, within two months. It is for these purposes that Emperors exist, and when people talk of the crimes of Em perors they forget how large is the responsibility of which an Emperor, once made, relieves the na tion which made him. Napoleon 111. comes back successful and victorious. He has done all that he could do. He has not to accuse Fortune of one treachery ; his allies of one backwardness ; his sol diers of one failure ; himself of one mistake. To this he does due honour. Chief in his list of re sults is the new proof given of the military power of France. His opponent may plead the fortune of war for any shortcoming of results ; not so the Emperor of the French. His hand never lost its strength ; his weapons neither broke, nor bent, nor turned their edge ; his eye never lost its steadiness ; his forethought was infallible ; yet what is the re sult, and why did he suddenly come to a standstill, and as suddenly resolve to return home as the man whose countless hosts lay down to rest, and in the morning were dead men ? Was this a " visitation?" Was it anything at all that the Emperor could not foresee ? Was it anything to escape even the fore thought of a child ? He tells us himself what it was that made it a matter of wisdom and even ne cessity to leave half the programme undone. " Obliged to attack the enemy in front, who was intrenched behind great fortresses, and protected on his flanks by the neutrality of the surrounding territories, ho found himself in face of Europe in arms, ready either to dispute his successes or to aggravate his reverses." But the great fortresses, the neutral flanks, and the Continent watching for the turn of events, were the most con spicuous facts of the question before a French soldier had entered the kingdom of Sardinia. The impossible conclusion was plain from the beginning. The Emperor even boasts that he undertook the cause of Italy against the opinion of Europe. That opinion continued as unchanged as the Mincio, the great fortresses, and the neutral Alps. Forethought itself is vain, and success the worst foe, when they only serve to lead to a mani fest and insuperable check. Nothing else could have been hoped for than that somewhere about Midsummer the Emperor would find himself be neath the walls of Verona. Did he arrive there too early ? Did the Austrians retreat too fast ? But it is to the neutral Powers, chiefly, that France must ascribe the retrenchment of her pro gramme, the disappointment of her soldiers, the extinction of noble illusions and patriotic hopes. Napoleon 111. intimates that had he persevered he would have found himself involved in a war out of proportion to the results. In order to achieve the entire independence of Italy, he would have found it necessary, he says, to accept a conflict on the Rhine as well as on the Adige, and to ally himself with revolution. His tendr ness on this last point is almost out of place when nationality and independence are in question ; but, besides that all these things were evident from the beginning, and almost parts of the programme, this is to inform the great Powers that their neutrality has had at least as large a share in the result as the efforts and sacrifices of France. Some weight we had earned, for we had armed ourselves, and are still armed; but Napo leon 111. informs his people that to our armed neu trality the Emperor of Austria owes the posses sion of all his territory from the Mincio to the Adriatic, his still remaining position and influence in Italy, his share in what may be called the Pro tectorate of the Peninsula, and his good fortune in escaping a revolt in Hungary. So far, however, from these points of our neutrality having been to the prejudice of France, and constitu ting a case for hostile feelings on her part, we have the important testimony of the Emperor of Austria to the remarkable fact that the neu trality of the Great Powers has helped Napo leon 111. to secure the fruits of his victory. He obtained his own conditions of peace because Francis Joseph became persuaded that the media tion of the neutral Powers would have sent him altogether out of Italy. It is needless to scrutinise this belief, but it is evident that Napoleon 111. has no just quarrel with the neutral Powers. He is open to speculate as he thinks proper on their pro bable line of action, had they found Austria dis . membered of her provinces and invaded at her C - pital ; but, if the strong and evident impressions of the Austrian Emperor are worth anything, France has been actually assisted by the neutrality of the other Powers. But what is to be thought of a sanguinary war which has not only been brought to a sudden end by the foreseen and persevering neutrality of the rest of Europe, but which, on the face of the Im perial explanations, has not done half what might have been done by the mediation of the neutral Powers ? On the showing of Napoleon 111., war, though waged with perfect means, perfect skill, and complete success, could only do half the work. There was a point as fixed and prominent in his course as the ship at anchor or the perpendicular rock beyond which it was utterly impossible to push the attempt to liberate Italy by the force of arms. The neutral Powers, it is clearly the belief of Francis Joseph, were prepared to mediate much beyond this point. Their mediation, then, would have proved a better friend to Italy than the sword of France. Yet, since the two Emperors chose to take the matter into their own hands, to refuse me diation, and appeal to the sword, the neutrality of the other Powers has done what good