The Sun.
London, England, 1850-08-29 00:00:00

THE SUBMARINE TELEGRAPH

BET %VEEN DOVER AND CALAIS.
STRAITS OF DOVER, WEDNESDAY EVENING.
The interesting rxcerirnent of sinking submarinely
with success the electric telegraph tetween this port and
and which is &stirred to form the future key for
instant cemmunica ion with the European continent, was
practically commenced this morning, at half past ten
o'clock, at which hour the Goliah steamship, provisioned
for the day. and with a crew of some thirty men, was
brought under weigh within the harbour. There were
on board, Dr. Reid, Mr. J. C. Wollaston, C.E., Mr.
Crampton, C.E , Mr. J. Edwards, Captain Beer, and
several scientific gentlemen, with many persona on the
pier t 3 see the cons oy start. The Goliah rode out to
the Government-pier, with her telegraphic tackle and
apparatus on board, under a calm sea and sky and a
favouring wind. The connexion between the 30 miles
of telegraphic wire, 1-10th of an-inch in diameter, and
encased in a covering of gutter percha, the thickness of a
little finger, and which was coiled round a large cylinder
or drum amidship 15 feet by 7, was then made good to
300 yards of the same wire enclosed in a leaden
tune on shore, to prevent its being bruised by
the shingle on the beach, and to enable the
experimenters; as they proceeded out to sea, to send
communications on shore. The vessel being fully
ender weigh steamed out at the rate of three or four
miles an hour into the open sea in a direct tract for Cape
Grim z, twenty-one miles across the channel, the nearest
landmark to the English coast, and lying midway be-
tween Culsis and Boulogne. The wire weighed five tons,
and the cylinder two. The vessel was preceded by Cap-
tain Bullock, R.N., of her Majesty's steam-ship Wid-
geon, who accompanied the experimenters as a pilot, and
who had caused the track of the navigation to be taken
to be marked out by a succession of bouys, surmounted
with flags, en the whole route between the English and
French coasts. The operation of paying out the thirty
miles of wire commenced on a signal to the sailors to
" Go a head with the wheel, and pay out the wire,"
which was continuously streamed out over a roller at the
stern of the vessel, the men at every sixteeenth of a mile
being busily engaged in rivetting on to the wire square
leaden clamps or weights of frcm 141 b. to
241 b. and which had the c ffe.ct of sinking
the wire in the bottom of the sea, which
on the English coast commences at a depth of thirty feet,
and goes on varying from that to 100 and 180 feet, which
latter, or thirty fathoms, is anywhere the greatest depth.
The whole of the casting out and sinking was accom-
plished with great precision and success, owing to the
favourable state cf the day.
Various interesting salutations were kept up hourly
during the progress of submerging the wire between the
gentlemen on board and Messrs. G. and W. Brett, the
original promoters of the enterprise. The only conjec-
tured difficulty on the route was at a point in midchan-
nel called the Ridge, between which and another ine-
quality, called the Varne, both well known and dreaded
by navigators, there is a deep sub-marine valley,
surrounded by shifting sands, the one being
seventeen milers in length and the other twelve,
and in their vortex, not unlike the voracious one of the
Goodwin Sands, ships encounter danger, lose tbeir an-
chors, and drift, and trolling nets of fishermen are fre-
quently lost. Over this, however, the wire was success-
fully submerged below the reach, it is believed, of either
ships' anchors, sea animals, or fishing nets. The re-
mainder of the route, though rougher on approaching
the coast of France, was accomplished cleverly but
slowly; but, as the expedition had not reached its desti-
nation to enable our corresponaent to announce the
gratifying fact under the bottom of the sea by tele-
graph, and thence by the last express from Dover at
eight o'clock, he will be compelled to postpone it until
such time thereafter as the Goliah shall have reached
Cape Griner.
(BY SUBMARINE TELEGRAPH.)
CAPE GRINEZ, COAST c F FRANCE,
HALF-PAST EIGHT, P H.
The Goliah has just arrived in safety, and the com-
plete connexion of the underwater wire with that left at
Dover this morning is being run up the face of the
cliff ; mplimentary interchanges are passing between
France and England under the strait and through it,
for the first time. The French mail, ut mos est, may not
arrive at Dover at the time of going to press ; but, in a
short time, on the necessary arrangements being com-
plete, Paris news and closing prices at the BJurse will
be communicated by a mail that sets time end detention
at defiance.

PRINCE ALBERT'S BIRTH-DAY.—Monday being
theri n
emea anniversary
royalof
salute v
birth-dayeras was
of
s fired
guns. in celebration of the occasion. His Royal Highness
has completed his thirty-first year.— Scotsman.
his
Royalf!o Highness
rCastle
DEATH FROM LOCK JAW.—Last night Mr. Lang-
ham, deputy coroner, held an inquest at the Plough Tavern,
Carey. street, Lincoln's Inn-fitldx, on the body of Richard
Wilinot, aged 37, a stableman, living at 19, Shire-lane, who
died from lock-jaw. About a week since the deceased, who
was in a good state of health, received a puncture in one
of his toes, through a rusty nail penetrating his shoe. The
wound festered, anti a few days afterwards he went to King's
College Hospital, where he had it lanced; the wound
healed, but on Monday he was seized with symptoms of lock-
jaw, and on the following day he was removed to the hospi-
tal, where he expired. Verdict, 4, Died from tetanus, pro-
duced by a puncture from a rusty nail."

