The Sun.
London, England, 1845-04-28 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

HISTORY OF THE CONSULATE AND EM-
PIRE OF FRANCE UNDER NAPOLEON.
M .A. Thiers. Vol: 111.
This volume has destroyed all the favourable anti-
cipations of a true and impartial narrative of events
which the English reader was led to form from the
details given in the first two parts. M. Thiers being
a man of some standing in society, laying claim to
the character of a historian, and well furnished with
original documents for the work, was expected to re-
late the history of his country during its most event-
ful period, with a correctness and impartiality which
might render it not only acceptable to Frenchmen,
but to all civilised nations. We certainly had looked
to the publication with such expectations, imagining
that a man who had raised himself from the lowest
rank to that of prime minister of France, would have
avoided all undue nationalities—all party spleen and
falsehood, in order to reach a more difficult and more
honourable position than that of a cabinet minister—
a faithful an] elegant historian. We, however, have
been miserably disappointed. Throughout this
volume, wherever English affairs are mentioned, truth
is obscured by the most perverse and violent dis-
tortion of facts. A colouring in favour of France is
given in every chapter and page, and no merit is al-
lowed to England, ex,:ept what he could not deny,
that in every principal encounter with the fleets and
troops of France, those of England by some chance or
another came off best. He could not come to any
other conclusion, because the fact is known to all the
world, but it is evident from the excuses which he
invents for the failures of his countrymen, and the
extravagant praise which he bestows on the
most trivial victory, that if he could by any
possibility have had the whole field of history
to himself, the English would have been
denied even the least particle of justice. But,
luckily, this departure from truth brings its own
punishment, and never was mendacity less successful
than in the case of M. Thiers. By inventing pleas of
excuse for the defeats of the French, he has done the
greatest injustice to that gallant and ingenious peo-
ple, and made their admirals and generals utterly
ridiculous. To begin with Admiral Ganteaume,
who he describes as " a very brave man, a good sea-
man, and an excellent officer." This gentleman set
out fr m Brest with a fleet of seven ships of the line,
two frigates and a brig, all fast-sailing vessels, carry-
ing 4,000 troops destined for Egypt. After escaping
the English squadron, and performing wonders, one
of which was " preparing to board an English frigate,"
which, unfortunately for his glory, continued to
manoeuvre and escape the danger, he reached the
Straits of Gibraltar, and as Admiral Waeren, the
only enemy in that quarter, had but four ships, and
Admiral Keith was locked up in some bay on the
coast of Asia Minor, the gallant Ganteaume had only
to sail direct to Alexandria, land his troops, and
secure Egypt to the French. But, strange to say,
this very brave man was absolutely afraid of every
thing like an English flag. When he saw Warren's
fleet, consisting, as we have said, of four ships, he
vowed he saw seven or eight, and under pretence of
escorting to Toulon a frigate which did not
sail to his liking, he proceeded in that di-
rection with his whole fleet, merely to bear
the lubber of a frigate company till she
could run into a French harbour. lie, of course, had
no intention of entering Toulon himself, but un-
luckily when in the Gulf of Lyons he again caught
sight of the English squadron, and "ran in conster-
nation into Toulon." " This fatal conduct," says the
faithful historian, "lost us Egypt ;" yet he affirms, in
another place, if Ganteaume had proceeded direct
from Elba, where he was on the 25th of April, more
than nine weeks afterwards, he might have been the
saviour of the army in Egypt. But " the brave
man, the skilful seaman, and the excellent officer,"
had many adventures during that period. He stayed
at Toulon precisely one month, and was at last ac-
tually forced out by the urgent remonstrances of the
First Consul, but on going out of the harbour, the
ship Constitution grounded, and two days elapsed
before she could be got afloat. At last, he fairly put
to sea with a gallant fleet, consi▪
sting of seven ships
of the line and several frigates, and made sail towards
Sardinia; but when almost within sight of Africa,
one of his captains, in command of the Dix-Aout,
most unskilfully ran foul of the Formidable, and the
Gallant Admiral, so much alarmed at the damage
done by this rencontre, fled again back to Toulon.
