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both Houses will be of course daguerreotyped for the use of the morning papers; and photographic likenesses of the leaders of _ton_ be supplied gratis to the leaders of the press. How far more interesting a striking sketch of a banquet containing portraits of undoubted authenticity to the matter-of-fact announcements of the exploded letter-press--that ""yesterday his Grace the Duke of Wellington entertained at dinner at Apsley House the Earls of Aberdeen and Liverpool the Dukes of Richmond and Buccleuch the Master of the Horse the Lord Chancellor Sir Robert Peel Sir James Graham Sir Frederick Trench Colonel Gurwood and M. Algernon Greville!"" Who has patience for the recapitulation of a string of names when a group of faces may be placed simultaneously before him? And then accounts of races! How admirably will they be concentrated into a delineation of the winner passing the post--the losers distances; and what disgusting particulars of boxing matches shall we avoid by a spirited etching. Think of despatches from India (one of Lord Ellenborough's XXXX ) published in a series of groupings worthy the frescoes of the tomb of Psammis. As to the affairs of China we shall henceforward derive as much pleasure from the projects of Sir Henry Pottinger cut in wood by the _Morning Herald_ as in surveying the Mandarins sailing on buffaloes through the air or driving in junks over meadows in one of Wedgewood's soup plates! It has long been the custom for advertisers in the continental journals to typify their wares. The George Robinses of Brussels for instance embody their account of some exquisite villa in a charming perspective of the same or of a capital town mansion in a grim likeness; while the _carossiers_ who have town chariots or family coaches to dispose of make it known in the most designing manner. The consequence is that the columns of certain foreign papers bear a striking likeness to a child's alphabet such as ""A was an archer and shot at a frog."" Among ourselves this practice is at present only partially adopted. We are all familiar with the shape of Mr Cox Savory's tea-pots and Messrs Dondney's _point-device_ men in buckram; while Mordan acquaints us with much point how many varieties he has invented of pencil-cases and toothpicks. As to the London Wine Company the new art has long imprinted upon our minds a mysterious notion of a series of vaults in the style of the Thames tunnel frequented by figures armed with spigots and dark lanterns that remind us of Guy Fawkes and make us tremble for ourselves and Father Mathew! Loose notions of the stay-making trade have been circulated by the same medium; and we have noticed wood-blocks of wig-blocks deservedly immortalizing the pernquier. But consider what it will be when the system is adopted on a more comprehensive scale. The daily papers will present a series of designs remarkable as those of the Glyptothek and Pinacothek at Munich; and in all probability the artists of the prize cartoons will be engaged in behalf of the leading journals of Europe. Who cannot foresee her Majesty's drawing-room illustrated by Parris! Who cannot conceive the invasion of Britain outdone in an allegorical leading article: ""Louis Philippe (in a Snooks-like attitude) inviting Queen Victoria to St Cloud; and the British lion lashing out its tail at the Coq Gaulois!"" As to the affairs of Spain they will be a mine of wealth to the new press--_L'Espagne Pittoresque_ will sell thousands more copies than Spain Constitutionalized; and let us trust that Sir George Hayter will instantly ""walk his chalks "" and secure us the Cortes in black and white. The Greek character will now become easy to decipher; and the evening papers may take King Otho both off the throne and on. The designs of Russia have long been proverbial; but the exercise of the new art of printing may assign them new features. The representations of impartial periodicals will cut out or out-cut De Custine; and while contemplating the well-favoured presentment of Nicholas I. we shall exclaim--""Is this a tyrant that I see before me?"" Nothing will be easier then to throw the Poles into the shade of the picture or to occupy the foreground with a brilliant review. As to Germany to embody her in the hieroglyphics of the new press might be a study for Retsch; and who will care for the lumbering pages of Von Raumer or the wishy-washy details of Kohl when able in an _augenblick_ to bring Berlin and Vienna before him; to study the Zollverein in the copy of the King of Prussia's cogitative countenance and ascertain the views of Metternich concerning the elder branch of the Bourbons by a _cul de lampe_ in the _Morning Chronicle_! We have little doubt of shortly seeing announcements--standing like tombstones in those literary cemeteries the Saturday papers--of ""A new work upon America from the graver of George Cruickshank;"" or ""A new fashionable novel (diamond edition ) from the accomplished pencil of H.B."" Kenny Meadows will become the Byron of the day Leech the Scott Forrester the Marryatt Phiz the Trollope; Stanfield and Turner will be epic poets Landseer preside over the belles-lettres and Webster and Stone become the epigrammatists and madrigalists of the press. All this will doubtless throw a number of deserving persons out of employ. The writers whose stock in trade consists of words rather than ideas will find their way to Basinghall Street prose will be at a discount and long-windedness be accounted a distemper. A great variety of small Sapphos must turn seamstresses* at three-halfpence a shirt instead of a penny a line; while the minor poets will have to earn a livelihood by writing invoice instead of in verse. But this transposition of talent and transition of gain is no more than arose from the substitution of railroads for turnpike roads. By that innovation thousands of hard-working post-horses were left without rack or manger; and by the present arrangement Clowes Spottiswoode and the authors who have served to afford matter for their types will be driven from the field. *Transcriber's Note: Original ""semstresses"" But the world (no longer to be called of letters but of emblems) will be the gainer. It will be no longer a form of speech to talk of having ""_glanced_ at the morning papers "" whose city article will of course be composed by artists skilled in drawing figures. The biographies of contemporary or deceased statesmen will be limned not by Lord Brougham or Macaulay but by the impartial hand of the Royal Academy; and the catacombs at Kensal Green like those discovered by Belzoni on the banks of the Nile exhibit their eulogistic inscriptions in hieroglyphics. By this new species of shorthand we might have embodied this very article in half a dozen sprightly etchings! But as the hapless inventor of the first great art of printing incurred among his astounded contemporaries the opprobrium of being in compact with the evil one (whence probably the familiar appellation of printers' devils ) it behoves the early practitioners of the new art to look to their reputations! By economizing the time of the public they may squander their own good repute. It is not every printer who can afford like Benjamin Franklin to be a reformer; and pending the momentum when (the schoolmasters being all abroad) the grand causeway of the metropolis shall become as it were a moving diorama inflicting knowledge upon the million whether it will or no--let us content ourselves with birds'-eye views of passing events by way of exhibiting the first rudiments of THE NEW ART OF PRINTING! * * * * * THE BANKING HOUSE A HISTORY IN THREE PARTS. PART III. CHAPTER I. SYMPTOMS OF ROTTENNESS. Michael Allcroft returned to his duties tuned for labour full of courage and the spirit of enterprise and action. Discharged from the thrall which had hitherto borne hard upon his energies and kept them down he felt the blessed influence of perfect Liberty and the youthful elasticity of mind and body that liberty and conscious strength engender. Devoted to the task that he had inflicted upon himself he grudged every hour that kept him from the field of operations. Firm in his determination to realize by his exertions a sum of money equal to his parent's debts and to redeem the estate from its insolvency he was uneasy and impatient until he could resume his yoke and press resolutely forward. Rich and independent as he was in virtue of the fortune of his wife he still spurned the idea of relying upon her for his release--for the means of rescuing his fathers name and house from infamy. No; he saw--he fancied that he saw a brighter way marked out before him. Industry perseverance and extreme attention would steer his bark steadily through the difficult ocean and bring her safely into harbour: these he could command for they depended upon himself whom he might trust. He had looked diligently into the transactions of the house for many years past and the investigation was most satisfactory. Year after year the business had increased--the profits had improved. The accumulations of his father must have been considerable when he entered upon his ruinous speculations. What was the fair inference to draw from this result? Why--that with the additional capital of his partners--the influx and extension of good business and the application of his own resolute mind a sum would be raised within a very few years sufficient to reinstate the firm to render it once more stable and secure. And then--this desirable object once effected and the secret of the unfortunate position of the house never divulged--the income which would afterwards follow for his partners and himself must be immense. It was this view of the subject that justified to his mind the means which he had used--that silenced self-reproof when it accused him of artifice and called him to account for the deception he had practised upon his colleagues. It must be acknowledged that the plan which he proposed held out fair promise of ultimate success and that reckoning upon the united will and assistance of his partners he had good reason to look for an eventual release from all his difficulties and cares. Yet it was not to be. ""_We still have judgment here._"" Punishment still comes to us from those whom we would circumvent. It was in vain that Michael set foot in the Bank with an indomitable and eager spirit; in vain that he longed to grapple with his fate--resolute to overcome it. The world was against him. The battle was already decided. His first hard struggle for deliverance was coincident with his last hour of earthly peace. Before one year had passed over the respectable heads of our notable Banking-House Allcraft was involved in a net of perplexity from which it required all the acuteness of his apprehending mind to work out a mode of extrication. Augustus Brammel continued abroad spending his money and drawing upon the house with the impudent recklessness which we have already seen to be a prime ingredient in his character. He did not condescend to communicate with his partners or to give them any information touching his whereabouts except such as might be gathered from his cheques which came week after week with alarming punctuality for sums as startling. From this one source of misery where was a promise or a chance of a final rescue? Michael saw none. What if he refused to cash his partner's drafts? What if he permitted them to find their way back as best they might through the various channels by which they had travelled on their previous journey--dishonoured and disgraced? Who but himself would be the loser by the game? Such a refusal would lead to quick enquiry--enquiry to information--information to want of confidence and speedy ruin. What reliance could repose upon a house divided against itself--not safe from the extravagance and pillage of its own members? The public eye ever watchful and timid waits scarcely for the show of danger to take alarm and withdraw its favour. Michael shrunk from the bare conception of an act of violence. It was more agreeable in an hour of self-collectedness to devise a remedy which if it did not cure the disease helped at least to cicatrize the immediate wounds. He looked from Brammel to Brammel's father for indemnification. And the old man was in truth a rare temptation. Fond pitiable father of a false and bloodless child! doting when others would have hated loving his prodigal with a more anxious fondness as his ingratitude grew baser--as the claims upon a parent's heart dwindled more and more away. The grey-haired man was a girl in tenderness and sensibility. He remembered the mother of the wayward child and the pains she had taken to misuse and spoil her only boy; his own conduct returned to him in the shape of heavy reproaches and he could not forget or call to mind without remorse the smiles of encouragement he had given the flattering approbation he had bestowed when true love justice duty mercy all called loudly for rebuke restraint wholesome correction solemn chastisement. Could he be conscious of all this and not excuse the unsteady youth--accuse himself? It was he who deserved punishment--not the sufferer with his calamities _imposed_ upon him by his erring sire. He was ready to receive his punishment. Oh would that at any cost--at any expense of bodily and mental suffering he could secure his child from further sorrow and from deeper degradation! To such a heart and mind Michael might well carry his complaints with some expectation of sympathy and reimbursement. Aggrieved as he was he did not fail to paint his disappointment and sense of injury in the strongest colours; but blacker than all--and he was capable of such a task he pictured the gross deception of which he had so cruelly been made the subject. ""I could "" he said to the poor father in whose aged eyes turned to the earth tears of shame were gushing ""I could have forgiven any thing but that. You deceived me meanly and deliberately. The character you gave with him was false. You knew it to be so and you were well aware that nothing but mischief and ruin could result from a connexion with him."" ""Indeed Mr Allcraft "" replied the unhappy man ""I had great hopes of his reformation. He had improved of late years a little and he gave me his word that he would be steady. If I had not thought so I should certainly not have permitted you to receive him. What can we do sir?"" ""Ah! what Mr Brammel. It is that I wish to know. The present state of things cannot continue. Where is he now?"" ""Indeed I do not know. He is a bad boy to hide himself from his father. I do not deserve it of him. I cannot guess."" ""Are you aware sir that he is married?"" ""They have told me something of it. I am in truth glad to hear it. It will be to his wife's interest to lead him back to duty."" ""You have not seen her then?"" The old man shook his head. ""Well well sir "" continued Allcraft ""this is not to the purpose. We must protect ourselves. His profligacy must be checked; at all events we must have no connexion with it. Hitherto we have honoured his drafts and kept your name and his free from disgrace. I can do so no longer. We have paid his last cheque this very day. To-morrow I shall advertise publicly our determination to honour his demands no more."" ""No--no no Mr Allcraft "" interposed old Brammel anxiously taking every word for granted ""that must not be done--I cannot allow it; for the poor boy's sake that determination must not be made at present. I am sure he will reform at last. I should not be surprised if he returned to business in a day or two and settled steadily to work for the remainder of his life. It is likely enough now that he is married. I have much to answer for on account of that youth Mr Allcraft and I should never forgive myself if I suffered any thing to be done that is likely to render him desperate just when a glimmering of hope is stealing upon us. You shake your head sir but I am confident he will yet make up for all his folly."" ""Heaven grant it sir for your sake!"" ""Yes and for his own poor child--for what will become of him if he does not! Now as to these cheques Mr Allcraft let me have them all. I will restore every farthing that you have paid on his account; and should any more be presented let them be duly honoured. I hold myself responsible for their discharge. I am sure this is the wisest course to pursue. It is quite reasonable for you to demur and to object to these demands. I like you the better Mr Allcraft for your scruples: you are an honourable man sir. I would lose my last drop of blood to make my poor boy like you. It is wise and praiseworthy in you to look so carefully to the good credit of your house; and it is fair and right that I should take this matter upon myself. I do it persuaded of the propriety of the step and satisfied that all will go well with him yet. Be lenient with the unhappy boy sir and have yet a little patience."" ""I am afraid sir that he will but presume on your generosity and good nature."" ""Ah but he is never to know it Mr Allcraft; I would not for the world have him hear of what I have done. Should you discover his abode write to him I pray--tell him that I am enraged at his proceedings--that I do not think that I can ever be reconciled to him again. Say that my anger has no bounds--that my heart is breaking--will break and kill me if he persists in his ingratitude and cruelty. Implore him to come home and save me."" The old man stopped and wept. Michael was not yet a father and could not understand the tears: it appears that he understood business much better; for taking leave of Brammel as soon as he could after the latter had expressed a wish to cash the cheques he went immediately to the bank and procured the documents. He presented them with his own hand to the astounded father from whom also with his own hand he received one good substantial draft in fair exchange. So far so good; but in another quarter Allcraft suddenly discovered that he had committed an egregious blunder. He had entrusted Planner with the secret of his critical position--had made him acquainted with the dishonest transactions of his father and the consequent bankruptcy of the firm. Not that this disclosure had been made in any violent ebullition of unguarded feeling--from any particular love to Planner--from an inability on the part of the divulger to keep his own good counsel. Michael when he raised Planner from poverty to comparative affluence was fully sensible of the value of his man--the dire necessity for him. It was indispensable that the tragic underplot of the play should never be known to either Bellamy or Brammel and the only safe way of concealing it from them was to communicate it unreservedly to their common partner and his peculiar _protégé_. He did so with much solemnity and with many references to the extraordinary liberality he had himself displayed in admitting him to his confidence and to a share of his wealth. ""Maintain my secret "" he said to Planner ""and your fortune shall be made; betray me and you are thrown again into a garret. You cannot hurt me; nothing shall save you."" He repeated these words over and over again and he received from his confidant assurance upon assurance of secrecy and unlimited devotion. And up to the period of Allcraft's return from France the gentleman had every reason to rely upon the probity and good faith of his associate; nor in fact had he less reason _after_ his return. Were it not that ""the thief doth fear each bush an officer "" he had no cause whatever to suspect or tremble: his mind for any actual danger might have been at rest. But what did he behold? Why Planner and Bellamy whom he had left as distant as stage-coach acquaintances as intimate and loving as united and inseparable as the tawny twins of Siam. Not a week passed which did not find the former once twice or three times a guest at the proud man's table. The visits paid to the bank were rather to Mr Planner than for any other object. Mr Planner only could give advice as to the alteration of the south wing of the hall: Mr Planner's taste must decide upon the internal embellishments: then there were private and mysterious conversations in the small back room--the parlour; nods and significant looks when they met and separated; and once Michael called to see Planner after the hours of business and whom should he discover in his room but Mr Bellamy himself sitting in conclave with the schemer and manifestly intent upon some serious matter. What was the meaning of all this? Oh it was too plain! The rebel Planner had fallen from his allegiance and was making his terms with the enemy. Allcraft cursed himself a thousand times for his folly in placing himself at the mercy of so unstable a character and immediately became aware that there had never been any cogent reason for such a step and that his danger would have been infinitely smaller had he never spoken to a human being on the subject. But it was useless to call himself by turns madman and fool for his pains. What could be done now to repair the error? Absolutely nothing; and at the best he had only to prepare himself for the remainder of his days to live in doubt fear anxiety and torture. In the meanwhile Planner grew actually enamoured of the _Pantamorphica_ Association. The more he examined it the more striking appeared its capabilities the fairer seemed the prospect of triumphant unequivocal success. In pursuance of his generous resolution he communicated his designs to Allcraft. They were received with looks of unaffected fright. Without an instant's hesitation Michael implored his partner to desist--to give up at once and for ever all thoughts of the delusion--to be faithful to his duty and to think well of his serious engagement. ""Your Association sir "" he exclaimed in the anger of the moment ""is like every other precious scheme you have embarked in--impracticable ridiculous absurd!"" Planner in these three words could only read--_ingratitude_--the basest it had ever been his lot to meet. Here was a return for his frankness--his straightforward conduct--his unequalled liberality. Here was the affectionate expression of thanks which he had so proudly looked forward to--the acknowledgment of superior genius which he had a right to expect from the man who was to profit so largely by the labour of his brains. Very well. Then let it be so. He would prosecute the glorious work alone--he would himself supply the funds needful for the undertaking and alone he would receive the great reward that most assuredly awaited him. Very delicately did Michael hint to his partner that his--Planner's--funds existed with his castles and associations in the unsubstantial air and no where else; but not so delicately as to avoid heaping fuel on the fire which he had already kindled in the breast of the offended schemer. The latter bristled at the words lost for an instant his self-possession said in his anger more than he intended--more than he might easily unsay--enough to bruise the already smarting soul of Allcraft. A threat escaped his lips--a reproach--a taunt. He spoke of his _power_ and touched cuttingly upon the deep schemes of _other_ men more feasible than his own perhaps and certainly more honest. Allcraft winced as every syllable made known the speaker's actual strength--his own dependence and utter weakness. He made no reply to the attack of the man whom he had drawn from beggary; but he looked him in the face steadily and reproachfully and shamed him into vexation and regret. ""I did not mean to speak unkindly Michael "" he stammered with a view to apologize. ""I am sorry that I lost my temper. You need not fear me. Don't remember what I have said."" ""You have threatened me Planner "" answered Allcraft trembling with irritation. ""You have attempted to frighten me into compliance with your demands. I say sir you have threatened me. It is the first time--it shall be the last."" ""It shall Michael--I promise you it shall."" ""I ask no promise from you "" continued the excited and suspicious man writhing under a sense of his helplessness. ""You have betrayed the cloven foot. I thank you for it. I am aware of what is to follow--I expect it--I shall hold myself prepared!"" ""Do nothing of the kind Allcraft. You know me better. You are safe with me. I am ashamed of myself for what I have spoken. Forgive me""-- ""But never mind "" proceeded the unhappy Michael. ""I defy you: do your worst. Let this be your acknowledgment of past favours--the fulfilment of your sacred promise. Betray me to Bellamy and be at ease."" ""Michael you do not use me well. I spoke angrily and without consideration. I am sorry that I did so and I have asked your forgiveness. What can I do more? You should allow for wounded feelings. It was hard to hear you ridiculing an affair that occupies my serious thoughts. I was irritated--think no more about it."" ""Answer me this How much does Mr Bellamy already know?"" ""From me--nothing. Make your mind happy on that score. It is not to the interest of any one of us that secrets should be known. You need not fear. Shake hands."" Michael took his hand. ""And as to this Association "" continued Planner ""let me have my way for once--the thing is clear and cannot fail. The elements of success are there and a splendid fortune must be realized. I am not greedy. I don't want to grasp every thing for myself. I told you just now that we would share and share alike. You are not up to projects of this nature. I am. Trust to me. I will engage to enter upon no new affair if I am disappointed in this. The truth is I cannot quietly let a fortune slide through my fingers when a little skill and energy only are necessary to secure it. Come Michael this once you must not say _no_."" The hope however faint of making money by this speculation and the fear of offending the depositary of his great secret compelled at length from Allcraft a reluctant acquiescence. He consented to the trial receiving Planner's solemn promise that in the event of failure it should be the last. Planner himself overjoyed at his victory prepared himself for action and contemplated the magnificent resources of the bank with a resolute and daring spirit that would have gratified exceedingly the customers of the house could they have but known it. Planner conscientiously believed that he had hitherto failed in all his schemes because he had never commanded cash sufficient to carry out his views. This great obstacle being removed he wisely determined to make the most of his good fortune. And in truth he was without the shadow of an excuse for timidity and forbearance. The anxiety which might have accompanied his ventures had the money been his own was mercifully spared him; the thought of personal danger and ruin could never come to cloud his intellect or oppress his energy. As for the ruin of any other party the idea by a very happy dispensation never once occurred to him. It took a very few months to make Mr Planner the largest shareholder--the principal director--the president and first man in the famous ""_Joint-Stock Pantamorphica Association._"" And whilst he was busy in the purchase of lands required for the extensive undertaking his dear friend Mr Bellamy was agreeably occupied in paying off by degrees the heavy mortgages which for many years had been weighing on his beautiful estate. In addition to the ten thousand pounds which he had abstracted during the absence of Mr Allcraft he had not hesitated to draw large sums under the very nose of his too easy and unsuspecting partner. The manner of Mr Bellamy threw Michael off his guard. He walked so erect--looked upon every body so superciliously--spoke even to Allcraft in so high a tone and with so patronizing an air that it was quite impossible to suspect him of being any thing but real coin a sound man and worthy of all trust. It is certainly true that Mr Bellamy had not brought into the concern as he had engaged some twenty or forty thousand pounds--it does not matter which--but the reasons which he condescended to give for this failure were perfectly satisfactory and accounted for the delay--so well accounted for it that Michael entreated Mr Bellamy not to think about it but to take his time. And how very natural it was for a man of Mr Bellamy's consideration and enormous wealth to secure the little property that adjoined his own and to borrow from the bank any sum of money that he might want to complete so desirable a purchase! And how very natural likewise on the part of Allcraft ever fearful of discovery ever desirous to keep upon the best terms with Mr Bellamy (the great man of the country the observed of all observers)--to be at all times anxious to oblige his friend to render him sensible of his desire to please him and of the obligation under which by these repeated acts of kindness and indulgence he was insensibly brought. And so they reached the close of the first year of partnership; and who shall say that the situation of Michael was an enviable one or that the persevering man had not good cause for despondency and dread? He was already deeply indebted to his wife; not one of his three partners had proved to be such as he expected and required. Danger threatened from two of them: Mr Bellamy had not afforded the support which he had promised. A stronger heart than Michael's might have quailed in his position; yet the pressure from without animated and invigorated _him_. In the midst of his gloom he was not without a gleam of hope and consolation. As he had foreseen the business of the house rapidly increased: its returns were great. Day and night he laboured to improve them and to raise the reputation of the tottering concern; for tottering it was though looking most secure. For himself he did not draw one farthing from the bank; he resided with his wife in a small cottage lived economically and sacrificed to his engrossing occupation every joy of the domestic hearth. The public acknowledged with favour the exertions of the labouring man; pronounced him worthy of his sire; vouchsafed him their respect and confidence. Bravely the youth proceeded on his way--looking ever to the future--straining to his object--prepared to sacrifice his life rather than yield or not attain it. Noble ambition--worthy of a less ignoble cause--a better fate! The second year passed on and then the third: at the close of this Michael looked again at his condition. During the last year the business of the house had doubled. Had not the profits and more than the profits been dragged away by Bellamy and Planner--his ardent mind would have been satisfied his ceaseless toil well-paid. But the continual drafts had kept ever in advance of the receipts draining the exchequer--crippling its faculties. Even at this melancholy exhibition his sanguine spirit refused to be cast down and to resign the hope of ultimate recovery and success. He built upon the promise of Mr Bellamy who at length had engaged to refund his loans upon a certain day and to add at the same time his long-expected and long-promised quota of floating capital: he built upon the illusions of Planner's strong imagination--Planner who suddenly becoming sick of his speculation alarmed at his responsibility and doubtful of success had been for some time vigorously looking out for a gentleman willing to purchase his share and interest in the unrivaled _Pantamorphica_ and to relieve him of his liabilities; and had at last persuaded himself into the belief that he had found one. _He_ likewise fixed a period for the restoration of a fearful sum of money which Michael madman that he was had suffered him to expend--to fling away like dirt. Upon such expectation Allcraft stood--upon such props suffered his aching soul to rest. There wanted but a month to the acceptable season when claims upon the house poured in which could not be put off. Michael borrowed money once more from his wife to meet them. He did it without remorse or hesitation. Why should he have compunction--why think about it when the hour of repayment was so near at hand? It was a proper question for a man who could slumber on a mine that was ready to burst and shatter him to atoms. CHAPTER II. A MEETING. It was a constant saying of old Mr Brammel that if his time were to come over again he would adopt a very different plan from that which he had pursued in the education of his son. Now a different plan it might have been; but one leading to a more satisfactory result I must take the liberty to deny. Of what use is experience to one who with sixty years of life in him still feels and thinks rea

ons and acts like a child? Who but a child would have thought of paying the wholesale demands of that dissolute incorrigible youth with the notion of effecting by such subtle means his lasting reformation: who but a child would have made the concealment of his name a condition of the act? As may be guessed the success of this scheme was equal to its wisdom. Augustus Theodore too grateful for the facilities afforded him showed no disposition to abridge his pleasures or to hasten his return. In the regular and faithful discharge of his drafts his vulgar soul rejoiced to detect a fear of offending and an eagerness to conciliate on the part of his partner Michael Allcraft. He would see and acknowledge nothing else. And the idea once fixed in his mind he was not likely to rest contented with half the glory of his victory. ""No.--He would punish the fellow.--He would make him smart; he would teach him to come all the way to France on purpose to bully him. He hadn't done with the gentleman yet. Master Allcraft should cry loud enough before he had. He'd sicken him."" Still the hopeful youth pursued his travels--still he transmitted his _orders at sight_--still they were honoured punctually--still Augustus Theodore chuckled with stupid delight over what he considered the pitiful submission of his partner who had not courage to reject his drafts and dared not utter now one brief expostulatory word. Mr Brammel junior like the rest of the firm lived in his own delusions. The fourth year dawned and Mr Brammel suddenly appeared amongst his friends. He and his lady had travelled over Europe; they had seen the world--the world had seen them; they were sick of wandering--they desired to settle. A noble villa with parks and paddocks was quickly taken and sumptuously furnished; hunters were got from Tattersall's--nursery-maids from France--an establishment worthy of the name rose like magic almost within sight of Michael's humble dwelling taking the neighbourhood by surprise startling and affrighting Allcraft. Again the latter visited the fond old man--remonstrated complained; and once more the father entreated on behalf of his son begged for time and patience and undertook to satisfy the prodigal's extravagance. He gave his money as before willingly and eagerly and stipulated only with unmeaning earnestness for secrecy and silence. And the fourth year closed as drearily as it had opened. The promises of Bellamy and Planner were as far from fulfilment as ever; their performance as vigorous and disastrous as at first. The landed proprietor still redeemed day after day portions of his involved estate. The schemer disappointed in his expectations of a purchaser returned to his speculation with redoubled ardour and with fresh supplies of gold. His only chance of ultimate recovery was to push boldly forward and to betray no fear of failure. One retrograde or timid step would open the eyes of men and bring down ruin on the _Pantamorphica_. Planner became conscious of all this to his dismay and he had nothing to do in the very extremity of his distress but to proceed in his venture with the best spirits he could command and to trust himself fairly to the swelling tide.--Allcraft looked on and trembled. It is wonderful how long a withered leaf will sometimes cling to its branch. It will hold tenaciously there the last of its race days after the decay of its greener and more healthy-looking mates. ""A creaking door "" the proverb has it ""hangs long upon its hinges;"" and many a wheezing parchment-looking gentleman as we all know who ought to have died every year of his life since he was born draws his difficult breath through threescore years and ten; whilst the young the hardy and the sound are smitten in their pride and fall in heaps about him. It is no less strange that a house of business like that of our friend Mr Allcraft should assert its existence for years rotten as it was during the whole of the time at its very heart's core. And yet such is the case. Eight years elapsed and found it still in the land of the living: yes and to the eye external as proper and as good a house of business as any you shall name. Its vitals were going--were gone before the smallest indications of mischief appeared upon the surface. Life must have been well nourished to maintain itself so long. And was it not? Answer thou kind physician gentle Margaret! Answer thou balm and life's elixir--Margaret's _gold_! Eight weary years have passed and we have reached a miserable day in the month of November. The wind is howling and the rain is pelting against the parlour windows of the Banking-house whose blinds are drawn close down. The partners are all assembled. Michael whose hair is as grey as his father's on the day of his death and whom care and misery have made haggard and old sits at a table with a heap of papers before him and a pen in his hand--engaged as it appears in casting up accounts. Mr Bellamy who looks remarkably well--very glossy and very fat--sits at the table likewise perusing leisurely the county newspapers through golden eyeglasses. He holds them with the air of a gentleman comfortable and at ease in all respects mentally and bodily. Augustus Theodore swings on a chair before the fire which he keeps at work for his own especial consolation. His feet stretch along the fender--his amusement is the poker. He has grown insufferably vain is dressed many degrees above the highest fashionable point and looks a dissipated hopeless blackguard. Planner very subdued very pale and therefore very unlike himself stands behind the chair of Allcraft; and ever and anon he casts a rueful glance over the shoulder of his friend upon the papers which his friend is busy with. No one speaks. At intervals Mr Bellamy coughs extensively and loudly just to show his dignity and independence and to assure the company that _his_ conscience is very tranquil on the occasion--that his firm ""withers are unwrung;"" and Mr Brammel struggles like an ill-taught bullfinch to produce a whistle and fails in the attempt. With these exceptions we have a silent room. A quarter of an hour passes. Michael finishes his work. He spends one moment in reflection and then he speaks:-- ""Now gentlemen "" he begins with a deep sigh that seems to carry from his heart a load of care--""Now if you please""-- The paper and the poker are abandoned chairs are drawn towards the baize-covered table. The partners sit and look at one another face to face. ""Gentlemen "" said Michael at first slowly and seriously and in a tone which none might hear beyond their walls--""you do not I am sure require me to advert to _all_ the causes which have rendered this meeting necessary. I have no desire to use reproaches and I shall refer as little as I may to the past. I ask you all to do me justice. Have I not laboured like a slave for the common good? Have I not toiled in order to avoid the evil hour that has come upon us? Have I not given every thing--have I not robbed another in order to prop up our house and keep its name from infamy?"" ""Be calm be calm "" interposed Mr Bellamy gently remarking that Allcraft slightly raised his voice at the concluding words. ""Calm! calm Mr Bellamy!"" exclaimed the unhappy speaker renouncing without hesitation all attempts at the _suaviter in modo_ and yet fearful of showing his indignation and of being overheard--""Calm! It is well for you to talk so. Had I been less calm less easy; had I done my duty--had I been determined seven years ago this cruel day would never have arrived. You are my witness that it never would."" Mr Bellamy rose with much formality from his seat. ""Gentlemen "" he said ""I cannot submit to dark and plebeian innuendoes. I have come here to-day at great personal inconvenience and I am prepared to listen respectfully to any thing which Mr Allcraft thinks it his duty to bring before us. But I must have you remember that a gentleman and a man of honour cannot brook an insult."" ""I ask your pardon sir "" added Allcraft in a tone of bitterness--""I meant no insult. Pray be seated. I have the honour to present you with a statement of our affairs. We have claims upon us amounting to several thousand pounds which must be met within a week. A third of the sum required will not be at our command. How is it to be obtained? and if obtained how is it to repair the inroads which year after year have been made upon the house and how secure it from further spoliation? It is useless and absurd to hide from ourselves any longer the glaring fact that we are on the actual verge of bankruptcy."" ""Well! I have had nothing to do with that. You can't say it's me "" ejaculated Mr Brammel. ""You have had the management in your own hands and so you have nobody but yourself to thank for it. I thought from the beginning how the concern would turn out!"" ""_Your_ share sir in furthering the interests of the bank we will speak of shortly "" said Michael turning to the speaker with contempt. ""We have little time for recrimination now."" ""As for recrimination Mr Allcraft "" interposed Mr Bellamy ""I must be allowed to say that you betray a very improper spirit in this business--very--very. You are far from being temperate."" ""Temperate!"" ""Yes; I said so."" ""Mr Bellamy "" said Allcraft bursting with rage ""I have been your partner for eight years. I have not for a moment deserted my post or slackened in my duty. I have given my strength my health my peace of mind to the house. I have drawn less than your clerk from its resources; but I have added to them wrongfully cruelly and unpardonably from means not my own which in common honesty I ought never to have touched--which""-- ""Really really Mr Allcraft "" said Bellamy interrupting him ""you have told us every word of this before."" ""Wait sir "" continued the other. ""I am _intemperate_ and you shall have my excuse for being so. _You_ Mr Bellamy have never devoted one moment of your life to the interests of the house; no not a moment. You have year after year without the slightest hesitation or remorse sucked its life-blood from it. You have borrowed as these accounts will show thousands of pounds and paid them back with promises and words. You engaged to produce your fair proportion of capital; you have given nothing. You made grand professions of adding strength and stability to the firm; you have been its stumblingblock and hinderance."" ""Mr Allcraft "" said Bellamy coolly ""you are still a very young man."" ""Have I told the truth?"" ""Pshaw man! Speak to the point. Speak to the point sir. We have heavy payments due next week. Are we prepared to meet them?"" ""No--nor shall we be."" ""That's unfortunate "" added Mr Bellamy very quietly. ""You are sure of that? You cannot help us--with another loan for instance?"" Michael answered with determination--""No."" ""Very well. No violence Mr Allcraft pray. Such being the case I shall decline at present giving any answer to the unjust inhuman observations which you have made upon my conduct. Painful as it is to pass this barbarous treatment over for the present still my own private affairs shall be as nothing in comparison with the general good. This provided for I will protect myself from future insult depend upon it. You are wrong Mr Allcraft--very wrong. You shall acknowledge it. You will be sorry for the expressions which you have cast upon a gentleman your senior in years and [here a very loud cough] let me add--in social station. Now sir let me beg a word or two in private."" It was very unfortunate that the whole establishment stood in unaffected awe of the redoubted Mr Bellamy. Allcraft notwithstanding his knowledge of the man and his previous attack upon his character was not at this moment free from the fascination; and at the eleventh hour he found it difficult to withdraw entirely his confidence in Mr Bellamy's ultimate desire and capability to deal honorably and justly by him. Much of the Mogul's power was unquestionably derived from his massive _physique_; but his chief excellence lay in that peculiar off-hand patronizing take-it-for-granted air which he made it a point to assume towards every individual with whom he came in contact. He had scarcely requested a few minutes' private conversation with Allcraft before Planner and Brammel jumped involuntarily from their seats as if in obedience to a word of command and edged towards the door. ""If you please "" continued Mr Bellamy nodding to them very graciously; and they departed. In the course of ten minutes they were recalled by the autocrat himself. The gentlemen resumed their seats and this time Mr Bellamy addressed them. ""You see my dear sirs "" he began with for him peculiar gentleness ""it is absolutely necessary to provide against the immediate exigency and to postpone all discussion on the past until this is met and satisfactorily disposed of."" ""Certainly!"" said Augustus Brammel who for his part never wished to talk or think about the past again. ""Certainly. Hear hear! I agree to that""-- ""I knew you would dear Mr Brammel--a gentleman of your discretion would not fail to do so."" Augustus looked up at Mr Bellamy to find if he were jeering him; but he saw no reason to believe it. ""Such being the case "" continued the worthy speaker; ""it behoves us now to look about for some assistance. Our friend Mr Allcraft I am sorry to say does not feel disposed to help us once more through the pressure. I am very sorry to say so. Perhaps he will think better of it (Allcraft shook his head.) Ah; just so. He desponds a little now. He takes the dark side of things. For my own part I prefer the bright. He believes as you have heard that we are on the verge of bankruptcy. Upon my honour as a gentleman I really can believe in no such thing. There is a general gloom over the mercantile world; it will break off in time; and we with the rest of mankind shall pass into the sunshine."" ""Hear hear!"" exclaimed Augustus Brammel; ""that's the way to look at things!"" ""Taking it for granted then--which positively I an not inclined to do; for really Mr Allcraft it is against your interest not to help us in this emergency--but however taking it I say for granted that our friend here will not succour us--it appears to me that only one legitimate course is open to us. If we are refused at home let us apply for aid as near our home as possible. There are our London friends""-- ""Ah yes to be sure--so there are "" cried Theodore Augustus. ""We surely cannot hesitate to apply to them. Our name stands--and deservedly so--very high. They will be glad to accommodate us with a temporary loan. We will avail ourselves of it--say for three months. That will give us time to turn about us and to prepare ourselves against similar unpleasant casualties. See what we want Mr Allcraft: let the sum be raised in London without delay and let us look forward with the hearts of men."" ""Capital capital "" continued Brammel; ""I second that motion."" ""Thank you sir "" said Mr Bellamy with a gracious smile. ""There remains then to consider only who shall be the favoured individual deputed to this important business. One of us must certainly go to London and I do think it due to our youngest member Brammel to concede to him the honour of representing us in the metropolis. No offence will I trust be taken by our other friends and I hope that in my zeal for Mr Brammel I shall not be suspected of betraying an undue preference."" Mr Bellamy turned towards Augustus Theodore with an almost affectionate expression of countenance as he spoke these words; but perceived to his mortification that the latter instead of being pleasantly affected by his address wriggled in his chair most impatiently and assumed the complexion and aspect of a man with whom something has suddenly and violently disagreed. ""No--no--no!"" he bellowed out as soon as he could; ""none of that soft-soap Mr Bellamy; make up your mind at once--I sha'n't go. I can't borrow money. I do not know how to do it. I don't want the honour thank you. It's very good of you and I am much obliged to you--that's a fact. But you'll look out for some body else if you please. I beg to say I decline--pos""-- Mr Bellamy cast upon Theodore one of his natural and annihilating glances and said deliberately ""Mr Brammel for the first time in your life you are honoured by being made a useful individual. You are to go to London.