LITERATURE.
IN MEMORIAM. By Alfred Tennyson.
Although its authorship is not iii any w3Y t" know-
ledgEd u'on the title- page of "In Memoriam," it has
already become so well known throughout the reading
community, that we here mention it without the
slightest hesitation. To affect any doubt upon the
subject would be to assume in the shallowest manner
an air of critical discernment. Not but that the
present effusion contains in every stanza abundant
evidences of those poetic beauties which could alone
have emanated from the genius of Mr. Tennyson.
Indeed we cannot remain for an instant dubious as to
whether under any circumstances we should not our-
selves have detected that delicate sensibility, that
melodious diction, and that all-abounding daintiness
of metaphor which have acquired for our author the
recompense of his perennial popularity. All oppor-
tunity, however, cf revealing in this way our appre-
ciation of his peculiar gifts was denied to us by the
rumours which traced the present volume to his in-
tellect, even prior to the day of its publication. It has
consequently so happened that almost from the first
moment of its appearance the public have been more
or less aware of the occasion in which have originated
these exquisite poems, modestly and touchingly en-
titled "In Memoriam." From the circumstance of
their being preceded by a date and certain initials, it
has been surmised that they are commemorative of the
death, in 1833, of Arthur Henry Hallam, a son of the
distinguished annalist. As a bosom friend of the de-
ceased, and, what is yet more, as his intended brother-
in-law, mourning over that untimely dissipation of so
many beautiful visions of the hereafter, Mr. Tennyson
has raised this elegiac song of
plaintive and most
tender recollections. Since the hour when Milton,
under the pressure of a like calamity, la-
mented over the ashes of "Lvcidas," or rather since
the time when Shelley chaunted his sorrowful
eulogiums above the Roman grave of " Adonais," no
such lovely and harmonious strains of anguish have
been audible among the various music of our liters--
ture. In this masterpiece of poetic composition Mr.
Tennyson has caught his inspiration directly from the
spirit of Erato, from that lyric muse whose influence li
is diffused so unstintingly among her nobler and
truer votaries, giving eloquence indiscriminately to
the ploughman and the priest, to the ascetic and the
voluptuary, to Burns weeping for his Mary, to
Petrarch at the tomb of Laura, to Abelard in the
cloister, and Rousseau in the orchard. Unlike many
of his precursors, however,' in this school of
rythmical oratory, Mr. Tennyson has only articu-
lated thoughts of the most unaffected grace and
purity while raising his voice in the accents of
posthumous adulation. Throughout so many
hundred verses it is, lu truth, surprising
to detect not the smallest vestige of wilful
eccentricity, not the most momentary indul-
gence of the merely meretricious. The ideas
rise spontaneously to the imagination of the poet, as
spontaneously as the tears well up from the
depth of an agonizing memory. Everything, more-
over, is in unison with the sadness of the commemo-
rated bereavement. Even the stanza selected by the
cultivated and discriminating taste of Tennyson, al-
though at the first somewhat unpalatable from its
monotony, becomes, from the very fact of that mono-
tony, so congenial in its resonance with the one
theme—the one ever-recurring and inexorable regret,
that it ends by assuming to itself a tone of irresistible
fascination. A stanza of four lines rhyming, not al-
ternately, but the second with the third and the first
with the fourth—it is strange to find what varying
melodies may be drawn from that restricted
chord, the sustained vibration of which thrills
to the innermost recesses of our suscepti-
bility. Throughout its every sound we may
hear the voice of the poet rising and falling in ac-
cordance with the rise and fall of his emotions, now
sinking into dejection, now soaring on the wings of
fancy to the height of his consolatory conjectures :
all the while the rhythm throbbing like the pulsa-
tions of his heart, measured, warm, and uninterrupted.
Of the exqusite simplicity of the whole effusion we
cannot speak in terms of too earnest admiration. Our
meaning in this particular may be recognised at a
glance, through the following eloquent syllables ad-
dressed to the Divinity in the impassioned tones of
supplication :
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:

Thcu =cleat man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou bast made him: thou art just.
What though the whole of these brief elegiac poems,
written under the humble inscription "In Memo-
riam," are designated by their gifted author-
- Wild and wandering cries,
Confusions of a wasted youth;
not such will they be esteemed by those among their
readers who have had their own hearts tormented by
the pangs of unavailing lamentation. To all such
there will be at once perceptible a meaning in pas-
sages to others beyond the reach of comprehension.
In their appreciative judgment the chaos of misery
will resolve itself into orbits of comfort and cycles of
consolation. The gist of whatever solace is here
offered by the poet to his brothers in :affliction may
be found embodied in this ejaculation to the
Godhead—

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I food so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there

