The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1856-01-22 00:00:00

THE

KING.

THE eagle had folded his golden wing
On the height of a mountain lone,
And proud was the eye of the feathered king,
As he gazed from his lofty throne.

For in many a nook, and by many a brook,
He saw his subjects rest,
Entwined in dream, while love's sweet stream
Stole softly through every breast.

The owlet did wail, and the nightingale
Poured forth its tuneful numbers;
The linnet and thrush, 'mid the myrtle bush,
Were hushed in breathless slumbers.

The timid dove, with her mated love,
Was mingling chastest sighs ;
The grey seamew to his wild bride flew,
Seeking love in her mirror'd eyes.

And the humblest of all, when it uttered its call,
Was repaid with a glad caress;
But hiB high state had no fond mate
To soothe with her gentleness.

As the rain by the cloud, as the corpse by the shroud,
He was bound by the pride of place ;
As a noble mind soars above mankind,
So he soared above his race.

And the monarch wept o'er the humble who slept,
And envied their low degree ;
For he knew that Power could boast no dower
Like the love known by Poverty.

The Monarch proud his haughty crest bowed,
On the height of the mountain lone;
For he could not buy one tender sigh
With the wealth of his lofty throne !

LITERATURE.

Recollections of' a Zouave before Sebastopol: Col-
lected by Dr. Felix Maynard, Ex-Sanitary Doctor.
Paris : Libraire Nouvelle. London : Triibner & Co.

The volume, containing these recollections, is a
lively repertory of personal adventure, spiced, in no
trivial degree, with that peculiar spirit of egotism,
which, while giving zest to the recital of stirrini,
exploits, enters also largely into the composition a
that singular compound denominated, ironically, " a
traveller's license." The recollections of the Zouave,
of which this volume is composed, were picked up by
Dr. Maynard, on board the steam-transport Nile, as
she steamed her way homeward from the Crimea
with a complement of wounded heroes. The narrator,
from whose lips the recollections have been gathered,
was one who, from the peculiar garrulity of his taste,
and the lively and picturesque style of his stories, had
contrived to make himself an object of great interest
to all ranks of his fellow invalids. His popularity as
the reciter of incidents in which he himself principally
performed a leading part, attracted the attention of
the Doctor, who, from a casual listener, was converted
into a deeply interested inquirer, and ultimately into
the transcriber of the Zouave's narrative. The book,
which consists entirely of sketches, makes no preten-
sion to an intimate knowledge of the strategy which
guided or ought to have guided the various operations
of the siege. It pretends to nothing more than being
a recapitulation of adventure, in which the narrator
participated, and a sensible, lively, and light-hearted
recapitulation it is. In the fulness of their narrative
enthusiasm, these sketches make the reader familiar
with many of the moral peculiarities of the Zouave,
which render them more valuable soldiers than de-
sirable neighbours ; and prove them to participate
largely in those mental adaptations and moral obliqui-
ties which are reckoned among the natural peculiari-
ties of those wandering tribes, also of African origin,
who, under the names of Bohemians, Gitanas, and
Gipsies, have from time immemorial formed objects of
interest and fear, and also of persecution, to the
nations of Europe. Fertile in personal resources,
and unscrupulous in their application for individual
benefit, they are, nevertheless, animated by a deeply
rooted esprit du corps—actuated by great personal and
collective bravery—and conspicuous for a coolness of
intrepidity and a hardihood of daring savouringstrongly
of temerity. These sketches abound with incidents
illustrative of the varied peculiarities referred to, and
are in every page and scene redolent of the brave,
self-possessed, and cunning Zouave.
The annexed sketch, though somewhat long, is far
from tedious, and is moreover so full in its delineative
traits of character, that it may almost stand for an
epitome of the book. It may be called