--Go you shall""-- ""Go I sha'n't "" answered Brammel in his accustomed easy style and manner. ""Very well. You are aware Mr Brammel that your respected parent has yet to be made acquainted with sundry lively doings of your own which you would rather I believe keep from his ears at present; you likewise are aware that if any thing happens to the serious injury of the bank through your imprudence--your inheritance from that respected parent would be dearly purchased for a shilling. I shall be sorry to hurt your feelings or your pocket. I have no wish to do it; but depend upon me sir your father shall be a wiser man to-night if you are obstinate and disobedient."" ""I can't borrow money--I can't--I don't know how to do it "" said Brammel peevishly. ""And who reproaches you for your inability my dear sir "" said Bellamy coaxingly. ""No one I am sure. You shall be taught. Every thing shall be made easy and agreeable. You will carry your credentials from the house and your simple task shall be beforehand well explained to you."" ""I am not used to it."" ""And you never will be Mr Brammel if you don't begin to practise. Come I am sure you don't wish me to see your father to-day. I am certain you are not anxious to part with your patrimony. You are too sensible a man. Pray let us have no delay Mr Allcraft. See what we want. Mr Brammel will go to London to-morrow. We must take time by the forelock. Let us meet these heavy payments and then we can think and breathe and talk. Till then it is idle to wrangle and to lose one's temper. Very well: then there's little more I imagine to be done at present."" Augustus Theodore still opposed his nomination like an irritable child; but a fly kicking against a stone wall was as likely to move it as Brammel to break down the resolution of such a personage as Mr Bellamy. After an hour's insane remonstrance he gave in to his own alarm rather than to the persuasion of his partner. He was fearfully in debt; his only hope of getting out of it rested in the speedy decease of his unfortunate parent whom he had not seen for months and who he had reason to believe had vowed to make him pay with his whole fortune for any calamity that might happen to the bank through his misconduct or extravagance. It was not from the lips of Mr Bellamy that he heard this threat for the first time. What he should do if it were carried out heaven only knows. He consented to go to London on this disgusting mission and he could have bitten his tongue out for speaking his acquiescence so enraged was he with himself and all the world at his defeat. He did not affect to conceal his anger; and yet strange to say it was not visible to Mr Bellamy. On the contrary he thanked Mr Brammel for the cheerful and excellent spirit in which he had met his partners' wishes and expressed himself delighted at the opportunity which now presented itself for introducing their young friend to life. Then turning to Michael Allcraft he begged him to prepare their deputation for his work immediately and to place no obstacle in the way of his departure. Then he moved the adjournment of the meeting until the return of Mr Brammel; and then he finished by inviting all his partners to dine with him at the hall that day and to join him in drinking success and happiness to their young adventurer. The invitation was accepted; and Mr. Bellamy's grand carriage drew up immediately with splash and clatter to the door. CHAPTER III. A CHAPTER OF LOANS. Augustus Brammel hated his partners with all his heart and soul. He had never been very fond of them but the result of this interview gave an activity and a form to feelings which it required only sufficient occasion to bring into play. Notwithstanding the polite tone which Mr Bellamy had cunningly adopted in placing his mission before him even he the ignorant and obtuse Brammel could not fail to see that he had been made the tool the cat's-paw in a business from which his partners shrank. Now had the young man been as full of courage as he was of vulgar conceit he might I verily believe have turned his hatred and his knowledge of affairs to very good account. Lacking the spirit of the smallest animal that crawls he was content to eject his odious malice in oaths and execrations and to submit to his beating after all. No sooner was the meeting at an end than he left the Banking-house and turned his steps towards home. He had become--as it was very natural he should--a brute of a husband and the terror of his helpless household. He remembered all at once that he had been deeply aggrieved in the morning by Mrs Brammel; that as many as two of his shirt buttons had given way whilst he was in the act of dressing and unable to contain himself after the treatment of Mr Bellamy he resolved forthwith to have his vengeance out upon his wife. But he had not walked a hundred yards before his rancour and fury increased to such a height that he was compelled to pull up short in the street and to vow with a horrible oath that he would see all his partners roasting in the warmest place that he could think of before he'd move one inch to save their souls from rotting. So instead of proceeding homeward he turned back again with a view to make this statement; but before he could reach the Banking-house a wiser thought entered his head and induced him to retrace his steps. ""He would go "" he said ""to his father; and lay his complaint there. He would impeach all his partners acknowledge his errors and promise once more to reform. His father easy old fool would believe him forgive him and do any thing else in his joy."" It was certainly a bright idea--but alas! his debts were so very extensive. Bellamy's threatening look rose before him and made them appear even larger and more terrible than they were. What if his father insisted upon his going to London and doing any other dirty work which these fellows chose to put upon him? Bellamy he was sure could make the old man do any thing. No it wouldn't do. He stamped his foot to the ground in vexation and recurred to his original determination. It was all he could do. He must go to London and take what indemnification he might in the domestic circle previously to starting. And the miserable man did have his revenge and did go to London. He was empowered to borrow twenty thousand pounds from the London house and he was furnished by Michael Allcraft with particulars explanatory of his commission. And he walked into Lombard Street with the feelings of a culprit walking up the scaffold to his execution. His pitiful heart deserted him at the very instant when he most needed its support. He passed and repassed the large door of the establishment which he saw opened and shut a hundred tines in a minute by individuals whose self-collectedness and independence he would have given half his fortune to possess. He tried time after time to summon courage for his entry and as he afterwards expressed it a ball rose in his throat--just as he got one foot upon the step--large enough to choke him. Impudent and reckless us he had been all his life he was now more timid and nervous than an hysterical girl. Oh what should he do! First he thought of going to a neighbouring hotel and writing at once to Allcraft; swearing that he was very ill that he couldn't move and was utterly unable to perform his duties. If he went to bed and sent for a doctor surely Allcraft would believe him; and in pity would come up and do the business. He dwelt upon this contrivance until it seemed too complicated for success. Would it not be more advisable to write to the London house itself and explain the object of his coming up? But if he could write why couldn't he _call_? They would certainly ask that question and perhaps refuse the loan. Oh what was he to do! He could hit upon no plan and he couldn't muster confidence to turn in. The porter of the firm mercifully interposed to rescue Mr Brammel from his dilemma. That functionary had watched the stranger shuffling to and fro in great anxiety and doubt and at length he deemed it proper to enquire whether the gentleman was looking for the doorway of the house of Messrs ---- and ---- or not. Augustus frightened answered _yes_ at random and in another instant found himself in what he called ""THE SWEATING ROOM of the awfullest house of business he had ever seen in all his life."" It was a large square apartment very lofty and very naked-looking. There was an iron chest and two shelves filled with giant books; and there was nothing else in the room but a stillness and a mouldiness of smell that hung upon his spirits like pounds of lead dragging them down and freezing them. Yet cold as were his spirits the perspiration that oozed from the pores of his skin was profuse and steady during the quarter of an hour that elapsed whilst he waited for the arrival of the worthy principal. During those memorable fifteen minutes--the most unpleasant of his life--Augustus for two seconds together could neither sit stand nor walk with comfort. He knew nothing of the affairs of his house; he was not in a condition to answer the most trivial business question; he had heard that his firm was on the eve of bankruptcy (and judging from the part he had taken in its affairs he could easily believe it;) he felt that his partners had thrown the odium of the present application upon him not having courage to take it upon themselves; and he had an indistinct apprehension that this very act of borrowing money would lead to transportation or the gallows should the business go to rack and ruin as he could see it shortly would. All these considerations went far to stultify the otherwise weak and feeble Mr Brammel; when in addition he endeavoured to arrange in his mind the terms on which he would request the favour of a temporary loan of only (!) twenty thousand pounds a sensation of nausea completely overpowered him and the table the chairs the iron chest swam round him like so many ships at sea. To recover from his sickness and to curse the banking-house every member of the same and his own respectable parent for linking him to it was one and the same exertion. To the infinite astonishment of Augustus Theodore the acquisition of these twenty thousand pounds proved the most amusing and easiest transaction of his life. Mr Cutbill the managing partner of the London house received him with profound respect and pleasure. He listened most attentively to the stammering request and put the deputation at his ease at once by expressing his readiness to comply with Mr Allcraft's wishes provided a note of hand signed by all the partners and payable in three months was given as security for the sum required. Augustus wrote word home to that effect; the note of hand arrived--the twenty thousand pounds were paid--the dreaded business was transacted with half the trouble that it generally cost Augustus Theodore to effect the purchase of a pair of gloves. Mr Bellamy remained at the hall just one week after the receipt of the cash and then was carried to the north by pressing business. Before he started he complimented Allcraft upon their success trusted that they should now go smoothly on promised to return at the very earliest moment and gave directions on his route by which all letters of importance might safely reach him. And Allcraft relieved for a brief season indefatigable as ever strained every nerve and muscle to sustain his credit and increase his gains. As heretofore he denied himself all diversion and amusement. The first at the bank the last to leave it he had his eye for ever on its doings. Visible at all times to the world and most conspicuous there where the world was pleased to find him he maintained his reputation as a thorough man of business and held with hooks of steel a confidence as necessary to existence as the vital air around him. To lose a breath of the public approbation in his present state were to give up fatally the only stay on which he rested. Wonderful that as the prospects of the man grew darker his courage strengthened his spirit roused his industry increased! And a bitter reflection was it that reward still came to him--still a fair return for time and strength expended. He could not complain of the neglect of mankind or of the ingratitude of those he served. In the legitimate transactions of the house he was a prosperous and a prospering man. Such to the outer world did he appear in all respects and such he would have been but for the hidden and internal sores already past cure or reparation. Who had brought them there? Michael did not ask the question--yet. Never did three months pass away so rapidly as those which came between the day of borrowing and the day of paying back those twenty thousand pounds. The moment the money had arrived Michael's previous anxieties fled from his bosom and left him as happy as a boy without a care. It came like a respite from death. Sanguine to the last he congratulated himself upon the overthrow of his temporary difficulties and relied upon the upturning of some means of payment on the arrival of the distant day. But distant as it looked at first it crept nearer and nearer until at the end of two months when--as he saw no possibility of relieving himself from the engagement--it appeared close upon him haunting him morning noon and night wheresoever he might be and sickening him with its terrible and desperate aspect. When there wanted only a week to the fatal day Michael's hope of meeting the note of hand was slighter than ever. He became irritable distressed and anxious--struggled hard to get the needful sum together struggled and strove; but failed. Hours and minutes were now of vital consequence; and in a rash and unprotected moment he permitted himself to write a letter to the London house begging them as a particular favour just for one week to retire the bill they held against him. The London house civilly complied with the request and five days of that last and dreary week swept by leaving poor Allcraft as ill prepared for payment as they had found him. What could he do? At length the gulf had opened--was yawning--to receive him. How should he escape it? Heaven in its infinite mercy has vouchsafed to men _angels_ to guide and cheer them on their difficult and thorny paths. Could Michael suffer and Margaret not sympathize? Could he have a sorrow which she might chase away and having the power lack the heart to do it? Impossible! Oh! hear her in her impassioned supplications; hear her at midnight in their disturbed and sleepless bedchamber whilst the doomed man sits at her side in agony clasps his face and buries it within his hand for shame and disappointment. ""Michael do not break my heart. Take dearest all that I possess; but I entreat you let me see you cheerful. Do not take this thing to heart. Whatever may be your trouble confide it love to me. I will try to kill it!"" ""No no no "" answered Allcraft wildly; ""it must not be--it shall not be dear Margaret. You shall be imposed upon no longer. You shall not be robbed. I am a villain!"" ""Do not say so Michael. You are kind and good; but this cruel business has worn you out. Leave it I implore you if you can and let us live in peace."" ""Margaret it is impossible. Do not flatter yourself or me with the vain hope of extrication. Release will never come. I am bound to it for my life; it will take longer than a life to effect deliverance. You know not my calamities."" ""But I _will_ know them Michael and share them with you if they must be borne. I am your wife and have a right to this. Trust me Michael and do not kill me with suspense. What is this new affliction? Whatsoever it may be it is fitting that I should know it--yes will know it dearest or I am not worthy to lie beside you there. Tell me love how is it that for these many days you have looked so sad and sighed and frowned upon me. I am conscious of no fault. Have I done amiss? Say so and I will speedily repair the fault?"" Michael pressed his Margaret to his heart and kissed her fondly. ""Why oh why my Margaret did you link your fate with mine?"" ""Why having done so Michael do you not love and trust me?"" ""Love?"" ""Yes--_love_! Say what you will you do not love me if you hide your griefs from me. We are one. Let us be truly

so. One in our joys and in our sufferings."" ""Dearest Margaret why should I distress you? Why should I call upon you for assistance? Why drag your substance from you?--why prey upon you until you have parted with your all? I have taken too much already."" ""Answer me one simple question Michael. Can money buy away this present sorrow? Can it bring to you contentment and repose? Can it restore to me the smile which is my own? Oh if it can be merciful and kind; take freely what is needful and let me purchase back my blessings!"" ""Margaret you deserve a better fate!"" ""Name the sum dear. Is it my fortune? Not more? Then never were peace of mind and woman's happiness so cheaply bought. Take it Michael and let us thank Heaven that it is enough. My fortune never gave me so much joy as now. I do not remember Michael that you have ever refused my smallest wish. It is not in your nature to be unkind. Come dearest smile a little. We have made the bargain--be generous and pay me in advance."" He smiled and wept in gratitude. Now Michael retired to rest determined not to take advantage of the generous impulses of his confiding wife; yet although he did so it could not but be very satisfactory to his marital feelings to discover and to be assured of the existence of such devotedness and disregard of self and fortune as she displayed. Indeed he was very much tranquillized and comforted; so much so in fact that he was enabled towards morning to wake up in a condition to review his affairs with great serenity of mind and (notwithstanding his determination) to contrive some mode of turning the virtuous magnanimity of his wife to good account without inflicting any injury upon herself. Surely if he could do this he was bound to act. To save himself by her help and at the same time without injuring her at all was a very defensible step to say the least of it. Who should say it wasn't his absolute duty to adopt it? Whatever repugnance he might have felt in asking a further loan from one who had already helped him beyond his expectations it was certainly very much diminished since she had offered to yield to him without reserve every farthing that she possessed. Not that he would ever suffer her to do any thing so wild and inexcusable; still after such an expression of her wishes he was at liberty to ask her aid provided always that he could secure her from any loss or risk. When Michael got thus far in his proposition it was not very difficult to work it to the end. Once satisfied that it was just and honourable and it was comparatively child's work to arrange the _modus operandi_. A common trick occurred to him. In former transactions with his wife he had pledged his word of honour to repay her. It had become a stale pledge and very worthless as Michael felt. What if he put his _life_ in pawn! Ah capital idea! This would secure to her every farthing of her debt. Dear me how very easy! He had but to insure his life for the amount he wanted and let what would happen she was safe. His spirit rejoiced. Oh it was joy to think that she could save him from perdition and yet not suffer a farthing's loss. Loss! So far from this his ready mind already calculated how she might be a gainer by the arrangement. He was yet young. Let him insure his life at present for twenty thousand pounds and how much more would it be worth--say that he lived for twenty years to come? He explained it to his lady--to his own perfect satisfaction. The willing Margaret required no more. He could not ask as freely as the woman's boundless love could grant. He with all his reasoning could not persuade his conscience to pronounce the dealing just. She with her beating heart for her sole argument and guide looked for no motive save her strong affection--no end but her beloved's happiness and peace. Woe is me the twenty thousand pounds were griped--the precious life of Mr Allcraft was insured--the London house was satisfied. A very few weeks flew over the head of the needy man before he was reduced to the same pitiable straits. Money was again required to carry the reeling firm through unexpected difficulties. Brammel was again dispatched to London. The commissioner grown bolder by his first success was ill prepared for hesitation and reproof and awkward references to ""that last affair."" Ten thousand pounds were the most they could advance and all transactions of the kind must close with this if there should be any deviation from the strictest punctuality. Brammel attempted to apologise and failed in the attempt of course. He came home disgusted shortening his journey by swearing over half the distance and promising his partners his cordial forgiveness if ever they persuaded him again to go to London on a begging expedition! Oh Margaret! Margaret! Oh spirit of the mild and gentle Mildred! Must I add that your good money paid this second loan--and yet a third--a fourth--a fifth? When shall fond woman cease to give--when shall mean and sordid man be satisfied with something less than all she has to grant? CHAPTER IV. A DISSOLUTION OF PARTNERSHIP. The most remarkable circumstance in that meeting of the partners which ended in Brammel's first visit to London was the behaviour of our very dear friend and ally--the volatile Planner--volatile alas! no longer. His best friend would not have recognized him on that deeply interesting occasion. He was a subdued a shaken man. Every drop of his brave spirit had been squeezed out of him and he stood the mere pulp and rind of his former self. He who for years had been accustomed to look at men not only in the face but very impertinently over their heads could not drag his shambling vision now higher than men's shoe-strings. His eye his heart his soul was on the ground. He was disappointed crushed. Not a syllable did he utter; not a single word of remonstrance and advice did he presume to offer in the presence of his associates. He had a sense of guilt and men so situated are sometimes tongue-tied. He had in truth a great deal to answer for and enough to make a livelier man than he dissatisfied and wretched. Every farthing which had passed from the bank to the _Pantamorphica_ Association was irrecoverably gone. The Association itself was in the same condition--gone irrecoverably likewise. Nothing remained of that once beautiful and promising vision but some hundred acres of valueless land a half-finished and straggling brick wall falling rapidly to decay the foundations of a theatre and the rudiments of a temple dedicated to Apollo. Planner had gazed upon the scene once when dismal rain was pouring down upon the ruins and he burst into bitter tears and sobbed like a child at the annihilation of his hopes. He had not courage to look a second time upon that desolation and yet he found courage to turn away from it and to do a thing more desperate. Ashamed to be beaten afraid to meet the just rebuke of Allcraft he flung himself recklessly into the hands of a small band of needy speculators and secretly engaged in schemes that promised restitution of the wealth he had expended or make his ruin perfect and complete. One adventure after another failed cutting the thread of his career shorter every instant and rendering him more hot-brained and impatient. He doubled and trebled his risks and did the like as may be guessed to his anxieties and failures. He lived in a perpetual fear and danger of discovery; and discovery now was but another name for poison--prison--death. Here was enough and more than enough to extinguish every spark of joy in the bosom of Mr Planner and to account for his despondency and settled gloom. And yet Planner in this his darkest hour was nearer to deliverance and perfect peace than at any previous period of his history. Planner was essentially ""a lucky dog."" Had he fallen from a house-top he would have reached _terra firma_ on his feet. Had he been conducted to the gallows according to his desserts the noose would have slipped and his life would certainly have been spared. It happened that whilst Michael was immersed in the management of his loans a hint was forwarded to him of the pranks of his partner; a letter written by an anonymous hand revealed his losses in one transaction amounting to many hundred pounds. The news came like a thunderbolt to Allcraft. It was a death-blow. Iniquitous unpardonable as were the acts of his colleague--serious as was the actual sum of money gone; yet these were as nothing compared with the distressing fact that intelligence of the evil work had already gone abroad was in circulation and might at any moment put a violent end to his own unsteady course. He carried the note to Planner--he thrust it into his face and called him to account for his baseness and ingratitude. He could have struck his friend and partner to the earth and trod him there to death as he confronted and upbraided him. ""Now sir "" roared Allcraft in his fury--""What excuse--what lie have you at your tongue's end to palliate this? What can justify this? Will you never be satisfied until you have rendered me the same hopeless helpless creature that I found you when I dragged you from your [§] beggaring. Answer me!""-- There is nothing like a plaintive retort when your case is utterly indefensible. Planner looked at the letter read it--then turned his eyes mildly and reproachfully upon his accuser. ""Michael Allcraft "" he said affectingly ""you treat me cruelly."" ""I!"" answered the other astounded. ""I treat _you_! Planner I intrusted you years ago with a secret. I paid you well for keeping it. Could I dream that nothing would satisfy your rapacity but my destruction? Could I suppose it? I have fed your ravenous desires. I have submitted to your encroachments. Do you ask my soul as well as body? Let me know what it is you ask--what I have to pay--let me hear the worst and--prepare for all my punishment."" ""I have listened to all you have said "" continued Planner ""and I consider myself an ill-used man."" Michael stared. ""Yes--I mean it. I have worked like a negro for you Allcraft and this is the return you make me. I get your drift; do not attempt to disguise it--it is cruel--most most cruel! ""What do you mean?"" ""Have I not always promised to share my gains with you?"" ""Pshaw--_your_ gains--where are they?"" ""That's nothing to the point. Did I not promise?"" ""Well--well."" ""And now after all my labour and struggling because I have _failed_ you wish to turn me off and throw me to the world. Now speak the truth man--is it not so?"" Oh! Planner was a cunning creature and so was Michael Allcraft. Mark them both! This idea which Planner deemed too good to be seriously entertained by his colleague had never once occurred to Michael; but it seemed so promising and so likely if followed up to relieve him effectually of his greatest plague and of any floating ill report that he found no hesitation in adopting it at once. He did not answer but he tried to look as if his partner had exactly guessed his actual intention. Such [§]* gentlemen both! *Transcriber's Note: Original cut off between [§]s--Section completed with best guess of correct wording. ""I thought so "" continued the injured Planner. ""Michael you do not know me. You do not understand my character. I am a child to persuade but a rock if you attempt to force me. I shall _not_ desert the bank whilst there is a chance of paying back all that we have drawn."" ""_We_ sir?"" ""Yes--we. You and I together for our schemes and you alone for private purposes. You recollect your father's debts""-- ""Planner do not think to threaten me into further compromise. You can frighten me no longer--be sure of that. Your transactions are the common talk of the city--the bank is stigmatized by its connexion with you."" ""Curse the bank!"" said Planner fretfully. ""Would to Heaven I had never heard of it!"" ""Leave it then and rid yourself of the annoyance. You are free to do it!"" ""What! and leave behind me every chance of realizing a competency for my old age! Oh Michael Michael--shame shame!"" ""Competency! Are you serious? Are you sane? Competency! Why the labour of your life will not make good a tithe of what you have squandered."" ""Come come Michael you know better. You know well enough that one lucky turn would set us up at last. Speak like a man. Say that you want to grasp all--that you are tired of me--that you are sick of the old face and wish to see my back. Put the thing in its proper light and you shall not find me hard to deal with."" ""Planner you are deceived. Your mind is full of fancy and delusion and that has been your curse and mine."" ""Very well. Have your way; but look you Michael you are anxious to get rid of me--there's no denying that. There is no reason why we should quarrel on that account. I would sacrifice my prospects were they double what they are rather than beg you to retain me. I did not ask for a share in your bank. You sought me and I came at your request. Blot out the past. Release me from the debt that stands against my name and I am gone. As I came at your bidding so at your bidding I am ready to depart."" ""Agreed "" said Allcraft almost before the wily Planner finished. ""It is done. I consent to your proposal. A dissolution shall be drawn up without delay and shall be published in the next gazette."" ""And publish with it "" said Planner like a martyr as he was ""the fate of him who gave up all to his own high sense of honour and his friend's ingratitude."" So Planner spake scarcely crediting his good fortune and almost mad with joy at his deliverance. He had no rest until the seals were fixed to parchment and the warrant of his release appeared in public print. Within a week the fettered man was free. Within another week his bounding spirits came like a spring-tide back to him and in less than eight-and-twenty days of freedom and repose he recovered quite as many years of sweet and precious life. He made quick use of his wings. At first like a wild and liberated bird he sported and tumbled in the air and fixed upon no particular aim; a thousand captivating objects soon caught his eagle eye and then he mounted dazzled by them all and soon eluded mortal sight and reach. But glad as was the schemer his delight and sense of freedom were much inferior to those of his misguided and unlucky partner. Michael breathed as a man relieved from nightmare. The encumbrance which had for years prevented him from rising that had so lately threatened his existence was gone could no longer hang upon him haunt and oppress him. What a deliverance!--Yet what a price had he paid for it! True but was not the money already sacrificed? Would it have been restored had the luckless speculator himself remained? Never! Well fearful then as was the sum let it go taking the incubus along with it. Allcraft took care to obtain the consent of Bellamy to his arrangement. He wrote to him explaining the reasons for parting with their partner; and an answer came from the landed proprietor acquiescing in the plan but slightly doubting the propriety of the movement. As for Brammel he consented as he was ready to agree to any thing but a personal visit to the great metropolis. And then what was Michael's next step? A proper one--to put out effectually the few sparks of scandal which might possibly be still flying about after the discovery of Planner's scheme. He worked fiercer than ever--harder than the day-labourer--at his place of business. It was wise in him to do so and thus to draw men's thoughts from Planner's faults to his own unquestioned merits. And here he might have stopped with safety; but his roused suspicious sensitive nature would not suffer him. He began to read then to doubt and fear men's looks; to draw conclusions from their innocent words; to find grounds of uneasiness and torture in their silence. A vulgar fellow treated him with rudeness and for days he treasured up the man's words and repeated them to himself. What could they mean? Did people smell a rat? Were they on the watch? Did they suspect that he was poor? Ah that was it! He saw it--he believed he did--that was equivalent to sight and enough for him. Men did not understand him. He would not die so easily--they must be undeceived. Miserable Allcraft! He speedily removed from his small cottage--took a mansion furnished it magnificently and made it a palace in costliness and hospitality. Ah! _was_ he poor? The trick answered. The world was not surprised but satisfied. There was but one opinion. He deserved it all and more. The only wonder was that he had hitherto lived so quietly rich as he was in virtue of his wife's inheritance and from his own hard-earned gains. His increasing business still enlarged. Customers brought guests and in their turn the guests became good customers. It was a splendid mansion with its countless rooms and gorgeous appointments. What pleasure-grounds--gardens--parks--preserves! Noble establishment with its butler under-butler upper-servant and my lady's (so the working people called poor Margaret) footman! In truth a palace; but alas! although it took a prince's revenue to maintain it and although the lady's purse was draining fast to keep it and the bank upon its legs yet was there not a corner a nook a hole in the building in which master or mistress could find an hour's comfort or a night's unmingled sleep. As for the devoted woman it made very little difference to her whether she dwelt in a castle or a hovel provided she could see her husband cheerful and know that he was happy. This was all she looked for--cared for--lived for. _He_ was her life. What was her money--the dross which mankind yearned after--but for its use to him but for the power it might exercise amongst men to elevate and ennoble _him_? What was her palace but a dungeon if it rendered her beloved more miserable than ever if it added daily to the troubles he had brought there--to the cares which had accumulated on his head from the very hour she had become his mate? Michael Allcraft! you never deserved this woman for your wife; you told her so many times and perhaps you meant what was wrung from your heart in its anguish. It was the truth. Why if not in rank cowardice and pitiful ambition entangle yourself in the perplexities of such a household with all that heap of woe already on your soul? Why when your London agents refused in consequence of your irregularity and neglect to advance your further loans--why take a base advantage of that heroic generosity that placed its all unquestioning at your command? Why when you pretended with so much ceremony and regard to effect an insurance on your worthless life did you fail to pay up the policy even for a second year and so resign all claim and right to such assurance making it null and void? Let it stand here recorded to your disgrace that in the prosecution of your views in the working out of your insane ambition no one single thought of her who gave her wealth as freely as ever fount poured forth its liberal stream deterred you in your progress for an instant; that no one glow or gush of feeling towards the fond and faithful wife interposed to save her from the consequences of your selfishness and to humble you with shame for inhumanity as vile as it was undeserved. It is not surprising that after the taking of the great house the demands upon the property of Margaret were made without apology or explanation. He asked and he obtained. The refusal of aid on the part of the London house terrified him when it came and caused him to rush with a natural instinct to the quarter whence he had no fear of denial and complaint. He drew largely from her resources. The money was sucked into the whirlpool; there was a speedy cry for more; and more was got and sacrificed. It would have been a miracle had Allcraft in the midst of his crushing cares retained his early vigour of mind and body and passed through ten years of such an existence without suffering the penalties usually inflicted upon the man prodigal of the blessings and good gifts of Providence. In his appearance and in his temperament he had undergone a woful change. His hair--all that remained of it for the greater part had fallen away--was grey; and thin weak and straggling dropped upon his wrinkled forehead--wrinkled with a frown that had taken root there. His face was sickly and never free from the traces of acute anxiety that was eating at his heart. His body was emaciated and at times his hand shook like a drunkard's. It was even worse with the spiritual man. He had become irritable peevish and ill-natured; he had lost by degrees every generous sentiment. As a young man he had been remarkable for his liberality in pecuniary matters. He had been wont to part freely with his money. Inconsistent as it may seem notwithstanding his heavy losses through his partners and his fearful expenditure he was as greedy of gain as though he were stinting himself of every farthing and secretly hoarding up his chests of gold. He would haggle in a bargain for a shilling and economize in things beneath a wise man's notice or consideration. For a few years as it has been seen Allcraft had denied himself the customary recreations of a man of business and had devoted himself entirely to his occupation. It was by no means a favourable indication of his state of mind that he derived no satisfaction at the grand mansion either alone or in the mere society of his wife. He quitted the bank daily at a late hour and reached his home just in time for dinner. That over he could not sit or rest--he must be moving. He could not live in quiet. ""Quietness""--it was his own expression--""stunned him."" He rushed to the theatre to balls concerts wherever there was noise talk excitement crowds of people; wherever there was release from his own pricking conscience and miserable thoughts. And then to parties; of course there was no lack of them for their society was in great request and every one was eager for an invitation in return to _Eden_--such being the strange misnomer of their magnificent prison-house. And oh rare entertainments were they which the suffering pair provided for the cold-hearted crew that flocked to partake of their substance! How the poor creature smiled upon her guests as they arrived whilst her wounded heart bled on! How she sang--exquisitely always--for their amusement and nauseous approbation until her sweet voice almost failed to crush the rising tears! How gracefully she led off the merry dance whilst clogs were on her spirits weighing upon every movement. Extravagant joyousness! Dearly purchased pleasure! Yes dearly purchased if only with that half hour of dreadful silence and remorse that intervened between the banquet and the chamber--not of sweet slumber and benevolent repose but of restlessness and horrid dreams! CHAPTER V. THE CRISIS. Michael was half mad in the midst of his troubles; and in truth they gathered so thickly and rapidly about him that he is to be admired for the little check which he contrived to keep over his reason saving him from absolute insanity and a lunatic asylum. Mr Bellamy although away made free with the capital of the bank and applied it to his own private uses. Mr Brammel senior after having for many years made good to Allcraft the losses the latter had sustained through his son's extravagance at length grew tired of the work and left the neighbourhood in disgust as Michael thought but in sad truth with a bruised and broken heart. At last he had dismissed the long-cherished hope of the prodigal's reformation and with his latest hope departed every wish to look upon his hastening decay and fall. He crawled from the scene--the country; no one knew his course; not a soul was cognizant of his intentions or could guess his resting-place. Augustus Theodore did not in consequence of his father's absence draw less furiously upon the bank! He had never heard of that father's generosity--how should he know of it now? And if he knew it was he very likely to profit by the information? Michael honoured his drafts for many reasons; two may be mentioned founded on hope and fear--the hope of frightening the unfortunate Brammel senior into payment when he met with him again the fear of making Brammel junior desperate by his refusal and of his divulging all he knew. Could a man not crazy carry more care upon his brain? Yes for demands on account of Planner poured in the very instant that fortunate speculator had taken his lucky leave of the establishment--demands for which Michael had rendered himself liable in law by the undertaking which he had drawn up and signed in his alarm and haste. Oh why had he overwhelmed himself with partners--why had he married--why had he taken upon himself the responsibility of his parent's debts--why had he not explained every thing when he might have done it with honour and advantage--why had he not relied upon his own integrity--and why had he attempted with cunning and duplicity to overreach his neighbours? Why oh why had he done all this? When Michael was fairly hemmed in by his difficulties and as it is vulgarly said had not a leg to stand upon or a hole to creep through then and not till then did he put these various questions to himself; and since it is somewhat singular that so shrewd a man should have waited until the last moment to put queries of such vast importance to himself I shall dwell here for one brief moment on the fact be it only to remind and to warn others equally shrewd and equally clever of the mischief they are doing when they postpone the consideration of their motives and acts until motives and acts both have brought them into a distress out of which all their consideration will not move them an inch. ""Why have I _done_?"" was is and ever will be the whining interrogative of stricken _inability_; ""Why am I about _to do_?"" the provident question of thoughtful far-seeing _success_. Remember that. I am really afraid to say how much of poor Margaret's fortune was dragged from her--how little of it still remained. It must have been a trifle indeed when Michael with a solemn oath swore that he would not touch one farthing more let the consequences be what they might. Could it be possible that the whole of her splendid inheritance had shrunk to so paltry a sum that the grasping man had ceased to think it worth his while to touch it? or did the dread of beholding the confiding woman beggar'd at last induce him to leave at her disposal enough to purchase for her--necessary bread? Whatever was his motive he persisted in his resolution and to the end was faithful to his oath. Not another sixpence did he take from her. And how much the better was he for all that he had taken already? Poor Michael had not time to enquire and answer the question. He could not employ his precious moments in retrospection. He lived from hand to mouth; struggled every hour to meet the exigencies of the hour that followed. He was absorbed in the agitated present and dared not look an inch away from it. Now thanks to the efforts of her people England is a Christian country; and whenever fortune goes very hard with a man who has received all the assistance that his immediate connexions can afford him there is a benevolent brotherhood at hand eager to relieve the sufferer's wants and to put an end to his anxiety. This charitable band is known by the name of _Money-lenders--Jewish_ money-lenders; so called no doubt in profound humility and self-denial displayed in the Christian's wish to give the _honour_ of the work elsewhere reserving to himself the labour and--the profit. When Michael needed fresh supplies he was not long in gathering a gang of harpies about him. They kept their victim for a while well afloat. They permitted their principal to accumulate in his hands whilst they received full half of their advances back in the form of interest. So he went on; and how long this game would have lasted it is impossible to say because it was cut short in its heighth by a circumstance that brought the toppling house down as it were with a blow and a run. When Allcraft one morning at his usual hour presented himself at the bank his confidential clerk approached him with a very serious face and placed a newspaper in his hand. Michael had grown very timid and excitable; and when the clerk put his finger on the particular spot to which he desired to call his superior's attention the heart of the nervous man leapt into his throat and the blood rushed from his cheek as if it were its duty to go and look after it. He literally wanted the courage to read the words. He attempted to smile indifferently and to thank his servant as courteously as if he had given him a pleasant pinch of snuff; but at the same time he pressed his thumb upon the paragraph and made his way straight to his snug and private room. He was ready to drop when he reached it and his heart beat like a hammer against his ribs. He placed the paper on the table and ere he read a syllable he laboured to compose himself. What could it be? Was the thing exploded? Was he already the common talk and laugh of men? Was he ruined and disgraced? He read at length--_The property and estates of Walter Bellamy Esq. were announced for sale by auction._ His first sensation on perusing the advertisement was one of overpowering sickness. Here then was his destruction sealed! Here was the declaration of poverty trumpeted to the world. Here was the alarum sounded--here was his doom proclaimed. Let there be a run upon the bank--and who could stop it now?--let it last for four-and-twenty hours and he is himself a bankrupt an outcast and a beggar. The tale was told--the disastrous history was closed. He had spun his web--had been his own destiny. God help and pardon him for his transgressions! There he sat unhappy creature weeping and weeping like a heart-broken boy sobbing aloud from the very depths of his soul frantic with distress. For a full half hour he sat there now clenching his fists in silent agony now accusing himself of crime now permitting horrible visions to take possession of his brain and to madden it with their terrible and truth-like glare. He saw himself--whilst his closed eyes were pressed upon his paralysed hands--saw himself as palpably as though he stood _before_ himself crawling through the public streets an object for men's pity scorn and curses. Now men laughed at him pointed to him with their fingers and made their children mock and hoot the penniless insolvent. Labouring men with whose small savings he had played the thief prayed for maledictions on his head; and mothers taught their little ones to hate the very name he bore and frightened them by making use of it. Miserable pictures one upon the other rose before him--dark judgments which he had never dreamed of or anticipated; and he stood like a stricken coward and he yearned for the silence and concealment of the _grave_. Ay--the grave! Delightful haven to pigeon-hearted malefactors--inconsistent criminals who fear the puny look of mortal man and unabashed stalk beneath the eternal and the killing frown of God. Michael fixed upon his remedy and the delusive opiate gave him temporary ease; but in an another instant he derived even hope and consolation from another and altogether opposite view of things. A thought suddenly occurred to him as thoughts will occur to the tossed and working mind--how why or whence we know not; and the drowning man catching sight of the straw did not fail to clutch it. What if after all Mr. Bellamy proposed to sell his property _in favour of the bank_!! Very likely certainly; and yet Allcraft sinking could believe it possible--yes possible and (by a course of happy reasoning and self-persuasion) not only so--but _true_. And if this were Mr. Bellamy's motive and design how cruel had been his own suspicions--how vain and wicked his previous disturbance and complaints! And why should it not be? Had he not engaged to restore the money which he had borrowed; and had he not given his word of honour to pay in a large amount of capital? At the memorable meeting had he not promised to satisfy Allcraft of the justice of his own proceedings and the impropriety of Michael's attack upon his character? And had not the time arrived for the redemption of his word and the payment of every farthing that was due from him? Yes; it had arrived--it had come--it was here. Mr Bellamy was about to assert his integrity and the banking-house was saved. Michael rose from his chair--wiped the heavy sweat-drops from his brow--dried his tears and gave one long and grateful sigh for his deliverance from that state of horror by which for one sad sickening mome

t he had been bewildered and betrayed. But satisfied as he was and rejoiced as he pretended to be it could hardly be expected that a gentleman possessed of so lively a temperament as that enjoyed by Mr. Allcraft would rest quietly upon his convictions and take no steps to strengthen and establish them. Michael for many days past had had no direct communication with his absent partner and at the present moment he was ignorant of his movements. He resolved to make his way at once to the Hall and to get what intelligence he could of its lord and master from the servants left in charge of that most noble and encumbered property. Accordingly he quitted his apartment threw a ghastly smile into his countenance and then came quickly upon his clerks humming a few cheerful notes with about as much spirit and energy as a man might have if forced to sing a comic song just before his execution. Thoroughly persuaded that the officials had not obtained an inkling of what had transpired in his _sanctum_ and that he left them without a suspicion of evil upon their minds he started upon his errand and waited not for breath until he reached his destination. He arrived at the lodge--he arrived at the Hall. He rang the loud bell and a minute afterwards he learned that Mr Bellamy was within--had made his appearance at home late on the evening before and at the present moment was enjoying his breakfast. Michael for sudden joy and excitement was wellnigh thrown from his equilibrium. Here was confirmation stronger than ever! Would he have returned to the estate upon the very eve of disposing of it if he had not intended to deal well and honestly in the transaction? Would he not have been ashamed to do it? Would he have subjected himself to the just reproaches and upbraidings of his partner when by his absence he might so easily have avoided them? Certainly not. Michael Allcraft for a few brief seconds was a happier man than he had been for years. His eyes were hardly free of the tears which he had shed in the extremity of his distress and he was now ready to weep again in the very exuberance and wildness of his delight. He presented his card to the corpulent and powdered footman; he was announced; he was ushered in. Walter Bellamy Esquire sitting in state received his friend and partner with many smiles and much urbanity. He was still at breakfast and advancing slowly in the meal like a gentleman whose breakfast was his greatest care in life. Nothing could be more striking than the air of stately repose visible in the proprietor himself and in the specious and solemn serving-man who stood behind him--less a _serving_-man than a sublime dumb waiter. Michael was affected by it and he approached his colleague with a rising sentiment of awe--partly perhaps the effect of the scene--partly the result of natural apprehension. ""Most glad to see you my very good friend "" began the master--""most glad--most happy--pray be seated. A lovely morning this! A plate for Mr. Allcraft."" ""Thank you--I have breakfasted "" said Michael declining the kind offer. ""I had no thought of finding you at home."" ""Ay--a mutual and unexpected pleasure. Just so. I had no thought of coming home until I started and I arrived here only late last night. Business seldom suites itself to one's convenience."" ""Seldom indeed--very seldom "" answered Michael with a friendly smile and a look of meaning which showed that he had taken hope from Mr Bellamy's expression--""and "" he continued ""having returned I presume you spend some time amongst us."" ""Not a day my friend. To-morrow I am on the wing again. I have left a dozen men behind me who'll hunt me over the country if I don't rejoin them without delay. No. I am off again to-morrow."" (Michael moved uneasily in his chair.) ""But how are you Mr Allcraft? How are all our friends? Nothing new I'll venture to say. This world is a stale affair at the best. Life is seen and known at twenty. Live to sixty and it is like reading a dull book three times over. You had better take a cup of coffee Mr Allcraft!"" ""Thank you--no. You surprise me by your determination."" ""Don't be surprised at any thing Mr Allcraft. Take things as they come if you wish to be happy."" Michael very uneasy indeed wished to make a remark but he looked at the man in crimson plush and held his tongue. Mr Bellamy observed him. ""You have something to say? Can I give you any advice my friend? Pray command me and speak without reserve. As much as you please and as quickly as you please for I assure you time is precious. In half an hour I have twenty men to see and twice as many things to do."" Again Michael glanced at the stout footman who was pretending to throw his mind into the coming week and to appear oblivious of every thing about him. ""I have a question to ask "" proceeded Michael hesitatingly; ""but it can be answered in a moment and at another opportunity--in a little while when you are _quite_ at leisure."" ""As you please; only remember I have no end of engagements and if I am called away I cannot return to you."" Poor Michael! His expectations were again at a fearful discount. The language and demeanor of Mr Bellamy seemed decisive of his intentions. What could he do? What--but fasten on his man and not suffer him to leave his sight without an explanation which he dreaded to receive. Mr Bellamy continued to be very polite and very talkative and to prosecute his repast with unyielding equanimity. At the close of the meal the servant removed the cloth and departed. At the same instant the landed proprietor rose from his chair and was about to depart likewise. Michael alarmed at the movement touched Mr Bellamy gently on the sleeve and then less gently detained him by the wrist. ""What do you mean sir?"" asked Bellamy turning sharply upon his partner: ""What do you mean? What is your object?"" ""Mr Bellamy "" said Allcraft pale as death and much excited; ""you must not go until you have satisfied me on a point of life and death to both of us. Your conduct is a mystery. I cannot explain it. I know not what are the motives which actuate you. These are known to yourself. Let them be so. But I have a question to ask and you must and shall answer it."" ""_Must_ and _shall_ Mr Allcraft! Take care--pray take care of your expressions. You will commit yourself. When will you cease to be a very young man? I will answer voluntarily any questions put to me by any gentleman. _Must_ and _shall_ never forced a syllable from my lips yet. Now sir--ask what you please."" ""Mr Bellamy "" continued Allcraft ""your property is announced for public sale."" ""It is "" said Bellamy. ""And the announcement has your sanction?"" ""It has."" ""And with the sum realized by that sale you propose to""-- Michael stopped as though he wished his partner to fill up the sentence. ""Go on sir "" said the proprietor. ""With the sum thus realized I say you propose to make good the losses which the bank has suffered by your improvidence?"" ""Not exactly. Is there any thing else?"" ""Oh Mr Bellamy you cannot mean what you say? I am sure you cannot. You are aware of our condition. You know that there needs only a breath to destroy us in one moment for ever. At this very time your purpose is known to the world; and before we can prevent it the bank may be run upon and annihilated. What will be said of your proceedings? How can you reconcile the answer which you have just now given to me with your vaunted high sense of honour or even with your own most worldly interests?"" ""Have you finished sir?"" said Bellamy in a quiet voice. ""No!"" exclaimed Michael in as angry a tone of indignation: ""no! I have not finished. I call upon you Mr Bellamy to mark my words; to mark and heed them--for so Heaven help me I bid you listen to the truth. Quiet and easy as you profess to be I will be cozened by you no longer. If you carry out your work your doings shall be told to every human soul within a hundred miles of where you stand. You shall be exhibited as you are. If every farthing got from the sale of this estate be not given up to defray your past extravagance you shall be branded as you deserve. Mr Bellamy