it could do under the circumstances in staying a fearful car nage, in giving Lombardy an Italian master, in retaining to Austria her less reluctant subjects east of the Mincio, in bringing her to admit Italian nationality, and leading all the Sovereigns of the Peninsula to comprehend, it is hoped, " the imperious want of salutary reforms." This is the result for which so much blood has been shed, and both Emperors agree in ascribing all the result, such as there is, to the armed neu trality of the other great Powers. We may have our own opinions as to the value of the result. When the admission of Italian nationality by one Imperial mind is thought worth the death or mutilation of a hundred thousand soldiers, we ask when is this never-ending, still-beginning scheme, to be accomplished one way or another? Well, indeed, may we exclaim once more, for the thousandth time, " Tanta) molis erit Romanam con dere gentem !" But be the present achievement great or small, substantial or fantastical, it is con fessed to be due to the virtual mediation of the neutral Powers ; but for which Napoleon 111. might by this time have found his army melting and mouldering before the walls of the four great for tresses, or, with worse ills in store, advancing be tween Italians and Hungarians to the Austrian capital. (Fr9nt the Daily .2trews.) The apologetic tone of the Emperor Napoleon's address to the Legislative Body, on his return from Italy, betrays how sensible he has already become of the light in which his proceedings at Villafranca are everywhere regarded. There was much differ ence of opinion in France and throughout Europe respecting the policy of the war ; there is none as to its abrupt and sinister termination. It is hard to say whether those who believed in the foresight and sincerity of the self-appointed liberator of Italy, or those who harboured misgivings as to his real purpose in crossing the Alps, find most fault with the precipitate and inconclusive peace fur tively signed at Villafranca. The mercenary friends of tranquillity at any price look with dismay upon fifty millions squandered in vain in as many days on the battle-field, while the genuine friends of humanity lament the effusion of so much blood without the attainment of any more merciful result than a prorogation of further carnage to a day not named, but which cannot be very far distant. France, whose pride of territorial acquisition was lulled to sleep by promises of moral glory and heroic fame, hears with chagrin her Sovereign, on the day of his return from the theatre of war, volunteering excuses for the failure of the promises with which he set out two short months ago, and depre cating the imputation that his " efforts and sacrifices had been merely losses." No attempt is made to conceal the disappointing truth that the victor of Solferino recoiled before the serried strength of the Austrians encamped beneath the walls of Verona ; as if the certainty of having to combat them in that position had never been thought of before. Some vague phrases are thrown in about unexpectedly finding " Europe in arms to baffle success or render defeat more ruinous ;" though, strange to say, the equally low-toned apology of the Emperor Francis Joseph for having agreed to the peace rests chiefly upon the fact that not even his federal allies (to say nothing of Russia or England) would draw a swordto aid him. Which of their Imperial Majesties give the true version of the matter we need no testimony to prove. Europe beheld indeed with deepening interest the progress of the struggle in North ern Italy, and more than one of the leading Powers was willing honourably and publicly to offer its mediation with the view professedly of securing to a considerable portion of the Peninsula, if not to the whole, the blessings of independent and native rule. What the precise terms might have been which would have been thus offered we need not here discuss ; whatever they were likely to be in the opinion of Napoleon 111., they could not have been worse than those which he has himself sought to impose ; if they were we should not be long in learning them. The spirit of resentment breathes unmistakeably through every sentence of the speech delivered on Tuesday even ing at St. Cloud ;. but not a hi n t i s d roppe d th a t Italy is better off under the pacification of Villa franca than it would have been had her cause been frankly committed to the arbitrament of the three great disinterested powers of Northern and non- Catholic Europe. A single phrase is devoted ac cording to custom to the expression of hopes for the tranquillity of Christendom ; but in every Cabinet, and on every Bourse, the universal conviction is, that the a ttempt, unprecedented save at Tilsit, to conclude peace without consulting allies, and to dis pose of sovereignties and peoples without the pre tence or show of asking the consent of either, is certain to prove a source of new and deep disquie tude both far and near. Every sentence spoken by the French Emperor to his wondering auaitory at St. Cloud is a con fession that he meant the clandestine armistice and subsequent bargaining at Villafranca to be a grand coup ; and that he is now painfully conscious it has proved a coup manque. It will be in vain to ask the Courts and Cabinets whom he has treated with such rash disregard, to become endorsers of his repudiated draft on the patience of mankind. As they declined to take either side in the san gbinary conflict, they would have had no right to complain of their not having been consulted for mally in the negotiations