The Sun.
London, England, 1834-09-08 00:00:00

INNER TO EARL GREYr

be 'mt. section of the High School
kir, tita 4oally determined on as. the place Yfaorrd thes,Cga Calton Hill,din _
The
this situation, was
40a. eto It temporary pavilion is to betoerected for the oeca-
-5'14;44
~' c consent of the Magistrates
the Parliament
It is tied on Monday, and, perhaps, under allu the circums.tances
/toe: Well that technical objections shut
have been found even.
~,!hedetiots the projected building will afford more ample accom-
, the 11-. at the great festival, than could,,
Will
eeall of the " Scottish Estates.
100 feet square, and
"11l er:galenced yesterday, is to beThe building, which
Scotland will be pre-
Ille icatain Upwards of 2,000 persons.. lt is expected that
N, sof nearly all the Burghs in
iety manifested in all
tiaas-IM i!'is feared, from the great an 7! toitt:ra
than even the
to4sttend at the grand entertannnseinotn, that the com-
rtattewill have more applications for a
The
rooie" %Mica
of the High
School
'°`sil'e. accommodation to be provided will allow.
aid 11 L have also granted the use
be used to dine. a
r, o'dllte"lch will be very convenient for side apartments,
hea hnt Purposes and might also.
-qc lth
;" build in 's
r the principal hall after dinner.
ease "%Wing is enter
ebe erected under the
theadvaluable superintend-
-
feet :fr Co 's
Smith, aided
that
1. 11%-. Mr- T. Hamilton.
understand
half or two
let tom will be raised about a foot . and a
We baylsothe
'egise' al tile ground and the interior
and sides are
-aria ho li alicl comfortable' style. The 0
Ill'
f ded to have
ted up in an
Iklt,tlat With draper , and it is also t
undertaken to
*'‘
kelt oPpropri t Ydevices, including intended
eenescutcheon of
11'1'3 IQ
est DaD. B. Reid has kindly.un . sitztill .sas to thelighting
in de-
°- ttlitt.ion* r.
and ventultion ~ and what
principles of aco
tics
h.! th,t,,lalportance, he has also offered his services
us.
I,' til .Ite, rior on the most approved .
tiet„ _ peake_ ay have a.
..
relimi-
n of labour in all these
of
the
8 4 'ro hfair chance of hearing the eloquence
stels74t!gern"elit
has
di
illaabe: little do sb
h been
will crown the whole. rh
vislocarried to a great extent, so
The
stitio_ _ et cp..
erut that successl
41. appli:_eltlicakreetesoantrienandy
_appliedallpouring in.—Scotsman.
for is 1,800;
411 and ad
lie. 4
iat
Harcourt
(kte, i arquis of Titchfield arrive(
'eat of is etwendish-square, on Friday, from the Priory, the
Th, his,44er, and in a few days goes on a
Itry I.lo.Marchioness
'lll4 -"°wager of Salisbury returns to
tor, use to-day, from Hatfield.
eakhe i Peversham has left Harrow
gate
in town,
*ith the V.', in Yorkshire. Lady Faversham is still tad tscounsess Encombe• gat! for. Duns.
to te, Y John Townshend has arrived in Eaton-square
er da„ ,
Thge "goer, Lady Clifford.
left town
rittirel°l'. optsCin Byno• and Lady Agnes
Theday last to b
mr.
taq /lOn. Major Ke pel is going on a visit to
tepi„,Cutts Trotter, of BrPamsberry Park. The Hon.
terao—ted..e are
% awry to state, is still an invalid, and cannot be
th t John g
tNisi... _ Tooke Pechell arrived in town on Friday
The—' I
~,r oite business at the Admiralty.
`.hlte4 oe iin•
da Colonel Compton Cavendish arrived in
e• 44rsY, and on Saturday went down to Compton-
t et,a_
44 1140.;;:al kaison left St. Petersburgh on the 23d ult.
Iv.
C 1
CA °• bo 1
ptirty h left tow' jor owye ,
nler° "ug'as Ma' B e and Major-Gene.ral
M'll Lin 1 .n on Saturday last to joi
• e° nshire.
toga aiOr it is i !inipe-shooting
' oh Sato"kph Scott and Captain Falconer left
I.4vitatinkrday to visit the Pacha of Egypt, by express
ilZill r. 444
~,..
bo4, wi,, rs• Bishop, Mr,. Pally, jun., and Mr.
thistr to give concerts in the course of this week at
The ta. lIRS, and Tunbridge 'Wells.
!ay, th ' 'Word M'l • l t -mor-
in 0c NI 1 usica Festiva commences o
etnher. net week, and the Birmingham the first week

LITERATURE.