I find him worthier to be lured.
What a world of tenderness and admiration is com-
pressed into that second line which we have italicised !
What noble sentiments those to actuate the poet in
the expression of his grief
--
I tru:t he lives in thee, and acre
Ifind him amnthier to be loved.
Chequered as the sensations of alternating
woe and serenity consequent upon the ex
perience of some grievous calamity, the
poems, in which our distinguished author here ex•
presses his suffering over the loss of his beloved
friend and companion, fluctuate from the wildest sorrow
to the calmest resignation. Hence, from their extra-
ordinary variety of mood, they constitute no un-
worthy study for the psychologist. Their philosophy,
evtr pure and lofty, elevates the soul of the reader to
the humanizing atmosphere of religious meditation.
Their style, ever natural and symmetric, bewitches
the ear with its terse an.' variable modulations. From
first to last the poet speaks with a sense rather of
his subject than of himself, with an eye rather to
what he would say than to how he should say it.
Seldom, if ever, have we observed the individuality of
any writer so entirely merged into the theme of his pro-
duction, hisself-consciousness being altogetherabsorbed
by his consciousness of a supreme misfortune. It
were frivolous to attempt anything like a systematic
analysis of a work of such infinite delicacy both of
design and execution. All that can be attempted in
the way of criticism is an allusion to the predomi-
nant characteristics of the performance, whether ob-
jectionable or meritorious. At once, therefore, we
would transcribe the subjoined stanzas is a specimen
of the severe grandeur, almost amounting at times to
sublimity in the expression of sadness, for which the
book, on occasions, is remarkable. We know no
more striking picture of deep and breathless serenity
than the following :
Calm is the morn without a sound,
Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
And only thru' the faded leaf
The chesnut pattering to the ground:
Calm and deep peace on this h;gh wold,
And on these dews that drench the fume,
And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:
Calm and still light on yon great plain
That sweeps with all its autumn bow era,
And cronded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the beuncfing main:

,ti nirfetcdhadilsei
ti
od e
theair,
fall;
at all,
C al mTAahnnedds
ei
nd
lemeeapyy
ephseeatahereat
oofpphrisesoswivne T
individual h e r e ulpf a
o nny
bt
ehr the calm,a poeteßa echuaatl rmmwdoi ent spsir.
ui z e
the s t h ealmost
stagnation oAfntdhewahvoeusrthaantdswthsy the stehaesmonie':---yetshionurgeht
ever
Calm on the seas, and silver s'eep,
And dead calm in that nobleho bbrueatstmx.sT,
en-
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
g gve
when ice amplitude ?
All his matchless powers of description are lavished
upon Ltbe pages of " In Memoriam,"
unynosobutruamsivoeug ly
ourand y
incidentally. Who
could paint at once
.
w
Awith shuocrhe
sverbalpoa
speaking
übgreovfittuye
wioteandsur
solstice,esti
Makes, daggers at the sharpen'd eaves
Where he mentions a summer's evening, when
brushing ankle-deep in flowers,
We heard behind tbo woodbine veil
The milk that bubbled in the pail,
And buzzings of the honied hours:
or, again, where he exclaims-
-0 sound to rout the brood of cares,
The sweep of scythe in morning dew,
The gust that round the garden flew,
And tumbled half the mellowing pears!
With one felicitious phrase he conjures up at will
a whole panorama, opening up in vistas of inter-
minable beauty. it is in this felicitous manner that
he talks of
The landscape iciOing thro' the hot,
an expression of inimitable correctness, as descrip-
tive of scenery viewed through the atmosphere of a
summer noonday. One kindred epithet would have
startled us into an exclamation of delight, but that we
remembered having already met with it in our
author's medley of the " Princess." It is where he
speaks of the " dewy- tasseli'd wood." Occasionally,
it is true, Mr. Tennyson cannot rid himself of a fa-
vourite mannerism, detrimental to the purity and
completeness of his composition ; as
where he
introduces:such fantastici4smilies es the " closing
eaves of wearied eyes. Suoh blemishes ne
vertheless are so minute in their character, and so
seldom detected, that they only serve when encoun-
tered to mark the surrounding •beauties of the

effusion ; such beau'ies as the name given to the
period immediately preceding death—
the low dark verge of IFe,
The twilight of eternal day.
Similar in brilliancy, and kindred in character to the
last-mentioned, is that metaphor of—
That deep dawn beyond the tomb
Whtn, clear from nsarge to msrge shall bloom,
Tie eternal lanchcape of tie past.
How happy, again, is that mention of two lovers—
Their meetings made December June,
Their every parting was to die
And that record of—

- songs, and deeds, and lices that lie
Foreshortened in the tract of time!