you have deceived me for many years. Do not deceive yourself now."" ""Have you finished sir?"" repeated Mr Bellamy. ""Yes--with a sentence. If you are mad--I will be resolute. Persist in your determination and the bank shall stop this very night."" ""And let it stop "" said Bellamy; ""by all means let it stop. If it be a necessary inevitable arrangement I would not interfere with it for the world. Act Mr Allcraft precisely as you think proper. It is all I ask on my own account. I have unfortunately private debts to a very large amount. What is still more unfortunate they must be paid. I have no means of paying them except by selling my estate and therefore it must go. I hope you are satisfied?"" Michael threw himself into a chair and moved about in it groaning. Mr Bellamy closed the door and approached him. ""This is a very unnecessary display of feeling Mr Allcraft "" said the imperturbable Bellamy; ""very--and can answer no good end. The thing as I have told you is inevitable."" ""No--no--no "" cried Allcraft imploringly; ""Not so Mr Bellamy. Think again--ponder well our dreadful situation. Reflect that before another day is gone we may be ruined beggared and that this very property may be wrested from you by our angry creditors. What will become of us? For Heaven's sake my dear good sir do not rush blindly upon destruction. Do not suffer us to be hooted trampled upon despised cursed by every man that meets us. You can save us if you will--do it then--be generous--be just."" ""As for being _just_ Mr Allcraft "" replied Bellamy composedly ""the less we speak about that matter the better. Had _justice_ been ever taken into account you and I would in all probability not have met on the present business. I cannot help saying that when you are ready to justify to me your conduct in respect of your late father's liabilities I shall be more disposed to listen to any thing you may have to urge in reason touching the produce of this estate. Until that time I am an unmoved man. You conceive me?"" ""Yes "" said Michael changing colour ""I see--I perceive your drift--I am aware--Mr Bellamy "" continued the unhappy speaker stammering until he almost burst with rage. ""You are a villain! You have heard of my misfortunes and you take a mean advantage of your knowledge to crush and kill me. You are a villain and I defy you!"" Mr Bellamy moved leisurely to the fire-place and rang the bell. The stout gentleman in plush walked in and the landed proprietor pointed to the door. ""For Mr Allcraft William "" said the squire. ""Very well!"" said Michael white with agitation; ""Very well! As sure as you are a living man your ruin shall be coincident with mine. Not a step shall I fall down which you shall not follow and be dragged yourself. You shall not be spared one pang. I warn you of your fate and it shall come sooner than you look for it."" ""Pooh pooh; you have been drinking Mr. Allcraft."" ""You lie sir as you have lied for months and years--lived upon lies and""-- ""You need not say another word. You shall finish your sentence sir elsewhere. Begone! William show Mr. Allcraft to the door."" William pretended to look very absent again and bowed. Michael stared at him for a second or two as if confounded and then like a madman rushed from the room and house. CHAPTER VI. THE CRASH. The plans and objects of Mr Walter Bellamy were best known to himself. Whatever they might be he diverged from them for a few hours in order to give his miserable partner the opportunity he had promised him of completing that very inauspicious sentence--the last which he had uttered in Mr. Bellamy's house previously to his abrupt departure. Michael had not been in the banking-house an hour after his return from the Hall before he was visited by a business-like gentleman who introduced himself as the particular friend of Mr. Bellamy on whose particular business he professed to come. Allcraft with his brain on fire received the visit of this man with secret glee. All the way home he had prayed that Bellamy might prove as good as his word and not fail to demand immediate satisfaction. He longed for death with a full and yearning desire and he could kiss the hand that would be merciful and give the fatal blow. A suicide at heart it was something to escape the guilt and punishment of self-murder. Bellamy was reputed a first-rate shot. Michael was aware of the fact and hugged the consciousness to his soul. He would not detract from his reputation; the duellist should add another laurel to his chaplet of _honour_ and purchase it with his blood. He had resolved to fight and fall. It was very evident that the friend of Mr Bellamy expected rather to frighten Michael into a humble and contrite apology than to find him ready and eager for the battle; for he commenced his mission by a very long and high-flown address and assured Mr Allcraft time after time that nothing but the most ample and the most public _amende_ could be received by his friend after what had taken place. Michael listened impatiently and interrupted the speaker in the midst of his oration. ""You are quite right sir "" said he. ""If an apology is to be made it should be an ample one. But I decline to make any whatever. I am prepared to give Mr Bellamy all the satisfaction that he asks. I will refer you at once to my friend and the sooner the affair is settled the better."" ""Well but surely Mr Allcraft you must regret the strong expression""-- ""Which I uttered to your friend? By no means. I told him that he lied. I repeat the word to you. I would say it in his teeth again if he stood here. What more is necessary?"" ""Nothing "" said the gentleman certainly unprepared for Michael's resolution. ""Nothing; name your friend sir."" Michael had already fixed upon a second and he told his name. His visitor went to seek him and the poor bewildered man rubbed his hands gleefully as though he had just saved his life instead of having placed it in such fearful jeopardy. That day passed like a dream. The meeting was quickly arranged. Six o'clock on the following morning was the hour fixed. The place was a field the first beyond the turnpike gate and within a mile of the city. As soon as Michael made sure of the duel he saw his confidential clerk. His name was Burrage. He had been a servant in the banking-house for forty years and had known Michael since his birth. It was he who gave the newspaper into Allcraft's hands on the first arrival of the latter at the bank that morning. He was a quiet old man of sixty an affectionate creature and as much a part of the banking-house as the iron chest the desk the counter or any other solid fixture. He stepped softly into his master's room after he had been summoned there and he gazed at his unhappy principal as a father might at his own child in misfortune--a beloved and favourite child. ""You are not well this morning sir "" said Burrage most respectfully. ""You look very pale and anxious."" ""My looks belie me Burrage. I am very well. I have not been so well for years. I am composed and happy. I have been ill but the time is past. How old are you Burrage?"" ""Turned threescore sir; old enough to die."" ""Die--die! death is a sweet thing old man when it comes to the care-worn. I have had my share of trouble."" ""Too much sir--too much!"" said Burrage his eyes filling with water. ""You have half killed yourself here. I am sure your poor father never expected this. Nobody could have expected it in his time when you were a little fat rosy-cheeked boy running about without a thought except a thought of kindness for other people."" Michael Allcraft burst into a flood of tears--they gushed faster and faster into his eyes and he sobbed as only men sob who have reached the climax of earthly suffering and trial. ""Do not take on so my dear sir "" said Burrage running to him. ""Pray be calm. I am sure you are unwell. You have been ill for some time. You should see a doctor--although I am very much afraid that your disease is beyond their cure--in truth I am."" ""Burrage "" said Michael in a whisper and still sighing convulsively--""It is all over. It is finished. Prepare for the crash--look to your own safety. Hide yourself from the gaze of men. It will strike us all dead."" ""You frighten me Mr Allcraft.--You are really very ill. Your brain is overworked--you want a little repose and recreation."" ""Yes you are right Burrage--the recreation of a jail--the repose of a tomb. We will have one at least--yes one--and I have made the selection."" ""Have you heard any bad news to-day sir?"" ""None--excellent news to-day. No more hopes and fears--no alarms--no lying and knavery--eternal peace now and not eternal wretchedness."" ""Had you not better leave the bank Mr Allcraft and go home? Your hands are burning hot. You are in a high fever."" ""Put up the shutters--put up the shutters "" muttered Michael more to himself than to his clerk. ""Write _bankrupt_ on the door--write it in large letters--in staring capitals--that the children may read the word and know why they are taught to curse me. You hear me Burrage?"" ""I hear what you say sir but I do not understand you. You want rest--you are excited."" ""I tell you Burrage I am quiet--I never was so quiet--never sounder in body and mind. Will you refuse to listen to the truth? Man "" he continued raising his voice and looking the clerk steadily in the face. ""I am ruined--a beggar. The bank is at its last gasp. The doors are closed to-night--never to be re-opened."" ""God forbid sir!"" ""Why so?--Would you drive me mad? Am I to have no peace--no rest? Am I to be devoured eaten away by anxiety and trouble? Have you no human blood--no pity for me? Are you as selfish as the rest?"" ""Is it possible sir?"" ""It is the truth. But speak not of it. I will have your life if you betray me until the event tells its own tale. We close the door to-night to open it no more. You hear the words. They are very simple words. Why do you stare so as if you couldn't guess their meaning?"" ""Oh--I have dreaded this--I have suspected it!"" said Burrage wringing his hands; ""but it has always seemed impossible. Poor Mr Allcraft!"" ""_Poor!_"" exclaimed Michael. ""Do you begin already? Do you throw it in my teeth so soon? You are in the right man--go with the stream--taunt me--spit in my face--trample me in the dust!"" ""Do not speak unkindly to me master "" said the old clerk. ""You will break my heart at once if you do. What you have told me is hard enough to bear in one day."" Michael took the good fellow's hand and answered whilst his lips quivered with grief ""It is--it is enough old friend. Go your ways. Leave me to myself. I have told you a secret--keep it whilst it remains one. Oh what a havoc! What devastation! Go Burrage--go--seal your lips--do not breathe a syllable--go to your work."" The clerk went as he was bid but stupified and stunned by the information he had received. He took his accustomed seat at the desk and placed a large ledger before him. He was occupied with one trifling account for half the day and did not finish it at last. A simple sum of compound addition puzzled the man who an hour before could have gone through the whole of the arithmetic in his sleep. Oh boasted intellect of man! How little is it thou canst do when the delicate and feeling heart is out of tune! How impotent thou art! How like a rudderless ship upon a stormy sea! Poor Burrage was helpless and adrift! And Michael sat for hours together alone in his little room. He was literally afraid to creep out of it. He struggled to keep his mind steadily and composedly fixed upon the fate that awaited him--a fate which he had marked out for himself and resolved not to escape. He forced himself to regard the great Enemy of Man as _his_ best friend--his only comforter and refuge. But just when he deemed himself well armed least vulnerable and most secure the awful _reality_ of death--its horrible accompaniments--dissolution corruption rottenness decay and its still more awful and obscure _uncertainties_ started suddenly before him and sent a sickening chill through every pore of his unnerved flesh. Then he retreated from his position--fled as it were for life and dared not look behind so terrible was the sight of his grim adversary. He leaped from his chair as if unable to sit there; and whilst he paced the room he drew his breath as though he needed air for respiration--his heart throbbed and his brain grew tight and hot within his skull. The fit passing away Michael hastened to review the last few years of his existence and to bribe himself to quietness and resignation by contrasting the hateful life which he had spent with the desirable repose offered to him in the grave; and by degrees the agitation ceased--the alarm subsided and the deluded man was once more cozened into hardened and unnatural tranquillity. In this way flew the hours--one train of feeling succeeding to another until the worn-out spirit of the man gave in and would be moved no longer. At last the unhappy banker grew sullen and silent. He ceased to sigh and groan and weep. His brain refused to think. He drew his seat to the window of the room which permitted him unperceived to observe the movements in the bank--and folding his arms he looked doggedly on and clenched his teeth and frowned. He saw the fortunate few who came for money and received it--and the unfortunate many who brought their money--left and lost it. He was indifferent to all. He beheld--as the spirits fair may be supposed to look upon the earth a moment before the sweeping pestilence that comes to thin it--life vigorous and active in that house of business whose latest hour had come--whose knell was already sounding; but it moved him not. He heard men speak his name in tones of kindness whose lips on the morrow would deal out curses. He saw others hat in hand begging for an audience who would avoid him with a sneer and a scorning when he passed them in the street. He looked upon his own servants who could not flatter their master too highly to-day and would be the first to-morrow to cry him down and rail against his unpardonable extravagance and recklessness; but he heeded nothing. His mind had suspended its operations whilst his physical eye stared upon vacancy. It was very strange. He continued in this fashion for a long time and suddenly sensibility seemed restored to him; for an ashy paleness came over him--his eyelid trembled and his lips were drawn down convulsively as if through strong and heavy grief. He rose instantly rushed to the bell and rang it violently. Burrage came to answer it. ""Monster!"" exclaimed his master gazing at him spitefully ""have you no heart--no feeling left within you? How could you do it?"" ""Do what sir?"" ""Rob that poor old man. Plunder and kill that hoary unoffending creature. Why did you take his miserable earnings? Why did you rob his little ones? Why clutch the bread from his starving grandchildren? He will die of a broken heart and will plead against me at the judgment-seat. Why was that old man's money taken?"" ""We must take all or nothing sir. You forbade me to speak a syllable."" ""Speak--speak! Yes but could you not have given him a look one merciful look to save his life and my soul from everlasting ruin? You might you could have done it but you conspire to overthrow me. Go--but mark me--breathe not a word if you hope to live."" The poor clerk held up his hands shook them piteously sighed and went his way again. It was six o'clock in the evening and every soul connected with the bank except Michael and Burrage had left it. They were both in the private room which the former had not quitted during the day. Michael was writing a letter; the clerk was standing mournfully at his side. When the note was finished directed and sealed Allcraft turned to his old friend and spoke-- ""I shall not sleep at home to-night Burrage. I have business which must be seen to."" ""Indeed sir you had better go home. You are very unwell."" ""Silence once more. I tell you Burrage it cannot be. This business must not be neglected. I have written to Mrs Allcraft explaining the reason of my absence. You will yourself deliver the letter to her with your own hands Burrage. You hear me?"" ""Yes sir "" faltered Burrage wishing himself deaf. ""Very well. I have no more to say. Good-by--good-night."" ""Good-night sir "" said the man walking slowly off. ""Stay Burrage. You are a true old friend--my oldest. Give me your hand. I have spoken unkindly--very harshly and cruelly to-day. Do not think ill of me. My temper has been soured by the troubles of life. You forgive me for my anger--do you not?"" The old man did not answer. He could not. He held the hand of his master tightly in his own. He drew it to his lips and kissed it; and then ashamed not of the act but of his unmanly tears he walked slowly to the door and quitted the room--his head bending to the earth whence it never again was raised. Two hours later Michael was many miles away. He had followed to his humble home the aged man who had that morning paid his substance into the bank. Much as he had to answer for Michael could not bear to carry about with him the knowledge that he had ruined and destroyed the grey-haired labourer. Why and how it was that he felt so acutely for the stranger and selected him from the hundreds who were beggared by his failure it is impossible to guess. It is certain that he restored every sixpence that had been deposited in the morning and could not die until he had done so. Where Allcraft passed the night was never known. He was punctual to his appointment on the following morning; and so was Mr Bellamy. It is due to the latter to state that at the latest moment he was willing as far as in him lay to settle the difference without proceeding to extreme measures. All that a man could offer who did not wish to be suspected of rank cowardice he offered without reservation. But Allcraft was inexorable. He repeated his insult on the field; and there was nothing to be done but to make him accountable for his words at the point of the pistol--to receive and give THE SATISFACTION OF A GENTLEMAN. Whatever satisfaction the mangled corpse of a man whom he had deeply injured could afford the high-born Mr Bellamy that gentleman enjoyed in a very few minutes after his arrival; for he shot his antagonist in the mouth saw him spinning in the air and afterwards lying at his feet--an object that he could not recognize--a spectacle for devils to rejoice in. Happy the low-born man who may not have or feel such exquisite and noble SATISFACTION! Allcraft was not cold before Mr Bellamy was at sea sailing for France. The latter had not put his feet upon foreign soil before his property was seized by hungry creditors. The bank was closed. Burrage himself pasted on the shutters the paper that notified its failure. Augustus Theodore Brammel heard of the stoppage whilst he was at breakfast sipping chocolate; and greatly he rejoiced thereat. His delight was sensibly diminished in the course of the morning when he received a letter informing him of his father's death and an intimation from a lawyer that every farthing which he inherited would be taken from him as goods and chattels for the discharge of claims which the creditors of the bank might have against him. Later in the day he heard of Allcraft's death and Bellamy's escape and then he rushed into a chemist's shop and bought an ounce of arsenic; but after he had purchased it he had not heart enough to swallow it. Enraged beyond expression--knowing not what to do nor upon whom to vent his rage--it suddenly occurred to him to visit Mrs Allcraft and to worry her with his complaints. He hurried to her house and forced himself into her presence. We will not follow him for grief is sacred; and who that had the heart of man would desecrate the hearth hallowed by affliction deep and terrible as that of our poor Margaret? CHAPTER VII. THE VICARAGE. Our history began at the Vicarage; there let it end. It is a cheerful summer's morning and Margaret sits in the study of her friend Mr. Middleton who has learned to look upon his charge as upon a daughter. She is still attired in widow's weeds but looks more composed and happy than when we saw her many months ago there. ""You will not leave us then "" said the good vicar; ""we have not tired you yet?"" ""No "" answered Margaret with a sweet contented smile ""here must I live and die. My duties will not suffer me to depart even were I so inclined. What would my children do?"" ""Ah what indeed? The school would certainly go to rack and ruin."" ""And my old friends the Harpers and the Wakefields?"" ""Why the old ladies would very soon die of a broken heart no doubt of it; and then there's our dispensary and little hospital. Why where should we look for a new apothecary?"" ""These are but the worst days of my life Mr. Middleton which I dedicate to usefulness. How am I to make good the deficiency of earlier years?"" ""By relying my dear madam upon the grace and love of Heaven who in mercy regards not what we have been but what we are."" ""And is there pardon for so great a sinner?"" ""Doubt it not dear lady. Had you not been loved you never would have been chastised--you would never have become an obedient and willing child. Be sure dear Mrs Allcraft that having repented you are pardoned and reconciled to your Father. Pray hold fast to this conviction. You have reason to believe it; for truly _you have not despised the chastening of the Lord nor fainted when you were rebuked of him_."" * * * * * KÍEFF. TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN OF IVÁN KOZLÓFF. BY T.B. SHAW. O Kiéff! where religion ever seemeth To light existence in our native land; Where o'er Petchérskoi's dome the bright cross gleameth Like some fair star that still in heaven doth stand; Where like a golden sheet around thee streameth Thy plain and meads that far away expand; And by thy hoary wall with ceaseless motion Old Dniéper's foaming swell sweeps on to ocean. How oft to thee in spirit have I panted O holy city country of my heart! How oft in vision have I gazed enchanted On thy fair towers--a sainted thing thou art!-- By Lávra's walls or Dniéper's wave nor wanted A spell to draw me from this life apart; In thee my country I behold victorious Holy and beautiful and great and glorious. The moon her soft ray on Petchérskoi poureth Its domes are shining in the river's wave; The soul the spirit of the past adoreth Where sleeps beneath thee many a holy grave: Vladímir's shade above thee calmly soareth Thy towers speak of the sainted and the brave; Afar I gaze and all in dreamy splendour Breathes of the past--a spell sublime and tender. There fought the warriors in the field of glory Strong in the faith against their country's foe; And many a royal flower yon palace hoary In virgin loveliness hath seen to blow. And Báyan sang to them the noble story And secret rapture in their breast did glow; Hark! midnight sounds--that brazen voice is dying-- A day to meet the vanish'd days is flying. Where are the valiant?--the resistless lances-- The brands that were as lightning when they waved? Where are the beautiful--whose sunny glances Our fathers with such potency enslaved? Where is the bard whose song no more entrances? Ah! that deep bell hath answer'd what I craved: And thou alone by these grey walls O river! Murmurest Dniéper still and flow'st for ever. * * * * * MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART VII. ""Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea puft up with wind Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in the pitched battle heard Loud 'larums neighing steeds and trumpets clang?"" SHAKSPEARE. At daybreak the bustle of the camp awoke me. I rose hastily mounted my horse and spurred to the rendezvous of the general staff. Nothing could be more animated than the scene before me and which spread to the utmost reach of view. The advance of the combined forces had moved at early dawn and the columns were seen far away ascending the sides of a hilly range by different routes sometimes penetrating through the forest and catching the lights of a brilliant rising sun on their plumes and arms. The sound of their trumpets and bands was heard from time to time enriched by the distance and coming on the fresh morning breeze with something of its freshness to the ear and the mind. The troops now passi

g under the knoll on which the commander-in-chief and his staff had taken their stand were the main body and were Austrian fine-looking battalions superbly uniformed and covered with military decorations the fruits of the late Turkish campaigns and the picked troops of an empire of thirty millions of men. Nothing could be more brilliant novel or picturesque than the display of this admirable force as it moved in front of the rising ground on which our _cortège_ stood. ""You will now see "" said Varnhorst who sat curbing with no slight difficulty his fiery Ukraine charger at my side ""the troops of countries of which Europe in general knows no more than of the tribes of the new world. The Austrian sceptre brings into the field all the barbaric arms and costumes of the border land of Christendom and the Turk."" Varnhorst familiar with every service of the continent was a capital cicerone and I listened with strong interest as he pronounced the names and gave little characteristic anecdotes of the gallant regiments that successively wheeled at the foot of the slope--the Archducal grenadiers--the Eugene battalion which had won their horse-tails at the passage of the Danube--the Lichtensteins who had stormed Belgrade--the Imperial Guard a magnificent corps who had led the last assault on the Grand Vizier's lines and finished the war. The light infantry of Maria Theresa and the Hungarian grenadiers and cuirassiers a mass of steel and gold closed the march of the main body. Nothing could be more splendid. And all this was done under the perpetual peal of trumpets and the thunder of drums and gongs that seemed absolutely to shake the air. It was completely the Miltonic march and harmony-- ""Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds."" But I was now to witness a still more spirit-stirring scene. The trampling of a multitude of horse and the tossing of lances and banners in the distance suddenly turned all eyes in their direction. ""Now prepare "" said the Count ""for a sight perhaps not altogether so soldierlike but fully as much to my taste as the buff-belt and grenadiers'-cap formality of the line. You shall see the Austrian flankers--every corps equipped after its native fashion. And whatever our martinets may say there is nothing that gives such spirits to the soldier as dressing according to the style of his own country. My early service was in Transylvania; and if I were to choose troops for a desperate service I say--give me either the man of the hill or the man of the forest exactly in the coat of the chamois-shooter or the wolf-hunter."" He had scarcely pointed my attention to the movement when the whole body of the rearguard was in full and rapid advance. The plain was literally covered with those irregulars who swept on like a surge or rather from the diversity of their colours and the vast half-circle which they formed on the ground a living rainbow. Part were infantry and part cavalry but they were so intermingled and the motion of all was so rapid that it was difficult to mark the distinction. From my recollection of the history of the Seven Years' War I felt a double interest in the sight of the different castes and classes of the service which I had hitherto known only by name. Thus passed before me the famous Croatian companies--the Pandours together forming the finest outpost troops of the army--the free companies of the Tyrol the first marksmen of the empire a fine athletic race with the eagle's feather in their broad hats and the sinewy step of the mountaineer--the lancers of the Bannat first-rate videttes an Albanian division which had taken service with Austria on the close of the war; and independently of all name and order a cloud of wild cavalry Turk Christian and barbarian who followed the campaign for its chances and galloped sported and charged each other like the Arabs of the desert. The late triumphs of the Imperial arms in Turkey had even enhanced the customary display and the standards of the cavalry and colours of the battalions were stiff with the embroidered titles of captured fortresses and conquered fields. Turkish instruments of music figured among the troops and the captive horse-tails were conspicuous in more than one corps which had plucked down the pride of the Moslem. The richness and variety of this extraordinary spectacle struck me as so perfectly Oriental that I might have imagined myself suddenly transferred to Asia and looked for the pasha and his spahis; or even for the rajah his elephants and his turbaned spearmen. But all this gay splendour has long since been changed. The Croats are now regulars and all the rest have followed their example. My admiration was so loud that it caught the ear of the duke. He turned his quick countenance on me and said--""Tell our friends at home M. Marston what you have seen to-day. I presume you know that Maria Theresa was a first-rate soldier; or at least she had the happy art of finding them. You may see Laudohn's hand in her battalions. As for the light troops Europe can show nothing superior in their kind. Trenk's Pandours and Nadasti's hussars were worth an army to Austria from the first Silesian war down to the last shot fired in Germany. But follow me and you shall see the work of another great master."" We spurred across the plain to the mouth of a deep wooded defile through which the Prussian grand _corps d'armée_ were advancing. The brigades which now met our view were evidently of a different character from the Austrian; their uniforms of the utmost simplicity; their march utterly silent; the heads of the columns observing their distances with such accuracy that on a signal they could have been instantly formed in order of battle; every movement of the main body simply directed by a flag carried from hill to hill and even the battalion movements marked by the mere waving of a sword. Even their military music was of a peculiarly soft and subdued character. On my observing this to Varnhorst his reply was--""That this was one of the favourite points of the Great Frederick. 'I hate drums in the march ' said the king 'they do nothing but confuse the step. Every one knows that the beat at the head of the column takes time to reach the rear. Besides the drum deafens the ear. Keep it therefore for the battle when the more noise the better.' He also placed the band in the centre of the column. 'If they are fond of music ' said he 'why should not every man have his share?'"" The steady advance the solid force and the sweet harmony almost realized the noble poetic conception-- ""Anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders such as raised To heights of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle; and instead of rage Deliberate valour breathed firm and unmoved With dread of death to flight or foul retreat."" It is true that they wanted the picturesque splendour of ancient warfare. The ten thousand banners with orient colours waving the ""forest huge of spears "" the ""thronging helms "" and ""serried shields in thick array of depth immeasurable."" But if the bayonet the lance and even the cannon offered less to the eye the true source of the grandeur of war was there--the power the tremendous impulse the _materiel_ of those shocks which convulse nations--the marshalled strength fierce science and stern will before which the works of man perish like chaff before the wind and the glory of nations vanishes like a shade. While the last of the troops were defiling before the duke and his staff a courier brought up despatches. ""Gentlemen "" said the duke after glancing at one of the papers ""the army of the Prince de Condé is in march to join us. They have already reached the neighbourhood. We must now lose no time. M. Marston you will report to your Government what you have seen to-day. We _are_ in march for Paris."" Varnhorst and Guiscard were now summoned to the side of the duke; a spot was found where we might shelter ourselves from the overpowering blaze of the sun; the successive despatches were opened; a large map of the routes from Champagne to the capital was laid on the ground; and we dismounted and sitting together like old comrades we held our little council of war. ""I can make nothing of my French correspondents in general "" said the duke after perusing a long letter ""but M. le Comte writes like Cagliostro. He has evidently some prodigious secret which he is determined to envelope in still deeper secrecy. He tells me that La Fayette has fled; but when where or for what purpose is all equally an enigma. In one sentence of his letter he would persuade me that all France is disorganized and in the next that it is more resolved to resist than ever. Paris is prepared to rise at the first sight of the white flag and Paris is sending out six thousand men every three hours to join the republican force in the field. Paris is in despair. Paris is in furious exultation. How am I to understand all this? Even in his postscript he tells me in one breath that the whole of the strong places in our front are filled with national guards and that no less than seven corps of troops of the line are prepared to fight us in the plains of Champagne; and that we have only to push on to take the towns--charge the troops of the line to see them disperse--and advance within ten leagues of Paris to extinguish the rebellion set the royal family free and restore the monarchy."" The mysterious letter was handed round our circle in succession and seemed equally beyond comprehension to us all. We had yet to learn the temperament of a capital where every half-hour produced a total change of the popular mind. The letter fantastically expressed as it was conveyed the true condition of the hour. The picture was true but the countenance changed every moment. He might as well have given the colours of cloud. I had now entered on a course of adventure the most exciting of all others and at the most exciting time of life. But all the world round me was in a state of excitement. Every nation of Europe was throwing open its armoury and preparing its weapons for the field. The troops invading France were palpably no more than the advanced guards of Prussia and Austria. Even with all my inexperience I foresaw that the war would differ from all the past; that it would be not a war of tactics but a war of opinion; that not armies but the people marshalled into hosts would be ultimately the deciders of the victory; and that on whichever side the popular feeling was more serious persevering and intense there the triumph would be gained. I must still confess however in disparagement to my military sagacity that I was totally unprepared for the gallant resistance of the French recruits. What can they do without officers?--ten thousand of whom had been noblesse and were now emigrants? What can they do without a commissariat what can they do without pay and who is to pay them in a bankrupt nation? Those were the constant topics at headquarters. We were marching to an assured victory. France was at an end. We should remodel the Government and teach the _sans culottes_ the hazard of trying the trade of politicians. There was but one man in the camp who did not coincide in those glittering visions. Let me once more do justice to a prince whose character has been affected by the caprices of fortune. The Duke of Brunswick's language to me as we saw the Tricolor waving on the walls of Longwy the first fortress which lay in our road was--""Sir your court must not be deceived. We shall probably take the town and defeat its wavering army; but up to this moment we have not been joined by a single peasant. The population are against us. This is not a German war; it is more like yours in America. I have but one hundred and twenty thousand men against twenty-five millions."" To my remark ""that there might be large body of concealed loyalty in France which only waited the advance of the Allies to declare itself "" his calm and grave reply was: ""That I must not suffer my Government to suppose him capable of abandoning the royal cause while there was hope in military means. That it was his determination to hazard all things rather than chill the coalition. But this let me impress upon your Ministry "" said he with his powerful eye turned full on me; ""that if intrigue in the German cabinets or tardiness on the part of yours shall be suffered to impede my progress all is at an end. I know the French; if we pause they will pour on. If we do not reach Paris we must prepare to defend Berlin and Vienna. If the war is not ended within a month it may last for those twenty years."" The commander-in-chief was true to his word. He lost no time. Before night our batteries were in full play upon the bastions of Longwy and as our tents had not yet overtaken us I lay down under a vineyard shed in a circle of the staff with our cloaks for our pillows listening to the roar of our artillery; until it mingled with my dreams. We were on horse an hour before daybreak and the cannonade still continued heavy. It was actively returned and the ramparts were a circuit of fire. As a spectacle nothing could be more vivid striking and full of interest. To wait for the slow approaches of a formal siege was out of the question. Intelligence had reached us that the scattered French armies having now ascertained the point at which the burst over the frontier was to be made had been suddenly combined and had taken a strong position directly in our way to the capital. A protracted siege would raise the country in our rear and thus placed between two fires the grand army might find itself paralysed at the first step of the campaign. The place must be battered until a breach was made and stormed _à la Turque_. Our anxiety during the day was indescribable. With our telescopes constantly in our hands we watched the effect of every new discharge; we galloped from hill to hill with the impatience of men in actual combat and every eye and tongue was busy in calculating the distances the power of guns and the time which the crumbling works would take to fill up the ditch. The reports of the engineers towards evening announced that a practicable breach was made and three battalions of Austrian grenadiers and as many of Prussians were ordered under arms for the assault. To make this gallant enterprize more conspicuous the whole army was formed in columns and marched to the heights which commanded a view of the fortress. The fire from the batteries now became a continued roar and the guns of Longwy whose fire had slackened during the day answered them with an equal thunder; the space between was soon covered with smoke and when the battalions of grenadiers moved down the hillside and plunged into the valley they looked like masses of men disappearing into the depths of ocean. The anxiety now grew intense. I hardly breathed; and yet I had a mingled sensation of delight eagerness and yet of uncertainty to which nothing that I had ever felt before was comparable. I longed to follow those brave men to the assault and probably would have made some such extravagant blunder but for seeing Varnhorst's broad visage turned on me with a look of that quiet humour which of all things on earth soonest brings a man to his senses. ""My good friend "" said he ""however fine this affair may be live in hope of seeing something finer. Never be shot at Longwy when you may have a chance of scaling the walls of Paris. I have made a vow never to be hanged in the beginning of a revolution nor to be shot in the beginning of a war. But come the duke is beckoning to us. Let us follow him."" We saw the general and his staff galloping from the ground where he had remained from the beginning of the assault to a height still more exposed and where the guns from the fortress were tearing up the soil. From this spot a large body of troops were seen rushing from the gate of the fortress and plunging into the valley. The result of this powerful sortie was soon heard for every thing was invisible under the thick cloud which grew thicker every moment in the volleys of musketry and the shouts of the troops on both sides. Varnhorst now received an order from the chief of the staff which produced its effect in the rush of a squadron of Prussian cavalry on the flank of the enemy's column. In a few minutes it was broken and we saw its wrecks swept along the side of the hill. An universal shout was sent up from the army and our next sight was the ascent of the Austrian and Prussian standards gradually rising through the smoke and making their way towards the glacis. They had reached the foot of the breach when the fire of the town suddenly ceased. A white flag waved on the rampart and the drums of the garrison beat the _chamade_. Longwy had surrendered! All now was triumph and congratulation. We flocked round the duke and hailed his first conquest as a promise of perpetual success. He was in high spirits at an achievement which was so important to the national impression of his talents and resources. The sortie of the garrison had given the capture an _éclât_ which could not have been obtained by the mere surrender of a strong place. But the most important point of all was the surrender before the assault. ""The sight of our troops is enough "" was the universal conclusion. If the fortified barrier of France cannot resist what will be done by troops as raw as peasants and officers as raw as their troops? The capitulation was a matter of half an hour and by nightfall I followed the duke and his escort into the town. It was illuminated by order of the conquerors and whether _bongrè_ or _malgrè_ it looked showy; we had gazers in abundance as the dashing staff caracoled their way through the streets. I observed however that we had no acclamations. To have hissed us might be a hazardous experiment while so many Hulans were galloping through the Grande Rue; but we got no smiles. In the midst of the crowd I met Varnhorst steering his charger with no small difficulty and carrying a packet of notes in his hand. ""Go to your quarters and dress "" said my good-humoured friend. ""You will have a busy night of it. The duke has invited the French commandant and his officers to dine with him and we are to have a ball and supper afterwards for the ladies. Lose no time."" He left me wondering at the new world into which I had fallen and strongly doubting that he would be able to fill up his ball-room. But I was mistaken. The dinner was handsomely attended and the ball more handsomely still. ""Fortune de la guerre "" reconciled the gallant captains of the garrison to the change; and they fully enjoyed the contrast between a night on the ramparts and the hours spent at the Prussian generalissimo's splendidly furnished table. The ball which followed exhibited a crowd of the _belles_ of Longwy all as happy as dress and dancing could make them. It was a charming episode in the sullen history of campaigning and before I flung myself on the embroidered sofa of the mayor's drawing-room where my billet had been given for the night I was on terms of eternal ""friendship"" with a whole group of classic beauties--Aspasias Psyches and Cleopatras. But neither love nor luxury neither the smiles of that fair _Champagnaises_ nor the delight of treading on the tesselated floors and feasting on the richness of municipal tables could now detain us. We were in our saddles by daybreak and with horses that outstripped the wind with hearts light as air and with prospects of endless victory and orders and honours innumerable before us we galloped along preceded surrounded and followed by the most showy squadrons that ever wore lace and feathers. The delight of this period was indescribable. It was to me a new birth of faculties that resembled a new sense of being a buoyant and elastic lightness of feelings and frame. The pure air; the perpetual change of scene; the novelty of the landscape; the restless and vivid variety of events and those too of the most powerful and comprehensive nature; the superb display of the finest army that the Continent had sent to war for the last hundred years; and all this excitement and enjoyment with an unrivaled vista of matchless conquest in the horizon a triumphal march through the provinces to be consummated by the peace of Europe in Paris filled even my vexed and wearied spirit with new life. If I am right in my theory that the mind reaches stages of its growth with as much distinctness as the frame this was one of them. I was conscious from this time of a more matured view of human being of a clearer knowledge of its impulses of a more vigorous firm and enlarged capacity for dealing with the real concerns of life. I still loved; and strange hopeless and bewildering as that passion was in the breast of one who seemed destined to all the diversities of fortune--it remained without relief or relaxation through all. It was the vein of gold or perhaps the stream of fire beneath the soil inaccessible to the power of change on the surface but that surface undergoing every impulse and influence of art and nature. The army now advanced unopposed. Still we received neither cheers nor reinforcements from the population. Yet we had now begun to be careless on the topic. The intelligence from Paris was favourable in all the leading points. The king was resuming his popularity though still a prisoner. The Jacobins were exhibiting signs of terror though still masters of every thing. The recruits were running away though the decree for the general rising of the country was arming the people. In short the news was exactly of that checkered order which was calculated to put us all in the highest spirits. The submission of Paris at least until we were its conquerors would have deprived us of a triumph on the spot and the proclamation of a general peace would have been received as the command for a general mourning. The duke was in the highest animation and he talked to every one round him as we marched along with more than condescension. He was easy familiar and flushed with approaching victory. ""We have now "" said he ""broken through the 'iron barrier ' the pride of Vauban and the boast of France for these hundred years. To-morrow Verdun will fall. The commandant of Thionville in desperation at the certainty of our taking the town by assault has shot himself and the keys are on their way to me. Nothing but villages now lie in our road and once past those heights "" and he pointed to a range of woody hills on the far horizon ""and we shall send our light troops _en promenade_ to Paris."" We all responded in our various ways of congratulation. ""Apropos "" said the duke applying to me ""M. Marston you have been later on the spot than any of us. What can you tell of this M. Dumourier who I see from my letters is appointed to the forlorn hope of France--the command of the broken armies of Lafayette and Luckner?"" My answer was briefly a hope that the new general would be as much overmatched by the duke's fortunes in the field as he had been by party in the capital. ""Still he seemed to me a clever and even a remarkable man however inexperienced as a soldier."" ""If he is the officer of that name who served in the last French war he is an old acquaintance of mine "" observed the duke. ""I remember him perfectly. He was a mere boy who in a rash skirmish with some of our hussars was wounded severely and taken prisoner. But as I learned that he was the son of a French _literateur_ of some eminence whom I had met in Paris and as I had conceived a favourable opinion of the young soldier's gallantry I gave him his parole and sent him back to his family who I think were Provencals. He was unquestionably spirited and intelligent and with experience might make either minister or general; but as he has begun by failure in the one capacity it will be our business to show him that he may find success equally difficult in another. At all events we have nothing but this minister-general between us and Notre-Dame. He has taken up a position on the Argonne ridge in our front. To force it will be but an affair of three hours. Adieu gentlemen."" He put spurs to his horse and galloped to one of the columns which approached with trumpets sounding bearing the captured banner of the church tower of Longwy. The world was now before us and we enjoyed it to the full. Varnhorst and I were inseparable and feasted on the scene the gaiety the oddity of the various characters which campaigning developes more than any mode of existence. The simple meal the noon-rest under a tree the songs of our troopers the dance in the villages as soon as the peasantry had discovered that we did not eat women and children--even the consciousness of a life wholly without care formed a delicious state of being. ""If this is the life of the Arab "" I often was ready to exclaim ""what folly would it be in him to leave the wilderness! If the Esquimaux can sleep through one half of the year and revel through the other is he not the true philosopher in the midst of his frost and snow?"" Guiscard who sometimes joined our party was now and then moved to smile at our unripe conceptions of the nature of things. But we laughed at his gravity and he returned to pore over the mysteries of that diplomacy which evidently thickened on him hour by hour. I recollect however one of his expressions--""My friend you think that all the battle is to be fought in front: I can assure you that a much more severe battle is to be fought in the rear. Argonne will be much more easily mastered than the King's closet and the Aulic Council."" We had good reason to remember the oracle. One morning as with half a dozen hussars I was ranging the thickets on the flank of the advance with the spirit of an English fox-hunter on reaching the summit of a rising ground I saw some miles off a party of horsemen making their way at full speed across the country. The perfect level of the plains particularly in Champagne makes the ground as open as a race-course. I called my hussars and we galloped forward to intercept. On seeing us they slackened their speed and were evidently in consultation. At length the sight of our uniforms reassured then and one of their number came forward to meet us. To our enquiry the answer was that ""General Lafayette desired to be led to the headquarters."" I now saw this memorable man for the first time and was busy in my usual style in looking for the hero or the revolutionist in his physiognomy. I was disappointed in both. I saw a quiet visage and a figure of moderate size rather _embonpoint_ and altogether the reverse of that fire-eyed and lean-countenanced ""Cassius"" which I had pictured in my imagination. But his manners perplexed me as much as his features. They were calm easy and almost frank. It was impossible to recognize in him the Frenchman except by his language; and he was the last man in whom I could ever have detected that pride of the theatre the ""French _marquis_."" His manners were English and I had a fellow-feeling for him even in our short ride to the camp and congratulated myself on being thrown into the intercourse of one who had played so conspicuous a part in the most conspicuous scene of our day. But on his introduction to the duke my ardour received a sudden chill. I saw instantly by the utter absence of all cordiality in his reception that the French fugitive had taken a dangerous step and that his Parisian ill fortune had deprived his retreat of all merit in the sight of the commander-in-chief. My doubts were soon confirmed by a message from his tent. I obeyed; and as I passed the lines saw Lafayette surrounded by a troop of Hulans of the Guard. I found the duke pacing uneasily in front of the tent. ""M. Marston "" said he with a vexed manner ""your capture of this morning has added to our perplexities. You acted zealously and with the spirit that distinguishes your nation; but I heartily wish that M. La Fayette had taken any other direction than towards us. His fall has been contemplated for some time and even the possibility of his being arrested by some of our parties. I have received a communication from the Allied cabinets on the contingency; and the question now is how to execute my order without public weakness or personal severity."" I proposed to accompany him while we were on the march and to pledge myself for his honour when we arrived at quarters. ""Generously offered "" was the reply. ""But my duty in the first instance prohibits his remaining in the camp; and in the next my feelings for himself would spare a man who has commanded the enemy's troops the sight of that actual collision which must immediately take place. We attack the defiles of the Argonne to-morrow."" He entered the tent wrote a few lines and returned to me. ""M. Lafayette must consider himself as a prisoner; but as my wish is to treat him with honour I must beg of you M. Marston to take charge of him for the time. Your offer has relieved me from an embarrassment; and I shall take care to make honourable mention of your conduct in this instance as in all others to both the courts of Berlin and St James's. The marquis must be sent to Berlin and I must request that you will be ready to set out with him this evening."" The sound was a thunder-stoke. ""This evening!"" when the decisive action of the war was to be fought next morning. ""To Berlin!"" when all my gallant friends were to be on the march to Paris. Impossible! I retracted my offer at once. But the prince not accustomed to be resisted held his purpose firmly; representing that as the French general was actually _my_ prisoner and as _my_ court was equally interested with those of the Allied powers in preventing his return to embroil France ""it was my duty as her commissioner to see that the measure was effectively performed."" But the appearance of leaving the army on the very eve of important service was not to be argued or even commanded away. The duke was equally inflexible though his sentences were perhaps shorter than mine; and I finally left his presence declaring that if the request were persisted in I should throw up my commission at once volunteer as a common trooper into the first squadron which would admit me and then his highness might of course order me wherever he pleased."" A stately smile was the answer to this tirade. I bowed and retired. Within a hundred yards I met my two friends Varnhorst and Guiscard and poured out my whole catalogue of wrongs at once. Varnhorst shared my indignation fiercely pulled his thick mustaches and muttered some phrases about oppression martinetism and other dangerous topics which fortunately were scattered on the air. Guiscard neither raged nor smiled but walked into the ducal tent. After a few minutes he returned and then his sallow countenance wore a smile. ""You have offended the duke desperately "" said he. ""And as a sovereign prince I dare say that banishment from his territories for life would be the least reparation; but as a general we think that we cannot have too many good troops and your proposal to take a Hulan's lance and pistol in your hand is irresistible. In short he receives you as a volunteer into his own hussars and as you are henceforth at his disposal he orders.""--My tormentor here made a malicious pause which threw me into a fever. I gazed on his countenance to anticipate his mission. It wore the same deep and moveless expression. ""His highness orders that you shall escort with a squadron General Lafayette to the Chateau our former headquarters and where we first met; there deliver over the Frenchman to an officer of the staff who will be in readiness to escort him further; and in the mean time if the very fiery and independent M. Marston should have no objection to travel at night he may return and be in time for whatever is to be done here to-morrow."" ""Bravo bravo!"" exclaimed good-natured Varnhorst. ""Guiscard you are the first of negotiators!"" ""No "" was the quiet reply. ""I pretend to nothing more than the art of being a good listener. I merely waited until the duke had spoken his will and then interposed my suggestion. It was adopted at once; and now our young friend has only to ride hard to-night and come to shade his brow with a share of any laurels which we may pluck in the forest of Argonne in the next twenty-four hours."" I was enraptured--the communication was made in the most courteous manner to the marquis. He had at once perceived the difficulties of his position and was glad to leave them behind as far as possible. Our escort was mounted within a few minutes and we were in full gallop ov