There he remained for twenty days, and at length
mustered courage to run the risk of looking at the
English. After reaching Porto Ferrajo, then in our
possession, and firing a few shots at the place, he
gallantly proceeded towards his destination, when a
contageous disease broke out in his squadron. He
put the sick on board three ships, and consigned
them to the care of Admiral Linois, and with
four ships of the line and two frigates
having on board 2,000 troops, he steered for Egypt,
and finally anchored off the coast of Africa, a few
days march to the west of Alexandria; but most un-
luckily about the 30th of May—(we wish to be par-
ticular as to dates when speaking of great events)—
" he thought that he perceived the English fleet; he
no longer deliberated, hoisted his boats on board and
slipped his cables, without taking time to weigh an-
chor, lest he should be attacked at his moorings, set
sail, and was not overtaken by the enemy." But,
indeed, there was no enemy there. However, he met
one in his flight, a solitary English ship, the Swiftsure,
half-manned and half-mounted, and, says the histo-
rian, in language rivalling that of Caesar, " to give
chase to her, to surround, rake, and capture her, was
an affair of a few moments." The Gallant Admiral
entered Toulon with the trophy. This ludicrous de-
scription of Ganteaume's adventures is put forth to ac-
count for the loss of Egypt ; but unfortunately for his
purpose, M.. Thiers is not satisfied with disgracing
French sailors, he must also exhibit French soldiers in
a still more contemptible light, all for the purpose of
praising Bonaparte, and proving that when he was
not present the French army had not fair play. This
is a strange compliment to his countrymen, for Bo•
naparte was a foreigner. Anything, however, serves
M. Thiers
when he detracts from the merits of the
English, and that is always. Menou, after the assassi-
nation of Kleber, commanded in Egypt, and accord-
ing to Thiers was not a very bright General, though
appointed to the chief command by Bonaparte, after
mature deliberation. In this instance he forgets his
favourite, to diminish the glory of the gallant Aber-
cromby. Menou was a bad General, but he had good
officers under him—Regnier, the gallant Friant,
and the gallant Lanusse, Belliard, Verdier, and many
others, to whose names he prefixes high-sounding
epithets. Unfortunately, however, they would not
work together. They caballed and even conspired
to depose the Commander-in-Chief. Menou was too
powerful for them altogether—shipped off some to
Fnrdanpcael,trpyudniissphnedtesodthisegrras ;ceyd theetd
discontent prevailed,
a
army, even in the
presence of the enemy, whom, M. Thiers says, the
French might easily have surrounded and driven
into the sea. Phrases of this kind occur so fre-
quently as to become ridiculous, but they are always
accompanied with an if, or a had, or a possible, and a
but. The self-confidence of the army, too, is adduced
as a cause of failure :—" Our troops had formed the
habit of fighting in Egypt one against four—some-
times one against eight, and they thought that th,e,
nhis
againstwas a
fatal
English could not withstand a cbarg,, "This
was
e of the bayonet."
And
Thus,wit
h the French. They had - a bad generals the staff
officers quarrelled with him, and with one another like
children, and cried for their beautiful France. They
egreveryatcinarcuivmetseta
were soured by exile, and everyone would be master,
and the very English deceived them by not fighting
like the wild Arabs, and standing a charge of the
bayonet. Under such circumstances bribery was easy.
Abercromby and Hutchinson had no merit; envious
fate caused the mischief, and "all that remained to be
done was to capitulate." We will allow M. Thiers to tell
his own tale, and leave the reader to judge if we have
at all magnified his vain-glory and his contemptible
excuses for every failure. The following is his ac-
count of the battle of Alexandria. In it we find no
for the Eng-
few
imerthport ;ntaenntbaugtse,nit in independent
dentof .and one if, a
very business,
lish " were found to give way, and if Menou had
done so-or-so, they " would have left the French a
secure victory."
"BATTLE OF ALEXANDRIA.
" On the 21st, before daybreak (30th VentOse), our
troops were in motion. The regi▪
ment of dromedaries
performed, with exactness, the duty which had been as-
signed to thsm. They rapidly crossed the dry parts of
the lake Ma•63tis, alighted before the head of the dyke,
carried the redoubts, and turned the guns against the
enemy. This was enough to deceive the English, and
draw their attention towards the lake Mareotis. But, to
insure the success of the plan agreed upon, and which
was to be carried out on the sea-side, a precision was
necessary, such as is difficult of attainment when a
manoeuvre is executed in the dark, and still more unat-
tainable, when there is not at the head one supreme
directing mind to guide the enterprise, and competent
to compute both time and distances.