Sometimes, but unfr(quently, the rhythm is halting,
the word spirit" being always, instead of remaining a
diesylable, so compacted into a monosyllable as to
suggest the unpoetic sound of "epiet"—vide pp.
115, 119, 134, 136, and 171. Again, this blunder-
ing of the metre is disagreeably perceptible in two
instances, at page 116, hi the line—
To the other shore, involved in thee, &c.,
and in the line soon afterwards—

The old bitterness again and break, &c.,
the stumbling sound of which may be readily distin-
guished when read with their context in the original.
From such microscopic thwe, however, let us turn to
the splendid and pervading merits of " In Memoriam,"
as a poetic composition. Not all the humility of the
author in his allusion to his performance can diminish
our estimate of its many and lofty excellences. 'We
can scarcely hearken with patience, therefore, when
he observes
The: e mortal lullabies of rain
May bind a bock, may line a box,
blay serve to curl a maiden's locks;
Or when a thousand moons shall wane

A man upon a stall may find,
And, i.assing, turn the page that tell•
A grit f—then changed to something else,
Sung by a long forgotten mind.
Of the sincerity, nevertheless, of these depreciatory
remarks upon the volume we are fully satisfied, seeing
that the aim of Mr. Tennyson is rather to sing of the
virtues of his friend than to widen his own reputa-
tion. In proof of this we find him saying—
I care not in these fading days
To raise a cry that lasts not long,
And round thee with the breeze of song
To .stir a little dust of praise.
That the merits of the departed companion of Mr.
Tennyson were worthy to the full of his affectionate
friendship we cannot doubt for an instant after read-
ing that fine stanza—
I thy praises unexpress'd
In verse that brings myself relief,
And by the measure of my grief
I leave thy greatness to be guees'd.
That all such grief, however terrible, is in its influ-
ence beneficent, even in the care-ravaged judgment of
the poet, we can see in a twinkling, when we find him
almost in tones of exultation crying out that life is not
an idle ore—

But iron dug from central gloom,
And heated hot with burning fears;
And dipp'd in baths of hissing tears,
And batter'd with the shocks of doom.
Nor are these consolatory thoughts restricted to mere
generalities ; their truth is applied by the poet to his
own affliction, where, alluding to the deceased, he
says—
Whatever way my days decline,
I felt and feel, though left alone,
His being working in mine own,
The footsteps of his life in mine.
Meditating at another moment upon our ignorance of
all celestial knowledge, he concludes his reverie thus
touchingly and beautil ully—
So runs my dream: but what am I?
An intent crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
Perhaps the most exquisitely plaintive couplet in the
whole of this lovely composition is where the author
speaks of moments
When filed with tears that cannot Jail,
I brim with sorrow drowning song.
The incredulity felt by all those who have suffered
from a similar bereavement is thus tenderly de-
picted :

If one shoull bring me this report,
Th•it thou hadst touch'd the land to-day,
And I west down unto the quay,
And found thee lying in the porr,
And standing, muffled round with woe,
Should bfie thy passengers in rank
Come stepping lightly dow❑ the plank,
And beckoning unto those they know,
And if along with these should come
The man I held as half•divine;
Should strike a sudden baud in mine,
And ask a thousand things of home;

And I should tell him all my pain,
And how my life had droop'd of late,
And he should sorrovr o'er ray state
And marvel what possess'd my brain;

And I perceived no touch of change,
No hint of death in all his frame,
But found him all in all the same,
I should not feel it to be strange.
It is with a poet's sensibility that Mr. Tennyson re-
joices at the burial of his dead friend in English
earth, so that

- from his ashes msy be made
The violt t of his native land.

For, as he himself acknowledges elsewhere, it always
seems sweeter to us poor mortals
To rest beneath the clover sod,
That takes the sunshine and the rains,
Or where the kneeling hamlet drains

The chalice of the grape) of God.
Thoughts apart from the immediate subject under
celebration are scattered up and down the volume,
from amongst which we take almost at random the
two subjoined :
The baby new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is prest
Against the circle of the breast,
Has never thought that " this is I."

I cannot see the features right,
When on the gloom I strive to paint
The tats I know; the hues are faint
And mix with hollow masks of night.
Such are among the treasures of sentiment and ima-
gination stored up in this casket "In Memoriam," a
casket of poetic gems laid by the hand of a distin-
guished wiiter on the tomb of a buried friendship.
Those who have wept over the death of their best be-
loved (and alas! which amongst us is without reason
of lamentation) will turn again and again to these
delicious strains of sorrow ringing round the me-
mory of Arthur Hallam, and emanating from the
golden lyre of Allred Tennyson. To the sorrow-
stricken they will prove a vade mecum of condolence,
insinuating in the gentlest strains of elegiac regret
the precious spoils of solace drawn by genius from
the abysses of suffering. Altogether, we are not
guilty of any extravagance in terming this volume
"In Memoriam" one of those masterpieces of poetic
literature which disclose new and unexpected stores
of beauty and wisdom at every separate re-examina-
tion.