Tfl ZOTTA.VE IN A. NIGHT ATTACK.
General Bosquet, who was to support the night attack with
several brigades, had, as he passed us, recommended that we
should march to the Russians silently till we came close, when,
raising a wild cry equal to the voices of a hundred thousand
men, we should fall suddenly upon them. Then, addressing
me and my comrade Fritcher, he added, " Play a polka, a
gavotte, the pastorale, a waltz—anything you please, save
the retreat."—" All right, General."—And he went away
content, for he knew us both well : we had already sounded
the charge for him more than once in Africa. At the
appointed time a fire-swallow— as the Turks call our fusees
gave the signal, and we advanced from our parallel. The
night was as dark as the bottom of a cave. We advanced
silently, in obedience to orders. If the Russians hear us
approaching, they cannot count us, at any rate. In the dark,
a handful of men is as large as a battalion—a battalion as a
regiment—a regiment as a brigade. As soon as we had
traversed two-thirds of the distance, at a wolf's pace, the cap-
tain cried, " Halt !" and divided us into two sections. One,
under his own command, was to attack on the left; the other,
under the lieutenant, on the right. There was nothing apparent
—nothing stirring yet on the Russian side; and we could not
have believed ourselves close to an enemy's post had the
" enfants perdus" not surprised it the night before, and its
whereabouts been traced by daylight. The " Chacals "
(Zouaves) were about to throw themselves upon the ambus-
cade, howling like demons, and I had my lips to my instrument
ready to sound a charge—the joint composition of myself and
my comrade Fritcher—when suddenly an infernal discharge
of musketry from the Russian side, and only a few steps off,
sent balls whistling about our ears, while the flash of the dis-
charge disclosed a long line of Russian riflemen. It was too
late to begin with a war-whoop. We must fire against the
Caucasian sharpshooters. The captain's troop opened fire ;
while that of the lieutenant made a flank movement to try an
assault. The captain then gave me the order to advance, and
seek shelter. I obeyed ; and our men distributed, and pro-
tected themselves according to the rise and fall of the ground;
while the enemy, first advancing, then retiring, wasted their
balls in the air. If we could see them by the light of their
discharges, it was impossible for them to discover us, as we
had not yet fired a musket. But, when I sounded the com-
mand to fire, the affair became at once sharp and bloody. For
more than a quarter of an hour we returned the Muscovites
shot for shot; and our balls, unlike theirs, were not lost in the
darkness, for I could see the fellows in their white coats fall-
ing on all sides. Our men, skilful and cunning, could see the
enemy as in broad daylight. The night was no impediment
to them. They never left it to chance to turn their cartridges
to account; and always ready, their hand upon the triggers,
they marked out instantly the Caucasian who discovered him-
self by the flame of his discharge. It was thus I saw these
white phantoms fall, as they aimed at us. All was going on
well, and we were gaining ground foot by foot, as the Russians
fell back towards their ambuscade, when a sergeant, of the
lieutenant's company, arrived from the right, and whispered
something to our captain. "To the right flank !" the captain
exclaims • "to the aid of the 7th !" and he ordered me to
sound the pas gymnastigue ! Our men massed in column,
rallied the 7th company,that was giving way. Soon afterwards,
to the sound of the charge, blown by myself and my comrade
Fritcher, the invincible " jackals" fell like a hurricane upon
the enemy's ambuscade, and passed right over it. Only two
sword-bayonets on this occasion kept free from Russian hides
—mine and that of my comrade Fritcher. We could not do
everything at once, for two hands are wanted to hold a gun,
and one to sound a charge. The Russians had retreated, and
we were already engaged destroying the ambuscade, so as to
get back quickly within our parallel, when a dense and enor-
mous black mass appeared to be descending the steeps from
the town. It advanced rapidly, swelling every moment, and
making a heavy, continuous noise, like that a multitude of
men would make upon hollow ground. The besieged were
evidently making a formidable sortie, and were at that moment
passing over a mine. What was to be done ? Try to defend
the position we had just won so valiantly? Why, they were
five, six, ten thousand strong perhaps, and we hardly numbered
one hundred and fifty ! I have since heard that this Russian
column was twelve thousand strong. We were compelled to
evacuate the post, and retire to the battalion remaining within
the trenches. We executed this manoeuvre, but without
taking flight, step by step, firing always upon this living wall,
which continued to advance. We took care not to sound the
retreat. Had not General Bosqnet told me and my comrade
Fritcher, " Sound anything you please, except the retreat ?"
The battalion that had remained in the trenches supported
us, then advanced beyond the parallel, followed by a battalion
of infantry, then by another, then by a French brigade, then
by an English brigade. A great fight was about to take
place. Two or three bounds brought us up with the Russians,
who still advanced The shock is imminent ; and the 6th and
7th companies, which have kept their position at the head of
the column, will fall upon the enemy at the point of the
bayonet when I and my comrade Fritcher sound the charge.
Our elbows touching one another, and the lips ready, we wait
the order, drawing a long breath in advance. At last the
order is given; I sound the charge, and my comrade Fritcher
continues it. I want to go on, when suddenly, I receive a
violent blow upon my left shoulder, that makes me spin round I
and fall. It must be a ball, by the sharpness and depth of the
pass—the brigades
p
pain. The companies pass—the battalions
pass—and I remain there, upon the ground, stunned for the
moment. Presently I rise furiously, forget my pain, and
listen. I can hear, amid the rattle of musketry and the clamour
of battle, the notes of my comrade Fritcher. My first idea
is to reply to him, by sounding another charge for those who
remain behind. Impossible. In my fall I have choked up my
instrument. I look for my pin—it is gone! I have left it in
the camp. Well, my knife ! It is lost. "Comrades, com-
rades !" I cried to the soldiers still pressing forward, " a
knife !" But they all ran past, without noticing me, in their
impatience to join the combatants. Still a longing to sound
the charge once more possessed me, and I tried to suck the
earth away. At last, however, when I saw myself quite
alone, I began to think that I should be very stupid to trum-
pet when all our people were engaged, for it would draw upon
me the fire of the Russian scouts who were prowling about
the ieighbourhood and make me lose my life to no purpose.
A minute or two afterwards I felt something that was warm
at first, and then cold, trickling
down my breast. I slipped
my hand under my waistcoat, and withdrew it wet all over.
The darkness prevented me from seeing but I knew by the
smell that it was blood. This struck my legs from under
.me,
and I sank to the earth. " Ie p, comrades I I cried, in a
faint voice " help, Zouaves I" But already there was
nobody within hearing. The brigades were marching further
and further away, repulsing the sortie of the Russians ; and I
could hope for help only at the end of the combat, or, perhaps,
of the night. I suppose my blood ceased soon to flow, for I