r the fruitful levels of Champagne. To speed of this order time and space were of little importance; and with the rapidity of a flock of falcons we reached the foot of the noble hill on which embosomed in the most famous vineyards of the vine country stood the Chateau. It was blazing with lights and had evidently lost nothing of its population by the change of headquarters. We were soon brought to a stand by a challenge in French and found that we were no longer among the jovial Jägers of Deutchland. We had fallen in with the advanced corps of the Emigrant army under the command of the Prince of Condé. Here was a new dilemma. Our prisoner's was perhaps the most startling name which could have been pronounced among those high-blooded and headlong men. The army was composed almost wholly of the _noblesse_; and Lafayette under all his circumstances of birth sentiments and services had been the constant theme of noble indignation. The champion of the American Republic the leader of the Parisian movement the commandant of the National Guard the chief of the rebel army in the field--all was terribly against him. Even the knowledge of his fall could not have appeased their resentment; and the additional knowledge that he was within their hands might have only produced some unfortunate display of what the philosopher calls ""wild justice."" In this difficulty while the officer of the patrol was on his way to the Chateau to announce our coming I consulted the captain of my escort. But though a capital _sabreur_ he was evidently not made to solve questions in diplomacy. After various grimaces of thinking and even taking the meersham from his mouth I was thrown on my own resources. My application to the captive general was equally fruitless: it was answered with the composure of one prepared for all consequences but it amounted simply to--""Do just as you please."" But no time was to be lost and leaving the escort to wait till my return I rode up the hill alone and desired an interview with the officer in command of the division. Fortunately I found him to be one of my gayest Parisian companions now transformed into a fierce chevalier colonel des chasseurs bronzed like an Arab and mustached like a tiger. But his inner man was the same as ever. I communicated my purpose to him as briefly as possible. His open brow lowered and his fingers instinctively began playing with the hilt of his sabre. And if the rencontre could have been arranged on the old terms of man to man my gallant friend would have undoubtedly made me the bearer of a message on the spot. But I had come for other objects and gradually brought him round; he allowed that ""a prisoner was something entitled to respect."" The ""request of his distinguished and valued friend M. Marston dear to him by so many charming recollections of Paris &c. was much more;"" and we finally arranged that the general should be conveyed unseen to an apartment in the Chateau while I did him and his ""_braves camarades_"" the honour of sharing their supper. I gave the most willing consent; a ride of thirty miles had given me the appetite of a hunter. I was now introduced to a new scene. The room was filled with muskets and knapsacks piled against the walls and three-fourths of those who sat down were private soldiers; yet there was scarcely a man who did not wear some knightly decoration and I heard the noblest names of France everywhere round me. Thus extremes meet: the Faubourg St Germains had taken the equality of the new order of things and the very first attempt to retain an exclusive rank had brought all to the same level. But it was a generous a graceful and a gallant level. All was good-humour under their privations and the fearful chances which awaited them were evidently regarded with a feeling which had all the force of physical courage without its roughness. I was much struck too with the remarkable appearance of the military figures round me. Contrary to our general notions of the foreign noblesse those exhibited some of the finest-looking men whom I had ever seen. This was perhaps in a considerable degree owing to the military life. In countries where the nobility are destitute of public employment they naturally degenerate--become the victims of the diseases of indolence and profligacy transmit their decrepitude to their descendants and bequeath dwarfishness and deformity to their name. But in France the young noble was destined for soldiership from his cradle. His education partook of the manly preparations for the soldier's career. The discipline of the service even in peace taught him some superiority to the effeminate habits of opulence; and a sense of the actual claims of talents integrity and determination gave them all an importance which whatever might be the follies of an individual from time to time powerfully shaped the general character of the nobles. In England the efforts for political power and the distinctions of political fame preserve our nobility from relaxing into the slavery of indulgence. The continual ascent of accomplished minds from the humbler ranks at once reinforces their ability and excites their emulation; and if England may proudly boast of men of intellectual vigour worthy of rising to the highest rank from the humblest condition she may with not less justice boast of her favourites of fortune fitted to cope with her favourites of nature. Among these showy and high-bred soldiers the hours passed delightfully. Anecdotes of every court of Europe where most of them had been either as tourists or envoys; the piquant tales of the court of their unfortunate sovereign; narratives--sufficiently contemptuous of the present possessors of power; and _chansons_--some gay and some touching--made us all forget the flight of time. Among their military choruses was one which drew tears from many a bold eye. It was a species of brief elegy to the memory of Turenne whom the French soldier still regarded as his tutelar genius. It was said to have been written on the spot where that great leader fell:-- ""Reçois O Turenne où tu perdis lavie Les transports d'un soldat qui te plaint et t'envie. Dans l'Elysee assis près du cef des Césars Ou dans le ciel peutêtre entre Bellone et Mars. Fais-moi te suivre en tout exauce ma prière; Puis se-je ainsi remplir et finir ma carrière."" The application to the immediate circumstances of those brave gentlemen was painfully direct. What to-morrow might bring was unknown further than that they would probably soon be engaged with their countrymen; and whether successful or not they must be embarked in war against France. But my intelligence that an action was expected on the next day awoke the soldier within them again; the wrongs of their order the plunders of the ruling faction their hopeless expatriation if some daring effort was not made and the triumphant change from exiles to possessors and conquerors stirred them all into enthusiasm. The army of the Allies the enemy's position the public feeling of Paris and the hope of sharing in the honours of an engagement which was to sweep the revolutionary ""canaille"" before the ""gentlemen of France "" were the rapid and animating topics. All were ardent all eloquent; fortune was at their feet the only crime was to doubt--the only difficulty was to choose in what shape of splendid vengeance of matchless retribution and of permanent glory they should restore the tarnished lustre of the diadem and raise the insulted name of France to its ancient rank among the monarchies of the world. I never heard among men so many brilliancies of speech--so many expressions of feeling full of the heart--so glowing a display of what the heart of man may unconsciously retain for the time when some great emotion rouses all its depths and opens them to the light of day. It was to me a new chapter in the history of man. The news which I had brought of the positions of the armies rendered me an object of marked interest. I was questioned on every point; first and especially of the intention of the commander-in-chief with the most anxious yet most polished minuteness. But as on this subject my lips were comparatively sealed the state of the troops with whom they were so soon to be brought into contact became the more manageable topic. On mentioning that Dumourier was placed in command I received free and full communications on the subject of his qualities for being the last hope of revolutionary France. One had known him in his early career in the engineers another had served along with him in Corsica a third had met him at the court of Portugal; the concurring report being that he was a coxcomb of the first water showy but superficial and though personally brave sure to be bewildered when he found himself for the first time working the wheels and springs of that puzzling machine an army in the field. A caustic old Provençal marquis with his breast glittering with the stars of a whole constellation of knighthood yet who sat with the cross-belts and cartouche-box of the rank and file upon him agreeing with all the premises stoutly denied the conclusions. ""He is a coxcomb "" said the old Marquis. ""Well he is only the fitter to command an army of upstarts. He has seen nothing but Corsican service; well he is the fitter to command an army of banditti. And he has been an _espion_ of the Government in Portugal; what better training could he have for heading an army of traitors? Rely upon it gentlemen that you have mistaken his character; if you think that he is not the very man whom the mob of Paris ought to have chosen for their general I merely recommend that when you go into action you should leave your watches in camp and if you charge any of their battalions look well to your purses."" The old soldier's sally restored our gaiety; but the man best acquainted with the French commander-in-chief was my friend the chevalier at the head of the table. ""It has singularly enough happened to me to have met M. Dumourier in almost every scene of his life since his return from his first service in Germany. Our first meeting was in the military hospital in Toulouse where he had been sent like myself to recover in his native air from the wounds of our last German campaign. He was then a coxcomb but a clever one full of animal spirits and intoxicated with the honour of having survived the German bullets of being appointed to a company and wearing a _croix_. Our next meeting was in Portugal. Our Minister had adopted some romantic idea of shaking the English influence and Dumourier had been sent as an engineer to reconnoitre the defences of the country. The word _espion_ was not wholly applicable to his mission yet there can be no doubt that the memoir published on his return was _not_ a volume of travels. His services had now recommended him to the Government and he was sent to Corsica. There again I met him as my regiment formed part of the force in the island. He was high on the staff our intercourse was renewed and he was regarded as a very expert diplomatist. A few years after I found him in a still higher situation a favourite of De Choiseul and managing the affairs of the Polish confederation. On his return to Paris such was the credit in which he stood that he was placed by the minister of war at the head of a commission to reform the military code; thus he has been always distinguished; and has at least had experience."" Even this slight approach to praise was evidently not popular among the circle and I could hear murmurs. ""Distinguished!--yes more with the pen than the sword."" ""Diplomacy!--the business of a clerk. Command is another affair."" ""Mon cher Chevalier "" said the old Marquis with a laugh ""pray after being in so many places with him were you with him in the Bastile?"" This was followed with a roar. I saw my friend's swarthy cheek burn. He started up and was about to make some fierce retort when a fine old man a general with as many orders as the marquis and a still whiter head averted the storm by saying ""Whether the chevalier was with M. Dumourier in that predicament I know not; but I can say that I was. I was sent there for the high offence of kicking a page of the court down the grande escalier at Versailles for impertinence at the time when M. Dumourier was sent there by the Duc d'Acquillon for knowing more than the minister. I assure you that I found him a most agreeable personage--very gay very witty and very much determined to pass his time in the pleasantest manner imaginable. But our companionship was too brief for a perfect union of souls "" said he laughing; ""for I was liberated within a week while he was left behind for I think the better part of a year."" ""But his talents?"" was the question down the table. ""Gentlemen "" said the old man ""my experience in life has always made me judge of talents by circumstances. If for example I find that a man has the talent exactly fitted for his position I give him credit for all--he had the talent for making the Bastile endurable and I required no other. But there were times when graver topics varied our pleasantry and he exhibited very various intelligence a practical experience of the chief European courts and I am sorry to say a very striking contempt for their politics and their politicians alike. He was especially indignant at the selfish perfidy with which the late king had given him up to the ignorant jealousy of the minister and looked forward to the new reign with a resolute and sometimes a gloomy determination to be revenged. If that man is a republican it is the Bastile that has made him one; and if he ever shall have a fair opportunity of displaying his genius unless a cannonball stops his career I should conceive him capable of producing a powerful impression on Europe."" The conversation might again have become stormy but for the entrance of a patrol for whom a vacant space at the table had been left. Forty or fifty fine tall fellows now came rushing into the room flinging down shakos knapsacks and sabres and fully prepared to enjoy the good cheer provided for them. I heard the names of the first families of France among those privates--the Montmorencies the Lamaignons the Nivernois the Rochefoucaults the De Noailles ""familiar as household words."" All was good-humour again. They had a little adventure in scaring away a corps of the rustic national guards who to expedite their escape had flung away their arms which were brought in as good prize. The festivity and frolic of youth engaged in a cause which conferred a certain dignity even on their _tours de page_ renewed the pleasantry of the night. We again had the _chansons_; and I recollect one sung with delicious taste by a handsome Italian-faced youth a nephew of the writer the Duc de Nivernois. The duke had requested a ringlet from a beautiful woman. She answered that she had just found a grey hair among her locks and could now give then away no more. The gallant reply was-- ""Quoi! vous parlez de cheveux blancs! Laissez laissez courir le temps; Que vous importe son ravage? Les tendres coeurs en sont exempts; _Les Amours sont toujours enfants Et les Graces sont de tout age._ Pour moi Thémire je le sens. Je suis toujours dans mon printemps Quand je vous offre mon hommage. Si je n'avais que dixhuit ans Je pourrais aimer plus longtemps Mais non pas aimer davantage.""[10] [10] Lovely and loved! shall one slight hair Touch thy delicious lip with care? A heart like thine may laugh at Time-- The Soul is ever in its prime. All Loves you know have infant faces A thousand years can't chill the Graces! While thou art in my soul enshrined I give all sorrows to the wind. Were I this hour but gay eighteen Thou couldst be but my bosom's queen; I might for longer years adore But could not could not love thee more. On returning to look for my distinguished prisoner I found a packet lying on the table of my apartment; it had arrived in my absence with the troops in advance; and I must acknowledge that I opened it with a trembling hand when I saw that it came from London and Mordecai. It was written in evident anxiety and the chief subject was the illness of his daughter. She had some secret on her mind which utterly baffled even the Jew's paternal sagacity. No letters had reached either of them from France and he almost implored me to return or if that were impossible to write without delay. Mariamne had grown more fantastic and capricious and wayward than ever. Her eyes had lost their brightness and her cheek its colour. Yet she complained of nothing beyond a general distaste to existence. She had seen the Comtesse de Tourville and they had many a long conference together from which however Mariamne always returned more melancholy than ever. She had refused the match which he had provided for her and declared her determination to live like the daughter of Jephthah single to her grave. The letter then turned to my own circumstances and entered into them with the singular mixture of ardour and sneering which formed this extraordinary character. ""I am doing your business here as indefatigably as if I were robbing nabobs in India or setting up republics at home. The tardiness of the Horse-Guards is to be moved by nothing but an invasion; and it would be almost as rational to wait the growth of an oak as to wait the signing of your commission; but it shall be done in my own way. I have means which can make the tardy quick and open the eyes of the blind. You _shall_ be a subaltern in the Guards unless you are in too much haste to be a general and get yourself shot by some Parisian cobbler in the purloined uniform of a rifleman. But let me tell you one fact and I might indorse this piece of intelligence 'Secret and Confidential ' to the English cabinet for even our great minister has yet to learn it--_the Allies will never reach Paris_. Rely and _act_ upon this. They might now enter the capital if instead of bayonets they carried only trusses of straw. The road is open before them but they will look only behind. The war was almost a feint from the beginning. The invasion was the second act of the farce--the retreat will be the third. Poland has been the _true object_; and to cover the substantial seizures there has been the trick of the French invasion. I predict that in one month from the date of this letter there will not be an Austrian or Prussian cartridge found in France. Potsdam and Schoenbrunn know more on the subject at this moment than the duke. I write to you as a friend and by Mariamne's especial order to take care of yourself. I have seen the retreats of continental armies in my time; they are always a scene of horrors. Follow the army so long as it advances; then all is well and even the experience of service may be of use to you. But in this instance the moment that you find it come to a stop turn your horse's head to any point of the compass but the front and ride to the nearest seaport. The duke is a brave man and his army is a brave army; but both will be instantly covered with all the obloquy of all the libelers on earth. If you have met him as man with man you have doubtless been captivated with his manners his wit his animation and his accomplishments. I have known him long and well. But Europe within a month will decry him as a fugitive a fool and a dastard. Such is popular wisdom justice and knowledge. A pupil of the first warrior of Prussia and of modern ages and wanting only experience to do honour to the lessons of Frederick he will be laughed at by the loose loungers of the Palais Royal as ignorant of the art of war and branded by the graver loungers of courts and councils as ignorant of the art of government. Once more I say take care of yourself. The first step in retreat will raise all France against the Allies. Ten victories would not cost as much as the first week's march towards the frontier. Every thicket will have its troop; every finger for a hundred leagues round will be on the trigger. Robbery and murder famine and fatigue; disease and death will be upon the troops; the retreat will become a flight and happy is the man who will ever see the Rhine again. Be wise in time."" Enclosed within this long epistle was a brief note from Mariamne. ""You must not think me dying because I importune you no longer. But _can_ you give me any tidings of Lafontaine? I know that he is rash and even enthusiastic; but I equally know that he is faithful and true. _Yet_ if he _has_ forgotten me or is married or is any thing that as a preux chevalier he ought not to be tell me at once and you shall see how grateful I can be before I cease to be any thing. But if he has fallen--if in the dreadful scenes now acting in Paris Lafontaine is no more--_tell me not_. Write some deluding thing to me--conceal your terrible knowledge. I should not wish to drop down dead before my father's face. He is looking at me while I write this and I am trying to laugh with a heart as heavy as lead and eyes that can scarcely see the paper. No--for mercy's sake do not tell me _that he is dead_. Give me gentle words give me hope deceive me--as they give laudanum not to prolong life but to lull agony. Do this and with my last pulse I shall be grateful--with my last breath I shall bless you."" Poor Mariamne! I had at least better hopes than those for her. But within this billet was a third. It was but a few lines; yet at the foot of those lines was the signature--""Clotilde de Tourville."" The light almost forsook my eyes; my head swam; if the paper had been a talisman and every letter written with the pen of magic it could not have produced a more powerful effect upon me. My hands trembled and my ears thrilled; and yet it contained but a few unimportant words--an enquiry addressed to Mariamne whether she could forward a letter to the Chateau Montauban in Champagne or whether her father had any correspondent in the vicinity who could send her the picture of a beloved relative which in the haste of their flight to England they had most reluctantly left behind. The note at once threw every thing else into the background. What were invasions and armies--what were kings and kingdoms--to the slightest wish of the being who had written this billet? All this I admit to be the fever of the mind--a waking dream--an illusion to which mesmerism or magic is but a frivolity. Like all fevers it is destined to pass away or to kill the patient; yet for the time what on earth is so strange or so powerful--so dangerous to the reason--so delicious to the soul! But after the long reverie into which I sank with the writing of Clotilde in my hand I recollected that fortune had for once given me the power of meeting the wishes of this noble and beautiful creature. The resemblance of the picture that had so much perplexed and attracted me was now explained. I _was_ in the Chateau de Montauban and I now blessed the chance which had sent me to its honoured walls. To hasten to the chamber where I was again to look upon the exquisite resemblance of features which till then I had thought without a similar in the world was a matter of instinct; and winding my way through the intricacies of galleries and corridors loaded with the baggage of the emigrant army and strewed with many a gallant noble who had exchanged the down bed of his ancestral mansion for the bare floor or the open bivouac I at length reached the apartment to which the captive general had been consigned. To my utter astonishment instead of the silence which I expected under the circumstances I heard the jingling of glasses and roars of laughter. Was this the abode of solitude and misfortune? I entered and found M. Lafayette indeed conducting himself with the composure of a personage of his rank; but the other performers exhibiting a totally different temperament. A group of Polish officers who had formerly borne commissions in the royal service and now followed the Emigrant troops had recognized Lafayette and insisted on paying due honours to the ""noble comrade"" with whom they had served beyond the Atlantic. Hamlet's menace to his friend that he would ""teach him to drink deep ere he depart "" had been adopted in the amplest sense by those jovial sons of the north and ""healths bottle-deep"" were sent round the board with rapid circulation. My entrance but slightly deranged the symposium and I was soon furnished with all the freemasonry of the feast by being called on to do honour to the toast of ""His Majesty the King of Great Britain."" My duty was now done my initiation was complete and while my eyes were fixed on the portrait which still in its unharmed beauty looked beaming on the wild revel below I heard in the broken queries and interjectional panegyrics of these hyperborean heroes more of the history of Lafayette than I had ever expected to reach my ears. His life had been the strangest contrast to the calm countenance which I saw so tranquilly listen to its own tale. It was Quixotic and two hundred years ago could scarcely have escaped the pen of some French Cervantes. He had begun life as an officer in the French household troops in absolute boyhood. At sixteen he had married! at eighteen he had formed his political principles and begun his military career by crossing the Atlantic and offering his sword to the Republic. To meet the thousand wonderings at his conduct he exchanged the ancient motto of the Lafayettes for a new one of his own. The words ""Why not?"" were his answer to all and they were sufficient. On reaching America he asked but two favours to be suffered to serve and to serve without pay. In America he was more republican than the Republicans. He toiled traveled and bled with an indefatigable zeal for the independence of the colonists; his zeal was a passion his love of liberty a romance his hostility to the dominion of England an universal scorn of established power. But if fantastic he was bold; and if too hot for the frigidity of America he was but preparing to touch France with kindred fire. He refused rank in the French army coupled with the condition of leaving the service of the Republic; and it was only on the French alliance in 1788 that he returned to Paris to be received with feigned displeasure by the King and even put under arrest by the minister but to be welcomed by the praises of the true sovereign the Queen feted by the court the sovereign of that sovereign and huzzaed by the mob of Paris already the sovereign of them all; from his military prison he emerged colonel of the King's regiment of dragoons. While this narrative was going on mingled with bumpers and bursts of Slavonic good-fellowship I could not help asking myself whether Lavater was not quack and physiognomy a folly? Could this be the dashing Revolutionist? No plodder over the desk ever wore a more broadcloth countenance; an occasional smile was the only indication of his interest in what was passing around him. He evidently avoided taking a share in the discussion of his Transatlantic career probably from delicacy to his English auditor. But when the conversation turned upon France the man came forth and he vindicated his conduct with a spirit and fulness that told me what he might have been when the blood of youth was added to the glow of the imagination. He was now evidently exhausted by toil and dispirited by disappointment. No man could be more thoroughly ruined; baffled in theory undone in practice--an exile from his country a fugitive from his troops--overwhelmed by the hopelessness of giving a constitution to France and with nothing but the dungeon before him and the crash of the guillotine behind. ""What was to be done?"" said Lafayette. ""France was bankrupt--the treasury was empty--the profligate reign of Louis XV. had at once wasted the wealth dried up the revenues and corrupted the energies of France. Ministers wrung their hands the king sent for his confessor the queen wept--but the nation groaned. There was but one expedient to call on the people. In 1787 the Assembly of the Notables was summoned. It was the first time since the reign of Henry IV. France had been a direct and formal despotism for almost two hundred years. She had seen England spread from an island into an empire; she had seen America spread from a colony into an empire. What had been the worker of the miracle?--Liberty. While all the despotisms remained within the boundaries fixed centuries ago like vast dungeons never extending and never opening to the light and air except through the dilapidations of time I saw England and America expanding like fertile fields open to every breath of heaven and every beam of day expanding from year to year by the cheerful labour of man and every year covered with new productiveness for the use of universal mankind. I own that there may have been rashness in urging the great experiment--there may have been a dangerous disregard of the actual circumstances of the people the time and the world--the daring hand of the philosopher may have drawn down the lightning too suddenly to be safe; the patriot may have flashed the blaze of his torch too strongly on eyes so long trained to the twilight of the dungeon. The leader of this enterprise himself like the first discoverer of fire may have brought wrath upon his own head and be condemned to have his vitals gnawed in loneliness and chains; but nothing shall convince Lafayette that a great work has not been begun for the living race for all nations and for all posterity."" I could not suppress the question--""But when will the experiment be complete? When will the tree planted thus in storms take hold of the soil? When will the tremendous tillage which begins by clearing with the conflagration and ploughing with the earthquake bring forth the harvest of peace to the people?"" ""These must be the legacy to our children "" was the reply in a grave and almost contrite tone. ""The works of man are rapid only when they are meant for decay. The American savage builds his wigwam in a week to last for a year. The Parthenon took half an age and the treasures of a people to last for ever."" We parted for the night--and for thirty years. My impression of this remarkable man was that he had more heart than head; that a single idea had engrossed his faculties to the exclusion of all others; that he was following a phantom with the belief that it was a substantial form and that like the idolaters of old who offered their children to their frowning deity he imagined that the costlier the sacrifice the surer it was of propitiation. Few men have been more misunderstood in his own day or in ours. Lifted to the skies for an hour by popular adulation he has been sunk into obscurity ever since by historic contempt. Both were mistaken. He was the man made for the time--precisely the middle term between the reign of the nobility and the reign of the populace. Certainly not the man to ""ride on the whirlwind and direct the storm;"" but as certainly altogether superior to the indolent luxury of the class among whom he was born. Glory and liberty the two highest impulses of our common nature sent him at two and twenty from the most splendid court of Europe to the swamps and snows the desperate service and dubious battles of America. Eight years of voyages negotiations travels and exposure to the chances of the field proved his energy and at the age of thirty he had drawn upon himself the eyes of the world. Here he ought to have rested or have died. But the Revolution swept him off his feet. It was an untried region--a conflict of elements unknown to the calculation of man; he was whirled along by a force which whirled the monarchy the church and the nation with him and sank only when France plunged after him. I have no honour for a similar career and no homage for a similar memory; but it is from those mingled characters that history derives her deepest lesson her warnings for the weak her cautions for the ambitious and her wisdom for the wise. On the retiring of the party for the night my first act was to summon the old Swiss and his wife who had been left in charge of the mansion and collect from them all their feeble memories could tell Clotilde. But Madame la Maréchale was a much more important personage in their old eyes than the ""charmante enfant"" whom they had dandled on their knees and who was likely to remain a ""charmante enfant"" to them during their lives. The chateau had been the retreat of the Maréchale after the death of her husband; and it was in its stately solitudes and in the woods and wilds which surrounded it for many a league that Clotilde had acquired those accomplished tastes and that characteristic digni

y and force of mind which distinguished her from the frivolity of her country-women however elegant and attractive who had been trained in the _salons_ of the court. The green glades and fresh air of the forest had given beauty to her cheek and grace to her form; and scarcely conceiving how the rouged and jewelled Maréchale could have endured such an absence from the circles of the young queen and the ""_beaux restes_"" of the wits and beauties of the court of Louis the 15th I thanked in soul the fortunate necessity which had driven her from the atmosphere of the Du Barris to the shades thus sacred to innocence and knowledge. But the grand business of the thing was still to be done. The picture was taken down at last to the great sorrow of the old servants who seemed to regard it as a patron saint and who declared that its presence and its presence alone could have saved the mansion in the first instance from being burned by the ""patriots "" who generally began their reforms of the nobility by laying their chateaux in ashes and in the next from being plundered by the multitudes of whiskered savages speaking unknown tongues and came to leave France without ""_ni pain ni vin_"" for her legitimate sons. But the will of Madame la Maréchale was to them as the laws of the Medes and Persians irresistible and unchangeable; and with heavy hearts they dismounted the portrait and assisted in enfolding and encasing it with much the same feeling that might have been shown in paying the last honours to a rightful branch of the beloved line. But in the wall which the picture had covered I found a small recess closed by an iron door and evidently unknown to the Swiss and his old wife. I might have hesitated about extending my enquiry further but Time the great discoverer of all things saved my conscience: with a slight pressure against the lock it gave way; the door flew open and dropped off the hinges a mass of rust and decay. Within was a casket of a larger size than that generally used for jewels; but my curiosity durst not go beyond the superscription which was a consignment of the casket in the name of the Maréchale to her banker in London. Whatever might be the contents it was clear that like the picture it had been left behind in the hurry of flight and that to transmit it to England was fairly within my commission. Before our busy work was done day was glancing in through the coloured panes of the fine old chamber. I hurried off the Swiss with my precious possessions to the next town in one of the baggage carts with a trooper in front to prevent his search by hands still more hazardous than those of a custom-house officer; and then mounting my horse and bidding a brief farewell to the brave and noble fellows who were already mustering for the march and envying me with all their souls I set off at full speed to rejoin the army. With all my speed the action had begun for some hours before I came in sight of the field. With what pangs of heart I heard the roar of the cannon for league on league while I was threading my bewildered way and spurring my tired horse through the miry paths of a country alternately marsh and forest; with what pantings I looked from every successive height to see even to what quarter the smoke of the firing might direct me; with what eager vexation I questioned every hurrying peasant who either shook his moody head and refused to answer or who answered with the fright of one who expected to have his head swept off his shoulders by some of my fierce-looking troop I shall not now venture to tell; but it was as genuine a torture as could be felt by man. At length exhausted by mortal fatigue and ready to lie down and die I made a last effort would listen no more to the remonstrances of the troop whose horses were sinking under them. I ordered them to halt where they were pushed on alone and winding my way through a forest covering the side of a low but abrupt hill or rather succession of hills I suddenly burst out into the light and saw the whole battle beneath around and before me. It was magnificent. * * * * * LETTER FROM LEMUEL GULLIVER. TO THE EDITOR. Sir--At the request of my four-footed friends I forward to you a free translation of the proceedings of a meeting of Houynhyms recently held for the protection of their interests in corn. As the language appears more temperate and the propositions quite as rational as those which are ordinarily brought forward in the other Corn-law meetings which still continue to agitate the county I have no difficulty in complying with their wishes; and if you can afford space for the insertion of the report in your valuable Magazine you will greatly oblige the Houynhym race and confer a favour upon sir your obedient servant LEMUEL GULLIVER. _Stable-Yard Nov. 10th 1843._ * * * * * ADVERTISEMENT. A meeting of delegates from the different classes of consumers of oats was held on Friday last at the Nag's Head in the Borough pursuant to public advertisement in the _Hors-Lham Gazette_. The object of the meeting was to take into consideration the present consumption of the article and to devise means for its increase. The celebrated horse Comrade of Drury-Lane Theatre presided on the occasion. The business of the meeting was opened by a young Racer of great promise who said it was his anxious desire to protect the interests of the horse community and to promote any measure which might contribute to the increase of the consumption of oats and improve the condition of his fellow-quadrupeds. He was not versed in political economy nor indeed economy of any kind. He had heard much of demand and supply and the difficulty of regulating them properly; but for his own part he found the latter always equalled the former though he understood such was not the case with his less fortunate brethren. He warmly advocated the practice of sowing wild oats and considered that much of the decrease of consumption complained of arose from the undue encouragement given to the growth of other grain; and that the horse interest would be best promoted by imposing a maximum as to the growth of wheat and barley according to the acreage of each particular farm. A HACKNEY-COACH HORSE declared himself in favour of the sliding-scale which he understood from Sir Peter Lawrie to mean the wooden pavement. He admitted it was not well adapted for rainy seasons but it was impossible to doubt that things went much more smoothly wherever it was established; and that he and the working classes whom he represented found in it a considerable relief from the heavy duties daily imposed upon them. He wished that some measure could be devised for superseding the use of nosebags which he designated as an intolerable nuisance especially during the summer months; but he principally relied for an improvement in condition on the prohibition of the mixture of chaff with oats; which latter article he contended was unfit for the use of able-bodied horses who earned their daily food and ought to be limited to those cattle who spent an idle existence in straw-yards. A BRIGHT CHESTNUT HORSE of great power and well-known in the parks warmly replied to the last neigher. He denounced the sliding-scale as a slippery measure unworthy of a horse of spirit and adding greatly to the burdens with which horses like himself were saddled. He daily saw steeds of the noblest blood and most undaunted action humbled to the dust by its operation; and if Sir Peter Lawrie was to be believed it was more dreaded by the household troops than Napoleon's army on the field of Waterloo. He yielded to no horse in an anxious desire to promote the true interests of the horse community; but he could not give his support to measures so unsafe merely because they enabled a small and inferior section of their community to move more smoothly. He reprobated in strong terms the unfeeling allusion of the last neigher to the unfortunate inmates of union straw-yards whom for his own part he looked upon as nowise inferior to the hackney-coach horse himself of whose right to be present at a meeting of consumers of oats he entertained serious doubts. (Loud neighs of ""Order! Order!"") A SCOTCH HORSE feared that strictly speaking he was included in the same category with the hackney-coach horse and had no right to be heard having no personal interest in the question; but he trusted he might be permitted to speak as the delegate of the horses of Scotland who were ignorant of the Houynhym language and not entitled to attend. Permission being granted to the surprise of the assembly he descanted with much asperity upon the gross oppression to which horses in Scotland were subject as their rough coats and ragged appearance plainly manifested; and stated in conclusion that no hope or expectation of bettering the condition of the Scotch horse could be entertained until their lawful food was restored to them and Scotchmen were compelled by act of Parliament to abstain from the use of oatmeal and live like the rest of the civilized world. Several worn-out horses belonging to members of the Whig administration then endeavoured to address the meeting with an evident intention of converting the proceedings into a party question; but they were informed by the president in the midst of loud snorting and neighing that they had not the slightest right to be present as they were all undoubtedly turned out for life. This decision appeared to give universal satisfaction. AN IRISH HORSE was of opinion that the great cause of the present difficulties arose from deficiency in the quality and not the quantity of the article and strongly recommended the growth of Irish oats in England. To the surprise of the English delegates he warmly eulogized the superiority of the Irish oat; but it afterwards appeared upon the production of a sample that he had mistaken the potatoe oat for the Irish oat. AN OLD ENGLISH HUNTER next addressed the meeting and was listened to with deep attention. He impressed upon the young delegates the good old adage of ""Look before you leap "" and cautioned them against the delusive hope that their condition would be improved by change of measures. In the course of his long life he had experienced measures of every description and had invariably found that his supplies depended not on the measure itself; but on the hand that filled it. He had ever given his willing support to his employers and served them faithfully; and if they were as well acquainted as quadrupeds with the secrets of the stable they would learn the fallacy of their favourite maxim of ""Measures not men "" and trust the administration of their affairs to upright and steady grooms rather than those fanciful half-educated gentlemen who were perpetually changing the rules of the stables and altering the form of the measures whereby they embarrassed the regular feeding and training of the inmates without producing any practical good. A STAGE-COACH HORSE imputed their want of condition to the misconduct of their leaders who he said could never be kept in the right path or made to do one-half of the work which properly belonged to them. By a strange fatality they were generally purblind and always shyed most fearfully when an Opposition coach approached them. Indeed it was well known that the horses selected for these duties were generally speaking vicious and unsound and not taken from the most able and powerful but from the most showy classes. He then proceeded to descant upon the general wrongs of horses. He congratulated the community upon the abolition of bearing reins those grievous burdens upon the necks of all free-going horses; and he trusted the time would soon arrive when the blinkers would also be taken off every corn-binn thrown open and every horse his own leader. Several other delegates addressed the meeting and various plans were discussed; but it invariably turned out upon investigation that the change would only benefit the class of animals by whom it was proposed. A post-horse was of opinion that the true remedy lay in decreasing the amount of speed and shortening the spaces between milestones. A Welsh pony was for the abolition of tolls which he said exhausted the money intended for repairs; whilst some plough-horses from Lincolnshire proposed the encouragement of pasture land the abolition of tillage and the disuse of oats altogether. The harmony of the meeting was at one period interrupted by the unfortunate use of the word ""_blackguard_"" by a delegate from the collieries which caused a magnificent charger from the Royal Horse Guards Blue to rear up and with great indignation demand if the allusion was personal; but who was satisfied with the explanation of the president that it was applicable only in a warlike sense. A long lean bay horse with a sour head demanded a similar explanation of the word ""_job_ "" and was told it was used in a _working_ sense. Several resolutions drawn by two dray-horses embodying the supposed grievances of the community were finally agreed upon and a petition under the hoof of the president founded upon them having been prepared and ordered to be presented to the House of Commons by the members for Horsham the meeting separated and the delegates returned to their respective stables. * * * * * THE PROCLAMATION. Bold warriors of Erin I hereby _proclaim_ That the world never witness'd your rivals in fame; Bold sons of Macmurraugh Macarthy O'Neill The armies of earth at your sight would turn pale. A flash from your eyes would light England's last pile And a touch give her sceptre to Erin's green isle. Hurrah for the vengeance of old Mullaghmast On the blood-bolter'd ground where your gauntlet was cast; Hurrah for the vengeance of Tara's proud hill Where the bones of our monarchs are blood-sprinkled still. Hurrah for Clontarf though the Saxon may smile The last greatest triumph of Erin's green isle! Let the scoffer scoff on while I hereby _proclaim_ That flight may be courage and fear but a name; That boasting is good when 'tis good for the cause But in sight of cold steel _we should honour the laws_; That powder and shot make men swallow their bile-- So hurrah for the glory of Erin's green isle! If they ask for your leader the land's sword and shield At least none can say that _he fled from the field_. _He_ kept a whole skin--for the service of Rome; So he fix'd his headquarters in quiet at home. They might just as well hunt for the head of the Nile While he reckon'd his beads for St Patrick's green isle. If beggars on horseback will ride--to Clontarf; If tailors will caper with truncheon and scarf At Sunday carousels all know I'm in flower My taste for the grape don't extend to the shower. Besides those blue pills disagree with my chyle So hurrah!