THE Pimlico 'BussEs.—When we were at school
we used in our themes to select Fabius as our great standing
example of delay ; but if we now required a standing ex-
ample of delay we should select a Pimlico 'bus as our staple
commodity. The manner in which these vehicles "drag
their slow length along" is something quite unique in its
way, and we frequently make the mental observation, that
as speech is often used to conceal thought, so a Pimlico 'bus
is resorted to in order to retard a journey. We have heard
arithmeticians talk of a fixed quantity, but we never saw
the idea so thoroughly carried out as we did the other day,
when we noticed a quantity of passengers fixed at Hyde-
park-corner in a Pimlico omnibus. Shakspere talks about
somebody having been " fixed as great Atlas' self," but we
must say for the Atlas omnibuses, that we never saw
one of them "fixed" for any considerable time;
and if the Bard of Avon had said "fixed as great
Royal Blue's self," he would have ' approached
much nearer to our modern notions of a fixture. It is true
that the public has its remedy—as well as its threepence—in
its own hand,,and,it would do well to discourage the stagnant
omnibuses by declining to ride in them. We can only say,
that•

If we saw an omnibus what wouldn't go,
Do you think we'd enter it ? No, no, no,
We'd take out a summons, and cry, " So, so,
Your pulled up, Jarvey !"
It seems that the officers of the Blues—that is to say, the
conductors— are not remarkable for knowing how to conduct
themselves, however expert they may be in conducting their
vehicles. It is a pity there is no academy for a cad in want
of a stock of good manners. It is true we cannot expect
much civility to be thrown into the bargain, when the fare
is only threepence, but we had rather ride a shorter distance
for our money than go further and fare worse at the hands,
or rather at the tongue, of the conductor.—Punch.
COLLISION ON THE RIVER.—GRAVESEND, AUG.
28.—About four o'clock yesterday afternoon, the tide being
at the time nearly full, and it blowing a gale from the
south-west, a collision ok place in Northfleet Reach be-
tween a brig, laden with corn from the Baltic, and proceed-
ing up the river, and an empty collier running down. The
damage done to the collier was such as to cause her to be at
once run on shore on the Essex side, where, in a few
minutes, she filled with water, the tide being still flowine..
The brig kept on her tack to this side, and was brought
to
anchor close to the shore between Eosherville-pier and Pit-
cher's dockyard, at Northfiret. Thu men were kept working at
the pumps for several hours, when at low water her damage
was partially repaired so as to enable her to be kept free.
The collier on the opposite shore was got off at the next tide,
when the damage done to her was also partially repaired,
59 as to enable her to be brought to this side to undergo the
necessary repairs. The cargo of the brig must be seriously
damaged.

We are inclined to believe that Major-General Sir
John Grey, K.C.8., stands a very excellent chance of being
selected for the important command of the troops in the
Bombay Presidency, which appointment is likely to become
vacant by the removal of Lieut.-General Sir William Gomm,
K.C.B , to the situation of Commander-in-Chief of the
Forces serving in the East Indies. _

Thirty-seven bottle-nose whales were captured in
the Forth, a few miles above Alba, on Sunday last.--Dum.
fries Courier.

THE ADMINISTRATION OF THE NA TrY.

TO Tilt; EDITOR OF THE TIMES.
Sir,—After the Tory Administration had made
promotions in peace by wholesale before they quitted
office, they left a legacy to their successors in the
shape of the fallowing minute:—
" Their Lordships having taken into their considera-
tion the state of the half•pay list, and being desirous of
operating its gradual reduction in time of peace,
" Reiolved—That from this date no promotion (except
for special brilliant service) shall be made in any rank of
commissioned officers (save flag-officers), except in the
proportion of one promotion for every three vacancies
which may be made by the removal by death, dismissal,nr
other causes, of officers from the effective lists of each
rank kept at this office; death or court-martial vacancies
liable to be filled up by Commanders•in-Chief abroad
not being reckoned."

What, Sir, is the true meaning of this minute?
Simply that the vacancies of one in three are the sole
patronage of the First Lord, and that if an officer
distinguishes himself he must be promoted by the
board. Practically we all knew, before this minute
was issued, that the First Lord promoted whcm he
pleas( d, though occasionally an Qtlicer, for long and
distinguished services, slipped in ; but this minute is
an open avowal of the fact, and NI hen I mentioned it
in the House I was answered by the senior naval
Lord, " and little enough too."
Now, Sir, I hold that the promotions in the navy
are meant for the public good, and not for the private
and political friends of the First Lord.
I am not simple (Dough to suppose that, in a Go-
vernment like ours, interest will not be attended to;
hut that ought to be the exception, not the rule; and
I shall here quote a passage from Alison, which is
well worth the attention of the present as well as all
other Governments :

The aristocracy have, in every period, been deeply
implicated in the causes which unhappily E 0 often im-
pair the efficiency of our naval and military est Iblish-
ments. Incessant aro the eff its which all the holders
of Parliamentary influence make during the tranquillity
of peace to get their connexions and dependents elevated
to situations which they are frequently iccompe tent to
fill. During the danger and excitement of war Govern-
ments are compelled by necessity to select the most
worthy to discharge momentous and perilous duties, and
aro enabled by the magnitude of their patronage to do
so without alienating their Parliamentary supporters.
But under the limited establishments and with the com-
paratively unimportant duties of peace, this is impos-
sible. Reductions on all sides then compel a rigid atten-
tion to influence in the disposal of situations, while the
slumber of pacific life affords a prospect of the incapa •
city of the persona promoted not being discovered, or
nut becoming productive of public disaster. During the
latter years of a long peace influential imbecility is
daily, in the army and navy, mounting men exclusively
to the read of affairs; and when hostilities bit ak out a
large proportion of the officers in high command are
generally found to be wholly unfit for the duties devolv-
ing on them. Thus while democratic clamour starves
down the estaViihment to a ruinously low standard in
point of amount, aristocratic cupidity paralyz s the di-
rection and nullifies the exertions of that part which is
allowed to exist. The disaster at the commencensent of
the war of 1739, during the first thre3 years of the war
of 1756, during the whole of the American contest,
during the first four years of the Revolutionary contest,
and in the dreadful campaign of Affghanistan in 1840,
may all be traced to the combined operation of these
causes."