" The division of Lanusse, manoeuvring in the dark,
advanced without order, and created confusion among
our troops in the centre. The first column, under the
orders of General Silly, marched boldly to the redoubt,
which was thrown up before the Roman tamp. Lanusse
directed it in person, and led it on to the redoubt. But
suddenly he discovered that the second column had
out
in o f
at this
firstt. the He o
sriot
idoe nassigned towards
missed its way, and instead of skirting the sea-side to
attack the Roman camp, had approached too close to the
pointing
u
ftooritt.he Unfortunately, purpose
moment he received a wound the thigh, which proved
mortal ; a most fatal event, which was to entail deplor-
able consequences. The troops
being suddenly
deprived
it,
to
of the command of this energeti▪ c officer, the attack
slackened. The day, which now began to dawn, enabled
the English to
discern the poi▪
nt against which they
should direct their fire. Our soldiers, galled simultane-
ously by the fire from the gunboats, from the Roman
camp and the redoubts, evinced
admirable firmness and
bravery. But, ere long, all their superior officers being
wounded, they were left without commanders, and fell

back behind some slight eminences of sand, scarcely
high enough to cover them. Meanwhile, the first column,
which Lanusse had left to proceed towards the second,
had just carried the first redan of the redoubt, erected on
the hill towards the right. It then marched onwards to-
wards the main work, with a view to storm it, but, being
baffled in this attempt, wheeled round in order to attack
it on the flank. The centre of the army, under Rampen,
perceiving that column foiled in its attempt, likewise
turned from its object in order to support it. The 32ddemi-
brigade, detached from the centre, also came up to storm
this fatal redoubt. These general concurrent efforts led
to a sort of confusion. They pressed furiously against
this obstacle, and the rapid operation, which was to have
consisted in carrying, in double quick time, the line of
the works, was converted into a long, obstinate attack,
in which much valuable time was lost. The 21st
demi-brigade, which belonged to the centre, leaving the
32d engaged before the redoubt, the possession of which
was so hotly disputed, alone executed the plan originally
laid down, passed the line of entrenchments, and, ad-
vancing boldly, deployed in the face of the English
army. It received, and returned, a most tremendous
fire. But it needed support, and Menou, during this
time, incapable of commanding, paced up and down the
field of battle, issuing no orders, but allowing Reynier to
extend his line uselessly in the plain on the right, with
a considerable force, without any duty to perform.
" Menou was at this time advised to undertake with
the cavalry, which was 1,200 strong, and of incompara-
ble valour, a general charge upon the mass of English
foot, which the 24th had alone advanced to encounter.
Menou, adopting this advice, gave orders to charge. The
gallant General Roize placed himself immediately at the
head of the 1,200 horse, crossed rapidly the line of the
enemy's destructive fire, formed by the redoubts which
our infantry were in vain attempting to carry by storm,
got safely over to the other side, and finding the 21st
demi-brigade at close quarters with the English, fell im-
petuously upon them. This gallant body of cavalry first
leaped the ditch which separated them from the enemy,
and then dashed fiercely upon the foremost line of the
English infantry, drove them back in disorder, and cut
down a great number of men. The enemy was thus
forced to give way. If Menou, at this moment, or rather
Reynier, supplying the place of his chief, had brought
up our right wing to the support of the cavalry, the
centre of the English army, thereby thrown into c infu-
sion, and driven beyond the works, would have left us a
secure victory. The works, isolated, cut off from all
support, would have fallen into our hands. But the ca'e
was far otherwise. The French cavalry, after having
broken the enemy's line, seeing before them still other
lines to overcome, and having only the 21st demi-brigade
to support it, fell back, repassing under the exterminat-
ing fire of the redoubts..
. .