for its cessation. But the re-arrangement and re-distribution of states and populations cannot be a matter of indifference to the other Powers of Europe ; and if it be true that at the very moment when the two unattended despots were affecting to deal in this Oriental fashion with the inhabitants of Northern and Cen tral Italy, the envoys of Napoleon 111. were assi duously urging other Powers to interpose their good offices and counsels, it cannot be deemed strange if the latter should now inexorably refuse to enter into any conference or congress of which the basis is to be the recognition, direct or indirect, of an act flagrautly at variance with every prin ciple of international good faith, civilisation, and law. Had it been a mere question of exigency in point of time, and that, to save the waste of human life which a third great battle would have caused, proposals had been interchanged, conditional on the acceptance of the Italians, or the confirmation of a European congress ; and had the propositions when disclosed been such as to divide opinion as to their probable effects upon Italian freedom or con tinental peace, the case would have been far diffe rent. But not a shred of palliation of either kind is perceptible in any quarter. Italy has received the tidings of the fate intended her by her now conjoined oppressors with a unani mous groan of consternation and disgust ; insurgent Florence can hardly be restrained within bounds at the threat of being flung back to the hereditary viceroys of Austria ; Milan half forgets her own escape from thraldom in her grief for Venice betrayed ; and even the Pope and the King of Naples are said to spurn the unwelcome parts as signed them by their united patrons. No wonder that every foreign journal which dares to tell the truth is rigorously excluded from circulation in France, while the newspapers of Paris are sternly interdicted from discussing the fearful blunder into which Imperial arrogance has fallen. In despotic systems blunders are more feared than crimes. What when they are both ? (From the Morning Post.) In the answer of the Emperor Napoleon to the addresses presented to him by the great bodies - of State on Tuesday evening we may reasonably look for an exposition of the motives which induced his Majesty so hastily to conclude the peace of Villa franca. That transaction has so startled Europe by its.suddeuness, and disappointed every one by its incompleteness, that we listen with no light anxiety to whatever may be urged in its justification: The Emperor puts his case with his usual felicity of expression, and leaves us in no doubt as to the dif ficulties which beset him in commencing the second half of the campaign. From the Alps to the Mineio was a continual march of success ; but from the Mincio to the Adriatic threatened to be less easy. Austria for years had made the quadri lateral the key of her position. The time had come when it would be seen whether it were proof against the most powerful army in Europe. " Arrived at Verona," the Emperor found that the strength predicated of that place was not ex aggerated. Up to that time the considerations involved in the prosecution of the war had been purely military. But, in the face of the quadrilateral, political combinations began to ap pear, and gave check to the Conqueror in a way that evidently was not expected. It was one thing to march over the level plains of Lombardy, crossing first this river and then that, and here and there mounting a line of undulating downs ; but the stone walls and moated works of the Venetian strongholds were quite another thing. There the Austrian was strongest, and the daring, dashing valour that so distinguished the French troops in the field was of less avail. There, too, it was matter of pure fighting, and not of strategy, for the foe was all in front. There could be no flank move ment but upon the side nearest the sea, and hence the whole character of the war would have to be changed; brilliant victories would no more have kept up the public excitement in Paris and else where ; the telegrams would for many a long day have resembled those we used to get from the Crimea—mere chronicles of the opening of this or that battery, the successful or unsuccessful sortie, the throwing up of new earthworks, or the attack upon certain rifle-pits. This would have looked serious as a check, though is reality the beleagur ing forces might have been gaining ground. In the meantime fever and the other ailments of camp life would have been making almost as much havoc as the sword, and thus the pick of the French army might have melted away long before the glories contemplated by the promoters of the war had been achieved. The Emperor seems to have felt that he had not room to fight as he desired. He might assail the Austrian rear after an infinity of lamentable damage to Venice, but he could menace the enemy's right only by a movement which could not have been successfully effected without encroaching upon neutral territory—an act which would have brought down the instant action of all the military strength of Germany, and involved a conflict on the Rhine as well as on the Adige. This amongst other things determined Napoleon not to proceed with the wv r, except under the compulsion of circumstances, and he therefore agreed to terms of peace. It is open, however, to us to challenge the reasons assigned as well as to doubt their cogency. The first point mentioned is that political considerations were added to those purely military. " I found myself," says the Emperor, " in the face of Europe