--pence and peace for the grand Emerald Isle! If the scoffer should ask what the deuce brought you there? Of course it was only to taste the fresh air; To pick cowslips and daisies; and brush off the dew Or drink gin o'er the tombstone of Brian Boru. As to flags and all that; 'twas but doing in style The honours of Freedom to Erin's green isle. Then as to your ""Squadrons "" your ""Mount for Repeal "" 'Twas merely to teach them the ""Right about wheel "" By the word of command from the Saxon to run As your leader would fly from a bailiff or dun; In short since a miss is as good as a mile Swear the whole was a humbug for Erin's green isle. Besides these are delicate moments to croak Since the Saxon's new plan of a word and a stroke. My mind is made up like a poodle or pug No longer to stir from my berth on the rug; Though the bold may revile me so let them revile-- I'm determined to _live_ for old Erin's green isle. I _proclaim_--that the Saxon will tremble to meet The heroes of Erin; but boys life is sweet. I _proclaim_--that your shout frightens Europe's base thrones; But remember my boys there is luck in whole bones; So take the advice of a friend--wait a while In a century or two you'll revenge the Green Isle. I know in my soul at the very first shot That your whole monster meeting would fly at full trot; What horrid mêlée then of popping and flashing! At least I'LL not share in your holiday thrashing; Brawl at Sugden and Smith but beware ""rank and file""-- They're too rough for the lambkins of Erin's green isle. Observe my dear boys if you once get me hang'd 'Tis fifty to one if you'll e'er be harangued. Farewell to the pleasure of paying the ""Rint""-- Farewell to all earth's vilest nonsense in print-- Farewell to the feast of your gall and your guile-- All's over at once with the grand Emerald Isle. * * * * * THE FIREMAN'S SONG. ""Ho comrade up! awake arise! look forth into the night: Say is yon gleam the morning-beam yon broad and bloody light? Say does it tell--yon clanging bell--of mass or matin song? Yon drum-roll--calls it to parade the soldier's armèd throng?"" ""No brother no! no morning-beam is yonder crimson glare! Yon deep bell tolls no matin--'tis the tocsin's hurried blare! Yon sullen drum-roll mutters out no summons to parade: To fight the flame it summons us--the valiant Fire-Brigade!"" Then fast the Fireman rose and waked his mate that lay beside; And each man gripp'd his trusty axe and donn'd his coat of hide-- There bounds beneath that leather coat a heart as strange to fear As ever swell'd beneath the steel of gilded cuirassier. And from beneath the leather casque that guards the Fireman's brow A bolder sterner glance shines out than plumy crest can show; And oft shall ply the Fireman's axe though rude and rough it be Where sabre lance and bayonet right soon would turn and flee! Off dash the thundering engines like goblin jäger-chase-- The sleeper shudders as they pass and pallid grows his face: Away away! though close and bright yon ruddy glow appear Far far we have to gallop yet or e'er our work we near! A plain of upturn'd faces--pale brows and quivering lips All flickering like the tropic sea in the green light of eclipse; And the multitude waves to and fro as in the tropic sea After a tempest heaves and falls the ground-swell sleeplessly. Now by my faith! goodly sight you mansion fast asleep-- Those winking lamps beside the gate a dull watch seem to keep-- But a gay awaking waits them when the crash of blazing beam And the Fireman's stern réveille shall mingle with their dream! And sound as sleeps that mansion ye may mark in every chink A gleam as in the lava-cracks by the volcano's brink; Through key-hole and through window-slit a white and sullen glow-- And all above is rolling smoke and all is dark below. Hark! hear ye not that murmur that hush and hollow roar As when to the south-wester bow the pines upon the shore; And that low crackling intermix'd like wither'd twig that breaks When in the midnight greenwood the startled squirrel wakes! Lo how the fire comes roaring on like a host in war array! Nor lacks it gallant music to cheer it on its way Nor flap of flame-tongued banner like the Oriflamme of old Its vanward cohorts heralding in crimson green and gold. The engines now are ranged a-row--hark how they sob and pant! How gallantly the water-jets curve soaringly aslant! Up spins the stream--it meets the flame--it bursts in fleecy rain Like the last spout of the dying whale when the lance is in his brain. Ha ha! from yon high window thrill'd the wild shriek of despair And gibbering phantoms seem to dance within the ruddy glare; And as a valiant captain leads his boarders to the fray ""Up up my sons!"" our foreman shouts--""up firemen and away!"" Their arms are strong and sinewy--see how the splinters fly-- Their axes they are sharp and good--""Back comrades! or ye die-- Look to the walls!""--a rending crash--they topple--down they come-- A cloud of sparks--a feeble cheer--again!--and all is dumb. A pause--as on that battle-day 'twixt France and England's might When huge L'Orient blew up at once in the hottest of the fight: There was not one they say but wink'd and held his breath the while Though brave were they that fought that day with Nelson at the Nile. And by to-morrow's sunrise amid the steaming stones A chain of gold half-melted and a few small white bones And a few rags of roasted flesh alone shall show where died-- The noble and the beautiful the baby and the bride! O fire he is a noble thing!--the sot's pipe gives him birth; Or from the livid thunder-cloud he leaps alive on earth; Or in the western wilderness devouring silently; Or on the lava rocking in the womb of Stromboli. Right well in Hamburg revell'd he--though Elbe ran rolling by-- He could have drain'd--so fierce his thirst--the mighty river dry! With silk and gold and diamond he cramm'd his hungry maw; And he tamed the wild republicans who knew nor lord nor law! He feasted well in Moscow--in the city of the Tsar-- When 'fore the northern streamers paled Napoleon's lurid star: Around the hoary Kremlin where Moscow once had stood He pass'd and left a heap behind of ashes slaked in blood! He feasted once in London--he feasted best of all-- When through the close-packed city he swept from wall to wall: Even as of old the wrath of God came down in fiery rain On Sodom and Gomorrha on the Cities of the Plain! * * * * * POSITION AND PROSPECTS OF THE GOVERNMENT. A recruited revenue; reviving trade and commerce; reduction in the price of provisions; the triumphant termination of hostilities in all parts of the world with its great immediate prospective advantages: a general feeling of confidence arising from the steady administration of public affairs in spite of persevering and atrocious efforts to excite dissatisfaction and alarm; nay even the stern repose prevailing in Ireland preserved though it be for a while under cover of artillery and at the bayonet's point but affording a precious respite from agitation and a foretaste of the blessings that may be expected from its permanent suppression: all these circumstances unequivocally attest the existence of a powerful Government acting upon a comprehensive and enduring policy which is becoming daily better appreciated by the strong good sense which ever distinguishes the British character when a fair opportunity is afforded for its exercise. Upwards of two years have now elapsed since the accession of the present Government to power at a period of universally admitted difficulty and danger. We have been during this critical interval dispassionate and independent observers of Ministers and their conduct of public affairs anxious to see whether they were really equal to the occasion and worthy of the confidence of the Sovereign and the country. We are ourselves satisfied and undertake to demonstrate to our readers that this question must be answered in the affirmative. We say all this advisedly and with no disposition to deny the existence of difficulties which if serious to the present would be absolutely insuperable to any other Government. During the interval in question Ministers have triumphed over more formidable difficulties than any which they have at present to encounter. _That_ also we say advisedly--cheerfully confidently--with Ireland before our eyes and the din of the audacious and virulent Anti-corn-law League in our ears. Passing these topics for the present let us proceed to examine carefully the real position of Sir Robert Peel and his Government with a view to ascertaining its prospects of a continuance in power. This enquiry cannot be successfully conducted without referring for a moment to the immense changes in principles and parties effected by the Reform Bill in 1832--a period of quite as great a revolution as that of 1688. The Tory party it nearly annihilated!--The first Reform Parliament consisting of only 187 Tories to 471 Whigs and Radicals--the former being thus in the fearful minority of 284. We recollect sharing in the despondency and even despair which paralysed our party. There was however one signal exception in the person of Sir Robert Peel whose conduct on that occasion entitles him to the eternal gratitude of every man pretending to the character of a Conservative nay of every true lover of his country and its institutions. With surprising energy calmness and foresight he instantly addressed himself to the formation even under those inauspicious and disheartening circumstances of that _great_ CONSERVATIVE _party_ of which he is now the acknowledged head. In 1841 just _before_ the general election he thus _reminded that party_ and apprized the country at large of the principle on which he had acted in 1832. We beg our readers to ponder his words and the period when he uttered them. ""I then foresaw the good that might result from laying the foundation of a great Conservative party in the state attached to the fundamental institutions of the country--not opposed to any rational change in it which the lapse of years or the altered circumstances of society might require but determined to maintain on their ancient footing and foundation our great institutions in church and state. In order to form that party however it was necessary in the first instance to widen the foundation on which it should stand: to call into our connexion men from whom we had been separated in consequence of differences which no longer existed. My grand object was to build up that great party which has been gradually acquiring strength in this country--which has been gradually widening the foundation on which it stands and which has drawn from time to time its support from its opponents.""[11] [11] Speech to the Tamworth Electors on 28th June 1841 (Painter Strand.) The shortest and best evidence of the success which has attended the unwearied exertions of Sir Robert Peel during the ensuing then years is afforded by the following summary of the results of the four general elections since the passing of the Reform Bill; three of them under the auspices and with the unscrupulously exercised patronage of the Reform Government. Observe the ascending and descending scales:-- C. L. 187 471 (1832) 275 383 (1835) 314 344 (1837) 373 283 (1841) Who was it but its founder that led the Conservative party through these successive stages of triumph? Who did so much as he to effect that gradual but decisive change in public opinion which in 1841 routed the Liberal Ministry in spite of their extraordinary exertions and advantages and placed a Conservative Government at the head of affairs? To enable us to appreciate the importance of that great victory and also the decision of character evinced on that occasion by Sir Robert Peel let us for a moment advert to the calm self-reliance with which amidst the breathless apprehensions and misgivings of his whole party he gave battle to the enemy--proposed the memorable vote of want of confidence and carried it by a majority of one.[12] A more critical move never was followed by more signal success; every ensuing event serving to show that so far from his movements having been impelled by rash and desperate party speculations they had been based upon a profound and accurate knowledge of his resources and of the state of feeling and opinion in the country. ""I gave the Government every advantage "" said he ""to make their appeal to the country. They boast of the confidence of the crown--they have every means at their disposal which official influence can command to exert in their own behalf. An appeal has been made by them from the House of Commons to you and it is for the country to decide the question at issue. They have made an appeal to public feeling on account of cheap sugar and cheap bread. My firm belief is that the people of this country have not at all responded to that cry."" How well-founded was that ""firm belief "" was proved by the glorious result:--the ""people of this country did"" _not_ ""respond to that cry""--they rejected--they repudiated it and they would do so again if another such appeal were made to them to-morrow. [12] Ayes 312; Noes 311--4th June 1841. Let us now proceed to show what pretence there is for the injurious insinuations and assertions of Sir Robert Peel's traducers--whether treacherous friends or open enemies--that in order to obtain power he hung out false colours to the nation; that his declarations before the general election have been disregarded and falsified by his acts on attaining office. We will for ever demolish all such calumnies and false pretences by going step by step through a document which we made a point of procuring at the time and preserving hitherto and to which we have since frequently referred on hearing uttered the slanderous charges to which we allude. That document is a copy of the speech which Sir Robert Peel on the 28th June 1841 addressed formally to his constituents but virtually of course to the whole nation. One of his earliest declarations was the following:--""Gentlemen _I have ever professed moderate opinions on politics_. The principles I professed and adhered to I shall adhere to during my public life whether in opposition or in power are I believe in perfect conformity with the prevailing good sense the moderation and the intelligence of the great body of the people of England."" This was a sufficiently distinct notice to all men especially to those of extreme opinions whether Tory Liberal or Radical of the course of action which was to be looked for from the expectant Prime Minister. Then first he proceeded to admit the existence of manufacturing distress. ""I admit and deplore it but I do not despair. I have seen distress in manufactures and in commerce before now. I think the causes of the present distress are but temporary--that the cloud will soon blow over--and that the great foundations of manufacturing prosperity are not affected; and I hope I shall very shortly see the day when our manufactures will once more revive and when we shall again fill the place we have always occupied--that of producers for the markets of the world."" Now for its _cause_. ""Now let us consider the important question as to how far the distress in the manufactures and commerce of the country is fairly attributable to the corn-laws."" He proceeded to show from Lord Palmerston's official statement in Parliament on the 22d July 1840 that between the years 1830 and 1839 the _exports_ had risen from the value of L.38 000 000 to L.53 000 000 and the _imports_ from L.46 000 000 to L.62 000 000 ""a clear proof that notwithstanding the local and temporary checks which our commerce had experienced on the whole it had gone on steadily improving and that between the two periods it had increased not much less than from two to three."" He then took the _shipping_ and _navigation_ of the country for the preceding three years; and in looking at them I cannot help thinking that if there was any thing like an absolute decrease in trade and commerce there would also be a decrease in the shipping of the country. ""Well "" said Sir Robert Peel ""What do I find?"" The returns ""showed an increase presented within the last three years from 4 000 000 tons to 4 780 000 tons."" Now mark--""during the whole of this period the corn-laws were in operation; how then can they be fairly or honestly assigned as the cause of the present manufacturing and commercial distress?"" But if the corn-laws were _not_ what _was_ the cause? ""I see causes enough in the world as well as in this country why there should be manufacturing and commercial distress at the present moment irrespective and totally independent of the corn-laws."" These were-- 1st ""_I do fear that in the north of England an undue stimulus has been given to manufacturing industry by the accommodation system pursued by the joint-stock banks. I think the connexion of the manufacturer with the joint-stock banks gave an undue and an improper impulse to trade in that quarter of the county; and I think that in consequence of this there have been more manufactures produced within the last two years than were necessary to supply the demand for them._"" 2ndly ""Look to the state of some of the foreign countries which took at one time the greatest quantity of our manufactures;"" South America its ports strictly blockaded by France; the United States of North America ""in a state of nascent hostility "" and also labouring under ""a distress similar to our own and arising from similar causes. The facility of accommodation afforded by certain banks there gave an undue stimulus to industry; this produced extravagant speculations; many persons failed in consequence and trade necessarily then came to a stand-still."" Canada--the peninsula France the great Kingdoms of the middle and north of Europe--Syria Egypt China had been and were in such a state as occasioned all interruptio

of our trade thither; ""a stoppage in the demand for manufactured goods and a correspondent depression in commerce."" ""When you put all these things together all causes mind you affecting the market for your goods and then combine them with the two or three defective harvests we have had of late I ask you to answer me the question Whether or not they have been sufficient to account for the depression of manufacturing industry."" Then came Sir Robert Peel to the two grand and suddenly discovered panaceas of the late Government for recruiting the exhausted revenue and relieving the general distress--viz. ""cheap sugar "" and ""cheap bread."" 1st As to foreign sugar:-- ""I clearly and freely admit that those restrictions which cannot be justified should be removed and that the commerce of the country should be perfectly free whenever it can possibly be so; but I consider the article of sugar to be wholly exempt from the principle of free trade."" * * * ""The question now is this--whether after the sacrifices which this country has made for the suppression of the slave trade and the abolition of slavery and the glorious results that have ensued and are likely to ensue from these sacrifices--whether we shall run the risk of losing the benefit of those sacrifices and tarnishing for ever that glory by admitting to the British market sugar the produce of foreign slavery."" * * * ""If you admit it it will come from Brazil and Cuba. In Brazil the slave-trade exists in full force; in Cuba it is unmitigated in its extent and horrors. The sugar of Cuba is the finest in the world; but in Cuba slavery is unparalleled in its horrors. I do not at all overstate the fact when I say that 50 000 slaves are annually landed in Cuba. That is the yearly importation into the island; but when you take into consideration the vast numbers that perish before they leave their own coasts the still greater number that die amidst the horrors of the middle passage and the number that are lost at sea you will come to the inevitable conclusion that the number landed in Cuba--50 000 annually--is but a slight indication of the number shipped in Africa or of the miseries and destruction that have taken place among them during their transport thither. If you open the markets of England to the sugar of Cuba you may depend on it that you give a great stimulus to slavery and the slave-trade."" Sir Robert Peel then pointed out peculiar and decisive distinctions between the case of sugar and that of cotton tobacco and coffee; that though all of them were the produce of slave labour--First we cannot now reject the _cotton_ of the United States without endangering to the last degree the manufacturing prosperity of the kingdom. Secondly of all the descriptions of slave produce sugar is the most cruelly destructive of human life--the proportion of deaths in a sugar plantation being infinitely greater than on those of cotton or coffee. Thirdly slave grown sugar has _never_ been admitted to consumption in this country.[13] He also assigned two great co-operating reasons for rejecting slave-grown sugar:--""That the people of England required the great experiment of emancipation to be fairly tried; and they would _not_ think it fairly tried if at this moment when the colonies were struggling with such difficulties we were to open the floodgates of a foreign supply and inundate the British market with sugar the produce of slave-labour;"" adopting the very words of the Whig Vice-President of the Board of Trade Mr Labouchere on the 25th June 1840. The other reason was ""that our immense possessions in the East Indies give us the means and afford us every facility for acquiring sugar the produce of free labour to an illimitable extent."" [13] The following striking passage from the writings of the celebrated Dr Channing of America was quoted by Sir Robert Peel in the speech under consideration. ""Great Britain loaded with an unprecedented debt and with a grinding taxation contracted a new debt of a hundred millions of dollars to give freedom not to Englishmen but to the degraded African. I know not that history records an act so disinterested so sublime. In the progress of ages England's naval triumphs will shrink into a more and more narrow space in the records of our race--this moral triumph will fill a broader--brighter page."" ""Take care!"" emphatically added Sir Robert Peel ""that this brighter page be not sullied by the admission of slave sugar into the consumption of this country--by our encouragement--and too our unnecessary encouragement of slavery and the slave-trade!""--Noble sentiments! So much for foreign sugar. Now for-- II. FOREIGN CORN; and we beg the special attention of all parties to this portion of the manifesto of Sir Robert Peel:-- ""Look at the capital invested in land and agriculture in this country--look at the interests involved in it--look at the arrangement that has been come to for the commutation of tithes--look at your importation of corn diminishing for the last ten years--consider the burdens on the land peculiar to this country[14]--take all these circumstances into consideration and then you will agree with Mr McCulloch the great advocate of a change in the Corn-law that 'considering the vast importance of agriculture _nearly half the population of the empire are directly or indirectly dependent on it for employment and the means of subsistence_; a prudent statesman would pause before he gave his sanction to any measure however sound in principle or beneficial to the mercantile and manufacturing classes that might endanger the prosperity of agriculture or check the rapid spread of improvement.'""[15] [14] ""We believe "" says _Mr McCulloch_ himself in another part of the pamphlet (Longman & Co. 1841 p. 23--6th Edit.) from which Sir Robert Peel is quoting ""that land is more heavily taxed than any other species of property in the country--and that its owners are clearly entitled to insist that a duty should be laid on foreign corn when imported sufficient fully to countervail the excess of burdens laid upon the land."" [15] Speech pp. 9 10. Now for the ""_Sliding Scale_."" ""I just here repeat the opinion which I have declared here before and also in the House of Commons that I cannot consent to substitute a fixed duty of 8s. a-quarter on foreign corn for the present ascending and descending scale of duties. I prefer the principle of the ascending and descending scale to such an amount of fixed duty. And when I look at the burdens to which the land of this country is subject I do not consider the fixed duty of 8s. a-quarter on corn from Poland and Prussia and Russia where no such burdens exist a sufficient protection for it.""[16] [16] Do. p. 8. Again-- ""If you disturb agriculture and divert the employment of capital from the land you may not increase your foreign trade--for that is a thing to dwell under existing circumstances--_but will assuredly reduce the home trade by reducing the means to meet the demand_ and thus permanently injure yourselves also.""[17] [17] Do. p. 13. Again-- ""I have come to the conclusion that the existing system of an ascending and descending scale of duties should not be altered: and that moreover we should as much as possible make ourselves independent of a foreign supply--and not disturb the principle of the existing corn-laws--of these corn-laws which when you have an abundance of your own exclude altogether the foreign supply--and when the price rises in this country freely admits it.""[18] [18] Speech p. 15. Again--he quoted the following remarkable language of Lord Melbourne on the 11th June 1840-- ""_Whether the object be to have a fixed duty or an alteration as to the ascending and descending scale I see clearly and distinctly that that object will not be carried without a most violent struggle--without causing much ill-blood and a deep sense of grievance--without stirring society to its foundations and leaving behind every sort of bitterness and animosity. I do not think the advantages to be gained by the change are worth the evils of the struggle_.""[19] [19] Do. p. 18. And Sir Robert Peel concluded the foregoing summary of his views on the great questions then proposed to the country for its decision in the following words:-- ""I ask your free suffrages with this frank and explicit declaration of my opinions.""[20] [20] Do. p. 18. On this there occur to us three questions-- (1st.) Was this or was it not a frank and explicit declaration of his opinions? And (2d.) Did it or did it not as tested by the result of the general election completely satisfy the country? (3d.) In what respect has the subsequent conduct of Sir Robert Peel been inconsistent with these declarations? And we echo the stern enquiry of the Duke of Wellington for ""the _when_ the _where_ and the _how_ "" ""of Sir Robert Peel's deceiving his supporters or the country""--and ""pause for a reply."" Failing to receive any--for none can be given except in the negative--we shall proceed to condense the substance of this memorable manifesto into a few words; offer some general observations designed to assist in forming a correct judgment upon the topics discussed in the ensuing pages; and then give as fair an outline as we know how to present of the ""DOINGS"" of Sir Robert Peel and his Government by way of comment upon and illustration of his previous and preparatory ""SAYINGS."" What then was the substance of Sir Robert Peel's declaration on presenting himself before the country as a candidate for the office which he fills? He avowed himself a man of moderate political opinions; recognized the existence of manufacturing and commercial distress but referred it to causes of only a temporary nature unconnected with the corn-laws; repudiated the empirical expedients proposed by the late ministry; and pledged himself to maintain the principle of protection to our agricultural interests; declaring his deliberate preference of a sliding scale of duties to a fixed duty upon foreign corn. The first of the observations to which we beg the reader's earnest attention is--that Sir Robert Peel has _to govern by means of a Reformed House of Commons_. It is for want of well considering this circumstance that one or two respectable sections of the Conservative party have conceived some dissatisfaction at the line of policy adopted by Sir Robert Peel. They forget that as we have already stated the _Tory_ party was nearly destroyed by the passing of the Reform Bill; that from its ashes rose the CONSERVATIVE party adapted to the totally new political exigencies of the times; its grand object being as it were out of the elements of democracy to arrest the progress of democracy. The bond of its union was correctly described by its founder as consisting in attachment to the fundamental institutions of the country--non-opposition to rational changes rendered requisite by the altered circumstances of the times--but determination to maintain on their ancient footing and foundation our great institutions in Church and State. Keeping these grand objects ever in view the true policy to be adopted was to widen the foundations on which should stand ""that new party _which was to draw from time to time its strength from its opponents_."" None saw this more clearly than Sir Robert Peel--and hence the ""_moderation_ "" indispensable and all-powerful which he prescribed to himself and recommended to all those who chose to act with him and the steady acting upon which has at length conducted them to their present splendid position of power and responsibility. Could the government of the country be now carried on upon principles that were all-powerful twenty--or even fewer--years ago? No more than Queen Victoria could govern on the principles of Queen Elizabeth! We must look at things not as they were or as we would wish them to be--but as they are and are likely to be. He is unable to take a just and comprehensive view of political affairs in this country--of the position of parties and the tendency of the principles respectively advocated by them who does not see that the great and only contest now going on is between _conservative_ and _destructive_. We say boldly--and we are satisfied that we say it in conformity with the opinions of the immense majority of persons of intelligence and property--that the forces which would drive Sir Robert Peel's Government from office would immediately and inevitably supply their places by a Government which must act upon destructive principles. This will not be believed by many of those who moving in the circumscribed sphere of intense party feeling can contemplate only one object namely--a return to power and disregard the intentions of the fierce auxiliaries of whose services they would avail themselves. To the country at large however who breathe a freer air the true nature of the struggle is plain as the sun at noonday. The number of those who only nominally belong to parties but have a very deep stake in the preservation of our national institutions and see distinctly the advantages of a Minister acting _firmly_ on moderate principles and who will consequently give him a _silent_ but steady support in moments of danger is infinitely larger than is supposed by the opponents of the Conservative party. Such a Minister however must make up his account with receiving often only a cold and jealous support from those of his adherents who incline to extreme opinions; while his opponents will increase their zeal and animosity in proportion to their perception of the unobjectionableness of his measures the practical _working_ of his moderation viz.--his continuance in power and their own exclusion from it. Such a Minister must possess a large share of fortitude careless of its exhibition and often exposing him to the charge of insensibility as he moves steadily on amongst disaffected supporters and desperate opponents mindless equally of taunts threats reproaches and misrepresentations. He must resolve to _bide his time_ while his well-matured measures are slowly developing themselves relying on the conscious purity of his motives. Such a man as this the country will prize and support and such a man we sincerely believe that the country possesses in the present Prime Minister. He may view therefore with perfect equanimity a degree of methodized clamour and violence which would overthrow a Minister of a different stamp. Such are the inconveniences--such the consolations and advantages--attending that course of _moderation_ which alone can be adopted with permanent success by a Conservative Minister governing with a reformed House of Commons. Another observation we would offer has for its object to abate the pique and vexation under which the ablest volunteer advisers of the Minister are apt to suffer on his disregard of their counsels and sometimes to revenge themselves by bitter and indiscriminate censure of his general policy. They should remember that while they are irresponsible volunteers he acts under a tremendous responsibility; to sustain which however he has advantages which none but those in his situation can possibly possess--the co-operation of able brother Ministers with all those sources and means of universal information which the constitution has placed at his disposal. The superior knowledge of the circumstances of the country thus acquired enable him to see insuperable objections to schemes and suggestions which their proposers reasonably deem to be palpably just and feasible. We have often thought that if Sir Robert Peel or any other Prime Minister were to take one of these eager and confident advisers into his cabinet and calmly exhibit to him the actual impossibility--the imminent danger--of adopting the course of procedure which that adviser has been strenuously recommending he would go away with slightly increased distrust of himself and consideration for the Minister. Neither Sir Robert Peel nor any other Minister would be so arrogantly stupid as to disregard free information and advice _merely_ because it came from such persons who if they have no right to expect their advice to be followed have yet a clear right to offer it and urge it with all their force. Again--The present Ministers had the disadvantage (in some respects) of succeeding to those who if they could _do_ nothing made up for it by _promising_ every thing. Sir Robert Peel and his friends on the contrary made no promises whatever beyond what would indeed be implied by acceptance of office--namely honestly to endeavour to govern the country for the permanent good of the country. While admitting the existence of great distress they expressly admitted also that they saw no mode of sudden relief for that distress but would trust to the energies of the country gradually recovering themselves under steady and cautious management. Sir Robert Peel frankly stated in the House of Commons just previously to the dissolution in 1841 that he had no hope of an immediate return of prosperity; and that such had become the state of our domestic and foreign embarrassments that ""we must for years expect to struggle with difficulty."" This was their language on the eve of the general election yet the country placed confidence in their honour and capacity heartily sickened of the prodigal _promises_ of their opponents. The extravagant visionary hopes which they held forth at the eleventh hour in their frenzied eagerness to obtain a majority at the last election are still gleaming brightly before the eyes of numbers of their deluded supporters; imposing on the present Government the painful and ungracious duty of proving to them that such hopes and expectations cannot be realized even for a brief space without breaking up the foundations of our national existence and greatness. Lastly. Can the Conservatives be expected in TWO years' time to repair all the evils resulting from a TEN years' gross mismanagement of the national affairs by their predecessors? ""The evil that they did _lives after them_."" But for the fortunate strength of the Conservative party moreover in opposition and the patriotism and wisdom of the house of Lords the late Ministers would by the time of their expulsion from office have rendered the condition of the country _utterly_ desperate--for very nearly desperate it assuredly was. Their vacillating inconsistent wild and extravagant conduct during these ten years had generated an universal sense of insecurity and want of confidence among all the great interests of the country which locked up capital--palsied enterprise. Trade and commerce drooped daily and the revenue melted away rapidly every year. Great things were justly expected from the practical skill and experience possessed by the new Government; but _time_ is requisite for the development of a policy which had and still has to contend against such numerous and formidable obstacles. Confidence especially mercantile confidence is a delicate flower of slow growth and very difficult to rear. A breath may blight it. It will bloom only in a tranquil and temperate air. If ever there was a man entitled to speak however with authority upon this subject it was Mr Baring the late candidate and unquestionably the future member for the city of London--a man constantly engaged in vast mercantile transactions in all parts of the globe and whose ability equals his experience. In the presence of a great number of gentlemen representing two-thirds of the wealth and intelligence of the city of London thus spoke Mr Baring on the 6th October 1843:--""I rejoice that Sir Robert Peel did not hold out to the country the fallacious hope that by any particular measure he could restore prosperity or cure sufferings which were beyond the reach of legislation and that he patiently relied upon the resources and energies of the country to set trade and commerce right. That expectation is already beginning to be realized. That calm reliance is already justified. I am speaking in the presence of those who are as much as if not more conversant with business than myself and they will contradict me if I am not right when I say that great symptoms of improvement in the trade and industry of the country have manifested themselves; which symptoms are of such a nature that they do not appear to be the result of momentary excitement produced by some fallacious experiment but of the paramount re-establishment of commerce and of a fresh era in the prosperity of the empire. I am asked what have the Government done? Why they have _restored_ CONFIDENCE to the country! They have terminated wars they have restored confidence at home and commanded respect abroad."" Now however for the DOINGS of the Government; and of those we shall take no more detailed or extended notice than is requisite in our opinion to exhibit the general system and _plan_ of their procedure and show its complete consistency with the declaration of opinions made by Sir Robert Peel previous to the general election of 1841. It will be borne in mind that the then existing distress in our commercial and manufacturing interests he referred to three _temporary_ causes:--the undue stimulus which had been given to industry in the manufacturing districts--by the accommodation system pursued in the joint-stock banks the troubled and hostile condition of almost all those foreign countries which used to be the best customers for our manufactures and the two or three preceding defective harvests. The first of these was not of a nature to call for or perhaps admit of direct and specific legislative interference. It originated in a vicious system of contagious private speculation which has involved many thousands of those engaged in it in irredeemable shall we add _deserved_ disgrace and ruin--and which had better perhaps be left to work its own cure. The last of the three causes was one to which all mankind is every where subject and which is in a great measure beyond the reach of effective human interference. Before proceeding to explain the steps taken to remedy the second viz. our distracted foreign relations let us premise briefly for the present that the very earliest acts of Ministers showed how profoundly sensible they were of the necessity of doing _something_ and that promptly to relieve the grievous distress under which the lower orders were suffering and at the same time afford a safe effective and permanent stimulus to trade and commerce. A comprehensive survey of the state not only of our own but foreign commercial countries satisfied them as practical men of the serious difficulties to be here contended with. The steps they took after due deliberation--viz. the proposing the new tariff and the new corn-law--we shall presently refer to. Let us now point out _the income-tax_ as a measure reflecting infinite credit upon those who had the sagacity and resolution to propose it. We shall not dwell upon this great _temporary_ measure which in one year has poured upwards of _five millions_ into the exhausted exchequer further than to say that as soon as ever it was known among the monied classes that the Minister environed as he was with financial difficulties would risk any amount of popular odium rather than add to the permanent burdens of the country or permit the ruinous continuance of an excess of expenditure over revenue. As soon as this was evident we say the great monied interests of the kingdom recognized in Sir Robert Peel an honest minister and gave him forthwith its complete confidence which has never since been for an instant withdrawn from him. And how great are the obligations of that vast portion of the most suffering classes of the community whom he exempted from this extraordinary contribution to the burdens of the state! But now for _foreign affairs_. May not the present Ministers look with just pride towards every quarter of the globe and exclaim _Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?_ In truth their success here has been sufficient to set up half a dozen Ministers--as is known to no man better than Lord Palmerston. The Duke of Wellington and Lord Aberdeen have restored peace to the whole world re-establishing it on a footing of dignified security and equality. By the persevering energy the calm determination and inexhaustible resources of Lord Aberdeen ""the winter of our discontent "" has been ""made glorious summer "" with all the great powers of the world. Look at our glorious but irritable neighbour--France: is there any language too strong to express the delight which we feel at the renovated sympathy and affection which exist between us? We cannot answer for France to the extent which we can for England; but we know that through the length and breadth of _this_ land--our beloved Queen's familiar visit to the King of the French their affectionate greeting and her Majesty's enthusiastic reception by the people diffused a feeling of joy and affection towards France which will not soon--nay should it ever?--subside. But would that visit have taken place if Lord Palmerston and not Lord Aberdeen had presided over the foreign councils of this country? 'Tis a disagreeable question and we pass on. Then as to America thanks to the mission of Lord Ashburton peace has been secured between us on terms equally honourable to both. We are now at peace with the United States--a peace not to be disturbed by the (to Whiggish eyes) _promising_ (!!) aspect of the Oregon difficulties--which we tell our aforesaid friends will end in--_nothing at all_--[It is not by the way _the fault of our Government_ that this disputed matter was not embraced by the Washington Treaty.]--While Lord Palmerston and his doleful ally the _Morning Chronicle_ were daily stigmatizing the treaty of Washington as highly dishonourable and disadvantageous to this country it may interest our readers to see what one of the disaffected _American_ senators had to say on the subject. Thus spoke in the senate Mr Benton a well-known member of congress:-- ""The concessions of Great Britain to the United States are small. The territory granted to the United States is of such a nature that it will never be of importance to hold it while the possessions given up by the United States are important and valuable to them and have the effect of admitting a foreign power within a territory which was granted to the United States by the treaty of 1783. * * When I see the Government giving up more than Great Britain demanded I cannot conceal my amazement and mortification!"" Glancing however from the West to the East--what do we see? Wars in India and China brought gloriously to an advantageous termination.--""Wars "" to adopt the language of one of the greatest mercantile authorities living ""which have been deranging our money transactions and making our trade a trade of hazard and speculation most injurious to the commerce of the empire at large."" While on the one hand we are relieved from the ruinous drain upon our resources occasioned by our protracted warlike operations in India and China on the other a prospect is opened to us by the immensely important treaty into which the Emperor of China has entered with this country of very great and permanent commercial advantages which are already being realized. Let our manufacturers however beware of the danger of forfeiting these advantages by excessive eagerness to avail themselves of these newly acquired markets. Twelve-months ago we earnestly warned them on this score [21] and we now as earnestly repeat that warning; ""Notwithstanding "" observed an able French journalist a few weeks ago upon this subject ""the opening of five ports to European commerce China will for many years preserve her internal laws her eccentric tastes her inveterate habits. China is the country of routine and immovability. The treaty with Great Britain cannot modify the nature of China in a few months. _If the English are not prudent in their exports if they overload the newly opened ports with foreign produce they will injure themselves more than they were injured by the war just concluded._"" In every word of this we concur: but alas! what weight will such considerations have with the agitating manufacturers in the north of England? Their fierce but short-sighted anxiety to make rapid fortunes will make most of them in a very few years melancholy evidences of the justness of our observations! We cannot pass from the East without noticing the sound statesmanship which is regulating all Lord Ellenborough's leading movements in India--a matter now universally admitted. How unspeakably contemptible and ridiculous has the lapse of a few months rendered the petty clamours against him with which the ex-ministerial party commenced their last year's campaign! Without however travelling round the entire circle of our foreign connexions and operations--there are one or two points to which we will briefly refer as striking instances of the vigilant and indefatigable energy and the powerful diplomatic influence of Lord Aberdeen especially with reference to the securing commercial advantages to this country--and which has extorted the following testimony during the present month (December ) from another French journal by no means favourably disposed to this country:--""The English Government is incontestably the best served of all Governments in the means of obtaining new and extending old markets and in the rapid and complete knowledge of the course to be adopted to ensure the sale of the immense products of Great Britain in different parts of the globe."" Take for instance the case of Russia. We have actually succeeded in wringing from the tenacious and inflexible Cabinet of St Petersburg an important commercial advantage! On Lord Aberdeen's accession to office he found Russia in the act of aiming a fatal blow at a very important branch of our shipping trade by levying a differential duty on all British vessels conveying to Russian ports any goods which were not the produce of the British dominions. After however a skilful and very arduous negotiation our foreign secretary has succeeded in averting that blow--and we retain the great advantages of which we were about to be deprived. Nor has this signal advantage been purchased by any sacrifice on the part of Great Britain but only by a permission founded on most equitable principles for Russian vessels arriving here from Russian ports with the produce of Russian Poland to possess the same privileges as if they had come direct from Russian ports: Russian Poland being able to communicate effectively with the sea only through the Prussian territory. Look again at Brazil--which has also been recently the object of persevering and energetic negotiation on the part of Lord Aberdeen. It is true that at present his exertions have been attended with no direct success; but we have doubts whether the importance of the proposed Brazilian treaty has not after all been greatly exaggerated. However this may be Lord Aberdeen is at this moment as strenuously at work with the young emperor as could be desired by the most eager advocate of a commercial treaty with Brazil. But suppose the emperor's advisers should be disposed to continue their obstinate and unreasonable opposition observe the gentle pressure upon them to be felt by and by which Lord Aberdeen has contrived to effect by the commercial treaty which he has concluded with the contiguous republic of Monte Video and other states on the right bank of the river Plata for the admission (on most favourable terms) of British imports into these states. One of them is the Uruguay republic which borders through a great extent of country on Brazil the Government of which is utterly unable to prevent the transfer of merchandise across the border; whereby the exclusion of British goods from the Brazilian territory is rendered a matter of physical impossibility. [21] Great Britain at the commencement of the 19th Century--January 1843--No. CCC. It is true that our efforts to enter into commercial treaties with France and Portugal have not as yet been successful; but formidable as are the obstacles at present in existence we do not despair. Those least wonder at the present position of affairs who are best acquainted with the artificial and complicated positions of the respective countries and their relations and consequent policy towards each other. Whatever can be done by man is at this moment being done by Lord Aberdeen; and sooner than we have at present a right to expect his indefatigable exertions may be crowned with success--not only in these but in other quarters. All foreign Governments must be strongly influenced