From this moment the battle could not possibly have
a successful issue. The left, deprived of all energy by
the death of their general, poured an ineffectual fire upon
the entrenched positions, which returned it with most
murderous effect. The right—deployed in the plain,
near the lake Mar6otis, in order to make a diversion,
which had no longer any aim in view, since the en-
gagement, now become general, had fixed each party in
its respective position—in this way performed no ser-
vice whatever. Without doubt an energetic general
who would have recalled it to the centre, and with this
additional force have renewed General Roize's attack,
might have attempted a second inroad upon the main
body of the English, and thus have changed, perhaps,
the fortune of the day. But General Menou gave no
such commands, and Reynier, who at that moment might
have taken the initiative, which he assumed inoppor-
tunely on other occasions in civil matters, confined him-
self solely to venting complaints at not receiving direc-
tions from the Commander-in-chief. In this state of
matters, the only thing which remained to be done was
to retreat. Menou issued the orders, and the division
fell back, presenting a bold front to the enemy, but suf-
fering fresh losses from the fire of the works.
" hat a spectacle war becomes, when the lives of
men, when the destinies of empires, are thus confided to
incapable or disunited chiefs, and when blood is made to
flow in torrents, commensurate with the inaptitude or the
. dissensions of those who are invested with command !
" It could not be said that the battle was lost, the
enemy not having made a step in advance ; but it was
virtually lost, inasmuch as it was not completely gained,
for it was essential that our success should have been com-
plete to enable us to drive back the English towards
Aboukir, and compel them to re-embark. The loss was
great on both sides. The English had about 2,000 men
killed and wounded, and amongst them was the brave
General Abercromby, who was carried on board the fleet
in a dying state. The loss of the French was about the
same. Exposed during the whole day to a downward
fire, both in front and in flank, they had suffered severely.
The troops displayed admirable coolness. The spirit
with which the cavalry charged had filled the English
with surprise and admiration. The number of officers
and generals wounded during the battle was greater than
usual. Generals Lanusse and Roize were killed ; the
General of Brigade, Silly, commanding one of Lanusse's
columns, had his leg carried off ; General Baudot was
wounded so severely that his life was despaired of.
General Destaing, also, was badly wounded. Rampon
had his uniform riddled with balls.

" The moral effect was still more disastrous than the
physical one. No hope now remained of being able to
force the enemy to re-embark. We were about to have
upon our hands, besides the English who had landed at
Alexandria, the Turks, already on their march from
Syria ; the capitan-pacha, about to arrive with the
Turkish squadron, and to disembark 6,000 Albanians
on the coast at Aboukir ; besides the 6,000 Sepoys
brought from India, by way of the Red Sea, and ready
to land at Comeir, upon the coast of Upper Egypt. What
was to be done in the midst of so many enemies, with
troops whose courage, doubtless, was unimpaired, when
called upon to fight, but who, when the affairs of the
colony grew deperate, were always ready to say that the
expedition was a dazzling act of folly, and that their
blood was sacrificed unavailingly to a mere chimera ?
"In the three engagements of the Bth, 13th, and 21st
of March, we had lost the services of nearly 3,500 men,
of whom one-third were killed, one-third severely
wounded, and one-third incapable of returning to the
ranks for some weeks to come. Although the army was
greatly weakened, we could, nevertheless, now, as at the
beginning of the campaign, manceavre rapidly between
the various bodies tending to form a junction, beat the
vizier, if he should enter by way of Syria, or the capitan-
pacha if he should attempt to penetrate by way of Ro-
setta, or the English, if they should advance on the narrow
tongues of land which communicate with the interior of
Egypt. But the 3,500 men whom we had lost rendered
this plan more difficult then ever. If 3,000 men were left
in Cairo, and 2,000 or 3,000 in Alexandria, only 7,000
or 8,000 would remain to manoeuvre in the open field,
even
es, and thatthatupposingthe ec
asllotnhdeary availableposts were forcesee ewvaecrueacteodl:
l
without any exception. With a very resolute and able
general success would have been doubtful, yet still within
the bounds of possibility ; but what could be expected
of Menou and his lieutenants ? "

It is hardly necessary to give more instances of M. I
Thiers' total want of fidelity as a historian ; but the
affair of Algeziras, which in honour of the French he
calls a brilliant engagement, and the flight of the
French and Spanish fleets from the Bay of Gibraltar,
'pursued by Admiral Saumarea, are too characteristic
to be omitted. At Algeziras M. Thiers claims a
great victory, the French and Spanish fleets too—at
least what of them the English and accident had
spared, entered Cadiz, in a sort of triumph, and the
inhabitants " filled the air with acclamation, at the
sight of the Formidable, returning victoriously into
the harbour ;" but it is a curious fact that all the vic-
tories which M. Thiers recounts were gained when
the French were in full flight, either before only one-
half of their numbers, or before an imaginary enemy,
when the Swiftsure was taken by four ships of the
line and two frigates under Ganteaume. The French
were flying as fast as wind could carry them to
Toulon before Admiral Warren's ghost, and Jerome
Bonaparte was one of the runaways—at Algeciras,
Linois run his ships aground to escape from Sau-
marez, and by aid of the batteries, and owing to one
English ship, the Hannibal, running aground in the
pursuit, even according to Thiers, she was taken.