in arms." This must be held to be at least a very powerful figure of speech. It is true that many doubted the expediency of the war, and regretted to see it un dertaken, but there was not a single European State in arms against France on that account, nor likely to be. The Prussian army was indeed en route for the Rhine, but in all probability would only have done the duty of a corps of observation. Supposing the original imperial purpose of loca lising the war had been attained, not another Power in Europe would have attempted to engage France in hostilities. But the Emperor says that o :ly " a long and barren war was in prospect." Long it might have been, but barren it could not be called, had it but effected the splendid things for which Italy had been taught to look. But then the Emperor adds that, in spite of all this, he would have persevered had the results expected borne any true proportion to the enormous sacrifice which the employment of the requisite means would have in volved. What these would have been in detail he explains. He must first have " crushed the ob stacles opposed by neutral territories." That is, he must have gone through a portion of the Tyrol in order to operate against the Austrian right in flank; and this would have been considered by the Germanic Confederation as a casus Belli, which would have necessitated a conflict on the Rhine. Be'sides this, it would have been necessary to co operate with revolutionists, which an Emperor of Napoleon's school may well be excused for dreading. But for our part we do not see why, had the Vene tians revolted, the allied armies should not have used their aid, as Garibaldi did that of the Lom bards. But beyond all this there was still the great risk of failure, of the destruction of his army, and the ruin of the military prestige of France. These, as the Emperor truly says, constitute " a risk which a Sovereign should only stake for the inde pendence of his country." The sum of all this is, and there is no concealing it, that the obstacles to the conquest of Venetia were such that Napoleon saw no way of overcoming them except at a risk that was inconsistent with the interests of his own empire. We cannot blame him for refusing a danger that he saw clearly before him, and felt unequal to. But we cannot help regretting, in common with the rest of Europe, that all this had not been foreseen. It would have withheld the Emperor from making large and unconditional promises, which in the event are not to be fulfilled, and it would have saved Italy from a bitter disap pointment. _ _ We confess to not being able to see where the difficulty lay,unless in the insufficiency of the French army. We cannot see why, with Peschiera invested by the Allies, the Adriatic in the possession of the French fleet, and the corps of Prince Napoleon to operate on the Austrian left, the siege of Verona should not have been attempted and the whole pro gramm of the war performed. It is clear, from what we now know of the feelings of Prussia, that there was no prospect of a declaration of war on her part, unless the rights of the Confederation were invaded; and, bearing this in mind, we cannot see how the interests of France were more endan gered when the French were before Verona than when they swept the Austrians before them from the Ticino to the Mincio. But, granting cogent reasons for stopping the war what is to be said of the conditions on which it was stopped ? What of the future of Italy, as contem plated by those conditions ? The Emperor says, " The peace will be prolific of happy results." May it prove so ; but what prospect is there of it ? " We have vanquished an army," says Napoleon, " numer ous, brave, and well organised." True, up to , a certain point, but no further. The Austrian army can scarcely be said to be vanquished when the French make peace in front of one of its citadels, because to proceed farther would be to endanger the interests of France. Thankful shall we be to find that " every day will reveal additional cause for the happiness of Italy, the influence of France, and the tranquillity of Europe." But at present Italy is exasperated from end to end, France herself is dis appointed,and the tranquillity of Europe by no means assured. Complications of the gravest kind may arise out of the impracticable conditions agreed upon. This is deeply felt in this country, where the warmest friends of the Emperor of the French have received the tidin: s of this last act with acknowledged con sternation. What we all desire is, that both Em perors may have their eyes opened to see the impossibility of carrying out the terms they have proposed, and that, convinced of this, they will refer the whole question to be decided in full by a Con gress of the five powers, and without any further reference to the sword--in short, that those steps will now be taken which should have been taken by consent of all parties before the war began, and which, in all probability, would have been taken if England had not been saddled with a Government incapable of wi e ldi ng th e necess ary influence of this country at the right moment. (From the Morning Herald.) The peace of Villafranca has produced more apologies than any treaty that we can call to mind. Henceforth it will be classed amongst the apologetic in the list of conventions. First of all, the Emperor Francis Joseph apologised for having accepted such terms ; then the King of Sardinia apologised for having given a reluctant assent to the treaty ; and at length the Emperor Napoleon apologises for having originated the proposal. Of