felt my strength returning to me. You will perhaps think,
gentlemen, that I gave myself up to lamentations, seeing
myself wounded and beyond the reach of help. Not a bit of
it ! On the contrary, I kept repeating the bono besef, our
" all right," of Africa, and taking the road which our com-
panions had taken in issuing beyond the parallel, I tried to
make the best of my way to the ambulance in the trenches.
Jes bono besef, our African slang ; these were the words that
came from my lips when the horn fell from them. Thanks,
gentlemen of Russia; you send me on my convalescent trip.
Thanks to your cylindrical ball, I shall return to my native
place, my old mother, and my friends. Bono besef. Nobody
had seen me, or at least nobody had appeared to pay any
attention to me when I fell, except the sub-lieutenant of the
company, who, feeling the point of my sword-bayonet scratch
his thigh, feared that I might rip his trousers. But when he
was assured that his trousers bad not suffered, he began to
laugh his loudest to hear me cry bono besef, and then he dis-
appeared amid the whirlwind of the fight. The next day I
saw him carried upon a hurdle into the operating tent of the
3rd division. He was not laughing then, while I was smoking
my pipe."

The hero of the preceding narrative, as well as of
the book, so far as can be learned from its pages, is
still in Paris, where his light-hearted viva voce nar-
ratives continue to secure for him a popularity as
earnest as that which he established for himself among
his wounded comrades on board the Nile. His native
lightness of heart has not been subdued by the
severity of his wound, and he brings one vividly in
recollection of those veterans whose peculiarities have
been so strikingly and pleasingly immortalised in the
fictitious characters delineated by Goldsmith and by
Smollett. Every line of the volume suggests the
reckless light-heartedness of the individualwho strongly
feels that

" Glory is the soldier's prize,
The soldier's wealth is honour."

The Island Spectres ; and Something More, bte.,
Nothing Worse. By Alban Rosse, A.B. Bir.
mingham : 31. Billing.

The " Island Spectres," is an allegory, in which the
author, by various well-contrived means, inculcates the
advantages to be derived from the active exercise of
moral courage. The text of the allegorical homily is
conveyed in the. subjoined distich, which forms the
concluding advice of the monitor to the hero of the
tale :

" But if you should meet with a snare,
Let not your courage fail :
Whilst life you have, do not despair,
Be firm, and you'll prevail."
The admonition is delivered by a spectre, who
represents one of the victims allured to destruction
by the varied temptations by. which the " Island
Spectres" seduce the unsuspecting objects of their
malignity. Like others whose facts are narrated or
symbolised, the hero of the tale, Lomond by name, is
caught in the toils, but at the critical moment, recall-
ing the strangely-conveyed advice, he, amidst perils
and difficulties, applies it to practical use and escapes
the machinations of the demoniac enemies by which
he is surrounded. Besides the principal poem, the
volume contains several minor effusions marked by
considerable sweetness and fancy ; and it is embel-
lished with engravings, several of which are cleverly
executed.
The Works of Joseph Addison ; with Notes by
Richard Hurd, D.D., Lord Bishop of Worcester.
London : H. G. Bohn.
The works of the Right Hon. Joseph Addison,
though not reachinc, far into the profound depths of
philosophy, nor embracingt' a systematised consideration
of any very important branch of human science, are
nevertheless so fully permeated, in all their details and
generalizations, by a spirit of acute mental perception,
as to be eminently useful in completing a course of
liberal education. To the valuable qualities implied
in this consideration must be added the beautifully
chastened style of his writings ; the combination
leading to a conviction of their real utility as a col-
lected series. The collection has now, so far as we are
aware, been nearly completed for the first time by
Mr. Bohn, and published by him under the able and
judicious editorship of the Bishop of Worcester. The
works are to consist of six volumes, the first four of
which are now before us. The first volume contains
the " Poetical and Dramatic Works," the " Dialogues
on Medals," and the " Remarks on Italy." The
second, third, and fourth being occupied by Addison's
contributions to the Taller, the Spectator, the
Guardian, the Lover, the Whig Examiner, and
the Freeholder : together with his " Essay on the
Present State of the War," and one or two others of
minor note. The fifth and sixth volumes will be oc-
cupied by letters, state papers, and miscellaneous
literary essays. When finished, the series will be
by far the most complete of any which has yet ap-
peared, as it will also be the cheapest and most
judiciously compiled. It will constitute a highly
creditable feature in the set of works published as
" Bohn's British Classics."