I shall now examine how the minute was attended
to by the gentlemen to whom the legacy was left,
and how far those who left that legacy complied with
it when they returned to office.
On the 27th of February, 1830, the date of the
minute, there were on the list of the navy, according
to a return furnished to the House of Commons—
captain,, 858 ; commanders, 918 ; lieutenants, 3,550.
In the beginning of November, 1830, when they went
out of office, there were—

Removals. Promotions.
Captains .... 64
Commanders .... 40
Lieutenants .... 240
A flag promotion caused the removal of so many
captains and commanders, and 176 lieutenants re-
tired with the rank of commander, but no additional
pay ; so, in point of fact, there were only 64 lieute-
nants removed. To the end of 1834, when Sir Jas.
Graham and Lord Auckland were at the head of the
navy, there were—

Removals. Promotions.
Captains .... 92
Commanders .... 132
Lieutenants .... 421
What number were promoted by admirals abroad,
and for special services, I have no means of ascer-
taining, but if the Admiralty abided by the minute,
it must have been considerable.
In the latter end of 1834 Lord de Grey came into
office. He had hardly time to look about him when
he was succeeded by Lord Auckland, and he again
by Lord Minto. Three First Lords within a sear!
Napoleon said one bad general was better tha❑ two
good ones. I may say with him, one bad First Lord
is better than three good; but the great IVhig and
Tory families who rule this country are of a different
opinion. In 1835 there were

Retnovals. Promotions.
Captains ... .. 25 12
Commanders ... 42 17
Lieutenants .. 74 52
From 1836 until September, 1841, when the
Tories returned to office, there were—
Removals. Promotions.
Captains ... 187 ... 138
Commanders ... 262 ... 229
Lieutenants .. 717 417
Tce promotions, it will be seen, very much exceed
one in three. Syria and China were the excuse for
this ; but, in war, no such promotions took place,
even for general actions.
According to a return furnished by the Admiralty,
the promotions in war time were as follows :
For the battle cf the Ist of June, 33 lieutenants
were made commanders.
For the Battle of St. Vincent, 16 lieutenants were
made cotntnanders.
For Camperdown, 14 lieutenants to commanders.
Nile, 1 commander to captain, 13 lieutenants to
commanders.
Trafalgar, 5 commanders were made captains; 2S
lieutenants, commanders ; 27 midshipmen, lieu-
tenant!..

St. Domingo, 1 commander, 7 lieutenants, 8 mid-
shipmen.
At.d at the peace promotion 68 commanders, 133
lieutenants, and 861 midshipmen were promoted.
When the Tories came into office, in 1841, they
found on the Navy List—captains, 701 ; comman-
ders, 772; lieutenants, 2,718. They fini,bed the
year 1841 with a sweeping promotion, making 40
admirals, 53 captains, 93 commanders, and 123
lieutenants.
Syria and China again got the credit of this pro-
motion, though I do not believe a fourth part of those
promoted were on either station ; and, if they had
all been there, such a promotion was quite un-
called for.
When they went out of office they left on the list,
—captains, 728 ; commanders, 853 ; lieutenants,
2,530; being an increase of 27 captains and 81 com-
manders, and a decrease of 188 lieutenants ; so that
the very men who made the minute in 1830, before
they went out of office, paid no attention to it in the
higher ranks when they came back. So much for
ruling the navy by a pulitical Admiralty.
After agitating the question of a retired list until
the session of 1846, the late Sir Robert Peel consented
to grant a retired list to old captains. The first plan
was fortunately given up, as there was no restriction
to length of service, and a much better was proposed,
viz., to allow captains of 60 years of age, and within
100 of the top of the list, to retire with the rank and
pay of rear-admirals ; but the newboardod, and
brought
forward .a plan of their own, not nearly so good,
allowed men of 50 to retire on IL a day and 18s., and
to take their rank as admirals when those of the same
active list became ad-
miralsst nd i
ngtrills are reduced to
25 they are to have an addition of pay as a reward for
a nwdhowhen remainedthe retired on th
the
admirals
having given up 14s. 6d. to receive 11. and 18s. No-
thing could have been so absurd ; there is now no
encouragement for an old man near the top of the
active list to retire. He must, I presume, come in at
-the bottom of the list of retired captains.
The, retired list was accompanied by a: promotion
of 20 captains to admirals—quite unnecessary ; and
the' flog-list was limited to 150; 53 captains were
made retired admirals, to be reduced to 25 ; and 127
captains retired on 11. and 18s. a day, agreeably to
their standing, and they are to be reduced to 100.
Had they even stopped here it would have been well,
but they made 48 captains, 85 commanders, and 20
lieutenants ; a promotion certainly not contemplated
by Parliament when 30,0001. a-year was granted for
a retired list.
From 1847 to the end of 1848 there were.—
Removals. Promotions.
30
73
112