all the apologies it must be confessed that that of the young Emperor of Austria is the most dignified. His army had been compelled to retire before superior forces, and an unwillingness on his part to terminate the con test would have excited general indignation. After his defeat better terms were granted to him than he might have expected before the war began ; so he consented to sheathe the sword, and thus restored tranquillity to Europe. We value peace too highly to regret that the war should under any circumstances have been brought to a close. Fro - n the first we counselled modera tion, and declared that an appeal to arms was alto gether unnecessary. The manner in which this treaty has been drawn up conveys the severest cen sure upon the folly that permitted a wanton sacrifice of life and treasure. The independence of Italy was not the object which Napoleon had in view. In his Proclamation to the army of Italy, dated the 12th inst., the Emperor Napoleon declared that "the principal object of the war is attained; Italy will for the first time become a nation." The fallacy of this assertion has been fully demonstrated ; so the Emperor takes up a fresh position, and in his ad dress to the great bodies of the state on Tuesday last admits that he has left the work of emancipation incomplete. The Emperor acknowledges the reluct ance he felt in retrenching from his programme the territory from the Mincio to the Adriatic, and to see vanish from honest hearts noble illusions and their patriotic hopes. In order to serve the inde pendence of Italy I made war against the mind of Europe, and as soon as the destinies of my country might be endangered I concluded peace." Our no tions of freedom may be peculiar, but we certainly do not perceive how the independence of Italy has been in a single particular advanced, either by the victories of the late campaign, or the treaty by which it is followed. Sardinia has been called upon to surrender some of her most precious rights ; Austria has lost territory, but strengthened her position ; and an attempt is made to confer upon the Bishop of Rome increased temporal power. Hence fresh elements of discord have been intro duced into the Italian question, and the condition of the peninsula is worse than when the conflict commenced. Already signs of discontent are appa rent, and it would be difficult to say how all this is to end. Great expectations had been excited, and the more bitter is the disappointment produced by the failure of every reasonable hope. Other advantages were mentioned in the address to the army, to which the Emperor does not now refer. In that manifesto Napoleon spoke of the liberation of Piedmont and Lombardy, although w• did not understand the nature of the peril from the pressure of which the former state had been relieved. The French soldiers were moreover assured that " the union of Lombardy to Piedmont creates for us on this side of the Alps a powerful ally, who will owe to us his independence." Now we cannot ton ceal the fact that this was somewhat in the bombastic style of Lord John Russell's despatch to the Prus sian Government. How could it be said that France had gained a new ally in the King of Sardinia; and what particular need had she of a powerful ally in this peculiar position ? Nobody doubts the valour of the Sardinian troops, the chivalrous character of their King, or the advantages of their aid in any encounter. But France is surely strong enough to feel secure even without this alliance. Francis Joseph, in spite of reverses and humilia tion, certainly appears in the best light in these peace transactions. His manifesto is truthful and dignified, and he does not shrink from an avowal of failure. " Unhappily," says the Emperor of Aus tria, " the result has not corresponded with the general effort, and the fortune of war has not been favourable to us." This manly avowal is infinitely preferable to attempted explanations of defeat or high-sounding apologies for disastrous events. On one point the Emperor Francis Joseph and the Emperor Napoleon contradict each other. The former states that he withdrew from the contest because the neutral powers would render no assist ance—the latter declares that, sooner than provoke a European war, he made proposals for peace. There can be no mistake about this startling con tradiction in the statements of the two monarchs, and it is impossible for both statements to be cor rect. Napoleon says—" I found myself in face of Europe in arms, ready either to dispute our suc cesses or to aggravate our reverses." And in another sentence of the address he alludes to the chance of being compelled to " accept a conflict on the Rhine as well as on the Adige.' Napoleon complains of the hostility of Europe; Francis Joseph laments that he could not obtain support from other European powers. The words of the Emperor of Austria are quite as decided respecting the deser tion of his cause by his natural allies as those of his brother Emperor's are respecting the probability of a European war. The Emperor Francis Joseph says—" In spite of the ardent sympathy worthy of acknowledgment which the justice of our cause has inspired, for the most part, ih the journals and peoples of Germany, our national allies, our most ancient allies, have obstinately refused to recognise the great importance of the grand question of the day. Consequently Austria would have been obliged, all alone, to face the events which were being prepared for, and which every day might have rendered more grave." When such authori ties disagree, to whom shall