THE COURT OF SIGISMUND AUGUSTUS.
3 Vols. Longman and Co.

Fiction and historic truth are so intimately blended
in these amusing volumes, that it is riot always easy to
separate and distinguish one from the other•. Scenes
of blood, violence, and treachery throng on the loaded
pages, fast and many as the thick-coming visions that
whilome troubled the sleep of Lady Macbeth ; yet
there is no incident so dark or so improbable, that a
reader tolerably conversant with Polish annals will not
find a prototype for it in reality. It may seem a
strange dictum to those unacquainted with social
policy, but it is not the less true, that the beginning of
all stable government must be founded in despotism,
where the nation has been composed of heterogeneous
tribes, originally disunited by language, customs, and
the feuds and antipathies of centuries. The various
masses into which Europe was at one time broken
could only be compelled together, and firmly retained
in union, by the hand of unlimited power. Thus in
England, France, and Spain, a succession of kings,
all more or less despotic, cemented by crushing the
mass, and assisted by time and the fortuitous course of
events, at last formed a single nation out of many
people. Such has never been the case with Poland.
The chiefs of barbarous times, emerging from their
huts and forests, gradually advanced into sterosts and
palatines, and when one of their number had contrived
by superior valour or superior wisdom to raise himself
to a throne, he found, after all, that he had got only
the attributes of power, and not power itself, by his
elevation ; his shadowy sceptre had little influence over
a fierce and turbulent nobility, who talked of a repub-
lic even -while they owned a monarch, and in every
thing except name were his equals. " Primus inter
pares," the first among his peers, was the Polish inter •
pretation of a king, and even this narrow theory was
yet farther limited in practice, for there were few
periods in which the monarch was really more than
the puppet of the aristocracy. As to the people, even
to the last hour of the national existence, they had
little or no interest in the country ; they were slaves,
as much as the African under the lash of the planter ;
and deeply as we may regret, in common with every
upright mind, the infamous spoliation of the land, and
the scattering of its children like the tribes of Judah,
we must confess that it was an event which could
never for a moment be a subject for legitimate surprise.
The history of this work is not a little singular, and
exhibits an unusual facility of acquiring languages. A
Pole composed it first in German ; a Pole has now
translated it into English. The last deserves the praise
of writing accurately, and even elegantly, in a foreign
language, and though we have not seen the original
German, and therefore cannot speak of it as a compo-
sition, yet we perfectly agree with the translator, that
no work of fiction has yet appeared, conveying so
accurate a view of the Sclavonic nations. In host
other novels on the same topic, there is little Polish,
except the names ; these have been copied, not always
correctly, from the popular histories of the day ; and
with them, for the most part, ends all that can be
called common between Poland and the romance-
writers.

To tell the story of these volumes would be utterly
impossible within any reasonable limit, so numerous
and entangled are the incidents. This complication of
fable may perhaps be objected to as its greatest defect,
for it requires more attention than most readers would
be willing to bestow to unravel the plot, or, when un-
ravelled, to bear it in mind through all its tortuous
mazes to the final catastrophe. It presents, however,
many lively pictures of scenes not less novel than inte-
resting, and even when the author treads, as he some-
times does, upon a beaten ground, he has the art,
peculiar to talent, of giving a new colour to the land-
scape. Let the work speak for itself.

" At the extreme end of the before-mentioned suburb, not
far from a place where gloomy firs and dark pines throw their
broad shadows over the graves of the Jews, burnt a faint turf
fire in a lonely hut of the poorest and most wretched appear-
ance. A discordant chanting, as if proceeding from the
muffled chin of an aged woman, struck upon the ear of the
person who approached ; and a disagreeable vapour, in the
form of thick smoke, obtruded itself through the ill-fitted
shutters on the icy atmosphere of midnight. ' Heaven be
thanked,' murmured Waclaw through his frozen beard ;
heaven be thanked that the devil's grandmother is at home,
or the scrivener of the Grand Marshal might have passed the
night in the open air I and a bundle of straw at the turf fire is
always better than a bed of snow amongst the Jews' graves.'
After this remark, he began at first with a low voice, and after-
wards raising it, to call out, ' Arise, Ursula, my aunt arise,
I pray thee, and let me in, for it is devilish cold in the night
air. Get up, wench, in hell's name !'