Another English ship, also, according to the same
faithful narrator, was taken, but, unfortunately, the
victorious Linois could not keep her, and when the
combined fleets entered Cadiz in triumph, they had
only saved themselves by flight, and such a dis•
graceful flight ! They consisted, says M. Thiers,
of nine ships of the line and six frigates, while
Admiral Saumarez had only five ships of the
line and several frigates ; but M. Thierstakes care not
to say how many (probably not more than two), yet
with this disproportionate force the Englishman took
one ship of the line, destroyed two, and the forts of
Cadiz saved the remainder. But this result, ac-
cording to the ex-Prime-Minister, did the English no
honour, for it required not fewer than three English
ships of the line to capture the San Antonio, and be-
sides the San Antonio " defended herself without that
order and coolness which are indispensable to put in
motion these gigantic engines of warfare," and the
other two vessels were destroyed, but not by the Eng-
lish. They absolutely fought with each other like
the Kilkenny cats, though their destruction was
more complete. The English, of course, must have
been at the bottom of the mischief, for agreeably to
the dishonourable system of warfare carried on by
"perfidious Albion,' Admiral Saumarez ordered the
Superb to fire red-hot balls into the San Carlos,
which took fire—ran foul of the Santa Hermenegilda,
and the two friendly ships, taking each other for
enemies, fought like very devils, till both blew up
with frightful explosion. M. Thiers of course claims
the glory of the day, or rather of the night, for it
was pitch dark, and modestly says, the English could
do no less than admit the, fact, and "they might be
considered as having been quite beaten in these
several encounters, but for the accidental circum-
stances of the night." His words are :
" The English could not deny that the glory of these
engagements was on our side ; and, as respected
the actual loss, it was equally divided. If the French
had lost ono ship and the Spaniards two, the English
had left one vessel in our power, and had two so dis-
abled as to be rendered quite unfit for further service.
But for the accidental occurrences of the night, they
might be considered as having been quite beaten in these
several encounters. The battle of Algeziras, and the re-
turn of the Formidable into port, were amongst the most
distinguished exploits known in the annals of our naval
history ."

A similar false account is given of Nelson's attack
on the Boulogne flotilla. "On that occasion," says the
author, " it was not an unsucces,ful attempt, it was
a positive defeat. That which added still more to the
delight occasioned by this brilliant action was, that
we had beaten Nelson in person," Not a word is

said of the French authorities being so terrified hy
the very name of Nelson, that they had chained to-
gether all their gun-boats to prevent them being cut
out. He makes no allusion to the circumstance,
because he knows it to be a fact. No men
tion is made of chains, though he admits
an iron cable saved one boat. That boat was com-
manded by Gueroult, an energetic officer, and while
he was defending himself on deck, the English
vessels which surrounded him endeavoured to cut the
cables. " Fortunately one was an iron cable, and
resisted all the efforts to break it." This is the
only allusion to the scheme which saved the flotilla.