Captains 76
Commanders .. 110
Lieutenants .. 285
In 1849 there vvere—

Promotions.
12
33
45

Removals.
Captains ... .. 20
Commanders .. 36
Lieutenants ... 107
It will be seen that the Whigs have not attended to
the minute, or rather, when they exceeded it, they
called it a special promotion ; but we all know how
easy it is to get up special promotions. If am not
misinformed, a special promotion was once got up for
a secretary's son of no great service.
I do not wish to be parsimonious of promotion, for
for when well bestowed it is the main spring of action,
but when ill bestowed it is the very reverse. To
prevent abuse for the future, I should recommend one
promotion for two removals ; that should cover every-
thing, and if the First Lord bad any conscience at
all, he would divide those promotions between men
who really deserve them and his political friends—no
one would complain of that ; but when promotion is
badly given, as it generally is, it causes great disgust

in the service, and brings forward men who are little
deserving of it.
Sir Francis Baring has shown tolerable discretion
i❑ the first year of his administration, and only pro-
moted 12 captains against 20 removalQ, 32 comman-
ders against 36 removals, and 45 lieutenants against
107. I wish I could say he had been equally discreet
in his appointments.
When the minute was made there were, as I have

before stated, 858 captains, 918 commanders, and
3,550 lieutenants ; at the end of 1849 there remain
515 captains, 848 commanders, and 2,221 lieutenants,
being a reduction in 20 years of 343 captains, 70
commanders, and 1.329 lieutenants; but if we deduct
200 who were withdrawn at an expense of 30,0001.
from the captains' list, there has only been a reduc-
tion of 143. It is now proposed to keep up the
captains to 500, which is quite absurd; they ought to
be redUced to halt that number, and all the c,m-
inanders and lieutenants unfit for service should be
placed on a retired list, and the promotion of one to
two be confined to the removals from the active list.
Officers would then have a chance of being em-
ployed, and of keeping up the knowledge of their
profession, whereas, according to the present sys-
tem, it does not come to an officer's turn in much
less than twenty years in the upper ranks ; and this
is our state when other nations are doing all they can
to give experience to their officA-s.
In the French service fficers of a certain age are
obliged to retire, and those fit for service are almost
constantly employed. If this system is persevered in
at the beginning of a war we ;hall find our officers
s ithout experience opposed to a fficers who hive been
in constant practice ; and it is not difficult to foresee
the result.

In the navy estimates for 1850 51, the wages to
seamen and marines were 1,322,9591.; the half-pay
and pensions, civil and military, amount to 1,388,6371.,
being 65,678/. more than the wages of seamen and
marines afloi.t, and this after a peace of thirty-five
years ! I have had great difficulty in obtaining the
lists of promotions and removals, and I trust they are
correct ; if not, the Admiralty can very easily lay
before the House a correct statement, and the country
will see how far they have complied with their own
regulation. _

I remain your obedient servant,
Murchistoun, Aug 25. CHARLES NAPIER.

SIR CHARLES NAPIER.

When we remember the general enthusiasm with
which the appointment of Sir Charles Napier to the
chief command in India was so recently welcomed,
we may presume that the early and unsatisfactory
conclusion of his career in the East will have caused
in many minds a feeling of disappointment. It is un-
derstood that the Indian Government had no alterna-
tive but to accept his resignation. The refusal or
neglect of the Commander-in-Chief to carry out an
order of the Government, respecting the regulations
of the army, was necessarily followed by a reprimand,
which led to his immediate determination to lay down
his office. It is greatly to be regretted that an im-
practicable habit of mind should so often tend to ren-
der Sir Charles Napier's high and brilliant qualities
unavailable to the public service. His intemperate
attacks upon some of the East India directors delayed
for some months, his appointment to the command ;
and they would certainly have prevented its being
made at all, if the alarm of the country at the unskil-
ful conduct and balanced success of the Seikh war,
had not induced the authorities of Leadenhall• street
to overrule all personal considerations. It appears
that a similar ebullition of temper has occasioned his
premature withdrawal front office, and the interrup-
tion of the vigorous changes in the conduct of the
Indian army which he is understood to have been bent
on accomplishing.
It is difficult to judge of the justice of the stric-
tures which Sir Charles Napier has so freely bestowed
on various portions of the army under his command.
The India papers are generally warm partisans in
matters relating to the civil and military services ;
and the late Commander-in• Chief had, in his former
period of service in India, incurred more than an or-
dinary share of hostility among the conductors of the
public journals. One of the ablest and mo,t widely-
circulated newspapers in India no sooner received the
announcement of the promotion of the General who
bad, for years, been denounced in its columns—when
conqueror and Governor of Sinde—than it promul-
gated a report that that appointment had been pur-
chased by a bribe to one of our London contempora-
ries. With a minuteness which showed the accu-
racy of its information, the paper to which we
refer specified the exact sum which Sir Charles
had paid for the insertion of an article
which was supposed to have inspired the
Government, and to have overruled the hesitation of
the India House. 7,0001. was the exact amount
which changed hands in this nefarious transaction;
and we only wonder at the moderation of the Indian
journalist in abstaining from an account of the sums
which must have been paid to the rest of the news-
paper press, or employed in buying up the general
voice of society. \Ch•-n we find, on similar authority,
that Sir Charles Napier's judgments were harsh, and
his comp.:lints unfounded, we deem it prudent to
hesitate before we decide between the conflicting au-
thorities.