'‘ At the commencement of this greeting the voice had
ceased in the interior of the but ; and when the last emphatic
epithets were pronounced, she arose, and in a hoarse chanting
tone and quick words responded, Art thou he who waitest
without, beloved of my soul ? art thou he, dear youth ?
Wherefore dost thou tarry to enter the lowly hut of thy ser-
vant? Behold, neither locks nor bolts can keep thee out.
Why tarriest thou without, my master? Are we still in the
month of May, when we could amuse ourselves by dancing in
fair order on the top of the Bald Mountain ? The night-wind
blows icy cold over the graves, and thou comest from a very
warm place. Glide in,—the caldron boils and the couch is
prepared.' So may St. Adalbert guard and help me l' said
Siewrak to himself ; it is certain that my witch of a cousin
takes me for her hellish gallant. Get up, I repeat, good-for-
nothing old woman I The devil, whose property thou art to
all eternity, may enter through the chimney or keyhole, but
not a man of flesh and blood who daily goes to mass.' So
you are not her answered the inhabitant of the hut in a tone
of disappointment. ' Then who are you, if you are hot he?'
Waclaw was on the point of giving his name, when the old
woman continued, ' 0, you are sent by the gracious lady
Starostin Falczewska with a commission from Now only
wait a little, and I will open the door.

• ♦ • ♦ • ♦ • •
" ' I will, therefore, if you are content to follow my advice
implicitly, try to provide another service for you, which can
well support its man, and where you will be as secure against
the cat-o'-nine-tails and gallows of Kmita as if you were in
Abraham's bosom.'

"7ff:indeed, you will do so,' said Waclaw, ' you will bind
me to you for ever. I have been accustomed to the service of
a lord and the good living to be found there, and would not
willingly linger in this damp hole ; but I might as well trust
to the devil." Say not so, my son,' said Ursula with a sin-
gular expression of countenance, you may trust the devil.'
A very respectable guarantee,' interrupted her nephew with
blanched cheeks, for courage was not his chief recommenda-
tion ; only manage that I may appear with safety in the city,
and get out of this ominous abode, and be assured of my eternal
gratitude.' Not so, not so, my friend; we know each other,
and fair promises alone will not do. Listen ; a foreigner will
come to-night to this dwelling, who will take you into his ser-
vice if I make the request. He has much power and interest,
though it may not appear, and rewards richly those whom he
employs. If your appearance, therefore, pleases him, will you
give largely to your aunt and friend of those gold pieces which
you carry in your girdle, and which in future you will not need?'
" Just as Waclaw Siewrak was preparing to reply with a
timid voice of inquiry relative to the circumstances of the ex-
pected guest, which did not seem to bode much good, three
hard knocks sounded against the rotten window-shutter. The
scrivener was thrown into a state of utter confusion, for he sup-
posed that the visitor would now appear whom the old woman
at his entrance seemed to expect, and who he supposed must
he the foe of mankind, to whom his services were destined.
His wonder also much increased as the old woman recom-
menced her howling song : Who lingers about my dwelling
during the night-time ? Is it you, lordly youth ? Then enter
the abode of thy lowly servant to rejoice her by thy wished-for
appearance. No lock nor bolt opposes thy entrance: come
in, therefore, to the chamber which is adorned for thee !'
A hollow voice was now heard from without : Open the door,
Ursula ; I am Assano, the Neapolitan.' The old woman
turned uickl to the treblig Siewark, an
Now compose yourself;this is he, nephew.d' "whispered him,
The most striking scenes in the novel, though from
their length they will not bear transcribing, are those
which are more peculiarly Polish. Amongst these
the meeting of the diet is an exceedingly vivid picture,
full of life and bustle, and presenting in almost dra-
matic reality, Sigismund Augustus and his wild Pala-
tines. But it leaves us little reason to regret the pass-
ing away of such a government, hOwever deeply we
may sympathize with the people. We almost suspect
that in this, and in similar accounts of the Polish
Diets, we have a more faithful picture of our own
feudal times than is to be found in chronicle or his-
tory. Such as the Sarmatian nobles appear, turbulent,
unprincipled, and treacherous—such, we have little

doubt, were pur ancient barons, even when wresting
Magna Charm
from the reluctant John of Anjou, the
king at all times being the greatest slave or the greatest
tyrant in his dominions.
A work of this description, it must be allowed, has
a charm beyond what might be derived from any
powers of language, or even from a well-told fable.
The novelty of this subject, shown for the first time
in its real colours, would alone be sufficient to awaken
no common interest. if, therefore, we occasionally
miss in these volumes that force and individuality of
character which belongs to the very few masters of
this kind of writing, we must not deal too hardly with a
defect for which there is so much offered in compensa-
tion. The general result is a work of no ordinary
merit, and one which will be read with pleasure by
every lover of romance.