Blackwood's Magazine. Edinburgh: Blackwoods.
The first number of this magazine for the new year
opens with an article on " The Gold-screw and its con-
sequences," in which the effect of the restriction upon
the currency, by the Bank Charter Act of 1844, is
treated at some length, and with considerable ability.
We may not coincide with all that the writer has ad-
vanced, but his argument is entitled to careful con-
sideration, more particularly as the necessity for a
change is urgent, and must be forced upon the atten-
tion of the legislature at the earliest opportunity. A
vicious system has created a necessity for gold which
ought not to have existed, and the demand becomes
the greater at the very time when there is the least
ability to satisfy it, while the burden has to be borne
by the mercantile interest, who have had no hand in
causing it, in oppressive rates of discount. " The new
Peace Party" is a dialogue between Irenmus, Tlepo-
lemus, and a friend, on the present position of the war
and the desirability of a return to peace, in which the
subject is handled with much ability. The evident
leaning is in favour of a continuance of the war until
the objects for which it was commenced have been
fully accomplished. The first part of " A Military
Adventure in the Pyrenees" gives goodly promise for
interest in the remainder, the story beine, told with
great spirit and humour. An article on "Lancashire
Strikes " is entitled to much serious attention both by
manufacturers and operatives, as, without taking the
part of either, the writer offers much wholesome
advice to both, on the errors of which they have been
guilty, and recommends that unity of action which
ought to spring from community of interest. As in
most quarrels, both parties are somewhat to blame,
and each should make some concessions in order to
promote a satisfactory settlement of their differences.
A paper on " The Inns of Court and the Bar of Eng-
land," which is said to have been written by Mr.
Samuel Warren, Q.C., contains some valuable sugges-
tions on a subject which is entitled to more public
attention than it has yet received. At the same time
we cannot agree with the conclusions of the writer as
to the necessity for a preliminary examination for law
students. Indeed he, himself, adduces the evidence
of several very high authorities against the practice
which he recommends. The paper is chiefly a com-
mentary on the Report of the Commissioners appointed
to inquire into the arrangements of the Inns of Court
and Inns of Chancery, for promoting the study of Law
and Jurisprudence. " Wet days at Bryn Cefn," is a
very agreeable reminiscence of pleasant days in North
Wales, reminding us of the celebrated Noctes of
Christopher North. After an article on "Drinking
and Smoking," containing much sober reasoning on a
subject which has often led to much intemperate
discussion, the number concludes with some ably-
written comments "on the state of the British
Army," a subject which at this time is one of peculiar

iterest.

The Train. No. 1. London : Groombridge and Sons.
This quaintly-titled periodical starts laden with a
goodly company of pleasant literary gossips. It is a
new shilling serial devoted to light literature, and,
judging by the first number, it promises to be a wel-
come as well as a valuable vehicle of that kind of
mental pabulum. Many of the papers contained in it
give indications of a higher aim than the mere sur-
face frivolities which of late years have been suffered
to usurp the place and take the name of light litera-
ture. The work is profusely, and in not a few in-
stances cleverly, illustrated by wood engravings. If
continued in the style in which it has been commenced,
it will deserve popularity—the only sure way of ulti-
mately securing it.
The Lord Our Shepherd. London : Seeleys.
Some time since we directed attention to a work by
the Rev. John Stevenson, vicar of Patrixbourne,
entitled " Gratitude," being an exposition of the
Hundred and Third Psalm. The work before us is
of a similar character the theme being the Twenty-
third Psalm. The author has divided his subject into
three parts, the Fold, the Banquet, and the Con-
clusion, subdividing each into the several heads which
suggest themselves in the successive verses, so that
1 the book forms a series of practical sermons on the
several portions of the psalm, each one complete in
a part of the whole. It is
almostitself, thimoupgohssibfolerming
to
speak too highly of this ex-
position, which shows throughout the earnest piety of
the writer; while the felicity and variety of illustration,
as well as the eloquent language in which the argu-
ment is couched, leave nothing. to be desired. There
is a total absence of all sectarian feeling, or any of
that party bias which might tend to raise objections
to the views of the writer. He appears to have
founded his opinions on purely scriptural authority,
and to have given utterance to them with an earnest-
ness of purpose, and beauty, yet simplicity of diction,