From these details it is evident that M. Thiers'
history of every battle between the English and
French must be regarded as a mere fable, and
utterly destitute of truth, except the conclusion,
which he could neither gloss over nor deny. He
does not injure England, but he injures himself
and his gallant countrymen, by perverting the truth
of history, and exhibiting one of the bravest of na-
tions in the most contemptible light. 'What a con-
trast between his chicanery, his inventions, his
falshoods, and his bigoted hostility to Englishmen,
and the animated descriptions of Colonel Napier, in
which the fullest merit is given to the French
officers and soldiers engaged in the Peninsular war,
and if any favour is shown, it is by the candid
and generous Englishman shown to the enemy. We
may read a lesson, however, of vast importance, in
this single volume. Should M. Thiers ever be re-
stored to the Cabinet, war with England will be
his darling object. His vanity makes him confident
of success, and his malignant spirit will never
rest satisfied till be has tried the hazardous expe-
riment of another bloody contest. Some have been
inclined to blame Lord Palmerston for the rapidity
with which he brought the Eastern question to
a crisis—but Palmerston was right—he knew his
man—he was admitted behind the scenes—saw the
storm must come soon or late, if Thiers remained in
power, and like a man of spirit he brought the
question at once to an issue. He was resolved
that there should be no mistake, and M. Thiers,
finding he had met with his match was forced to
resign. Luckily for the peace of the world, this far-
famed work proves that M. Thiers is utterly desti-
tute of judgment.

THE IMPROVISATORE ; or, Life in Ray. From
the Danish of Hans Christian Andersen. Translated

by Mary Hoiritt.
To Mrs. Howitt we owe our acquaintance with the
literature of the North ; by her translations the novels
of Sweden are familiar as our own. She now directs
our attention to Denmark, introducing us not only to
a new country, but to an author differing entirely
from the preceding. Miss Bremer's tales were cele-
brated as descriptions of real life—as perfect delinea-
tions of domestic character; "The Improvisatore,"
on the contrary, is the history of genius, the faithful
picture of a poet's trials, described with all a poet's
power. In the introduction we find a sketch of the
author's life; and here we have a key to the whole
work. What he relates, he has himself endured : the
hero's adventures are the reflection of his own. " Hans
Christian Andersen," says the biography, " is one of
those men who, from their earliest youth, have had
to keep up a warfare with circumstances ; a man like
Burns and Hogg, who seemed destined by Fate to
end their lives unnoticed in a village, and yet through
an instinctive sense of their destined pre-eminence in
the beautiful regions of art and literature, and sus-
tained by an irrepressible will, have made themselves
a part of the great world." Like all those who have
fought their way to fame, the life of Andersen
has been a constant and unceasing struggle,
a continued series of frustrated hopes, an un-
ending source of bitter mortification. Of humble
origin, reared in penury—he had no education, no
hope of improvement; but the mighty spirit was
strong within him—the seeds of genius find deepest
root in the soil of adversity. Like many an ardent
enthusiast, he battled with the storm, but unlike the
majority, he lives to see his triumph. At the age of
fourteen he was to become the apprentice of a tailor,
when he earnestly implored his mother to let him
first make a voyage to Copenhagen, to see the theatre;
she reluctantly consented, and friendless and alone he
reached the capital. Here he remained for many
years, struggling with his fate. Here, by the aid of
chance friends, he obtained the instruction he so
much desired, being ignorant even of his own lan-
guage ; and here at length he appeared as an author.
His poems obtained celebrity for a time, but the un-
known poet had many enemies. His rivals were
powerful and relentless, and again he was doomed to
despair. At this time he received a royal stipend to
enable him to travel through Germany and Italy.
This good fortune excited general envy—even his
friends wrote to him to say they too thought that
" his day was past." His day was past indeed, but
it was the day of doubt and despair—the day of his
triumph was to come. Full of hope he reached Italy,
and there " a change came o'er the spirit of his
dream." The genius which had dawned amid the
northern snows, burst furth in full glory under
the Italian sun. In that beautiful land he awoke
to a new life—his was no common patriotism.
Italy was the country of his soul, to her he turned
with all the ardour of a poet—the devotion of a
patriot. In the "Improvisatore" he poured forth the
feelings of his soul ; the hero like himself is a child of
song; in him are reflected his own daring hopes, the
bitter realities of experience, the proud consciousness
of genius, above all, the adoration of the sunny south.
A tone of melancholy, the melancholy of his own
life, pervades the whole poem; for it is a poem, though
dressed in the garb of prose, though translated to a
foreign language, no transformation can affect the
poetic spirit breathed in every line. Though un-
acquainted with the original, we feel certain Mrs.