CRABBE'S POETICAL WORKS, with his LET-
TERS, &c. In Eight Vols. Vol. VIII. Murray.
The new edition of Crabbe's works is at length
brought to a conclusion, in a way altogether worthy
of its commencement. The eighth and last volume,
containing a portrait of the author, will have a pecu-
liar value with his admirers, from its being composed
of tales hitherto unpublished. The editor entertains
and expresses a modest doubt of their being equal to
Crabbe's youthful productions, and, notwithstanding
the more favourable opinion of friends, as expressed
in the preface, we are reluctantly forced to adopt the
same conclusion. The hand of the writer was evi-
dently growing feeble from age, and, stripped of its
earlier vigour, his poetry appears in its homeliness—
dry and unattractive. We can compare it to nothing
so much as the corpse of departed beauty, from which,
though it retains the outlines of form, colour, and all that
makes up the harmony of life, life has gone for ever.
This opinion, of course, is meant to apply generally ;
some exceptions will be found, that remind us of those
happier efforts, upon which the reputation of the poet
was first built, and of too solid materials to be shaken
by any after failure. As we have already entered
largely into the merits of Crabbe, it would be too se-
vere a tax upon the patience of our readers to resume
the disquisition. Enough will have been done if we
make a few selections from these relics, and recom-
mend the volume, though it is hardly needed, to the
particular attention of our readers.
" Dim, silent, solemn was the scene--he felt
The cedar's power, that so unearthly smelt ;
And then the stain'd, dark, narrow windows threw
Strange, partial beams on pulpit, desk, and pew :
Upon the altar, glorious to behold,
Stood a vast pair of candlesticks in gold !
With candles tall, and large, and firm, and white,
Such as the halls of giant kings would light.
There was an organ, too, but now unseen ;
A long black curtain served it for a skreen ;
Not so the clock, that both by night and day
Click'd the short moments, as they passed away."
The Happy Day, page 17.
" Love dies all kinds of deaths : in some so quick
It comes—he is not previously sick ;
But ere the sun has on the couple shed
The morning rays, the smile of Love is fled.
And what the cause ?—for Love should not expire,
And none the reason of such fate require.
Both had a mask, that with such pains they wore,
Each took it off when it availed no more.
They had no feeling of each other's pain ;
To wear it longer had been crime in vain.
As in some pleasant eve we view the scene,
Though cool yet calm, if joyless yet serene,—
Who has not felt a quiet still delight
In the clear, silent, love-befriending night ?
The moon so sweetly bright, so softly fair,
That all but happy lovers would be there,—
Thinking there must be in her still domain
Something that soothes the sting of mortal pain ;
While earth itself is dress'd in light so clear,
That they might rest contented to be here !
Such is the night ; but when the morn awakes,
The storm arises, and the forest shakes;
This mighty change the grieving travellers find,
The freezing snows fast drifting in the wind,
Firs deeply laden shake the snowy top,
Streams slowly freezing, fretting till they stop ;
And void of stars the angry clouds look down
On the cold earth, exchanging frown with frown."
The Equal Marriage, page 87.
" Here I behold no puny works of art,
None give me reasons why these views impart
Such charms to fill the mind, such joy to swell the heart.
These very pinnacles, and turrets small,
And windows dim, have beauty in them all.
How stately stand yon pines upon the hill,
How soft the murmurs of that living rill,
And o'er the park's tall paling, scarcely higher,
Peeps the low church, and shows the modest spire.
Unnumber'd violets on those banks appear,
And all the first-born beauties of the year.
The grey-green blossoms of the willows bring
The large wild bees upon the labouring wing.
Then comes the summer with augmented pride,
Whose pure small streams along the valley glide ;
Her richer Flora their brief charms display,
And, as the fruit advances, fall away.
Then shall the autumnal yellow clothe the leaf,
What time the reaper binds the burdened sheaf ;
Then silent groves denote the dying year,
The morning frost and noon-tide gossamer ;
And all be silent in the scene around,
All save the distant sea's uncertain sound ;
Or here and there the gun whose loud report
Proclaims to man that death is but his sport :
And then the wintry winds begin to blow,
blue,
Whenfen
oanl I
the
ee
thornflaky st thaer sr
ripening
nt hge
sr
on
eg, syneot w,
Takes the bright varnish of the morning dew ;
The aged moss grows brittle on the pale,
The dry boughs splinter in the windy gale,
And every changing season of the year
Stamps on the scene its English character."
.The Ancient Mansion, page 161.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE EVIDENCES
OF CHRISTIANITY. By "amiss STRRLZ.
Edinburgh, Whyte and Co. ; London, Longman and Co. 1834.
If the mere object contemplated by the author of
this work, both as regards the public and himself,
could add a lustre and communicate an interest to any
literary production, then indeed would this book be
one of the most popular in the English language—the
sacred Scriptures only excepted. Privately have we
learned (and we hope we will be forgiven the use we
make of our informant's touching communication),
that the author is a zealous divinity student, who
looks forward to the profits which he hopes to derive
from this volume for the means of entering the minis-
try, where we trust he will be distinguished for his
virtues, and where his learning must ensure him re-
spect. The author modestly observes in his preface,
that he has rather examined the weight of the evi-
dences already advanced in favour of Christianity,
than sought to offer others which were not already in
the eye of the reflecting world. In this we think he
(lid well, as we know from some experience, and more
thought, that religion's worst enemies were those who
wrote most voluminously, and as they thought learned.
ly, in her defence. But surely Mr. Steele's acquaint-
ance with the world is limited, else he would not assert
that doubt and disbelief are in every instance the con-
sequences of crime, or that infidelity and moral worth
are incompatible ? We ourselves know many distin-
guished instances of the contrary, and doubtless so do
the majority of our readers. But this is a slight draw-
back on the merits of a work which has much excel-
lent matter to recommend it. The work is respectably
got up, and we hope will meet with such a reception
from the religious part of the community as will enable
the author to execute his pious project with the least
possible delay.
The following extract is given rather as a sample of
the general reasoning than of the style of the book,
which is, for the most part, easy, natural, and
graceful
We have no hesitation in avowing our belief of the inde-
structibility of ancient facts, as matters of history. There is a
tried stability in the authentic annals of the past. There are
certain kinds of events, supported by certain kinds of testi-
mony, whose credibility suffers no more loss from the lapse of
years, or the number of believers, through which they have
passed, than the everlasting hills, by their sustaining the
weight of the travellers who pass over them. Where is there
an example of a decaying historical eveßt? In what part of
the structure of history are those marks of insecurity detected,
which made even some advocates of christianity think that the
external evidences of their faith were on the decline ? Is there
any symptom of danger that that testimony which has stood its
ground for so many centuries, which has borne the fiercest
brunt of human wrath, and sustained the most systematic and
insidious attacks of a vain but subtle philosophy, should fade
away like snow, or be battered down like some material edifice,
which bends beneath the stroke of destruction ? We claim no