in such matters by contemplating a steady and strong Government established in this country; and that object they see more nearly and distinctly every day. Such (without entering into details which would be inconsistent with either our space or our present object) is the general result--namely the rapidly returning tide of prosperous commercial intercourse of the foreign policy of Conservative Government which has raised Great Britain within the short space of two years to even a higher elevation among the nations of the world than she had occupied before a ""Liberal Ministry undertook the government of the country""--""a policy "" to adopt the equally strong and just language of an able writer ""replete with auspicious evidences of the efficacy of intellect combined with firmness activity and integrity in restoring to wholesome and honourable order a chaotic jumble of anomalies--of humiliations and dangers--of fears hatred and confusion thrice trebly confounded.""[22] [22] Thoughts on Tenets of Ministerial Policy. By a Very Quiet Looker-on.--P. 22. Aylott London 1843. While thus successfully active abroad have Ministers been either idle or unsuccessful at home? Let us look at their two main measures--the _new tariff_ and the _new corn-law_. The object of the first of these great measures was twofold--to give a healthy and speedy but permanent stimulus to trade and commerce; and at the same time to effect such a reduction of price in the leading articles of consumption as should greatly reduce the cost of living--a boon of course inexpressibly precious to the poorer classes. Mark the moment at which this bold and critical line of policy was conceived and carried into execution--namely a moment when the nation was plunged into such a depth of gloom and distress as had very nearly induced utter despair! when there was a deficiency of _five millions sterling in_ the revenue of the two preceding years and a certainty of greatly augmented expenditure for the future owing to our wars in the East and elsewhere. We say--_mark this_ in order to appreciate a display of the true genius of statesmanship. Foreseeing one effect of such a measure namely a serious reduction in the revenue derived from the customs and which would commence with the bare _announcement_ of such a measure the Government had to consider whether it would prove a permanent or only a temporary reduction and to act accordingly. After profound consideration they satisfied themselves (whether justly or not remains to be seen) that the diminution of revenue would prove only temporary; and to secure the _immediate_ benefits of the measure they imposed a temporary income-tax the onerous pressure of which was to cease as soon as matters should have come round again. That period they fixed at the expiration of three years. After an interval of two years do their calculations appear to have been well or ill founded? Let us see. Early in March 1842 they announced the proposed new tariff (instantly producing the effect on the customs duties which had been anticipated;) and succeeded in bringing it into operation on the 9th of the ensuing July. The deficiency of revenue which ensued was so very serious that it would have alarmed the whole country but for their confidence in the firmness and sagacity of Ministers particularly as evidenced by their announced measures. We have not at the present moment before us the earliest _quarterly_ revenue returns of the period referred to; but it will suffice to state that such had been the extent of the reductions effected that the deficiency on the _year_ ending on the 5th October 1843 amounted to no less a sum than L.1 136 000; the decrease on the _quarter_ ending on that day being L.414 000. Still however each succeeding quarter--or at least the latter quarters--gave more satisfactory indications of a rallying revenue; and we are enabled to announce the highly gratifying fact that up to the 8th of the present month (December ) the customs duties returns _are of the most decisively improving character_. The receipts of duties for the port of London alone during that period exceeds the receipt on the corresponding period of last year by L.206 000; while the returns from all the outports especially from Liverpool are of the same cheering character and warrant us in predicting that the returns to be presented on the 5th of the ensuing month will afford a most triumphant proof of the accuracy of the Minister's calculations and the success of his policy; for be it borne in mind moreover that his income-tax realized in the year ending on the 5th October last the immense sum of L.5 052 000. As far therefore as concerns the direct _financial_ effects of the new tariff and its counterbalancing income-tax the results of Sir Robert Peel's policy are such as may stagger and confound the boldest of his opponents. Now however for the two great objects of the new tariff which were declared by Sir Robert Peel[23] to be ""the revival of commerce and such an improvement in the manufacturing interest as would react on every other interest in the country; and diminishing the prices of the articles of consumption and the cost of living."" [23] Hansard Vol. lxi. Col. 439. With respect to the first of these objects we had prepared a copious explanation of the highly satisfactory working of one great portion of the machine of the new tariff viz. _the relaxation of the taxes on the raw materials of manufacture_; but it has occurred to us that the necessity of our doing so has been entirely superseded by the following very remarkable admission contained in a number of the _Morning Chronicle_ newspaper published towards the close of September last; an invaluable admission tending to prove out of the mouth of the bitterest opponent of the present Ministry the general success of their domestic policy:--""Notwithstanding insurrection in Wales and agitation in Ireland there are various circumstances in the present aspect of our national affairs of an encouraging and cheering nature. The first and most prominent thing which strikes an observer is the undoubted general revival of trade and commerce. Every thing seems to indicate that the morning is breaking; that the dreary night of disaster and suffering through which all our material interests have been passing since 1836 is now well-nigh over. The hum of busy industry is once more heard throughout our manufacturing districts; our seaports begin once more to stir with business; merchants on 'Change have smiling faces; and the labouring population are once more finding employment easier of access; and wages are gently slowly rising. This has not come upon us suddenly; it has been in operation since the end of last year; but so terrible was the depression so gradual the improvement that the effects of the revival could not be perceptible till within a recent period. Our exports of cotton and wool during the present year very considerably exceed those of a similar period in the preceding; and though there might be increase of export without increase of profit the simple fact that the districts of our great manufacturing staples are now more active and busy than they have been for a very considerable period coupled with the apparently well-founded belief that this increased activity is produced not by speculative but genuine demand are indications of the most pleasing and gratifying kind to all who are in the least concerned about the prosperity of the country. In addition to the improvement manifested in our staple articles of industry other important interests are showing symptoms of decided improvement; even the iron-trade has got over its 'crisis;' and though we are very far indeed from having attained to a condition of prosperity the steady though slow revival of every branch of industry is a proof that the cause of the improvement must be a general one operating universally."" May we venture to suggest that the worthy editor of the _Morning Chronicle_ need not go about with a lantern to discover this _cause_?--that it is every where before his very eyes under his very nose in the form of the bold but sagacious and consistent policy pursued by the present Government? With respect to the second great object of the new tariff viz. the ""Diminishing of the prices of the articles of consumption and the cost of living."" Has _this_ great object or has it not been attained? Why the reduced price of provisions is a matter of universal notoriety and past all question. Unable to contest the existence of this most consolatory fact the Opposition papers endeavoured to get up a diversion by frightening the farmers whom they assured that the admission of foreign live-stock would lead to a fearful depreciation in the value of British agricultural produce. The graziers and cattle-dealers were forthwith to find ""their occupations gone."" British pasture farming was to be annihilated and an immense stimulus given to that of our continental rivals. Hereat the farmers pricked up their ears and began to consider for a moment whether they should not join in the outcry against the new tariff. But the poor beasts that have come doubtless much to their own surprise across the water to us looked heartily ashamed of themselves on catching a glimpse of their plump sleek brother beasts in England--and the farmers burst out a-laughing at sight of _the lean kine that were to eat up the fat ones_! The practical result has been that between the 9th of July 1842 and the present time there have not come over foreign cattle enough to make one week's show at Smithfield. But mark _the power_ of admitting foreign cattle and poultry (on payment however of a considerable duty [24]) conferred by the new tariff is one that must be attended with infinite permanent benefits to the public in its _moderating influence upon the prices of animal food_. Its working is in beautiful harmony with that of the newly modeled corn-laws as we shall presently explain. In years of abundance when plenty of meat is produced at home the new tariff will be inoperative as far as regards the actual importations of foreign cattle; but in years of scarcity at home the expectation of a good price will induce the foreigner to send us a sufficient supply; for he will then be and then only able to repay himself the duty and the heavy cost of sea-carriage. As prices fall the inducement to import also declines. In short ""the inducement to importation falls with the fall and rises with the rise of price. The painful contingency of continued bad seasons has thus in some measure been provided against. The new tariff is so adjusted that when prices threaten to mount to an unfair and extravagant height unjust to consumers and dangerous to producers in such contingencies a mediating power steps in and brings things to an equilibrium.""[25] These great and obvious advantages of the new tariff the opponents of Ministers and especially their reckless and discreditable allies called the ""Anti-corn-law League "" see as plainly as we do; but their anxious aim is to conceal these advantages as much as possible from public view; and for this purpose they never willingly make _any allusion_ to the tariff or if forced to do so underrate its value or grossly misrepresent its operation. But we are convinced that _this will not do_. Proofs of their humbug and falsehood are as it were daily forcing themselves into the very stomachs_ of those whom once when an incompetent Ministry was in power these heartless impostors were able to delude. ""A single shove of the bayonet "" said Corporal Trim to Doctor Slop ""is worth all your fine discourses about the art of war;"" and so the English operative may reply to the hireling ""Leaguers "" ""This good piece of cheap beef and mutton now smoking daintily before me is worth all your palaver."" [24] Poultry £5 for every £100 value; oxen and bulls £1 each; cows 15s.; calves 10s.; horses mares foals colts and geldings £1 each; sheep 3s. each; lambs 2s. each; swine and hogs 5s. each--(Stat. 5 and 6 Vict. c. 47 Table A.) [25] Thoughts &c. by a Quiet Looker-on pp. 16 17. Before passing from the subject of the new tariff let us observe that the suddenness and vastness of its changes (some of which we consider to be of questionable propriety) for a time unavoidably deranged mercantile operations; and in doing so as necessarily produced many cases of individual dissatisfaction and distress. Some of the persons thus situated angrily quitted the Conservative ranks for those of the Opposition; others for a position of mortified neutrality: but we believe that many more notwithstanding this sharp trial of their constancy remained true to their principles faithful to their party and are now rewarded by seeing things coming rapidly round again while unvarying and complete success has attended every other branch of the policy of Ministers. We know a good deal of the real state of opinion among the mercantile classes of the City of London; and believe we correctly represent it averse to further changes in our tariff-system and coincident with the views expressed by Mr Baring in his address to the electors when he deprecated ""a constant change unsettling men's minds baffling all combinations destroying all calculations paralysing trade and continuing the stagnation from which we are recovering;"" and declared his belief ""that the minister who applies the principles of free-trade with the most caution deliberation and judgment is the statesman who merits the confidence of the commercial world."" We now however quit the subject--interesting indeed and all-important--of the tariff with the deliberate expression of our opinion that it is taken as a whole a very bold masterly and successful stroke of policy. Now for the NEW CORN-LAW. But how shall we deal with a topic with which the public has been so utterly sickened by the people calling themselves ""The Anti-corn-law League?"" We do not nevertheless despair of securing the attention of our readers to the few observations which we have to offer upon a subject which however hackneyed is one of paramount importance. We are satisfied that nine out of every ten even of newspaper readers turn with disgust from the columns headed ""Anti-corn-law League "" ""Doings of the League "" ""Great Meeting of the Anti-corn-law League "" and so forth; and (making every allowance for the exigencies occasioned by the dearth of topics while Parliament is not sitting ) we are exceedingly surprised that the great London newspapers should inflict upon their readers so much of the slang and drivel of the gentry in question. In the due prosecution of our subject we cannot avoid the topic of the new corn-law even were we so disposed; and we shall at once proceed to our task with two objects in view--to vindicate the course pursued by Sir Robert Peel and set forth briefly and distinctly those truly admirable qualities of the existing Corn-laws which are either most imprudently misrepresented or artfully kept out of view by those who are now making such desperate efforts to overthrow it. ""Mark how a plain tale shall set them down!"" Whether foreign corn should be admitted into this country on payment of _fluctuating_ duties or a _fixed_ duty or free of all duties are obviously questions of the highest importance involving extensive and complicated considerations. Sir Robert Peel Lord John Russell and the persons banded together under the name of ""The Anti-corn-law League "" may be taken as representing the classes of opinion which would respectively answer these three questions in the affirmative. All of them appealed to the nation at large on the last general election. The _form_ in which the question was proposed to the country it fell to the lot of the advocates of a fixed duty to prescribe and they shaped it thus in the Queen's speech:-- ""It will be for you to determine whether the corn-laws do not aggravate the natural fluctuations of supply; whether they do not embarrass trade derange currency and by their operation diminish the comforts and increase the privations of the great body of the community."" To this question the country returned a deliberate and peremptory answer in the NEGATIVE; expressing thereby its will that the existing system which admits foreign corn on payment of _fluctuating_ duties should continue. The country thus adopted the opinions of Sir Robert Peel rejected those of Lord John Russell and utterly scouted those of the ""Anti-corn-law League "" in spite of all their frantic exertions. We believe that this deliberate decision of the nation is that to which it will come whenever again appealed to; and is supported by reasons of cogency. The nation is thoroughly aware of the immense importance of upholding and protecting the agriculture of the country and that to secure this grand object it is necessary to admit foreign corn into the country only when our deficiencies absolutely require it. That _in_ the operation of the ""_sliding-scale_ of duties "" and the exact distinction between its effect and that of the proposed _fixed_ duty is demonstrably this: that the former would admit foreign corn in dear years excluding it in seasons of abundance; while the latter would admit foreign corn in seasons of abundance and exclude it in dear years. Our _present_ concern however is with the course taken by the present Government. Have they hitherto yielded to the clamour with which they have been assailed and departed from the principle of affording efficient protection to the agriculture of the country? Not a hair's breadth; _nor will they_. We have seen that Sir Robert Peel previously to the general election declared his determination to adhere to the existing system of corn-laws regulating the admission of foreign corn by the power of the sliding-scale of duties; but both he and the leading members of his party had distinctly stated in Parliament just before its dissolution that while resolved to adhere to the _principle_ of a sliding-scale they would not pledge themselves to adhere to all the _details_ of that scale. And they said well and wisely for there were grave objections to some of those details. These objections they have removed and infinitely added to the efficiency of the sliding-scale; but in removing the principal objections they stirred a hornet's nest--they rendered furious a host of sleek gamblers in grain who found their ""occupation gone"" suddenly! On the other hand the Government conferred a great substantial benefit upon the country by securing a just balance between protection to the British corn consumer and producer; removing at the same time from the latter a long-existing source of jealousy and prejudice. A few words will suffice to explain the general scope of those alterations. Under they system established by statute 9 Geo. IV. c. 60 in the year 1828 the duty on foreign corn up to the price of 68s. per quarter was so high and declined so very slowly (L.1 5s. 8d. L.1. 4s. 8d. L.1 3s. 8d. L.1 2s. 8d. L.1 1s. 8d. L.1 0s. 8d. 18s. 8d. ) as to amount to a virtual prohibition against importation. But when the price mounted from 68s. to 72s. per quarter the duty declined with such great rapidity. (16s 8d. 13s. 8d. 10s. 8d. 6s. 8d. 2s. 8d. ) as to occasion the alarming and frequently recurring evils of glut and panic. Now the following was the mode in which these serious defects in the law of 1828 were taken advantage of by the aforesaid desperate and greedy ""rogues in grain "" who are utterly prostrated by the new system; they entered into a combination for the purpose of raising the apparent average price of corn and forcing it up to the point at which they could import vast quantities of foreign corn at little or no duty. Thus the price of corn was rising in England--the people were starving--and turned with execration against those into whose pockets the high prices were supposed to go viz. the poor farmers; whereas those high prices really were all the while flowing silently but rapidly into the pockets of the aforesaid ""rogues in grain""--the gamblers of the Corn Exchange!--Ministers effected their salutary alterations by statute 5 and 6 Vict. c. 14 in the following manner:--They substituted for the former duties of 10s. 8d. per quarter when the price of corn was 70s. per quarter and 1s. when the price was 73s.; a duty of 4s. when the price of corn is 70s. per quarter and made the duty fall gradually shilling by shilling with the rise of price to 3s. 2s. and 1s. Thus are at one blow destroyed all the inducements formerly existing for corn-dealers to ""hold"" their foreign corn in the hopes of forcing up the price of corn to starvation-point viz. the low duty every inducement being now given them to _sell_ and none to speculate. Another important provision for preventing fraudulent combinations to raise the price of corn was that of greatly extending the averages and placing them under regulations of salutary stringency. So far then from evincing a disposition to trifle with or surrender the principle of the sliding-scale the Government have with infinite pains and skill applied themselves to effect such improvements in it as will secure its permanency and a better appreciation of its value by the country at large with every additional year's experience of its admirable qualities. There is a perfect identity of principle both working to the same good end between the existing corn-law and the new tariff. Their combined effect is to oppose every barrier that human wisdom and foresight can devise against dearth and famine in England: securing an abundant supply of corn and meat from abroad whenever our own supply is deficient; but up to that point protecting our home producers whose direct interest it will henceforth be to supply us at fair and moderate prices. It is the cunning policy of the heterogeneous opponents of the existing corn-laws to speak of them as ""doomed"" by a sort of universal tacit consent; to familiarise the public with the notion that the recent remodeling of the system is to be regarded as constituting it into nothing more than a sort of transition-measure--a stepping-stone towards a great fundamental change by the adoption of ""a fixed duty "" some say--""a total repeal "" say the Anti-corn-law League. But those who think thus must be shallow and short-sighted indeed and have paid very little real attention to the subject if they have failed to perceive in the existing system itself all the marks of completeness solidity and permanence; and in the successful pains that have been taken to bring it to a higher degree of perfection than before a determination to uphold it--a conviction that it will long continue the law of the land and approved of as such by the vast majority of those who represent the wealth and intellect of the kingdom and have the deepest stake in its well-being. As for a total repeal of the corn-laws no thinking man believes that there is the remotest prospect of such a thing; but many imagine that a fixed duty would be a great change for the better and a safe sort of compromise between the two extreme parties. Can any thing be more fallacious? We hesitate not to express our opinion that the idea of maintaining a fixed duty on corn is an utter absurdity and that Lord John Russell and his friends know it to be so and are guilty of political dishonesty in making such a proposal. They affect to be friends of the agricultural interest and satisfied of the necessity for protection to that body; and yet they acknowledge that their ""_fixity_"" of duty is of precisely the same nature as the ""finality"" of the Reform bill viz.--to last only till the first pressure shall call for an order in council. Does any one in his senses believe that any Minister could abide by a fixed duty with corn at the price of 70s. with a starving and therefore an agitating and rebellious population? A fixed duty under all times and circumstances is a glaring impossibility; and besides is it not certain that the period for the issue of an order in council will be a grand object of speculation to the corn importer; and that he will hoard and create distress merely to force out that order? And the issuing of that order would depend entirely on the strength or the necessity of the Minister: on his ""Squeezableness""--his anxiety for popularity. Does the experience of the last ten years justify the country in placing confidence on such a point in a _Whig_ Ministry? In every point of view the project of a fixed duty is exposed to insuperable objections. It is plain that on the very first instant of there being a pressure upon the ""fixed duty "" it must give way and for ever. Once off it is gone for ever; it can never be re-imposed. Again what is to govern the _amount_ at which it is to be fixed? Must it be the additional burden on land? or the price at which foreign countries with their increased facilities of transport and improved cultivation of their soil would be able to deliver it in the British markets? What _data_ have we in either case on which to decide? Let it however always be borne in mind by those who are apt too easily to entertain the question as to either a fixed duty or a total repeal of duty that the advantages predicted by the respective advocates of those measures are _mere assumptions_. We have no experience by which to try the question. The doctrines of free trade are of very recent growth; the _data_ on which its laws are founded are few and also uncertain. And does any one out of Bedlam imagine that any Minister of this country would consent to run such tremendous risks--to try such experiments upon an article of such immense importance to its well-being? Let us never lose sight of Lord Melbourne's memorable words:--""Whether the object be to have a fixed duty or an alteration as to the ascending and descending scale I see clearly and distinctly that the object will not be carried without a most violent struggle--without causing much ill-blood and a deep sense of grievance--without stirring society to its foundation and leaving every sort of bitterness and animosity. I do not think the advantages to be gained by the change are worth the evils of the struggle.""[26] [26] Debates 11th June 1840. To return however. Under the joint operation of the three great measures of the Government--the income-tax the new tariff and the new corn-law our domestic affairs exhibit at this moment such an aspect of steadily returning prosperity as not the most sanguine person living could have imagined possible two years ago. For the first time after a miserable interval we behold our revenue exceeding our expenditure; while every one feels satisfied of the fact that our finances are now placed upon a sound and solid basis and daily improving. Provisions are of unexampled cheapness and the means of obtaining them are--thank Almighty God!--gradually increasing among the poorer classes. Trade and commerce are now and have for the last six months been steadily improving; and we perceive that a new era of prosperity is beginning to dawn upon us. We have a strong and united Government evidently as firmly fixed in the confidence of the Queen as in that of the country and supported by a powerful majority in the House of Commons--an annihilating one in the House of Lords. The reign of order and tranquillity has been restored in Wales and let us also add in Ireland after an unexampled display of mingled determination and forbearance on the part of the Government. Chartism is defunct notwithstanding the efforts made by its dishonoured and discomfited leaders to revive it. When in short has Great Britain enjoyed a state of more complete internal calm and repose than that which at present exists notwithstanding the systematic attempts made to diffuse alarm and agitation? Do the public funds exhibit the slightest symptoms of uneasiness or excitement? On the contrary ever since the accession of the present Government there has been scarce any variation in them even when the disturbances in the manufacturing districts in the north of England and in Wales and in Ireland were respectively at their height. Her Majesty moves calmly to and fro--even quitting England--her Ministers enjoy their usual intervals of relaxation and absence from town--all the movements of Government go on like clockwork--no symptoms visible any where of feverish uneasiness. But what say you enquires a timid friend or a bitter opponent to the Repeal agitation in Ireland and the Anti-corn-law agitation in England? Why we say this--that we sincerely regret the mischief which the one has done and is doing in Ireland and the other in England among their ignorant and unthinking dupes; but with no degree of alarm for the stability of the Government or the maintenance of public tranquillity and order. Ministers are perfectly competent to deal with both the one and the other of these two conspiracies as the chief actors in the one have found already and those in the other will find perhaps by and by; if indeed they should ever become important or successful enough to challenge the notice and interference of the Government. A word however about each in its turn. The Anti-corn-law League has in view a two-fold object--the overthrow of the present Ministry whom they abhor for their steadfast and powerful support of the agricultural interest;--and the depression of the wages of labour to enable our manufacturers (of whom the league almost exclusively consists) to compete with the manufacturers on the Continent. Their engine for effecting their purposes is the Repeal of the corn-laws; and they are working it with such a desperate energy as satisfies any disinterested observer that they themselves perceive the task to be all but utterly hopeless. They were confounded by the result of the general election and dismayed at the accession to power of men whom they knew to be thoroughly acquainted with their true objects and intentions and resolved to frustrate them and able to carry their resolutions into effect. The ominous words of Sir Robert Peel--""I think that the connexion of the manufacturers in the north of England with the joint-stock banks gave an undue and improper impulse to trade in that quarter of the country""--rang in their ears as a knell; and told them that they were _found out_ by a firm and sagacious Minister whom therefore their sole object thenceforth must be to overthrow _per fas aut nefas_. For this purpose they adopted such an atrocious course of action as instantly deprived them of the countenance of all their own moderate and reasoning friends and earned for themselves the execration of the bulk of the community:--they resolved to inflame the starving thousands in the manufacturing districts into acts of outrage and rebellion. They felt it necessary in the language of Mr Grey one of their own principal men in order ""_to raise the stubborn enthusiasm of the people_ "" (!) to resort to some desperate expedient--which was--immediately on Sir Robert Peel's announcing his determination early in 1842 to preserve but improve the existing system of the corn-laws--to reduce the wages of all their work-people to the amount of from ten to twenty per cent. This move originated with the _Stockport_ manufacturers. We have little doubt but it was the suggestion of Mr Cobden; and are quite prepared for a similar move during the ensuing session of Parliament. But was not--is not--this a species of moral arson? The Government calmly carried their measure: the outbreak (which we firmly believe to have been concerted by the Anti-corn-law League) in Lancashire arrived and was promptly and resolutely but mercifully repressed; and thus was extinguished the guilty hopes and expectations of its contrivers; and Ministers were left stronger at the close of the session than they had been at its commencement. They resolved to open a new campaign against Ministers and the Corn-laws--greatly to augment their numbers and pecuniary resources--to redouble their exertions and immensely to extend the sphere of their operations. They _did_ augment their pecuniary resources by large forced contributions among the few persons most deeply interested in the success of their schemes; namely the Lancashire manufacturers--they _did_ redouble their exertions--they _did_ extend the sphere of their operations spreading themselves over the whole length and breadth of the land even as did the plague of lice over Egypt. But did they augment the number of their friends? Not a person of the least political or personal importance could be prevailed upon to join their discreditable ran

s; it remained as before:--Cobden and Bright--Bright and Cobden--Wilson Bright and Cobden--Milner Gibson Fox Bright and Cobden--_ad nauseam usque_; but like a band of travelling incendiaries they presented themselves with indefatigable energy in places which had never known their presence before. And how comes it to pass that they have not long since kindled at least the manufacturing population into a blaze? Is it any fault of the aforesaid incendiaries? No--but because there is too much intelligence abroad they could not do what they would--""_raise the stubborn enthusiasm_"" of the people. In one quarter they were suspected--in another despised--in another hated; and it became a very general impression that they were in fact a knot of double dealers who certainly contrived to make a great noise and keep themselves perpetually before the public; but as for getting the steam ""up "" in the nation at large they found it impossible. In truth the ""Anti-corn-law League"" would have long ago been dissolved amidst the indifference or contempt of the public but for the countenance they received from time to time and on which they naturally calculated from the party of the late Ministers whose miserable object was to secure their own return to power by means of any agency that they could press into their service. But to return to our sketch of the progress of the ""League."" Admitting that by dint of very great and incessant exertion they kept their ground they made little or no progress among the mercantile part of the community; and they resolved to try their fortune with the agricultural constituencies--to sow dissension between the landlords and the tenants the farmers and their labourers and combine as many of the disaffected as they could in support of the clamour for free trade. This was distinctly avowed by Cobden at a meeting of the Anti-corn-law deputies in the following very significant terms: ""_We can never carry the measure ourselves_: WE MUST HAVE THE AGRICULTURAL LABOURERS WITH US!!""[27] [27] League Circular No. xxx. p. 3. They therefore proceeded to commence operations upon the agricultural constituencies. They knew they could always reckon upon a share of support wherever they went--it being hard to find any country without its cluster of bitter and reckless opponents of a Conservative government who would willingly aid in any demonstration against it. With such aid and indefatigable efforts to collect a crowd of noisy non-electors: with a judicious choice of localities and profuse bribery of the local Radical newspapers in order to procure copious accounts of their proceedings--they commenced their ""grand series of country triumphs!"" Their own organs from time to time gave out that in each and every county visited by the League the _farmers_ attended their meetings and joined in a vote condemnatory of the corn-laws and pledged themselves to vote thereafter for none but the candidates of the Anti-corn-law League! The following are specimens of the flattering appellations which had till now been bestowed by their new friends upon these selfsame farmers--""_Bull-frogs!""_ ""_chaw-bacons!"" _""_clod-poles!_"" ""_hair-bucks!_"" ""_deluded slaves!_"" ""_brute drudges!_""[28] Now however they and their labourers were addressed in terms of respectful sympathy and flattery as the victims of the rapacity of their landlords--on whom were poured the full phials of Anti-corn-law wrath. The following are some of the scalding drops let fall upon their devoted heads--_""Monster of impiety!"" ""inhuman fiend!"" ""heartless brutes!"" ""rapacious harpies!"" ""relentless demons!"" ""plunderers of the people!"" ""merciless footpads!"" ""murderers!"" ""swindlers!"" ""insatiable!"" ""insolent!"" ""flesh-mongering!"" ""scoundrel!"" ""law-making landlords!"" ""a bread-taxing oligarchy!""_[29] Need we say that the authors of these very choice and elegant expressions were treated with utter contempt by both landlords and tenants--always making the few allowances above referred to? Was it very likely that the landlord or the farmer should quit their honourable and important avocations at the bidding of such creatures as had thus intruded themselves into their counties? should consent to be yoked to the car or to follow in the train of these enlightened disinterested and philanthropic cotton-spinners and calico-printers? Absurd! It became in fact daily more obvious to even the most unreflecting that these worthies were not likely to be engaged in their ""labours of _love_;"" were not _exactly_ the kind of persons to desert their own businesses to attend out of pure benevolence that of others--to let succumb their own interest to promote those of others; to subscribe out of the gains which they had wrung from their unhappy factory slaves their L.10 L.20 L.30 L.50 L.100 out of mere public spirit and philanthropy. [28] League Circular No. 10. [29] Ibid. Nos. 26 29 44 50 71 83 94 99 100. Still we say the whole thing was really a failure--the ""steam "" even yet could not be ""got up "" in spite of all their multiplied agencies and machinery incessantly at work--the unprecedented personal exertions of the members of the league--the large pecuniary sacrifices of the Lancashire subscribers to its funds. One more desperate exertion was therefore felt necessary--and they resolved to attempt getting up a _sensation_ by the sudden subscription of splendid sums of money by way of starting a vast fund with which to operate directly upon the entire electoral body--in what way it is not very difficult to guess. Accordingly they began--but where? At the old place--Manchester!--Manchester!--_Manchester!_ Many thousands were subscribed at an hour's notice by a mere handful of manufacturers; the news came up to London--and the editor of the _Times_ in a transient fit of excitement pronounced ""the existence of the League"" to be a GREAT FACT. Upon this phrase they have lived ever since--till somewhat roughly reminded the other day by Mr Baring that ""great _facts_"" are very ""_great follies!_"" Now let us once more ask the question--would all these desperate and long-continued exertions and sacrifices--(all proceeding be it ever observed from _one_ quarter and from the same class of people--nay the same individuals of that class)--be requisite were there any _real movement of the public mind and feeling_ against the Corn-laws? Are they not requisite solely because of the _absence_ of any such movement? Nay are they not evidence that the public feeling and opinion are against them? And that perhaps they will by and by succeed in rousing the ""stubborn enthusiasm of the people"" against themselves? Where has there been called one single spontaneous public meeting of any importance and where exhibited a spark of enthusiasm for the total repeal of the Corn-laws? Surely the _topic_ is capable of being handled in a sufficiently exciting manner! But no; wherever a ""meeting "" or ""demonstration "" is heard of--there also are the eternal Cobden Bright and Wilson and their miserable fellow-agitators who alone have got up--who alone harangue the meetings. Was it so with Catholic Emancipation?--with the abolition of Negro Slavery?--with the Reform Bill? Right or wrong the public feeling was then roused and exhibited itself unequivocally powerfully and spontaneously; but _here_--bah! common sense revolts at the absurd supposition that even hundreds of thousands of pounds can of themselves get up a real demonstration of public feeling in favour of the object for which so much Manchester money has been already subscribed. ""'Tis not in _thousands_ to command success."" If the public opinion of this great country--this great enlightened nation--were _really_ roused against the Corn-laws they would disappear like snow under sunshine. But as the matter _now_ stands if their dreary drivellers Cobden Bright Wilson Acland W.J. Fox were withdrawn from the public scene in which they are so anxious to figure and sent to enjoy the healthy exercise of the tread-mill for one single three months would this eternal ""_brutum fulmen_"" about the repeal of the Corn-laws be heard of any more? We verily believe not. ""But look at our triumphs!""--quoth Cobden--""Look at our glorious victories at Durham London and Kendal!--our virtual victory at Salisbury!"" Moonshine gentlemen and you know it;--and that you have spent your money in vain. Let us see how the matter stands. I. _Durham_. True Mr Bright was returned; but to what is the House of Commons indebted for the acquisition of that distinguished senator except the personal pique and caprice of that eccentric Tory peer Lord Londonderry? This is notorious and admitted by all parties; and these causes will not be in operation at another election. II. _London_. And do you really call this a ""great triumph?"" Undoubtedly Mr Pattison was returned; but is it a matter of congratulation that this notorious political nonentity who openly we understand entertains and will support _Chartist_ opinions is returned instead of such a man as Mr Baring? What was the majority of Mr Pattison? One hundred and sixty-five out of twelve thousand eight hundred and eighty-nine who actually voted. And how was even that majority secured? By the notorious absence from London--as is always the case at that period of the year (21st October 1843)--of vast numbers of the stanchest Conservative electors. There is no doubt whatever that had the election happened one fortnight later than it did Mr Baring would have been returned by a large majority in spite of the desperate exertions of the Anti-corn-law League and Mr Rothschild and the Jews. As it was Mr Baring polled more (6367) than had ever been polled by a Conservative candidate for London before; and had an immense majority over his competitor among the superior classes of the constituency.[30] At another election we can confidently predict that Mr Baring will be returned and by a large majority unless indeed the Charter should be the law of the land; in which case Mr Pattison will probably enjoy another ovation. [30] Among the _Livery_ the numbers were--Baring 3196; Pattison 2367;--majority for Baring 889! Among the _Templars_--Baring 258; Pattison 78!!--majority for Baring 180! III. _Kendal_. Is this too a victory? ""Another such and you are undone."" Why? Till Mr Bentinck presented himself before that enlightened little constituency no Conservative dared even to offer himself; 'twas a snug little stronghold of the Anti-corn-law League interest and yet the gallant Conservative gave battle against the whole force of the League; and after a mortal struggle of some fourteen days was defeated by a far smaller majority than either friends or enemies had expected and has pledged himself to fight the battle again. Here then the League and their stanch friends have sustained an unexpected and serious shock. IV. _Salisbury_.--We have not the least desire to magnify this into a mighty victory for the Conservative party; but the interference of the Anti-corn-law League certainly made the struggle a very critical and important one. We expected to succeed but not by a large majority; for ever since 1832 the representation had (till within the last year) been divided between a Conservative and a Liberal. However the Anti-corn-law League flushed with their ""triumphs"" at London and Kendal flung all their forces ostentatiously into the borough and exhibited a disgusting and alarming specimen of the sort of interference which it seems we are to expect in all future elections in all counties and boroughs. It was however in vain; the ambitious young gentleman who had the benefit of their services and who is a law-student in London but the son of the great Earl of Radnor lost his election by a large majority and the discomfited League retired ridiculously to Manchester. When we heard of their meditated descent upon Salisbury we fancied we saw Cobden and his companions waddling back geese-like and exclaimed-- ""Geese! if we had you but on Sarum plain We'd drive you cackling back to Camelot!"" So much for the boasted electoral triumphs of the Anti-corn-law League--we repeat that they are all mere moonshine and challenge them to disprove our assertion. They are now making another desperate effort to raise a further sum of a hundred thousand pounds; and beginning as usual at Manchester have raised there alone within a few days' time upwards of L.20 000! The fact (if _true_) is at once ludicrous and disgusting: ludicrous for its transparency of humbug--disgusting for its palpable selfishness. Will these proverbially hard-hearted men put down their L.100 L.200 L.300 L.400 L.500 for nothing? Alas the great sums they have expended in this crusade against the Corn-laws will have to be wrung out of their wretched and exhausted factory slaves! For how otherwise but by diminishing wages can they repay themselves for lost time for trouble and for expense? Looked at in its proper light the Corn-law League is nothing but _an abominable conspiracy against labour_. Cheap _bread_ means cheap _labour_; those who cannot see this must be blind indeed! The melancholy fact of the continually-decreasing price of labour in this country rests on undisputable authority--on amongst others that of Mr Fielding. In 1825 the price of labour was 51 per cent less than in 1815; in 1830 it was 65 per cent less than in 1815 though the consumption of cotton had increased from 80 000 000 lbs. to 240 000 000 lbs.! In 1835 it was 318 000 000 lbs. but the operative received 70 per cent less than in 1815. In 1840 the consumption of cotton was 415 000 000 lbs. and the unhappy operative received 75 per cent less than in 1815! If proofs be required to show that in reality the deadly snake _cheap labour_ lurks among the flourishing grass _cheap bread_ we will select one or two out of very many now lying before us and prepared to be presented to the reader. ""If grain be high "" said Mr Ricardo in the House of Commons [31] ""the price of labour would necessarily be a deduction from the _profits of stock_."" ""The Corn-laws raise the price of sustenance--that has _raised the price of labour_; which of course diminishes the profit in capital.""[32] [31] Debates May 30 1820. [32] Ib. Dec. 24 1819. ""Until the price of food in this country "" said Mr Hume in the House of Commons on the 12th of May last in the presence of all the leading free-trade members ""is placed on a level with that on the Continent it will be impossible for us to compete with the growing manufactures of Belgium Germany France and America!!"" Hear a member of the League and of the Manchester Chamber of Commerce Mr G. Sandars:-- ""If three loaves instead of two could be got for 2s. in consequence of a repeal of the Corn-laws another consequence would be that the workman's 2s. would be reduced to 1s. 4d. which would leave matters as far as he was concerned just as they were!!""[33] [33] Authentic Discussions on the Corn-law (Ridgway 1839 ) p. 86. Hear a straightforward manufacturer--Mr Muntz M.P.--in the debate on the 17th May last:-- ""If the Corn-laws were repealed the benefit which the manufacturer expected was that he could produce at a lower price; and this he could do only by reducing wages to the continental level!!"" If the above fail to open the eyes of the duped workmen of this country what will succeed in doing so? Let us conclude this portion of our subject--disgusting enough but necessary to expose imposture--with the following tabular view &c. of the gross contradiction of the men whom we wish to hold up to universal and deserved contempt on even the most vital points of the controversy in which they are engaged; and then let our readers say whether any thing proceeding from such a quarter is worthy of notice:-- * * * * * The _League Oracle_ says-- 1. ""If we have free trade the landlords' rents will fall 100 per cent.""--(_League Circular_ No. 15. p. 3.) 2. ""Provisions will fall one-third.""--(Ib. No. 34 p. 4.) ""The Corn-laws makes the labourer pay double the price for his food.""--(Ib. No. 15.) 3. ""The Corn-law compels us to pay _three times the value for a loaf of bread_.""--(Ib. No. 13.) ""If the Corn-laws were abolished the working man WOULD SAVE 31/2d. UPON EVERY LOAF OF BREAD.""--(Ib. No. 75.) ""As a consequence of the repeal of the Corn-laws _we promise cheaper food_ and our hand-loom weavers would get _double_ the rate of wages!""--(Ib. No. 7.) ""We shall have _cheap bread_ and its price will be reduced 33 per cent.""--(Ib. No. 34.) 4. Messrs Villiers Muntz Hume Roche Thornton Rawson Sandars (all Leaguers ) say and the oracle of the _League_ itself has said that ""We want free trade to enable us to _reduce wages_ that we may compete with foreigners.""--(_Post_ pp. 13-16.) 5. The _League Oracle_ admits that ""a repeal would _injure_ the farmer but not so much as he fears.""--(_League Circular_ No. 58.) Mr Cobden says-- 1. ""If we have free trade the landlords will have as good rents as now.""--(Speech in the House of Commons 15th May last.) 2. ""Provisions will be no cheaper.""--(Speech at Bedford _Hertford Reformer_ 10th June last.) 3. ""THE ARGUMENT FOR CHEAP BREAD WAS NEVER MINE.""--(_Morning Chronicle_ 30th June 1843 Speech on Penenden Heath.) ""THE IDEA OF LOW-PRICED FOREIGN CORN IS ALL A DELUSION.""--SPEECH AT Winchester _Salisbury Herald_ July 29 1843 p. 3. 4. Messrs Cobden Bright and Moore now affirm--""It is a base falsehood to say we want free trade to enable us to reduce the rate of wages.""--(Mr Cobden on Penenden Heath. Messrs Bright and Moore at Huntingdon.) 5. Cobden Moore and Bright say that it is to the _interest_ of the farmer to have a total and _immediate_ repeal.--(Uxbridge Bedford Huntingdon.[34]) [34] Extracted from a very admirable speech by Mr Day of Huntingdon (Ollivier 1843 ) and which we earnestly recommend for perusal. * * * * * The disgusting selfishness and hypocrisy of such men as Cobden and his companions in veiling their real objects under a pretended enmity to ""Monopoly"" and ""Class Legislation""--and disinterested anxiety to procure for the poor the blessings of ""cheap bread""--fills us with a just indignation; and we never see an account of their hebdomadal proceedings but we exclaim in the language of our immortal bard-- ""Oh Heaven! that such impostors thoud'st unfold And put in every honest hand a whip To lash the rascals naked through the land!"" While we repeat our deliberate opinion that the Anti-corn-law League as a body is in respect of actual present influence infinitely less formidable than the vanity and selfish purposes of its members would lead them to wish the country to believe--we must add that it is quite another question how long it will continue so. It may soon be converted--if indeed it has not already been secretly converted into an engine of tremendous mischief for other purposes than any ever contemplated by its originators. Suppose in the next session of parliament Ministers were to offer a law-fixed duty on corn: would that concession dissolve the League? Absurd--they have long ago scouted the idea of so ridiculous a compromise. Suppose they effected their avowed object of a total repeal of the Corn-laws--is any one weak enough to imagine that they would _then_ dissolve? No--nor do they _now_ dream of such a thing; but are at the present moment as we are informed ""_fraternizing_"" with other political societies of a very dangerous character and on the eve of originating serious and revolutionary movements. Their present organization is precisely that of the French Jacobins; their plan of operation the same. Let any one turn to _The League Circular_ of the 18th November and he will see announced a plan of action on the part of this Association precisely analagous in all its leading features to that of the French Jacobins: and we would call the attention of the legislature to the question whether the Anti-corn-law League in its most recent form of organization and plan of action be not clearly within the provisions of statutes 57 Geo. III. c. 19 § 25 and 39; Geo. III. c. 79? What steps if any the legislature may take is one thing; it is quite another what course shall be adopted by the friends of the Conservative cause--the supporters of the British constitution. It is impossible to assign limits to the mischief which may be effected by the indefatigable and systematic exertions of the League to diffuse pernicious misrepresentations and artful and popular fallacies among all classes of society. That they entertain a fearfully envenomed hatred of the agricultural interest is clear; and their evident object is to render the landed proprietors of this country objects of fierce hatred to the inferior orders of the community. ""If a man tells me his story every morning of my life by the year's end he will be my master "" said Burke ""and I shall believe him however untrue and improbable his story may be;"" and if whilst the Anti-corn-law League can display such perseverance determination and system its opponents obstinately remain supine and silent can any one wonder if such progress be not made by the League in their demoralizing and revolutionary enterprize that it will soon be too late to attempt even to arrest? If this Journal has earned during a quarter of a century's career of unwavering consistency and independence any title to the respect of the Conservative party we desire now to rely upon that title for the purpose of adding weight to our solemn protest against the want of union and energy--against the apathy from whatever cause arising--now but too visible. In vain do we and others exert ourselves to the uttermost to diffuse sound political principles by means of the press; in vain do the distinguished leaders of our party fight the battles of the constitution with consummate skill and energy in parliament--if their exertions be not supported by corresponding energy and activity on the part of the Conservative constituencies and those persons of talent and influence professing the same principles by whom they can and ought to be easily set in motion. It is true that persons of liberal education of a high and generous tone of feeling of intellectual refinement are entitled to treat such men as Cobden Bright and Acland with profound contempt and dislike the notion of personal contact or collision with them as representatives of the foulest state of ill feeling that can be generated in the worst manufacturing regions--of sordid avarice selfishness envy and malignity; but they are active--ever up and doing and steadily applying themselves with palatable topics to the corruption of the hearts of the working classes. So unless the persons to whom we allude choose to cast aside their morbid aversions--to be ""UP AND AT them "" in the language of the Duke of Waterloo--why then will be verified the observation of Burke--that ""if when bad men combine the good do not associate they will fall one by one--an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle."" Vast as are our forces they can effect comparatively nothing without union energy and system: _with_ these their power is tremendous and irresistible. What we would say therefore is--ORGANIZE! ORGANIZE! ORGANIZE! Let every existing Conservative club or association be stirred up into increased action and _put into real working trim_ forthwith; and where none such clubs or associations exist let them be immediately formed and set into cheerful and spirited motion. Let them all be placed under the vigilant superintendence of one or two _real men of business_--of local knowledge of ability and influence. We would point out Conservative solicitors as auxiliaries of infinite value to those engaged in the good cause; men of high character of business habits extensive acquaintance with the character and circumstances of the electors--and capable of bringing legitimate influence to bear upon them in a far more direct and effective manner than any other class of persons. One such gentleman--say a young and active solicitor with a moderate salary as permanent secretary in order to secure and in some measure requite his services throughout the year--would be worth fifty _dilletante_ ""friends of the good cause dropping in every now and then "" but whose ""friendship"" evaporates in mere _talk_. Let every local Conservative newspaper receive constant and substantial patronage; for they are worthy of the very highest consideration on account of the ability with which they are generally conducted and their great influence upon local society. Many of them to our own knowledge display a degree of talent and knowledge which would do honour to the very highest metropolitan journals. Let them then be vigorously supported their circulation extended through the influence of the resident nobility and gentry and the clergy of every particular district throughout the kingdom. Let no opportunity be missed of exposing the true character of the vile and selfish agitators of the Anti-corn-law league. Let not the league have all the ""publishing"" to themselves; but let their impudent fallacies and falsehoods be _instantly_ encountered and exposed on the spot by means of small and cheap tracts and pamphlets which shall bring plain wholesome and important truths home to the businesses and bosoms of the very humblest in the land. Again let the resident gentry seek frequent opportunities of mingling with their humbler neighbours friends and dependents by way of keeping up a cordial and hearty good understanding with them so as to rely upon their effective co-operation whenever occasions may arise for political action. Let all this be done and we may defy a hundred Anti-corn-law Leagues. Let these objects be kept constantly in view and the Anti-corn-law League will be utterly palsied had it a hundred times its present funds--a thousand times its present members! Let us now however turn for a brief space to Ireland; the present condition of which we contemplate with profound concern and anxiety but with neither surprise nor dismay. As far as regards the Government the state of affairs in Ireland bears at this moment unquestionable testimony to the stability and strength of the Government; and no one know this better than the gigantic impostor to whom so much of the misery of that afflicted portion of the empire is owing. He perceives with inexpressible mortification that neither he nor his present position awake any sympathy or excitement whatever in the kingdom at large where the enormity of his misconduct is fully appreciated and every movement of the Government against him sanctioned by public opinion. The general feeling is one of profound disgust towards him sympathy and commiseration for his long-plundered dupes and of perfect confidence that the Government will deal firmly and wisely with both. As for a _Repeal of the Union_! Pshaw! Every child knows that it is a notion too absurd to be seriously dealt with; that Great Britain would rather plunge _instanter_ into the bloodiest civil war that ever desolated a country than submit to the dismemberment of the empire by repealing the union between Great Britain and Ireland. This opinion has had from time to time every possible mode of authentic and solemn expression that can be given to the national will; in speeches from the Throne; in Parliamentary declarations by the leaders of both the Whig and Conservative Governments; the members of both Houses of Parliament are (with not a single exception worth noticing) unanimous upon the subject; the press whether quarterly monthly weekly or daily of all classes and shades of political opinions is unanimous upon the subject; in society whether high or low the subject is never broached except to enquire whether any one can for one moment seriously believe the Repeal of the Union to be possible. In Ireland itself the vast majority of the intellect wealth and respectability of the island without distinction of religion or politics entertains the same opinion and determination which prevail in Great Britain. Is Mr O'Connell ignorant of all this? He knows it as certainly as he knows that Queen Victoria occupies the throne of these realms; and yet down to his very last appearance in public he has solemnly and perseveringly asseverated that the Repeal of the Union is an absolutely certain and inevitable event and one that will happen within a few months! _Is he in his senses?