we refer for a deci sion ? Napoleon declares that the risk of a Euro pean war induced him to offer peace ; Francis Joseph states that he retired from the conflict be cause no European power would render the slight est aid to Austria in this terrible encounter. Although the present Government have, by the sudden cessation of the strife, managed to escape a damaging discussion in Parliament, the peace of Villafraca is to them a source of peril and embar rassment. They have repeatedly declared that Austria ought to be expelled from the Italian pen insula, and that the power of the Bishop of Rome ought to be annihilated. How can they approve of a treaty of peace which destroys their long cherished illusions! Was it for this Lord Minto stirred up revolution in 1848, or that British offi cers were ordered to sympathise with the disturbers of public tranquillity ? It is well known that the real authors of the treaty of Villafranca are to be found in the English Cabinet. In his anxiety to get the neutral powers into a scrape Lord John Russell busied himself about an ultimatum, and some kind and candid friend gave the French Em peror information of what was going on. Thus fortified, Napoleons easily conquered the obstinacy of the young Sovereign of Austria. Had the Eng lish Government maintained their neutrality such a disastrous close to a disastrous war would have been impossible. On the first announcement of the peace Lord John Russell sought to take credit for the Emperor Napoleon, because he had not annexed any portion of the Italian peninsula. His words were, " I may state further, because there has been a rumour for some weeks past that whenever pea ce came to be signed Lombardy would be ceded to her, that I am happy to be able to inform the house that the Emperor of the French has made no de mand of that kind, and that there is every reason to suppose that he does not intend to make any addition whatever to the territory of France. This is most gratifying, because any addition to the ter ritory of France, however insignificant, following on the war, could not but raise the jealousies of other countries." This is in the same strain as the ignominious dispatch addressed to Prussia. Lord J. Russell says nothing now of the expulsibn of the Austrians or of the independence of the Italian peo ple, but rises in the British House of Commons to pour out fulsome flatteries upon the Emperor Na poleon because he has not annexed certain territory on which he is supposed to have cast a longing eye ! THUNDERSTORMS. The metropolis was yesterday morning visited by a somewhat severe thunderstorm, accompanied by lightning and a heavy shower of rain. It com menced between four and five o'clock, and did not entirely pass off until between ten and eleven o'clock, when the sky became clear, and the sun shone forth with brilliancy. About three o'clock, however, the sky again became greatly overcast, and some heavy claps of thunder were heard—the wind suddenly rising with great violence. It, how ever, soon cleared up, and the atmosphere for the rest of the day was much more agreeable. The storm which visited London on Monday night seems to have been much more severe in various parts of the country, some districts having suffered greatly from its violence, and loss of life in one or two instances occurred. At Oldham, a mill occupied by Mr. D. Mills, Lower Moor, was flooded, and damage to the extent of about £2OO was inflicted. At Middleton the rain and hail came down in torrents for about forty minutes, and the storm is said to have been the most severe one which has happened here since 1829. The highway pass ing through the centre of Middleton presented the appearance of a large river ; planks and chrildren's carriages were swimming down the town. The reservoir, near to Mr. Burton's old mill, now occu pied as a silk manufactory, by Mr. Joseph Chad wick, was flooded, and the lower room, occupied by the warpers, was a considerable depth in water. The railway was under water for a considerable distance, and considerable damage has been done in the neighbourhood. At Bury and Rosendale the storm was very destructive, while at Haslingden a woman was killed by the electric fluid. The town of Malton presented an extraordinary appearance during the height of the storm, the inhabitants of the streets on the lowest levels being compelled to turn out and by dint of sweeping endeavour to keep the water out of their houses. A terrific thun derstorm also visited the Channel Islands on Mon day. The General Hospital at Jersey was set on fire by lightning, and the whole of the centre of the building gutted; no lives were lost. The town of Windsor was also visited yesterday afternoon with a violent tempest, which, at first, took an easterly direction, then suddenly changed north-west; the lightning and thunder were not so alarming as the heavy shower of hailstones, which were of a large size. Tiles and slates were swept from the roofs of houses, large; limbs torn from the trees, and the corn-fields appear as if a roller had passed over them, as all the crops are beaten flat on the ground ; nearly all the glass of the houses in a westerly direction has been broken. Upwards of one thousand squares have been broken at the In fantry Barracks, and Spital Cavalry Barracks. The Military Church of the Holy Trinity suffered severely from this cause. A double fatality occurred from lightning on Monday night at Ince, near Liverpool. A young female named Hassam, the daughter of a farmer residing there, was in the kitchen of her father's house when she was struck by the lightning and killed. The fluid passed from the kitchen into a stable adjoining, struck a horse, and knocked down Mr. Hassam, who was standing near. The animal was killed, but Mr. Hassam was fortunately uninjured. These are the only fatalities in the neighbourhood of Liverpool yet repotted, though the thunderstorms, which have been frequent since Sunday, have done a good deal of damage to houses and other property. A thunderstorm, with rapid flashes of sheet lightning, occurred at Birmingham yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon, abourt four o'clock. There was a continuous roll of thunder, with heavy rain, for more than half an hour, after which it partially subsided, but continued for nearly two hours. The atmosphere was in a vey close and heated'state. Ifol owav s Pills and Ointment...