more, here, for christianity, than for other historical facts of
importance—than for the great events of English or of Roman
history. As long as the fact remains that the holy apostles
ascribe genuine miracles to our Lord, it will be matter of
,fact
that the pagan sophists ascribe genuine miracles to Pythagoras
and to Apollonius. Although the .endurability of the latter will
depend upon their adventitious association with the former--
although the actions ascribed to heathen impostors have but an
infamous immortality, from their rivalry with the mighty works
of divine messengers, we may predicate of them an historical
existence, commensurate with what they were meant to disho-
nour. Were our own country, with all its accumulated glories,
to be at once ingulfed in the ocean by which it is surrounded—
were the sites of its capitals to be only descried through the
glassy waters, like the Atalantis of Plato, by the ancient ma-
riner, would its history perish with it ?-_would it be at once
deleted from the map of the world, and from the annals of na-
tions 7—would the memory of Alfred among its kings, Milton
among its poets, and Clarendon among its historians, perish
with the monuments which contain their bodies ? Experience
teaches us the contrary. Babylon lives in history, though its
site be debateable ; and Homer is honoured as the father of
verse, although it has never been decided in what city of
Greece he was born. Trivial circumstances, which contrive to
twine themselves around the monuments of history, may be
dislodged, but these maintain their primeval solidity and gran-
deur, like the imperishable pile, freed from the ivy which hid
its massy walls and undecaying pillars."