_ If so he is speaking from his knowledge of some vast and dreadful conspiracy which he has organized himself which has hitherto escaped detection. The idea is too monstrous to be entertained for a moment. What then can Mr O'Connell be about? Our opinion is that his sole object in setting on foot the Repeal agitation was to increase his pecuniary resources and at the same time overthrow Sir Robert Peel's Government by showing the Queen and the nation that his admitted ""_chief_ difficulty""--Ireland--was one _insuperable_; and that he must consequently retire. We believe moreover that he is to a certain extent acting upon a secret understanding with the party of the late Government who however never contemplated matters being carried to their present pitch; but that the Ministry would long ago have retired terrified before the tremendous ""demonstration"" in Ireland. We feel as certain as if it were a past event that had the desperate experiment succeeded so far as to replace the present by the late Government Mr O'Connell's intention was to have announced his determination to ""_give England_ ONE MORE trial""--to place Repeal once more in abeyance--in order to see whether England would really at length do ""_justice_ to _Ireland_;"" in other words restore the halcyon days of Lord Normanby's nominal and Mr O'Connell's real rule in Ireland and enable him by these means to provide for himself his family and dependents; for old age is creeping rapidly upon him--his physical powers are no longer equal to the task of vigorous agitation--and he is known to be in utterly desperate circumstances. The reckless character of his proceedings during the last fifteen months is in our opinion fully accounted for by his unexpected discovery that the ministry were strong enough to defy any thing that he could do and to continue calmly in their course of administering not _pseudo_ but real ""justice to Ireland "" supported in that course by the manifest favour and countenance of the Crown overwhelming majorities in Parliament and the decided and unequivocal expression of public opinion. His personal position was in truth inexpressibly galling and most critical and he must have agitated or sunk at once into ignominious obscurity and submission to a Government whom individually and collectively he loathed and abhorred. Vain were the hopes which doubtless he had entertained that as his agitation assumed a bolder form it would provoke formidable demonstrations in England against Ministers and their policy; not a meeting could be got up to petition her Majesty for the dismissal of her Ministers! But it is quite conceivable that Mr O'Connell in the course he was pursuing forgot to consider the possibility of developing a power which might be too great for him which would not be wielded by him but carry _him_ along with _it_. The following remarkable expressions fell from the perplexed and terrified agitator at a great dinner at Lismore in the county of Waterford in the month of September last:--""Like the heavy school-boy on the ice _my pupils are overtaking me_. It is now my duty to regulate the vigour and temper the energy of the people--to compress as it were the exuberance of both."" We said that Mr O'Connell revived the Repeal agitation; and the fact was so. He first raised it in 1829--having however at various previous periods of his life professed a desire to struggle for Repeal; but Mr Shiel in his examination before the House of Commons in 1825 characterized such allusions as mere ""rhetorical artifices."" ""What were his real motives "" observes the able and impartial author of _Ireland and its Rulers_[35] ""when he announced his new agitation in 1829 can be left only to him to determine."" It is probable that they were of so mixed a nature that he himself could not accurately define them.... It is however quite possible that after having so long tasted of the luxuries of popularity he could not consent that the chalice should pass from his lips. Agitation had perhaps begun to be necessary to his existence: a tranquil life would have been a hell to him."" It would seem that Mr O'Connell's earliest recorded manifesto on Repeal was on the 3d June 1829 previous to

he Clare election on which occasion he said--""We want political excitement in order that we may insist on our rights as Irishmen but not as Catholics;"" and on the 20th of the same month in the same year 1829 he predicted--listen to this ye his infatuated dupes!--""_that_ BEFORE THREE YEARS THERE WOULD BE A PARLIAMENT IN DUBLIN!!!"" In the general elections of 1832 it was proclaimed by Mr O'Connell that no member should be returned unless he solemnly pledged himself to vote for the Repeal of the Union; but it was at the same time hinted that _if they would only enter the House as professed Repealers they would never be required to_ VOTE _for Repeal_. On the hustings at the county of Waterford election one of these gentry Sir Richard Keave on being closely questioned concerning the real nature of his opinion on Repeal let out the whole truth:--""_I will hold it as an imposing weapon to get justice to Ireland_."" This has held true ever since and completely exemplifies all the intervening operations of Mr O'Connell. It has been his practice ever since ""to connect every grievance with the subject of Repeal--to convert every wrongful act of any Government into an argument for the necessity of an Irish Legislature."" Can it be wondered at that the present Government thoroughly aware of the true state of the case--_knowing their man_--should regard the cry for Repeal simply as an imposture its utterers as impostors? They did and do so regard it and its utterers--never allowing either the one or the other to disturb their administration of affairs with impartiality and firmness; but nevertheless keeping a most watchful eye upon all their movements. [35] pp. 43 50. At length whether emboldened by a conviction that the non-interference of the Government was occasioned solely by their incapacity to grapple with an agitation becoming hourly more formidable and that thus his schemes were succeeding--or impelled onwards by those whom he had roused into action but could no longer restrain--his movements became daily characterized by more astounding audacity--more vivid the glare of sedition and even treason which surrounded them: still the Government interfered not. Their apparent inaction most wondered very many murmured some were alarmed and Mr O'Connell laughed at. Sir Robert Peel on one occasion when his attention was challenged to the subject in the House of Commons replied that ""he was not in the least degree moved or disturbed by what was passing in Ireland."" This perfect calmness of the Government served to check the rising of any alarm in the country; which felt a confidence of the Ministry's being equal to any exigency that could be contemplated. Thus stood matters till the 11th July last when at the close of the debate on the state of Ireland Sir Robert Peel delivered a very remarkable speech. It consisted of a calm demonstration of the falsehood of all the charges brought by the Repealers against the imperial Parliament; of the impolicy and the impracticability of the various schemes for the relief of Ireland proposed by the Opposition; of the absolute impossibility of Parliament entertaining the question of a Repeal of the Union; and a distinct answer to the question--""What course do you intend to pursue?"" That answer is worthy of being distinctly brought under the notice of the reader. ""I am prepared to administer the law in Ireland upon principles of justice and impartiality. I am prepared to recognise the principle established by law--that there shall be equality in civil privileges. I am prepared to respect the franchise to give substantially although not nominally equality. In respect to the social condition of Ireland--_as to the relation of landlord and tenant_[36]--I am prepared to give the most deliberate consideration to the important matters involved in those questions. With respect to the Established Church I have already stated that we are not prepared to make an alteration in the law by which that Church is maintained."" [36] In conformity with this declaration has been issued the recent commission for ""enquiring into the state of the law and practice in respect to the occupation of land in Ireland and in respect also to the burdens of county cess and other charges which fall respectively on the landlord and occupying tenant and for reporting as to the amendments if any of the existing laws which having due regard to the just rights of property may be calculated to encourage the cultivation of the soil to extend a better system of agriculture and to improve the relation between landlord and tenant in that part of the United Kingdom."" We recollect being greatly struck with the ominous calmness perceptible in the tone of this speech. It seemed characterised by a solemn declaration to place the agitation of Ireland for ever in the _wrong_--to deprive them of all pretence for accusing England of having misgoverned Ireland since the Union. It appeared to us as if that speech had been designed to lay the basis of a contemplated movement against the agitation of the most decisive kind. The Government acted up to the spirit of the declaration on that occasion of Sir Robert Peel with perfect dignity and resolution unmoved by the taunts the threats the expostulations or fears of either enemies or friends. Mr O'Connell's tone increased in audacity; but we greatly doubt whether in his heart he had not frequent misgivings as to the real nature of the ""_frightful silence_""--""_cette affreuse silence_""--of a Government in whose councils the Duke of Wellington took a decided part and which was actually at that moment taking complete military occupation of Ireland. On what information they were acting no one knew; but their preparations were _for the worst_. During all this time nothing could exceed the tranquillity which prevailed in England. None of these threatening appearances these tremendous preparations caused the least excitement or alarm; the funds did not vary a farthing per cent in consequence of them; and to what could all this be ascribed but to the strength of public confidence in the Government? At length the harvest in Ireland had been got in; ships of war surrounded the coast; thirty thousand picked and chosen troops ready for instant action were disposed in the most masterly manner all over Ireland. With an almost insane audacity Mr O'Connell appointed his crowning monster meeting to take place at Clontarf in the immediate vicinity of the residence and presence of the Queen's representative and of such a military force as rendered the bare possibility of encountering it appalling. The critical moment however for the interference of Government had at length arrived and it spoke out in a voice of thunder prohibiting the monster meeting. The rest is matter of history. The monster demagogue fell prostrate and confounded among his panic-stricken confederates; and in an agony of consternation declared their implicit obedience to the proclamation and set about dispersing the myriad dupes as fast as they arrived to attend the prohibited meeting. Thus was the Queen's peace preserved her crown and dignity vindicated without one sword being drawn or one shot being fired. Mr O'Connell had repeatedly ""defied the Government to go to law with him."" They _have_ gone to law with him; and by this time we suspect that he finds himself in an infinitely more serious position than he has ever been in during the whole of a long and prosperous career of agitation. Here however we leave him and his fellow defendants. We may however take this opportunity of expressing our opinion that there is not a shadow of foundation for the charges of blundering and incompetency which have been so liberally brought against the Irish Attorney-General. He certainly appears in the earlier stages of the proceedings to have evinced some little irritability--but only consider under what unprecedented provocation! His conduct has since however been characterised by calmness and dignity; and as for his legal capabilities all competent judges who have attended to the case will pronounce them to be first-rate; and we feel perfectly confident that his future conduct of the proceedings will convince the public of the justness of our eulogium. The selection by the Government of the moment for interference with Mr O'Connell's proceedings was unquestionably characterised by consummate prudence. When the meetings commenced in March or April this year they had nothing of outward character which could well be noticed. They professed to be meetings to petition Parliament for Repeal; and undoubtedly no lawyer could say that such a meeting would _per se_ be illegal any more than a meeting to complain of Catholic relief or to pray for its repeal--or for any other matter which is considered a settled part of the established constitution. The mere numbers were certainly alarming but the meetings quietly dispersed without any breach of the peace: and after two or three such meetings without any disturbance attending them no one could with truth swear that he expected a breach of the peace as a _direct_ consequence of such a meeting though many thought they saw a civil war as a _remote_ consequence. The meetings went on: some ten twelve fifteen occurred --still no breach of the peace no disturbance. The language indeed became gradually more seditious--more daring and ferocious: but as an attempt to put down the first meeting by _force_ would have been considered a wanton act of oppression and a direct interference with the subject's right to petition it became a very difficult _practical_ question at what moment any _legal_ notice could be taken by prosecution or _executive_ notice by proclamation to put down such meetings. Notwithstanding several confident opinions to the contrary advanced by the newspaper press at the time a greater mistake--indeed a grosser blunder--could not have been made than to have prosecuted those who attended the early meetings or to have sent the police or the military to put those meetings down. An acquittal in the one case or a conflict in the other would have been attended with most mischievous consequences; and as to the latter it is clear that the executive never ought to interfere unless with a _force which renders all resistance useless_. It appears perfectly clear to us _even now_ that a prosecution for the earlier meetings must have failed; for there existed then none of that evidence which would prove the object and the nature of the association: and to proclaim a meeting without using force to prevent or disperse it if it defied the proclamation; and to use force without being certain that the extent of the illegality would carry public opinion along with the use of force; further to begin to use force without being sure that you have enough to use--would be acts of madness and at least of great and criminal disregard of consequences. Now when meeting after meeting had taken place and the general design and its mischief were unfolded it became necessary that _some new feature should occur_ to justify the interference of Government; and that occurred at the Clontarf meeting. No meeting had before that ventured to call itself ""_Repeal infantry_;"" and to Clontarf _horsemen_ also were summoned and were designated ""_Repeal cavalry_;"" and in the orders for their assembling marching and conducting themselves _military directions were given_; and the meeting had it been permitted to assemble would have been a parade of cavalry ready for civil war. It would have been a sort of review--in the face of the city of Dublin in open defiance of all order and government. Let us add that just at that time Mr O'Connell had published his ""Address to all her Majesty's subjects in all parts of her dominions "" (a most libellous and treasonable publication;) and the arrangements to secure the peace were more complete and could be brought to bear more easily on the Clontarf than on any of the preceding meetings. The occasion presented itself and as soon as possible the Irish authorities assembled at Dublin; the proclamation appeared; the ground was pre-occupied and a force that was irresistible went out to keep the peace and prevent the meeting. The result showed the perfect success of the Government's enterprise. As the foregoing topics will doubtless occupy much of the attention of parliament during the ensuing session we were anxious to place on record our own opinions as the result of much reflection during a period when events were transpiring which threw upon the Government an awful responsibility and rendered their course one of almost unprecedented difficulty. Modern times we are convinced have witnessed but few instances of such a masterly policy combined with signal self-reliance. One or two general topics connected with Ireland we have time only to glance at. First.--From the faint reluctant disavowal and discouragement of Mr O'Connell and his Repeal agitation by the leading ex-Ministers during the last session when emphatically challenged by Sir Robert Peel to join him in denouncing the attempted dismemberment of the empire irrespective and independent of all party consideration we are prepared to expect that in the ensuing session the Opposition will to a great extent make common cause with Mr O'Connell out of mingled fear and gratitude and hope towards their late friend and patron. Such a course will immensely strengthen the hands of the Queen's Government. Secondly.--To any thoughtful and independent politician the present Sovereign state of Ireland demonstrates the utter impossibility of governing it upon the principle of breaking down or disparaging the Protestant interest. Such a course would tend only to bloody and interminable anarchy. Thirdly.--Ireland's misery springs from social more than political evils; and the greatest boon that Providence could give her would be a powerful government inflexibly resolved to _put down agitation_. Lastly.--Can we wonder at the exasperation of the peasantry who have for so many years had their money extorted from them without ever having had up to this moment the shadow of an equivalent? And how long is this disgraceful pillage to go on? But we must conclude. The ensuing session of parliament may and probably will be a stormy one and harassing to the Government; but they may prepare to encounter it with cheerful confidence. Their measures during their brief tenure of office have been attended with extraordinary success--and of that both the sovereign and the country are thoroughly aware and we entertain high hopes concerning the future. We expect to see their strong majority in the House of Commons rather augmented than diminished by reason of the events which have happened during the recess. If the Ministers remain firm in their determination--and who doubts it?--to support the agricultural interests of the country and persevere in their present vigorous policy towards Ireland the Government is impregnable and the surges of Repeal agitation in Ireland and Anti-corn-law agitation in England will dash against it in vain. So long as they pursue this course they will be cheered by augmented indications of the national good-will and of that implicit and affectionate confidence in their councils which we rejoice to know is vouchsafed to her Ministers by our gracious Sovereign. "

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Ingram Allen Siddle and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. No. CCCXL. FEBRUARY 1844. Vol. LV. CONTENTS: THE HERETIC THRUSH-HUNTING. BY ALEXANDER DUMAS HIGH LIFE IN THE LAST CENTURY NEWS FROM AN EXILED CONTRIBUTOR THE PROPHECY OF THE TWELVE TRIBES A BEWAILMENT FROM BATH; OR POOR OLD MAIDS MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART VIII. SECESSION FROM THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND SITTING FOR A PORTRAIT MY FRIEND THE LAND OF SLAVES THE PRIEST'S BURIAL PRUDENCE FREE TRADE AND PROTECTION * * * * * EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 45 GEORGE STREET; AND 22 PALL-MALL LONDON. To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed. SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS THE UNITED KINGDOM. * * * * * PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES EDINBURGH. * * * * * THE HERETIC.[1] [1] _The Heretic_. Translated from the Russian of Lajétchnikoff. By T.B. Shaw B.A. of Cambridge. In three volumes. It is now about three centuries since Richard Chancellor pilot-major of the fleet which under the command of Sir Hugh Willoughby and by the advice of Sebastian Cabot set out to discover a north-east passage to China carried his ship the Edward Bonaventura into Archangel. The rest of the fleet put into a haven on the coast of Lapland where all their crews with the gallant commander perished miserably of cold and hunger. Chancellor accompanied by Master George Killingworthe found his way to Moscow where he was courteously entertained by the Tsar Iván IV. surnamed the Terrible. On his return to England in 1554 he delivered a friendly letter from the Tsar to King Edward VI. and announced to the people of England "the discovery of Muscovy." The English adventurers where mightily astonished by the state and splendour of the Russian court and gave a curious account of their intercourse with the tyrant Iván who treated them with great familiarity and kindness though he was perhaps the most atrocious monster not excepting the worst of the Roman emperors that ever disgraced a throne. The Tsar "called them to his table to receive each a cup from his hand to drinke and took into his hand Master George Killingworthe's beard which reached over the table and pleasantly delivered it to the metropolitan who seeming to bless it said in Russ 'This is God's gift;' as indeed at that time it was not only thicke broad and yellow coulered but in length five foot and two inches of a size." Chancellor returned the following year to Moscow and arranged with the Tsar the commercial privileges and immunities of a new company of merchant-adventurers who desired to trade with Muscovy; but in 1556 while on his way home accompanied by Osep Neped the first Russian ambassador to the court of England their ship was wrecked on our own coast at Pitsligo bay where Chancellor was drowned with most of the crew; but Osep Neped who escaped was conducted with much pomp to London and there established on a firmer basis the commercial relations between the two countries to which Chancellor's discovery had led and of which he had laid the foundation. The commerce thus begun has continued uninterrupted to the mutual advantage of both nations up to this time and thousands of our countrymen have there gained wealth and distinction in commerce in the arts in science and in arms. But of the twenty-seven millions of men women and children who people Great Britain and Ireland how many may be presumed to know any thing of Russian literature or even to have enquired whether it contains any thing worth knowing? Are there a dozen literary men or women amongst us who could read a Russian romance or understand a Russian drama? Dr Bowring was regarded as a prodigy of polyglot learning because he gave us some very imperfect versions of Russian ballads; and we were thankful even for that contribution from which we doubt not many worthy and well-informed people learned for the first time that Russia produced poets as well as potashes. Russia has lately lost a poet of true genius of whom his countrymen are proud and no doubt have a right to be proud for his poetry found its way at once to the heart of the nation: but how few there are amongst us who know any thing of Poushkin unless it be his untimely and melancholy end? The generation that has been so prolific of prose fiction in other parts of Europe has not been barren in Russia. She boasts of men to whom she is grateful for having adorned her young literature with the creations of their genius or who have made her history attractive with the allurements of faithful fiction giving life and flesh and blood to its dry bones; and yet gentle reader learned or fair--or both fair and learned--whether sombre in small clothes or brilliant in _bas-bleus_--how many could you have named a year ago of those names which are the pride and delight of a great European nation with which we have had an intimate friendly and beneficial intercourse for three consecutive centuries and whose capital has now for some years been easily accessible in ten days from our own? Surely it is somewhat strange that while Russia fills so large a space not only on the map but in the politics of the world--while the influence of her active mind and of her powerful muscle is felt and acknowledged in Europe Asia and America--that we who come in contact with her diplomatic skill and her intelligence at every turn and in every quarter should never have thought it worth while to take any note of her literature--of the more attractive movements of her mind. The history the ancient mythology and the early Christian legends of Russia are full of interest. We there encounter the same energetic and warlike people who from roving pirates of the Baltic sea became the founders of dynasties and who have furnished much of what is most romantic in the history of Europe. The Danes who ravaged our coasts and gave a race of princes to England; the Normans from whom are descended our line of sovereigns and many of our noble and ancient families--the Normans who established themselves in Sicily and the Warrhag or Varangians who made their leader Rurik a sovereign over the ancient Sclavonic republic of Nóvgorod and gave their own distinctive appellation of Russ to the people and to the country they conquered were all men of the same race the same habits and the same character. The daring spirit of maritime adventure the love of war and the thirst of plunder which brought their barks to the coasts of Britain and of France was displayed with even greater boldness in Russia. After the death of Rurik these pirates of the Baltic under the regent Oleg launching their galleys on the Borysthenes forced the descent of the river against hostile tribes defeated the armies of Byzantium exercised their ancient craft on the Black sea and on the Bosphorus and entering Constantinople in triumph extorted tribute and a treaty from the Keisar in his palace. Then after a time came the introduction of the Christian religion and of letters; and the contests which terminated in the triumph of Christianity over the ancient mythology in which the milder deities of the Pantheon with their attendant spirits of the woods the streams and the household hearth would seem to have mingled with the fiercer gods of the Valhalla. Then the frequent contests and varying fortunes of the principalities into which the country was divided--the invasions of the Tartar hordes under the successors of Chenjez Khan destroying every living thing and deliberately making a desert of every populous place that grass might more abound for their horses and their flocks--the long and weary domination of these desolating masters; the gradual relaxation of the iron gripe with which they crushed the country; the pomp and power of the Russian church even in the worst times of Tartar oppression; the first gathering together of the nation's strength as its spirit revived; the first great effort to cast off the load under which its loins had been breaking for more than two centuries and the desperate valour with which the Russians fought their first great battle for freedom and their faith and shook the Tartar supremacy under the brave and skilful Dimítri on the banks of the Don--the cautious wisdom and foresight with which he created an aristocracy to support the sovereignty he had made hereditary--the pertinacity with which in every change of fortune his successors worked out slowly and more by superior intelligence than by prowess the deliverance of their country--the final triumph of this wary policy under the warlike but consummately able and dexterous management of Iván the Great--the rapidity and force with which the Muscovite power expanded when it had worn out and cast off the Tartar fetters that had bound it--the cautious and successful attempts of Iván to take from the first a high place amongst the sovereigns of Europe--the progress in the arts of civilized life which was made in his reign--the accession of weight and authority which the sovereign power received from the prudent and dignified demeanour of his son and successor--the sanguinary tyranny with which Iván IV. in the midst of the most revolting atrocities and debaucheries broke down the power of the aristocracy prostrated the energies of the nation and paved the way for successive usurpations--the skilful and crafty policy and the unscrupulous means by which Boris raised himself to the throne after he had destroyed the last representatives of the direct line of Rurik which in all the vicissitudes of Russian fortune had hitherto held the chief place in the nation--the taint of guilt which poisoned and polluted a mind otherwise powerful and not without some virtues and made him at length a suspicious and cruel tyrant who having alienated the good-will of the nation was unable to oppose the pretensions of an impostor and swallowed poison to escape the tortures of an upbraiding conscience--the successful imposture of the monk who personated the Prince Dimítri one of the victims of Boris' ambition and who was slaughtered on the day of his nuptials at the foot of the throne he had so strangely usurped by an infuriated mob; not because he was known to be an impostor but because he was accused of a leaning to the Latin church--the season of anarchy that succeeded and led to fresh impostures and to the Polish domination--the servile submission of the Russian nobility to Sigismund king of Poland to whom they sold their country; the revival of patriotic feelings almost as soon as the sacrifice had been made--the bold and determined opposition of the Russian church to the usurpation of a Latin prince the persecutions the hardships the martyrdom it endured; the ultimate rising of the Muscovite people at its call--the sanguinary conflict in Moscow; the expulsion of the Poles; the election of Michael Romanoff the first sovereign of his family and of the reigning dynasty--the whole history of the days of Peter of Catharine and of Alexander and even the less prominent reigns of intermediate sovereigns--are full of the interest and the incidents which are usually considered most available to the writers of historical romance. But such materials abound in the history of every people. Men of genius for the work find them scattered every where--in the peculiarities of personal character developed in the contests of petty tribes or turbulent burghers as often as in the revolutions of empires. The value of historical as well as of other fictions must be measured by the power and the skill it displays rather than by the magnitude of the events it describes or the historical importance of the persons it introduces; and therefore no history can well be exhausted for the higher purposes of fiction. Of what historical importance are the stories on which Shakspeare has founded his _Romeo and Juliet_--his _Othello_--his _Hamlet_ or his _Lear_? Does the chief interest or excellence of _Waverley_ or _Ivanhoe_ or _Peveril of the Peak_ or _Redgauntlet_ or _Montrose_ depend on the delineation of historical characters or the description of historical events? What space do Balfour of Burleigh or Rob Roy or Helen Macgregor fill in history? The fact appears to be that even in the purest historical prose fictions neither the interest nor the excellence generally depend upon the characters or the incidents most prominent in history. A man of genius who calls up princes and heroes from the dust into which they have crumbled may delight us with a more admirable representation than our own minds could have furnished of some one whose name we have long known and of whose personal bearing and habits and daily thoughts we had but a vague and misty idea; and acknowledging the fidelity of the portrait we may adopt it; and then this historical person becomes to us what the imagination of genius not what history has made him and yet the portrait is probably one in which no contemporary could have recognized any resemblance to the original. But the characters of which history has preserved the most full and faithful accounts whose recorded actions reflect most accurately the frame of their minds are precisely those which each man has pictured to himself with most precision and therefore those of which he is least likely to appreciate another man's imaginary portraits. The image in our own minds is disturbed and we feel something of the disappointment we experience when we find some one of whom we have heard much very different from what we had imagined him to be. The more intimately and generally an historical character is known the more unfit must it be for the purposes of fiction. Then again in fiction as in real life our sympathies are more readily awakened and more strongly moved by the sufferings or the successes of those with whom we have much in common--of whose life we are or fancy that we might have been a part. The figures that we see in history elevated above the ordinary attributes of man are magnified as we see them through the mist of our own vague perceptions and dwindle if we approach too near them. If they are brought down from the lofty pedestal of rank or fame on which they stood that they may be within reach of the warmest sympathies of men who live upon a lower level the familiarity to which we are admitted impairs their greatness on the same principle that "no man is a hero to his _valet-de-chambre_." We are inclined to believe that the great attraction of historical prose fiction is not any facility which it affords for the construction of a better story--for we think it affords none--nor any superior interest that attaches to the known and the prominent characters with which it deals or to the events it describes; but rather the occasion it gives for making us familiar with the everyday life of the age and the country in which the scene is laid. Independent of the merits of the fiction as a work of imagination we find another source of pleasure; and if it be written faithfully and with knowledge of instruction in the vivid light it casts on the characteristics of man's condition which history does not deign to record. This kind of excellence may give value to a work which is defective in the higher essential qualifications of imaginative writing; as old ballads and tales which have no other merit may be valuable illustrations of the manners of their time so by carefully collecting and concentrating scattered rays a man possessed of talents for the task may throw a strong light on states of society that were formerly obscure and thus greatly enhance the pleasure we derive from any higher merits we may find in his story. M. Lajétchnikoff in the work before us appears to have aimed at both these kinds of excellence; and in the opinion of his countrymen to have attained to that of which they are the best or the only good judges. Mr Shaw to whom we are indebted for all we yet know of this department of Russian literature tells us in his preface that he selected this romance for translation because-- "It is the work of an author to whom all the critics have adjudged the praise of a perfect acquaintance with the epoch which he has chosen for the scene of his drama. Russian critics some of whom have reproached M. Lajétchnikoff with certain faults of style and in particular with innovations on orthography have all united in conceding to him the merit of great historical accuracy--not only as regards the events and characters of his story but even in the less important matters of costume language &c. "This degree of accuracy was not accidental: he prepared himself for his work by a careful study of all the ancient documents calculated to throw light upon the period which he desired to recall--a conscientious correctness however which may be pushed too far; for the original work is disfigured by a great number of obsolete words and expressions as unintelligible to the modern Russian reader (unless he happened to be an antiquarian) as they would be to an Englishman. These the Translator has as far as possible got rid of and has endeavoured to reduce the explanatory foot-notes--those 'blunder-marks ' as they have been well styled--to as small a number as is consistent with clearness in the text." M. Lajétchnikoff takes occasion while referring to some anachronisms which will be found in _The Heretic_ to state in the following terms his opinion of the duties of an historical novelist-- "He must follow rather the poetry of history than its chronology. His business is not to be the slave of dates; he ought to be faithful to the character of the epoch and of the _dramatis personae_ which he has selected for representation. It is not his business to examine every trifle to count over with servile minuteness every link in the chain of this epoch or of the life of this character; that is the department of the historian and the biographer. The mission of the historical novelist is to select from them the most brilliant the most interesting events which are connected with the chief personage of his story and to concentrate them into one poetic moment of his romance. Is it necessary to say that this moment ought to be pervaded by a leading idea?... Thus I understand the duties of the historical novelist. Whether I have fulfilled them is quite another question." We are not quite sure what is here meant by "a leading idea." If it be that some abstract idea is to be developed or illustrated we can neither subscribe to the canon nor discover the leading idea of this specimen of the author's productions; but we rather suppose that he only means to say that there should be a main stream of interest running through the whole story to which the others are tributary--and in this sense he has acted on the rule; for the _heretic_ from his birth to his burial is never lost sight of and almost the whole action from the beginning to the end is either directly or indirectly connected with his fortunes which preserve their interest throughout amidst sovereigns and ambassadors officials and nobles court intrigues and affairs of state of love of war and of religion. This machinery though somewhat complicated is on the whole very skilfully constructed and moves on smoothly enough without jolting or jarring without tedious stops or disagreeable interruptions and without having to turn back every now and then to pick up the passengers it has dropped by the way. The author however appears to have assumed--and writing for Russians was entitled to assume--that his readers had some previous acquaintance with the history of the country and the times to which his story belongs. His prologue which has no connexion with the body of the work but which relates a separate incident that occurred some years after the conclusion of the principal narrative introduces us to the death-bed of Iván III. at whose court the whole of the subsequent scenes occur; and is calculated from this inversion of time and the recurrence of similar names and even of the same persons to create little confusion in the mind of the reader who is ignorant of Russian history. "The epoch chosen by Lajétchnikoff " says his translator "is the fifteenth century; an age most powerfully interesting in the history of every country and not less so in that of Russia. It was then that the spirit of enquiry the thirst for new facts and investigations in religious political and physical philosophy was at once stimulated and gratified by the most important discoveries that man had as yet made and extended itself far beyond the limits of what was then civilized Europe and spoke by the powerful voice of Iván III. even to Russia plunged as she then was in ignorance and superstition. Rude as are the outlines of this great sovereign's historical portrait and rough as were the means by which he endeavoured to ameliorate his country it is impossible to deny him a place among those rulers who have won the name of benefactors to their native land." When Iván III. then twenty-two years old mounted the tributary throne of Muscovy in 1462 the power of the Tartars who for nearly two centuries and a half domineered over Russia had visibly declined. Tamerlane at the head of fresh swarms from the deserts of Asia had stricken the Golden Horde which still held Russia in subjection; and having pursued its sovereign Ioktamish Khan into the steppes of Kiptchak and Siberia turned back almost from the gates of Moscow to seek a richer plunder in Hindostan. Before the Golden Horde could recover from this blow it was again attacked defeated and plundered by the khan of the Crimea. Still the supremacy of the Tartar was undisputed at Moscow. The Muscovite prince advanced to the outer door of his palace to receive the ambassador of his master; spread costly furs under his horse's feet; kneeled at his stirrup to hear the khan's orders read; presented a cup of kimmis to the Tartar representative and licked off the drops that fell upon the mane of his horse. But during nearly a century and a half the Muscovite princes had laboured successfully to consolidate their own authority and to unite the nation against its oppressors. The principle of hereditary succession to the dependent throne had been firmly established in the feelings of the people; the ties of country kindred and language and still more the bonds of common religion had united the discordant principalities into which the country was still divided by a sentiment of nationality and of hatred against the Tartars which made them capable of combining against their Mahommedan masters. Iván's first acts were acts of submission. They were perhaps intended to tranquillize the suspicions with which the first movements of a young prince are certain to be regarded by a jealous superior; and this purpose they effectually served. Without courage or talent for war his powerful and subtle mind sought to accomplish its objects by intellectual superiority and by craft rather than by force. Warned by the errors of his predecessors he did not dispute the right of the Tartars to the tribute but evaded its payment; and yet contrived to preserve the confidence of the khan by bribing his ministers and his family and by a ready performance of the most humiliating acts of personal submission. His conduct towards all his enemies--that is towards all his neighbours--was dictated by a similar policy; he admitted their rights but he took every safe opportunity to disregard them. So far did he carry the semblance of submission that the Muscovites were for some years disgusted with the slavish spirit of their prince. His lofty ambition was concealed by rare prudence and caution and sustained by remarkable firmness and pertinacity of purpose. He never took a step in advance from which he was forced to recede. He had the art to combine with many of his enemies against one and thus overthrew them all in succession. It was by such means that he cast off the Tartar yoke--curbed the power of Poland--humbled that of Lithuania subdued Nóvgorod Tver Pskoff Kazán and Viatka--reannexed Veira Ouglitch Rezan and other appanages to the crown and added nearly twenty thousand square miles with four millions of subjects to his dominions. He framed a code of laws--improved the condition of his army--established a police in every part of his empire--protected and extended commerce--supported the church but kept it in subjection to himself; but was at all times arbitrary often unjust and cruel and throughout his whole life quite unscrupulous as to the means he employed to compass his ends. One of the most successful strokes of his policy was his marriage with Sophia daughter of the Emperor Paleologos who had been driven from Constantinople by the Turks. This alliance which he sought with great assiduity not only added to the dignity of his government at home but opened the way for an intercourse on equal terms with the greatest princes of Europe. It was Sophia who dissuaded him from submitting to the degrading ceremonial which had been observed on receiving the Tartar ambassadors at Moscow--and to her he probably owed the feelings of personal dignity which he evinced in the latter part of his reign. It was this alliance that at once placed the sovereigns of Russia at the head of the whole Greek church; whose dignitaries driven from the stately dome of St Sophia in Byzantium found shelter in the humbler temple raised by the piety of their predecessors some ages before in the wilds of Muscovy and more than repaid the hospitality they received by diffusing a love of learning amongst a barbarous people. It was by means of the Greeks who followed Sophia that Iván was enabled to maintain a diplomatic intercourse with the other governments of Europe; it was from her that Russia received her imperial emblem the double-headed eagle; it was in her train that science taste and refinement penetrated to Moscow; it was probably at her instigation that Iván embellished his capital with the beauties of architecture and encouraged men of science and amongst others Antonio "the heretic " and Fioraventi Aristotle the architect and mechanician to settle at Moscow. But it is time we should proceed to the story. The greater part of the first volume is occupied by an account of the family birth and youth of the hero. Born of a noble family in Bohemia he is educated as a physician. This was not the voluntary act of his parents; for what haughty German baron of those times would have permitted his son to degrade himself by engaging in a profession which was then chiefly occupied by the accursed Jews? No this was a degradation prepared for the house of Ehrenstein by the undying revenge of a little Italian physician whom the stalwart baron had pitched a few yards out of his way during a procession at Rome. This part of the history though not devoid of interest is hardly within the bounds of a reasonable probability--but it contains some passages of considerable vigour. The patient lying in wait of the revengeful Italian and the eagerness with which he presses his advantage making an act of mercy minister to the gratification of his passion is not without merit and will probably have its attractions for those who find pleasure in such conceptions. The young Antonio is educated by the physician Antonio Fioraventi of Padua in ignorance of his birth--is disowned by his father but cherished by his mother; and grows up an accomplished gentleman scholar and leech of handsome person captivating manners and ardent aspirations to extend the limits of science and to promote the advancement of knowledge and of civilization all over the earth. While these dreams are floating in his mind a letter on the architect Fioraventi who had for some time resided in Moscow to his brother the Italian physician requesting him to send some skilful leech to the court of Iván decides the fate of Antonio. "Fioraventi began to look out for a physician who would volunteer into a country so distant and so little known: he never thought of proposing the journey to his pupil; his youth--the idea of a separation--of a barbarous country--all terrified the old man. His imagination was no longer wild--the intellect and the heart alone had influence on him. And what had Antony to hope for there? His destiny was assured by the position of his instructor--his tranquillity was secured by circumstances--he could more readily make a name in Italy. The place of physician at the court of the Muscovite Great Prince would suit a poor adventurer; abundance of such men might be found at that time possessed of talents and learning. But hardly was Aristotle's letter communicated to Antony than visions began to float in his ardent brain.--'To Muscovy!' cried the voice of destiny--'To Muscovy!' echoed through his soul like a cry remembered from infancy. That soul in its fairest dreams had long pined for a new distant unknown land and people: Antony wished to be where the physician's foot had never yet penetrated: perhaps he might discover by questioning a nature still rude and fresh powers by which he could retain on earth its short-lived inhabitants; perhaps he might extort from a virgin soil the secret of regeneration or dig up the fountain of the water of life and death. But he who desired to penetrate deeper into the nature of man might have remarked other motives in his desire. Did not knightly blood boil in his veins? Did not the spirit of adventure whisper in his heart its hopes and high promises? However this might be he offered with delight to go to Muscovy; and when he received the refusal of his preceptor he began to entreat to implore him incessantly to recall it.--'Science calls me thither ' he said 'do not deprive her of new acquisitions perhaps of important discoveries. Do not deprive me of glory my only hope and happiness.' And these entreaties were followed by a new refusal.--'Knowest thou not ' cried Fioraventi angrily 'that the gates of Muscovy are like the gates of hell--step beyond them and thou canst never return.' But suddenly unexpectedly from some secret motive he ceased to oppose Antony's desire. With tears he gave him his blessing for the journey.--'Who can tell ' said he 'that this is not the will of fate? Perhaps in reality honour and fame await thee there?' "At Padua was soon known Antony Ehrenstein's determination to make that distant journey; and no one was surprised at it: there were indeed many who envied him. "In truth the age in which Antony lived was calculated to attune the mind to the search after the unknown and to serve as an excuse for his visions. The age of deep profligacy it was also the age of lofty talents of bold enterprises of great discoveries. They dug into the bowels of the earth; they kept up in the laboratory an unextinguished fire; they united and separated elements; they buried themselves living in the tomb to discover the philosopher's stone and they found it in the innumerable treasures of chemistry which they bequeathed to posterity. Nicholas Diaz and Vasco de Gama had passed with one gigantic stride from one hemisphere to another and showed that millions of their predecessors were but pigmies. The genius of a third visioned forth a new world with new oceans--went to it and brought it to mankind. Gunpowder the compass printing cheap paper regular armies the concentration of states and powers ingenious destruction and ingenious creation--all were the work of this wondrous age. At this time also there began to spread indistinctly about in Germany and many other countries of Europe those ideas of reformation which soon were strengthened by the persecution of the Western Church to array themselves in the logical head of Luther and to flame up in that universal crater whence the fury lava and smoke were to rush with such tremendous violence on kingdoms and nations. These ideas were then spreading through the multitude and when resisted they broke through their dikes and burst onward with greater violence. The character of Antony eager thirsting for novelty was the expression of his age: he abandoned himself to the dreams of an ardent soul and only sought whither to carry himself and his accumulations of knowledge. "Muscovy wild still but swelling into vigour with all her boundless snows and forests the mystery of her orientalism was to many a newly-discovered land--a rich mine for human genius. Muscovy then for the first time beginning to gain mastery over her internal and external foes then first felt the necessity for real material civilization." Antony pays a farewell visit to his mother at the humble tower in Bohemia where she resided estranged from his father of whose rank and condition she left him ig