— . [ADVERTISEINIENT.] — MT ' • These medicines aro invaluable to all sufferers, whatever the nature or duration of their maladies. In the fev ers and lx ed i of ld t h nowprevailing through tie nothingun seasonably is so serviceable in r e amild weather, system pre venting disease, bracing tho unstrung nerves, and giv ing tone, as Holloway's matchless preparations, which are easily and universally procurable, and can be beneficially used by the m ost i g norant p erson withou t danger. The applied over the liver and kidneys, ac t s mos t sly, restoring them to healthy acti on o f t h e sys tem,rooina r t a y i c e n n o t u , whether internal or external. Their wholesome influ ence over every organ, whether merely disordered or abso lutely diseased, is incredible. MURDER AND ATTEMPTED SUICID On Tuesday morning a fearful crime was perpe trated at Jarrow. A man, named John Shafto Wilthew, murdered his wife by cutting her throat with a razor, and afterwards made a similar attempt on his own life Wilthew and his wife occupied two small rooms in Drewett's-buildings, near the Railway Station, for which they paid a rent of 3s. per week. Residing with them were three of their children, namely, a girl, 17 years of age, and two boys, one 12 and the other 13 years of age ; and a brother of the deceased named George Charlton. About four o'clock on Tuesday morning, Charlton, who slept in the kitchen, was greatly alarmed on seeing his sister enter from the other room in her night-dress, holding her hand to her throat, from which the blood was flowing pro fusely. She was unable to speak, and presented a most fearful spectacle. He instantly jumped out of bed, when she caught hold of his right arm, and made signs that she had received a severe wound on her throat. Presently her husband, having only his tronsers on, came running into the kit chen, and passed quickly through into the yard. In a few moments he returned, when Charlton, sus pecting from his appearance that he had done or meant to do himself some injury, left his sister for a moment, and followed him into the other room, where he found him lying on his face in a pool of blood. He returned to the kitchen to attend to his sister, who was sitting on the floor, with her head resting on a stool. Blood was flowing very fast from her. By this time several of the neighbours entered the house. Dr. Saunders was sent for, and on his arrival he immediately attended to the de ceased, who was considered to be in the more dan gerous condition. He found that she had received a severe wound in the throat. On Dr. Saunders commencing to dress the deceased's throat, she looked imploringly to him, and gasped rather than spoke the words, " Oh, Doctor Saunders, I didn't deserve this !" She was getting weaker, and a few minutes after the doctor had stitched and bound up the wound, she expired. The attention of Dr. Saun ders was then directed to the husband, who was lying in a pool of blood in the bedroom. It was, found that while in the yard he had inflicted a wound on his throat between three and four inches in length. He had cut through to the windpipe, but fortunately the windpipe was not injured, although the external jugular vein was cut. His wounds having been dressed, he was placed in bed. - We understand that he voluntarily confessed to having cut his wife's throat. He afterwards spoke of the fearful occurrence in a cool and collected manner, and even sat up in bed and smoked his pipe. He is fully expected to recover.—Manekester Guardian: COUNTRY MARKETS. MELTON MOWBRAY-JULY 19. There was a middling supply of wheat, and a fair attend ance of farmers—white samples realising 46s to 48s; red, 44s per 36 stone. There was nothing doing in barley. Oats were a small show, and last week's quotations were main tained, namely, 30s to 34s per 24 stone. Beans scarce, and at extreme rates-50s to 54s per 38 stone. MARKET HARBOROUGH-JULY 19. At this corn-market wheat was in small supply, and prices ranged from 40s to 42s per 36 stone. There was not much passing in spring corn, oats being quoted at 27 s to 32s per 24 stone ; beans, 38s to 42s per qr. ; barley, 33s to 40s per qr. NEWARK-JuLY 20. There was rather a less supply on offer, and last week" prices were not improved upon. The wheat and other crol o in this district are in a very forward and promising state. The weather continues intensely hot. White wheat, new, 44s t0,50s Red do. 4os to 44s Old white 44s to 50s Red do 4os to 44s Barley, malting 38s to 43s Barley, grinding 28s to 309 Oats, old, .. 2Bs to 34 9 New do 27s to 32 4 Beans. 