It must he confessed that there are peculiarities in
Sir Charles's character which, in some degree,
weak, n the authority of his opinions and statements.
Ile l'as proved himself on the Indus a most able
general, and in many a field in Europe and Asia a
skilful and fearless soldier. Ile is also—the 7,000!.
bribe noNithstanding—unmistakably honest and
straightforward. His love of discipline and
his determination to do his duty are tho-
roughly genuine and unselfish ; but, unfortunately,
with a lull share of the vigour and geniva of his
race, he has also the fatal facility of language which
has so often led his eloquent relative, the historian,
into exaggeration and bombast. Some of Sir Charles
Napier's dispatches are models of point and vigorous
compression ; but his genius is habitually averse to
the colourless language of business which best suits
an official style. His minutes on courts-martial and
get.eral orders are too uniformly pithy and severe. A
negligent colonel or a dissipated subaltern is reproved
with an epigrammatic indignation which might have
proceeded from Tacitus or Juvenal. It is conse-
quently difficult to judge of the standard by which he
judges the state of the Indian army. If we look at
the letter of his minutes, we might fear that it was
little better than a rabble, till we remember how dif-
ferent its character might appear if its chief, in addi-
tion to the qualities of a great commander, had not
also possessed the genius of a vigorous and eloquent
writ er.

Nevertheless, after making all reasonable deduc-
tions, we cannot but fear that the dissatisfaction
which Sir Charles Napier has so frequently manifested
at the condition of his army is, to a considerable extent,
well founded. his not unknown that officers of experi-
ence have confidentially communicated to the home au-
thorities their unfavourable judgment of the discipline
of the Indian troops. The laxity of formerCommanders-
in• Chief is said to have left too much ground for the
irritation of the last holder of the office ; and there
can be no doubt that, in the recent wars, the confi-
dence of the generals has, in too many cases, been re-
posed almost entirely in the European regiments.
That the Sepoys, when well officered, are only se-
cond to English soldiers, is an opinion which is en-
tertained by those who know them best, and which
Sir Charles Napier himself has often publicly ex-
pressed ; but it is certain that the competence of the
officers is even more essential to the efficiency of such
troops than in the case of an army like our own. An
English infantry regiment would be a formidable
impediment to an enemy if all its officers were sud-
denly removed from their posts ; but in the Indian
army the whole machinery is set in motion by the
Europeans who direct it, and it stops if they are un-
equal to their duties. The necessity of mastering a
foreign language, and of understanding Oriental
habits and feelings, imposes a responsibility on those
who command the Sepoys from le hich the officers of
the Queen's army are exempt. It is by no means a
matter of boasting that our army has less professional
knowledge among its officers than any other in Eu-
rope. Abundant courage and the spirit of gentlemen
form the ordinary qualitieatiens of our future generals,
but, at least for the Indian army, more special fitness
is required.
Although'Sir Charles Napier may have, in some
instances, been unjust or excessive in censure, it can-
not be doubted that his vigorous resistance to laxity
and indiscipline has had a useful effect in checking
and preventing abuses. It is one of the most urgent
duties of the Board of Control and of the India House
to select a successor who will direct his attention to
the subjects which employed his predecessor. The
chief command of India is the most important mili-
tary appointment in the empire, and one of the most
responsible which can be held by any soldier in the
world. Such a rank is not a fitting retirement for a
favoured veteran, or a subject for a family or official
job. A war may prepare itself in India without our
notice, as we found to our cost, in two instances, in
the Punjaub ; and a weak or incompetent general,
even if be does not incur losses as fearful as those of
Affghanistan, may destroy the prestige of the English
arms by blundering and indecisive contests. At
present, also, while there is a reasonable prospect of
peace, a victorious general will have enough to do in
reforming the There are
officers in
with the thuerearoy. mpatent to the
task, and it is to be hoped that neither interest. nor
Army List nio
who of
carelessness will be allowed to interfere r
re-
cognition of their claims.—Chronicle.

THE LATE ATTEMPT AT MURDER AT GATEHOUSE.
—We learn that Dr. Mason, who was so severely wounded
by his wife at Gatehouse, on the 17th inst., has been pro-
nounced convalescent. The unhappy woman is still of
course confined in Kirkcudbright prison, and a remit Las
been made to medical men to inquire into the state of her
mind. _ _

--in equestrian statue of her Alajeety io about to
be erected in Glusgoc, in commemoration of the Re74l visit
1849.