Howitt has done it justice, even as we decide on the
truth of a portrait, without knowing whose likeness
it is, because we feel the spirit that animates it, and
know that it must be real. This book changed the
fate of Andersen—envious murmurs were turned to
flattering plaudits, his enemies became his humblest
friends—he found, like all the world, " success is
%lane, and misfortune blame." This sudden altera-
tion is related in the biography.
" Immediately after his return he published his novel,
' The Improvisatore,' which was received with universal
applause—which was read and re-read, and which the
public never tired of reading. That a work of such
singular originality and beauty was universally admired
was not at all remarkable ; but an extraordinary effect
was produced which, it seems to me, tells greatly to the
honour of the Danish heart. Not only did Andersen's
friends, and the public generally, acknowledge the merit
of his work, but they who had treated the poet with
severity came now forward and offered him the band of
congratulation, and among them was the rector of the
school, the hard-hearted teacher of the poor youth, who
had taken all possible means to crush into the dust the
talent which God had given him. He now came for-
ward, acknowledged his fault, and deplored it, which
touched the good heart of Andersen not a little. And
this is but one of the many instances of generous enthu-
siasm which was excited by this beautiful work towards
its author."

We cannot join in Mrs. Howitt's astonishmentat this
change of conduct, it is ever thus, it seems the stern
decree of Fate during the hard struggle up the hill
of fame every obstacle is thrown in the way of genius—
when he has reached the summit and is above assis-
tance every hand is proffered. The history of the
world has Ho severer trials than those endured by the
young and ardent ; where can they look for counsel
in their hour of need—

" Who will hear the friendless lay?
Who dare the modest youth approve?
The world is mute—he turns away,
While envy tears the laurel'd bay,
By Fancy's fairy fingers wove."
Andersen has passed through the trying ordeal, may
he long live to enjoy his hard-earned fame. We
subjoin an extract of his praises of Italy, and cne
of his poetic descriptions : •
" Beautiful Italy !" shouted Federigo, triumphantly.
" Yes, thus stood thy image before me in the distant
north. In my remembrance blew this air which I now
inspire with every breath I draw. I thought of thy
olive-groves when I saw our willows ; I dreamed of the
abundance of the oranges when I saw the golden apples
in the peasants' gardens beside the fragrant clover-field ;
but the green waters of the Baltic never become blue
like the beautiful Mediterranean ; the heavens of the
north never become so high, so rich in colour, as the
warm, glorious south. Its gladness was inspiration, its
speech became poetry.
" What longings I had in my home ?" said he ;
" they are happier who have never seen Paradise, than
they, who having seen it, are driven forth, never to
return. My home is beautiful ; Denmark is a flowery
garden, which can measure itself with anything on the
other side of the Alps ; it has beech-woods and the sea.
But what is earthly beauty compared with heavenly ?
Italy is the land of imagination and beauty ; doubly
happy are they who salute it for the second time !

" We had now arrived at the great blocks on which
many strangers were standing. I also mounted one,
and before me, clown the mountain-side, glided slowly
the fresh torrent of lava ; it was like a redly glowing
fiery slime, as of melted metal streaming from a furnace
and which spread it out below us far and wide, to a vast
extent. No language, no picture, can represent this in
its greatness and its fearful effect. The very air ap-
peared like fire and brimstone ; a thick steam floated
upwards over the lava stream, red with the strongly
refleFted light ; but all around was night. It thundered
below in the mountain, and above us ascended the pillar
of fire, with its glowing stars. Never before had I felt
myself so near to God. His omnipotence and greatness
filled my soul. It was as if the fire around me burned
out every weakness within me ; I felt strength and
courage ; my immortal soul lifted its wings.
" Almighty God 1' breathed forth my spirit, I
will be Thy Apostle. Amid the storms of the world I
will sing Thy name, Thy might, and majesty ! Higher
shall my song resound than that of the monk in his
lonely cell. A poet I am ! Give me strength ;
pre-
serve my soul pure, as the soul of Thy priest and. of
Nature's ought to be I folded my hands in prayer,
and, kneeling amid fire and cloud, poured out my thanks
to Him whose wonders and whose greatness
my soul. ' spoke to