50s to 54 9 Beans, new 48s to 529 CORK-JuLY 19. ---- - - - The following were the quotations this morning :—RO 3 wheat, 218'0d to 22s 03; white, 22s Od to 2480 d; barley 306 0(1 to 32s Od; oats, 14s Od to 15s Od. DUBLIN- ULY 19. There was a very dull trade at our corn market to-da Wheat met a slow sale, at about the prices of last weex• The transactions in Indian corn were rather better. s. d. s. d. s. d. s. ti,; 'I Wheat, white 26 oto 27 0 Do., new ..... 11 6t o 13 1)o., red 24 oto 25 6 Bere . lO oto 12 Do., new Barley Oats Do., black l4 oto 15 0 Indian corn .. 29 oto3 l ° COAL MARE (Prices of Coal per Ton at s. d. Bates' West Hartley.. 14 9 Clark's West Hartley —l5 6 Howard's West Hart- :ET—JuLY 20. the close of the market.) ley 16 0 Davison's West Hart- ley 16 3 Holywell 15 0 Tanfield Moor 13 0 Tanfield Moor Butes-13 0 I, Vylain l6 0 Eden Main 15 9 1 Walls End. S di Hetton.... Riddell 15 3 Belmont ..15 I South H e tt on . 17 ", Raton Lyons Ma'n _l5 r i Haswell . . l7 v,, Braddyll's Hetton 16 ' l , Keiper Grange 16 ,v, Russell's Hetton 15 7 Benson.... l5 0 'Whit wor th 15 ts ' Tees 17 ' West Kelloe ...15 ! Kelloe l6 u Nixon's Duffryn 2l g, Powell'sDuffrynSteam2l A, 73—Sold, 59. Walls End. South Hartlepool. l6 0 Heugh Hall 15 6 Thorpe Shincliffe 15 6 Cassop 16 6 Ships at mark, LOCAL SHARE MARKETS. LIVERPOOL-JULY 20. There was a firmer business doing in this market to' day, and prices closed ati per cent. advance on the opening' North British, 57 B—Great Western of Canada, 15 I'," Sheffields, 3G/ I—Caledonians, 83 1—Lancashire and iror" - shire, 961 —London and North-Westerns 951 Dn Rhenish, 51 dis.—East Lancashire, 93; 94—Berwten° 94—Midlands, 1041 I—Chester and Holyheads, 49 Du -- Eastern Counties, 11 i—Grand Trunk of Canada, 86 Great Western, 61 }—Blackburn, 11Z I—Dovers, 22 Birkenheads, 711—Leeds Northern, 47 8. MANCHESTER—JULY 20. The prices were firm this morning, and continued so 01/ As day, closin g a t th e b est. Leeds, 95I—Great Western, 6 7 Midlands, 104I—Dovers, 22 —Sheffields, Mt—Dublin Oa Drogheda, 70—Londo n and North-Westerns, 951 --Gran Trunk of Canada, 81—Birkenheads, 71t. BIRMINGHAM—JULY 20. There was a quiet business doing, and prices closed ther firm. Londons 95 96—Birmingham C a nals, - Birmingham Bank, 271 7. Gas shares in d ema nd, at I °` mer prices. LADVERTISEMENT.I—Among the numerous ex traol ll. nary cures, without medicine, of Indige s ti on (DyspePsit' )1 Flatulency, Constipation, Nervous, Biliou s and Liver 005 plaints, Cough, Asthma, Consumption and D e bility, effectT: by Du Barry's delicious Health Restoring ltevalell .Arabica Food, the following are not the least remarkabl e ' Cure No. 47,121.—" Miss Elizabeth Jacobs, of Nazia Vicarage, Waltham-cross, Harts ; a cure of extreme net' vousness, indigestion, gathering, low spirits, and nervow fancies." Cure No. 48,814.—" Miss Elizabeth Yeomsei Gateacre, near Liverpool : cure of ten years' dyspepsia all" all the horrors of nervous irritability." Cure 3,9o6—Thir teen years' cough, indigestion and general debility have be eg removed by Du Barry's excellent Revalenta Arabica Food' Athol-street, Perth. James Porter. Cure No. 58, 116, Mrs. llolze, aged 107 years, of dyspepsia (indie:i tion), debility, irritability and nervousness which „, 0 , 4 t ormen ted her for seventy y ears. C ure N o. 46.0 Mr. Samuel Layton, Leicester, of two years' diarrhoea' In tins, at is. 6d. ; 11b., 3s. ; 21b., ss. 9d. ; 51b., 125.; 121 b., 265. The 101 b. and 121 b. ti ns carriage free, on receipt of P i t t' office order. Du B arr y an d C o., 77 , Regent-street, Lon Fortnum, Mason, and C o ., 182, Piccadilly ; Abbis, u d , Gracechurch-street ; 4, Cheapside ; 63, and 150, Oxf",„, street; 330 and 451, Strand • 49 and 60, Bishops ubl 0 1-. street ; 85, T o tt en h am - cour t- roa d. Al so at piii! Bewley and Draper ; at Edinburgh, Raimes and CT i i at Liverpool, Nixon and Thew; at Manchester, Sharp a n , Scott ; at York, Raimes, Blanchard, and C o , ; a t Soatu' ampton, Randall and Son. BIRTHS. BLOMFIELD.—On the 16th inst., at Lacock, Wilts, t 9 wife of the Rev. Arthur Blomfield, of a daughter. Goocn.—On the 18th inst., at Waterloo-crescent, Dover' Lady Gooch, of a son. LEWIN.—On the 19th inst., at Holly-hill, Wanstead, the wife of Edward B. H. Lewin, Esq., of a son. SCOTT.—On the 19th inst., at 10, Provost.road, Haver s tock-hill, the wife of Joh n S cott, E sq., of a daughter. MARRIAGES. GOWA.N—MARZETTL—On th e 19th inst., at St. ma. lefh :flp Surbiton, Surrey, 'William, fourth son of the late Pb m i s , Gowan, Esq., of Wood Lawn, Dulwich, to Lo u isa gar o f youngest daughter of John George Marzetti, Esq. , Derrylands, Surbiton. paris h KERSILAW—NAIRN.—On the 14th inst., at the P, 3-1 v church of Wetheral, William Kershaw, Esq., of - 01 1.';, wool, Lancashire, to Maria, daughter of Philip Na' Esq., of Wetheral. DEATHS. DAviEs.—On the 15th inst., at Lower Hardwick, Cha t ° , stow, Colonel James Stephens Davies, late of 32d 'L e g Bengal Infantry. DUVALL.—On the 17th inst., at Turnham-green, Mr• Duvall, of 61, Holland -street. CAz.urr.—On the 4th inst., on board the stsarner ror, during his voyage to St. Petersburg, Peter C 10 1 . 1 0 .1 1, Cazalet, Esq., of Lewes-crescent, Kemp-town, 131.4 ' ton. aged 73. AlAsox.--On the 19th inst , at Willow House, D il l: Nicholas Mas on , E sq., late of 5, Bedford-place, itus— square, aged 68. REYNOLDS.—On the 19th inst , suddenly, at Shorne tiCamp, Brevet-lqajor Henry * Reynolds, 58th Itegill ie aged 54. 0 001 THOMAS.—O n th e G t h i nst., t h e R ev. Henry Th° toot M.A., incumbent of Christ Church, West Fording Dorset. LONDON : Printed and Published by MURDO " 1 /r of No. 112, St ran d, P r i n t er , a t The Su*lo ffi ce, l4 °' 0 Strand, in the Precinct of the Savoy, in the Count/ Middlesex, Thursday, July 21, 1859.