orant. ""If there were a paradise upon earth Antony would have found it in the whole month which he passed in the Bohemian castle. Oh! he would not have exchanged that poor abode the wild nature on the banks of the Elbe the caresses of his mother whose age he would have cherished with his care and love--no! he would not have exchanged all this for magnificent palaces for the exertions of proud kinsmen to elevate him at the imperial court for numberless vassals whom if he chose he might hunt to death with hounds. ""But true to his vow full of the hope of being useful to his mother to science and to humanity the visionary renounced this paradise: his mother blessed him on his long journey to a distant and unknown land: she feared for him; yet she saw that Muscovy would be to him a land of promise--and how could she oppose his wishes?"" Preceding our hero to Moscow we are presented to the Great Prince before Antonio's arrival. Ambassadors had come from Tver and a Lithuanian ambassador and his interpreter had been truly or falsely convicted of an attempt to destroy Iván by poison. The Great Prince's enquiry what punishment is decreed against the felon who reaches at another's life leads to the following dialogue:-- ""'In the soudébnik it is decreed ' replied Góuseff 'whoever shall be accused of larceny robbery murder or false accusation or other like evil act and the same shall be manifestly guilty the boyárin shall doom the same unto the pain of death and the plaintiff shall have his goods; and if any thing remain the same shall go to the boyárin and the deacon.'... ""'Ay the lawyers remember themselves--never fear that the boyárin and deacon forget their fees. And what is written in thy book against royal murderers and conspirators?' ""'In our memory such case hath not arisen.' ""'Even so! you lawyers are ever writing leaf after leaf and never do ye write all; and then the upright judges begin to gloze to interpret to take bribes for dark passages. The law ought to be like an open hand without a glove (the Prince opened his fist;) every simple man ought to see what is in it and it should not be able to conceal a grain of corn. Short and clear; and when needful seizing firmly!... But as it is they have put a ragged glove on law; and besides they close the fist. Ye may guess--odd or even! they can show one or the other as they like.' ""'Pardon my Lord Great Prince; lo what we will add to the soudébnik--the royal murderer and plotter shall not live.' ""'Be it so. Let not him live who reached at another's life.' (Here he turned to Kourítzin but remembering that he was always disinclined to severe punishments he continued waving his hand ) 'I forgot that a craven[2] croweth not like a cock.' (At these words the deacon's eyes sparkled with satisfaction.) 'Mamón be this thy care. Tell my judge of Moscow--the court judge--to have the Lithuanian and the interpreter burned alive on the Moskvá--burn them dost thou hear? that others may not think of such deeds.' [2] A _jeu de mots_ impossible to be rendered in English; _Kourítza_ in Russian is a 'hen.'""--T.B.S. ""The dvorétzkoi bowed and said stroking his ragged beard--'In a few days will arrive the strangers to build the palace and the Almayne leech: the Holy Virgin only knoweth whether there be not evil men among them also. Dost thou vouchsafe me to speak what hath come into my mind?' ""'Speak.' ""'Were it not good to show them an example at once by punishing the criminals before them?' ""The Great Prince after a moment's thought replied--'Aristotle answereth for the leech Antony; he is a disciple of his brother's. The artists of the palace--foreigners--are good men quiet men ... but ... who can tell!... Mamón put off the execution till after the coming of the Almayne leech; but see that the fetters sleep not on the evil doers!' ""Here he signed to Mamón to go and fulfill his order."" Here is another scene with the Great Prince. ""He stopped and turned with an air of stern command to Kourítzin. ""The latter had addressed himself to speak--'The ambassadors from Tver ... from the'.... ""'From the prince thou wouldst say ' burst in Iván Vassílievitch: 'I no longer recognize a Prince of Tver. What--I ask thee what did he promise in the treaty of conditions which his bishop was to negotiate?--the bishop who is with us now.' ""'To dissolve his alliance with the Polish king Kazimír and never without thy knowledge to renew his intercourse with him; nor with thine ill-wishers nor with Russian deserters: to swear in his own and his children's name never to yield to Lithuania.' ""'Hast thou still the letter to King Kazimír from our good brother-in-law and ally--him whom thou yet callest the Great Prince of Tver?' ""'I have it my lord.' ""'What saith it?' ""'The Prince of Tver urgeth the Polish King against the Lord of All Russia.' ""'Now as God shall judge me I have right on my side. Go and tell the envoys from Tver that I will not receive them: I spoke a word of mercy to them--they mocked at it. What do they take me for?... A bundle of rags which to-day they may trample in the mud and to-morrow stick up for a scarecrow in their gardens! Or a puppet--to bow down to it to-day and to-morrow to cast it into the mire with _Vuiduibái father vuiduibái_![3] No! they have chosen the wrong man. They may spin their traitorous intrigues with the King of Poland and hail him their lord; but I will go myself and tell Tver who is her real master. Tease me no more with these traitors!' [3] ""When Vladímir to convert the Russians to Christianity caused the image of their idol Peróun to be thrown into the Dniépr the people of Kíeff are said to have shouted '_vuiduibái bátioushka vuiduibái_!'--bátioushka signifies 'father;' but the rest of the exclamation has never been explained though it has passed into a proverb.""--T.B.S. ""Saying this the Great Prince grew warmer and warmer and at length he struck his staff upon the ground so violently that it broke in two. ""'Hold! here is our declaration of war ' he added--'yet one word more: had it bent it would have remained whole.' ""Kourítzin taking the fatal fragments went out. The philosopher of those days looking at them shook his head and thought--'Even so breaketh the mighty rival of Moscow!'"" The Almayne physician is lodged by order of the Great Prince in one of the three stone houses which Moscow could then boast--the habitation of the voévoda Obrazétz a fine old warrior a venerable patriarch and bigot such as all Russians then were. To him the presence of the heretic is disgusting; his touch would be pollution; and the whole family is thrown into the utmost consternation by the prospect of having to harbour so foul a guest--a magician a man who had sold his soul to Satan--above all a heretic. The voévoda had an only daughter who with Oriental caution was carefully screened from the sight of man as became a high-born Russian maiden. ""From her very infancy Providence had stamped her with the seal of the marvellous; when she was born a star had fallen on the house--on her bosom she bore a mark resembling a cross within a heart. When ten years old she dreamed of palaces and gardens such as eye had never seen on earth and faces of unspeakable beauty and voices that sang and self-moving dulcimers that played as it were within her heart so sweetly and so well that tongue could never describe it; and when she awoke from those dreams she felt a light pressure on her feet and she thought she perceived that something was resting on them with white wings folded; it was very sweet and yet awful--and in a moment all was gone. Sometimes she would meditate sometimes she would dream she knew not what. Often when prostrate before the image of the Mother of God she wept; and these tears she hid from the world like some holy thing sent down to her from on high. She loved all that was marvellous; and therefore she loved the tales the legends the popular songs and stories of those days. How greedily did she listen to her nurse! and what marvels did the eloquent old woman unfold to the young burning imagination of her foster child! Anastasia sometimes abandoning herself to poesy would forget sleep and food; sometimes her dreams concluded the unfinished tale more vividly more eloquently far."" We must give the pendant to this picture--the portrait of Obrazétz himself sitting in his easy-chair listening to a tale of travels in the East. ""How noble was the aged man free from stormy passions finishing the pilgrimage of life! You seemed to behold him in pure white raiment ready to appear before his heavenly judge. Obrazétz was the chief of the party in years in grave majestic dignity and patriarchal air. Crossing his arms upon his staff he covered them with his beard downy as the soft fleece of a lamb; the glow of health deepened by the cup of strong mead blushed through the snow-white hair with which his cheeks were thickly clothed; he listened with singular attention and delight to the story-teller. This pleasure was painted on his face and shone brightly in his eyes; from time to time a smile of good-humoured mockery flitted across his lips but this was only the innocent offspring of irony which was raised in his good heart by Aphónia's boasting (for very few story-tellers you know are free from this sin.) Reclining his shoulders against the back of his arm-chair he shut his eyes and laying his broad hairy hand upon Andrióusha's head he softly gently dallied with the boy's flaxen locks. On his countenance the gratification of curiosity was mingled with affectionate tenderness: he was not dozing but seemed to be losing himself in sweet reveries. In the old man's visions arose the dear never forgotten son whom he almost fancied he was caressing. When he opened his eyes their white lashes still bore traces of the touching society of his unearthly guest; but when he remarked that the tear betraying the secret of his heart had disturbed his companions and made his daughter anxious the former expression of pleasure again dawned on his face and doubled the delighted attention of the whole party."" At length the dreaded guest arrived. ""Evil days had fallen on Obrazétz and his family. He seemed himself as though he had lost his wife and son a second time. Khabár raged and stormed like a mountain torrent. Anastasia hearing the horrible stories--is sometimes trembling like an aspen-leaf and then weeps like a fountain. She dares not even look forth out of the sliding window of her bower. Why did Vassílii Féodorovitch build such a fine house? Why did he build it so near the Great Prince's palace? 'Tis clear this was a temptation of the Evil One. He wanted forsooth to boast of a nonsuch! He had sinned in his pride.... What would become of him his son and daughter! Better for them had they never been born!... And all this affliction arose from the boyárin being about to receive a German in his house!"" The voévoda gave strict injunctions that none of his family should go to meet the procession; but M. Lajétchnikoff knows that all such orders are unavailing. ""Curiosity is so strong in human nature that it can conquer even fear: notwithstanding the orders of the boyárin all his servants rushed to obtain a glance at the terrible stranger; one at the gate another through the crevices of the wooden fence another over it. Khabár with his arms haughtily a-kimbo gazed with stern pride from the other gate. Now for the frightful face with mouse's ears winking owlish eyes streaming with fiendish fire! now for the beak! They beheld a young man tall graceful of noble deportment overflowing with fresh vigorous life. In his blue eyes shone the light of goodness and benevolence through the moisture called up by the recent spectacle of the execution: the lips surmounted by a slight soft mustache bore a good-humoured smile--one of those smiles that it is impossible to feign and which can only find their source in a heart never troubled by impure passions. Health and frost had united to tinge the cheeks with a light rosy glow; he took off his cap and his fair curls streamed forth over his broad shoulders. He addressed Mamón in a few words of such Russian as he knew and in his voice there was something so charming that even the evil spirit which wandered through the boyárin's heart sank down to its abyss. This then was the horrible stranger who had harmed Obrazétz and his household! This then was he--after all! If this was the devil the fiend must again have put on his original heavenly form. All the attendants as they looked upon him became firmly convinced that he had bewitched their eyes. ""'Haste Nástia![4] look how handsome he is!' cried Andrióusha to the voevóda's daughter in whose room he was looking through the sliding window which he had drawn back. 'After this believe stupid reports! My father says that he is my brother: oh how I shall love him! Look my dear!' [4]_Nástia_--the diminutive of Anastasia; Nástenka the same. Russian caressing names generally end in sia sha óusha or óushka--as Vásia (for Iván;) Andrióusha (Andrei;) Varpholoméoushka ( Bartholomew.)""--T.B.S. ""And the son of Aristotle affirming and swearing that he was not deceiving his godmother drew her trembling and pale to the window. Making the sign of the cross with a fluttering heart she ventured to look out--she could not trust her eyes again she looked out; confusion! a kind of delighted disappointment a kind of sweet thrill running through her blood never before experienced fixed her for some moments to the spot: but when Anastasia recovered herself from these impressions she felt ashamed and grieved that she had given way to them. She already felt a kind of repentance. The sorcerer has put on a mask she thought remembering her father's words: from this moment she became more frequently pensive."" We are conducted to the state prisons of Moscow and introduced to some of the prisoners whose names have figured in history. We select the following dialogue as a specimen of the author's power to deal with such matters. The prisoner is Márpha the lady of Novogorod who by her courage and her wealth had laboured to preserve its independence. ""Here the Great Prince rapped with his staff at a grating; at the knock there looked out an old roman who was fervently praying on her knees. She was dressed in a much-worn high cap and in a short veil poor but white as new-fallen snow; her silver hair streamed over a threadbare mantle: it was easy to guess that this was no common woman. Her features were very regular in her dim eyes was expressed intellect and a kind of stern greatness of soul. She looked proudly and steadily at the Great Prince. ""'For whom wert thou praying Marphóusha?' asked the sovereign. ""'For whom but for the dead!' she sullenly replied. ""'But for whom in particular if I may make bold to ask?' ""'Ask concerning that of my child thou son of a dog--of him who was called thy brother whom thou murderedst--of Nóvgorod which thou hast drowned in blood and covered with ashes!' ""'O ho ho!... Thou hast not forgotten thy folly then--Lady of Nóvgorod the Great.' ""'I was such once my fair lord!' ""At these words she arose. ""'Wilt thou not think again?' ""'Of what?... I said that I was praying for the dead. Thy Moscow with all its hovels can twice a-year be laid in ashes and twice built up again. The Tartar hath held it two ages in slavery.... It pined it pined away and yet it remains whole. It hath but changed one bondage for another. But once destroy the queen--Nóvgorod the Great--and Nóvgorod the Great will perish for ever.' ""'How canst thou tell that?' ""'Can ye raise up a city of hewn stone in a hundred years?' ""'I will raise one in a dozen.' ""'Ay but this is not in the fairy tale where 'tis done as soon as said. Call together the Hanse traders whom thou hast driven away.' ""'Ha hucksteress! thou mournest for the traders more than for Nóvgorod itself.' ""'By my huckstering she grew not poor but rich.' ""'Let me but jingle a piece of money and straight will fly the merchants from all corners of the world greedy for my grosches.' ""'Recall the chief citizens whom thou hast exiled to thy towns.' ""'Cheats knaves rebels! they are not worth this!' ""'When was power in the wrong? Where is the water of life that can revive those thou hast slain? Even if thou couldst do all this liberty liberty would be no more for Nóvgorod Iván Vassílievitch; and Nóvgorod will never rise again! It may live on awhile like lighted flax that neither flameth nor goeth out even as I live in a dungeon!' ""'It is thine inflexible obstinacy that hath ruined both of ye. I should like to have seen how thou wouldst have acted in my place.' ""'Thou hast done thy work Great Prince of Moscow I--mine. Triumph not over me in my dungeon at my last hour.' ""Márpha Borétzkaia coughed and her face grew livid; she applied the end of her veil to her lips but it was instantly stained with blood and Iván remarked this though she endeavoured to conceal it. ""'I am sorry for thee Márpha ' said the Great Prince in a compassionate tone. ""'Sharp is thy glance.... What! doth it delight thee?... Spread this kerchief over Nóvgorod.... 'Twill be a rich pall!'... she added with a smile. ""'Let me in! let me in!... I cannot bear it.... Let me go in to her!' cried Andrióusha bursting into tears. ""On the Great Prince's countenance was mingled compassion and vexation. He however lifted the latch of the door and let the son of Aristotle pass in to Borétzkaia. ""Andrea kissed her hand. Borétzkaia uttered not a word; she mournfully shook her head and her warm tears fell upon the boy's face. ""'Ask him how many years she can live ' said the Great Prince to Aristotle in a whisper. ""'It is much much if she live three months; but perhaps 'twill be only till spring ' answered Antony. 'No medicine can save her: that blood is a sure herald of death.' ""This reply was translated to Iván Vassílievitch in as low a tone as possible that Borétzkaia might not hear it; but she waved her hand and said calmly--'I knew it long ago'.... ""'Hearken Márpha Isákovna if thou wilt I will give thee thy liberty and send thee into another town.' ""'Another town ... another place ... God hath willed it so without thee!' ""'I would send thee to Báyjetzkoi-Verkh.' ""''Tis true that was our country. If I could but die in my native land!' ""'Then God be with thee: there thou mayst say thy prayers give alms to the churches; I will order thy treasury to be delivered up to thee--and remember not the Great Prince of Moscow in anger.' ""She smiled. Have you ever seen something resembling a smile on the jaws of a human skull? ""'Farewell we shall never meet again ' said the Great Prince. ""'We shall meet at the judgment-seat of God!' was the last reply of Borétzkaia."" The daughter of Obrazétz loved the heretic who was long unconscious of the feelings he had inspired and himself untouched by the mysterious fire that was consuming the heart of the young Anastasia. But his turn too had come--he too had seen and loved; but she knew not of his love--she hardly knew the nature of her own feelings; sometimes she feared she was under the influence of magic or imagined that the anxiety she felt for the heretic was a holy desire to turn him from the errors of his faith to save his immortal soul--or if she knew the truth she dared not acknowledge it even to her own heart--far less to any human being. To love a heretic was a deadly sin; but to save a soul would be acceptable to God--a holy offering at the footstool of the throne of grace and mercy. This hope would justify any sacrifice. The great Prince was about to march against Tver and Antonio was to accompany him. Could she permit him to depart without an effort to redeem him from his heresy or alas! without a token of her love? She determined to send him the crucifix she wore round her neck--a holy and a sacred thing which it would have been a deadly sin to part with unless to rescue a soul from perdition--and she sent it. Her brother too was to accompany the army and had besides on his return to encounter a judicial combat. The soul of the old warrior Obrazétz was deeply moved by the near approach of his son's departure. One son had died by his side--he might never see Iván more and his heart yearned to join with him in prayer. ""The mercies of God are unaccountable."" ""Trusting in them Obrazétz proceeded to the oratory whither by his command he was followed by Khabár and Anastasia. ""Silently they go plunged in feelings of awe: they enter the oratory; the solitary window is curtained; in the obscurity feebly dispelled by the mysterious glimmer of the lamp through the deep stillness fitfully broken by the flaring of the taper they were gazed down upon from every side by the dark images of the Saviour the Holy Mother of God and the Holy Saints. From them there seems to breathe a chilly air as of another world: here thou canst not hide thyself from their glances; from every side they follow thee in the slightest movement of thy thoughts and feelings. Their wasted faces feeble limbs and withered frames--their flesh macerated by prayer and fasting--the cross the agony--all here speaks of the victory of will over passions. Themselves an example of purity in body and soul they demand the same purity from all who enter the oratory their holy shrine. ""To them Anastasia had recourse in the agitation of her heart; from them she implored aid against the temptations of the Evil One; but help there was none for her the weak in will the devoted to the passion which she felt for an unearthly tempter. Thrice with crossing and with prayer did Obrazétz bow before the images; thrice did his son and daughter bow after him. This pious preface finished the old man chanted the psalm--'Whoso dwelleth under the defence of the Most High.' Thus even in our own times among us in Russia the pious warrior when going to battle almost always arms himself with this shield of faith. With deep feeling Khabár repeated the words after his father. All this prepared Anastasia for something terrible she trembled like a dove which is caught by the storm in the open plain where there is no shelter for her from the tempest that is ready to burst above her. When they arose from prayer Obrazétz took from the shrine a small image of St George the Victorious cast in silver with a ring for suspending it on the bosom. 'In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost!' he said with a solemn voice holding the image in his left hand and with his right making three signs of the cross--'with this mercy of God I bless thee my dear and only son Iván and I pray that the holy martyr George may give thee mastery and victory over thine enemies: keep this treasure even as the apple of thine eye. Put it not off from thee in any wise unless the Lord willeth that the foe shall take it from thee. I know thee Ivan they will not take it from thee living; but they may from thy corse. Keep in mind at every season thy father's blessing.' ""Anastasia turned as white as snow and trembled in every limb; her bosom felt oppressed as with a heavy stone a sound as of hammering was in her ears. She seemed to hear all the images one after another sternly repeating her father's words. He continued--'It is a great thing this blessing. He who remembereth it not or lightly esteemeth it from him shall the heavenly Father turn away his face and shall leave him for ever and ever. He shall be cast out from the kingdom of heaven and his portion shall be in hell. Keep well my solemn word.' ""Every accent of Obrazétz fell upon Anastasia's heart like a drop of molten pitch. She seemed to be summoned before the dreadful judgment-seat of Christ to hear her father's curse and her own eternal doom. She could restrain herself no longer and sobbed bitterly; the light grew dim in her eyes; her feet began to totter. Obrazétz heard her sobs and interrupted his exhortation. 'Nástia Nástia! what aileth thee?' he enquired with lively sympathy of his daughter whom he tenderly loved. She had not strength to utter a word and fell into her brother's arms. Crossing himself the boyárin put back the image into its former place and then hastened to sprinkle his child with holy water which always stood ready in the oratory. Anastasia revived and when she saw herself surrounded by her father and brother in a dark narrow sepulchral place she uttered a wild cry and turned her dim eyes around. 'My life my darling child my dove! what aileth thee?' cried the father. 'Recollect thyself: thou art in the oratory. 'Tis plain some evil eye hath struck thee. Pray to the Holy Virgin: she the merciful one will save thee from danger.' ""The father and son bore her to the image of the Mother of God. Her brother with difficulty raised her arm and she all trembling made the sign of the cross. Deeply heavily she sighed applied her ice-cold lips to the image and then signed to them with her hand that they should carry her out speedily. She fancied that she saw the Holy Virgin shake her head with a reproachful air. ""When they had carried Anastasia to her chamber she felt better."" Hitherto none had shared her secret thoughts; but the experienced eye of the widow Selínova had detected the nature of her malady and she longed to know the object of her affection. ""One day they were sitting alone together making lace. A kind of mischievous spirit whispered her to speak of the heretic. Imagine yourself thrown by destiny on a foreign land. All around you are speaking in an unknown tongue; their language appears to you a chaos of wild strange sounds. Suddenly amid the crowd drops a word in your native language. Does not then a thrill run over your whole being? does not your heart leap within you? Or place a Russian peasant at a concert where is displayed all the creative luxury and all the brilliant difficulties of foreign music. The child of nature listens with indifference to the incomprehensible sounds; but suddenly Voróbieva with her nightingale voice trills out--_The cuckóo from out the fírs so dánk hath not cúckooed._ Look what a change comes over the half-asleep listener. Thus it was with Anastasia! Till this moment Selínova had spoken to her in a strange language had only uttered sounds unintelligible to her; but the instant that she spoke the _native_ word it touched the heart-string and all the chords of her being thrilled as if they were about to burst. Anastasia trembled her hands wandered vaguely over her lace cushion her face turned deadly pale. She dared not raise her eyes and replied at random absently. ""'Ah!' thought Selínova 'that is the right key: that is the point whence cometh the storm!' ""Both remained silent. At length Anastasia ventured to glance at her visitor in order to see by the expression of her face whether she had remarked her confusion. Selínova's eyes were fixed upon her work on her face there was not even a shade of suspicion. The crafty widow intended little by little imperceptibly to win the confidence of the inexperienced girl. ""'And where then is _he_ gone?' she asked after a short pause without naming the person about whom she was enquiring. ""'He is gone with the Great Prince on the campaign ' answered Anastasia blushing; then after a moment's thought she added--'I suppose thou askedst me about my brother?' ""'No my dear our conversation was about Antony the leech. What a pity he is a heretic! You will not easily find such another gallant among our Muscovites. He hath all both height and beauty: when he looketh 'tis as though he gave you large pearls; his locks lie on his shoulders like the light of dawn; he is as white and rosy as a young maiden. I wonder whence he had such beauty--whether by the permission of God or not naturally by the influence of the Evil One. I could have looked at him--may it not be a sin to say I could have gazed at him for ever without being weary!' ""At these praises Anastasia's pale countenance blushed like the dawning that heralds the tempest. 'Thou hast then seen him?' asked the enamoured maiden in a trembling dying voice and breaking off her work. ""'I have seen him more than once. I have not only seen him but wonder now my dear--I have visited him in his dwelling!' ""'The maiden shook her head her eyes were dimmed with the shade of pensiveness; a thrill of jealousy in spite of herself darted to her heart. 'What! and didst thou not fear to go to him?' she said--'Is he not a heretic?' ""'If thou knewest it Nástenka what wouldst thou not do for love?' ""'Love?' ... exclaimed Anastasia and her heart bounded violently in her breast. ""'Ah if I were not afraid I would disclose to thee the secret of my soul.' ""'Speak I pray thee speak! Fear not; see! I call the Mother of God to witness thy words shall die with me.' ""And the maiden with a quivering hand signed a large cross. ""'If so I will confide in thee what I have never disclosed but to God. It is not over one blue sea alone that the mist lieth and the darksome cloud: it is not over one fair land descendeth the gloomy autumn night; there was a time when my bosom was loaded with a heavy sorrow my rebellious heart lay drowned in woe and care: I loved thy brother Iván Vassílievitch. (The maiden's heart was relieved she breathed more freely.) Thou knowest not my life my child what kind of feeling is that of love and God grant that thou mayest never know! The dark night cometh thou canst not close thine eyes: the bright dawn breaketh thou meetest it with tears and the day is all weary--O so weary! There are many men in the fair world but thou see'st only one in thy bower in the street in the house of God. A stone lieth ever on thy breast and thou canst not shake it off.' ""Then Selínova wept sincere tears. Her companion listened to her with eager sympathy: the feelings just depicted were her own. * * * * * ""There was a deep silence. It was broken by the young widow. ""'Nástenka my life?' she began in a tone of such touching such lively interest as called for her reluctant confidence. ""The daughter of Obrazétz glanced at her with eyes full of tears and shook her head. ""'Confide in me as I have confided in thee ' continued Selínova taking her hand and pressing it to her bosom. 'I have lived longer in the world than thou ... believe me 'twill give thee ease ... 'tis clear from every symptom my love what thou ailest.' ""And Anastasia sobbing exclaimed at last--'O my love my dearest friend Praskóvia Vladimírovna take a sharp knife open my white breast look what is the matter there!' ""'And wherefore need we take the sharp knife and wherefore need we open the white breast or look upon the rebellious heart? Surely by thy fair face all can tell my child how that fair face hath been darkened how the fresh bloom hath faded and bright eyes grown dull. After all 'tis clear thou lovest some wandering falcon some stranger youth.' ""Anastasia answered not a word; she could not speak for tears; and hid her face in her hands. At last softened by Selínova's friendly sympathy and her assurances that she would be easier if she would confide her secret to such a faithful friend she related her love for the heretic. The episode of the crucifix was omitted in this tale which finished of course with assurances that she was enchanted bewitched. ""Poor Anastasia! ""Snowdrop! beautiful flower thou springest up alone in the bosom of thy native valley! And the bright sun arises every day to glass himself in thy morning mirror; and the beaming moon after a sultry day hastens to fan thee with her breezy wing and the angels of God lulling thee by night spread over thee a starry canopy such as king never possessed. Who can tell from what quarter the tempest may bring from afar from other lands the seeds of the ivy and scatter them by thy side and the ivy arises and twines lovingly around thee and chokes thee lovely flower! This is not all: the worm has crawled to thy root hath fixed its fang therein and kills ye both if some kind hand save ye not."" These extracts will enable our readers to judge for themselves of the merits of M. Lajétchnikoff's style as it appears in Mr Shaw's translation. A better selection might have been made had we not been desirous to avoid any such anticipation of the development of the story as light diminish its interest; but we are inclined to believe that most of our readers will agree with us in thinking that if M. Lajétchnikoff has succeeded in faithfully illustrating the manners of the age of Iván the Great he has also shown that he possesses brilliancy of fancy

ervour of thought and elevation of sentiment as well as knowledge of the movements of the heart revealed only to the few who have been initiated into nature's mysteries. He does not appear to be largely gifted with the power of graphic description of placing the scenes of nature or the living figures that people them vividly before us--he loves rather to indulge even to excess mystical or passionate thoughts that are born in his own breast and to adorn them with garlands woven from the flowers of his fancy; but these flowers are of native growth the indigenous productions of the Russian soil. His images often sound to our ears homely sometimes even familiar and mean but they may be dignified in their native dress. He has no lively perception of the beauties of external nature; his raptures are reserved for the wonders of art for what the human mind can create or achieve; and curiously enough it is architecture that seems to excite in him the greatest enthusiasm. In illustration of this feeling we must still extract an eloquent discourse on the life of the artist which the author puts into the mouth of Fioraventi Aristotle--a passage of much feeling and we fear of too much truth:-- ""Thou knowest not Antony what a life is that of an artist! While yet a child he is agitated by heavy incomprehensible thoughts: to him the sphynx Genius hath already proposed its enigmas; in his bosom the Promethean vulture is already perched and groweth with his growth. His comrades are playing and making merry; they are preparing for their riper years recollections of childhood's days of paradise--childhood that never can be but once: the time cometh and he remembereth but the tormenting dreams of that age. Youth is at hand; for others 'tis the time of love of soft ties of revelry--the feast of life; for the artist none of these. Solitary flying from society he avoideth the maiden he avoideth joy; plunging into the loneliness of his soul he there with indescribable mourning with tears of inspiration on his knees before his Ideal imploreth her to come down upon earth to his frail dwelling. Days and nights he waiteth and pineth after unearthly beauty. Woe to him if she doth not visit him and yet greater woe to him if she doth! The tender frame of youth cannot bear her bridal kiss; union with the gods is fatal to man; and the mortal is annihilated in her embrace. I speak not of the education of the mechanic preparation. And here at every step the Material enchaineth thee buildeth up barriers before thee: marketh a formless vein upon thy block of marble mingling soot with thy carmine entangling thy imagination in a net of monstrous rules and formulas commandeth thee to be the slave of the house-painter or of the stone-cutter. And what awaiteth thee when thou hast come forth victorious from this mechanic school--when thou hast succeeded in throwing off the heavy sum of a thousand unnecessary rules with which pedantry hath overwhelmed thee--when thou takest as thy guide only those laws which are so plain and simple?... What awaiteth thee then? Again the Material! Poverty need forced labour appreciators rivals that ever-hungry flock which flieth upon thee ready to tear thee in pieces as soon as it knoweth that thou art a pure possessor of the gift of God. Thy soul burneth to create but thy carcass demandeth a morsel of bread; inspiration veileth her wing but the body asketh not only to clothe its nakedness with a decent covering but fine cloth silk velvet that it may appear before thy judges in a proper dress without which they will not receive thee thou and thy productions will die unknown. In order to obtain food clothes thou must _work_: a merchant will order from thee a cellar a warehouse; the signore stables and dog kennels. Now at last thou hast procured thyself daily bread a decent habit for thy bones and flesh: inspiration thirsteth for its nourishment demanding from thy soul images and forms. Thou createst thou art bringing thy Ideal to fulfilment. How swiftly move the wheels of thy being! Thy existence is tenfold redoubled thy pulse is beating as when thou breathest the atmosphere of high mountains. Thou spendest in one day whole months of life. How many nights passed without sleep how many days in ceaseless chain all filled with agitation! Or rather there is nor day nor night for thee nor seasons of the year as for other men. Thy blood now boileth then freezeth; the fever of imagination wasteth thee away. Triumph setteth thee on fire the fear of failure maddeneth thee tearing thee to pieces tormenting thee with dread of the judgments of men; then again ariseth the terror of dying with thy task unfinished. Add too the inevitable shade of glory which stalketh ever in thy footsteps and giveth thee not a moment of repose. This is the period of creation! While creating thou hast been dwelling at the footstool of God. Crushed by thy contact with the hem of his garment overwhelmed by inspiration from Him whom the world can scarcely bear a poor mortal half alive half dead thou descendest upon earth and carriest with thee what thou hast created _there_ in _His_ presence! Mortals surround thy production judging valuing discussing it in detail; the patron laudeth the ornaments the grandeur of the columns the weight of the work; the distributors of favour gamble away thy honour or creep like mice under thy plan and nibble at it in the darkness of night. No my friend the life of an artist is the life of a martyr."" We are so much accustomed to see virtue rewarded and vice punished that we might perhaps have been better pleased to have seen this kind of poetical justice more equitably dispensed; but the cause of virtue is perhaps as effectually served by making it attractive as by making it triumphant and vice is as much discouraged by making it odious or contemptible as by making it unsuccessful. It only remains to say a few words of the translator's labours; and although we do not pretend to decide on the fidelity of the version he has given us or how much his author may have lost or gained in his hands we cannot but think that we perceive internal evidence of efforts to be faithful even at the hazard of losing perhaps something of more value in the attempt. However this may be it is plain that Mr Shaw is himself a vigorous and eloquent writer of his own language as the extracts we have given may vouch. We feel greatly indebted to him for unlocking to us the stores of Russian fiction which if they contain many such works as _The Heretic_ will well repay the labour of a careful examination. There is about every thing Russian an air of orientalism which gives a peculiar character to their dress their mansions their manners their feelings their expressions and their prejudices which will probably long continue to distinguish Russian literature on that of the other nations of Europe whose steps she has followed perhaps too implicitly in her attempts to overtake them in the race of civilization and intellectual improvement. * * * * * THRUSH-HUNTING. BY ALEXANDER DUMAS. We have heard of certain cooks the Udes and Vatels of their day whose boast it was to manufacture the most sumptuous and luxurious repast out of coarse and apparently insufficient materials. We will take the liberty of comparing M. Dumas with one of these artistical _cuisiniers_ possessing in the highest degree the talent of making much out of little by the skill with which it is prepared and the piquant nature of the condiments applied. A successful dramatist as well as a popular romance-writer his dialogues have the point and brilliancy his narrative the vivid terseness generally observable in novels written by persons accustomed to dramatic composition. Confining himself to no particular line of subject he rambles through the different departments of light literature in a most agreeable and desultory manner; to-day a tourist to-morrow a novelist; the next day surprising his public by an excursion into the regions of historical romance amongst the well-beaten highways and byways of which he still manages to discover an untrodden path or to embellish a familiar one by the sparkle of his wit and industry of his researches. The majority of his books convey the idea of being written _currente calamo_ and with little trouble to himself; and these have a lightness and brilliancy peculiar to their lively author which cannot fail to recommend them to all classes of readers. They are like the sketches of a clever artist who with a few bright and bold touches gives an effect to his subject which no labour would enable a less talented painter to achieve. But M. Dumas can produce highly finished pictures as well as brilliant sketches although for the present it is one of the latter that we are about to introduce to our readers. Every body knows or ought to know that M. Dumas has been in Italy and found means to make half a dozen highly amusing volumes out of his rambles in a country perhaps of all others the most familiar to the inhabitants of civilized Europe--a country which has been described and re-described _ad nauseam_ by tourists loungers and idlers innumerable. On his way to the land of lazzaroni he made a pause at Marseilles to visit his friend Méry a poet and author of some celebrity; and here he managed to collect materials for a volume which we can recommend to the perusal of the daily increasing class of our countrymen who think that a book although written in French may be witty and amusing without being either blasphemous or indecent. We have reason to believe that many persons who have not visited the south-eastern corner of France think of it as a ""land of the cypress and myrtle;"" where troubadours wander amongst orange groves or tinkle their guitars under the shade of the vine and the fig-tree. There is something in a name and Provence if it were only for the sake of its roses ought one would think to be a smiling and beautiful country. And so part of it is; but in this part is assuredly not included the district around its chief city. One hears much of the vineyards and orange groves of the south. We do not profess to care much about vines except for the sake of what they produce; most of the vineyards we ever saw looked very like plantations of gooseberry bushes and the best of them were not so graceful or picturesque as a Kentish hop-ground. As to olives admirable as they undoubtedly are when flanking a sparkling jug of claret we find little to admire in the stiff greyish stunted sort of trees upon which they think proper to grow. But neither vines nor olives are to be found around Marseilles. Nothing but dust; dust on the roads dust in the fields dust on every leaf of the parched unhappy-looking trees that surround the country-houses of the Marseillais. The fruit and vegetables consumed there are brought for miles overland or by water from places on the coast; flowers are scarce--objecting probably to grow in so arid a soil and in a heat that for some months of the year is perfectly African. Game there is little or none; notwithstanding which there are nowhere to be found more enthusiastic sportsmen than at Marseilles. It is on this hint M. Dumas speaks. His description of the manner in which the worthy burghers of Marseilles make war upon the volatiles is rather amusing. ""Every Marseillais who aspires to the character of a keen sportsman has what is termed a _poste à feu_. This is a pit or cave dug in the ground in the vicinity of a couple of pine-trees and covered over with branches. In addition to the pine-trees it is usual to have _cimeaux_ long spars of wood of which two are supported horizontally on the branches of the trees and a third planted perpendicularly in the ground. These _cimeaux_ are intended as a sort of treacherous invitation to the birds to come and rest themselves. So regularly as Sunday morning arrives the Marseillais Cockney installs himself in his pit arranges a loophole through which he can see what passes outside and waits with all imaginable patience. The question that will naturally be asked is--What does he wait for? ""He waits for a thrush an ortolan a beccafico a robin-redbreast or any other feathered and diminutive biped. He is not so ambitious as to expect a quail. Partridges he has heard of; of one at least a sort of phoenix reproduced from its own ashes and seen from time to time before an earthquake or other great catastrophe. As to the hare he is well aware that it is a fabulous animal of the unicorn species. ""There is a tradition however at Marseilles that during the last three months of the year flocks of wild pigeons pass over on their way from Africa or Kamschatka or some other distant country. Within the memory of man no one has ever seen one of these flights; but it would nevertheless be deemed heresy to doubt the fact. At this season therefore the sportsman provides himself with tame pigeon which he fastens by a string to the _cimeaux_ in such a manner that the poor bird is obliged to keep perpetually on the wing not being allowed rope enough to reach a perch. After three or four Sundays passed in this manner the unfortunate decoy dies of a broken heart."" There is not nearly so much caricature in this picture as our readers may be disposed to think. Whoever has passed a few weeks of the autumn in a French provincial town must have witnessed and laughed at the very comical proceedings of the _chasseurs_ the high-sounding title assumed by every Frenchman who ever pointed a gun at a cock-sparrow. One sees them going forth in the morning in various picturesque and fanciful costumes their loins girded with a broad leathern belt a most capacious game-bag slung over their shoulder a fowling-piece of murderous aspect balanced on their arm; their heads protected from the October sun by every possible variety of covering from the Greek skull-cap to the broad-brimmed Spanish sombrero. Away they go singly or by twos and threes accompanied by a whole regiment of dogs for the most part badly bred and worse broken curs which when they get into the field go pottering about in a style that would sorely tempt an English sportsman to bestow upon them the contents of both barrels. Towards the close of the day take a stroll outside the town and you meet the heroes returning. ""Well what sport?"" ""_Pas mal mon cher_. Not so bad "" is the reply in a tone of ill-concealed triumph; and plunging his hand into his game-bag the chasseur produces--a phthisical snipe a wood pigeon an extenuated quail and perhaps something which you at first take for a deformed blackbird but which turns out to be a water-hen. As far as our own observations go we do aver this to be a very handsome average of a French sportsman's day's shooting. If by chance he has knocked down a red-legged partridge (grey ones are very scarce in France ) his exultation knows no bounds. The day on which such a thing occurs is a red-letter day with him for the rest of his life. He goes home at once and inscribes the circumstance in the family archives. But this state of things it will perhaps be urged may arise from the scarcity of game in France as probably as from the sportsman's want of skill. True; but the worst is to come. After you have duly admired and examined snipe pigeon quail and water-hen your friend again rummages in the depths of his _gibecière_ and pulls out--what?--a handful of tomtits and linnets which he has been picking off every hedge for five miles round. ""_Je me suis rabattu sur le petit gibier_ "" he says with a grin and a shrug and walks away a proud man and a happy leaving you in admiration of his prowess. M. Dumas expresses a wish to make the acquaintance of one of these modern Nimrods and his friend Méry arranges a supper to which he invites a certain Monsieur Louet who plays the fourth bass in the orchestra of the Marseilles theatre. The conversation after supper is a good specimen of _persiflage_. After doing ample justice to an excellent repast during which he had scarcely uttered a word ""Monsieur Louet threw himself back in his chair and looked at us all one after the other as if he had only just become aware of our presence accompanying his inspection with a smile of the most perfect benevolence; then heaving a gentle sigh of satisfaction--'Ma foi! I have made a capital supper!' exclaimed he. ""'M. Louet! A cigar?' cried Méry: 'It is good for the digestion.' ""'Thank you most illustrious poet!' answered M. Louet; 'I never smoke. It was not the fashion in my time. Smoking and boots were introduced by the Cossacks. I always wear shoes and am faithful to my snuff-box.' ""So saying M. Louet produced his box and offered it round. We all refused except Méry who wishing to flatter him attacked his weak side. ""'What delicious snuff M. Louet! This cannot be the common French snuff?' ""'Indeed it is--only I doctor it in a particular manner. It is a secret I learned from a cardinal when I was at Rome.' ""'Ha! You have been to Rome?' cried I. ""'Yes sir; I passed twenty years there.' ""'M. Louet ' said Méry 'since you do not smoke you ought to tell these gentlemen the story of your thrush-hunt.' ""'I shall be most happy ' replied M. Louet graciously 'if you think it will amuse the company.' ""'To be sure it will ' cried Méry. 'Gentlemen you are going to hear the account of one of the most extraordinary hunts that has taken place since the days of Nimrod the mighty hunter. I have heard it told twenty times and each time with increased pleasure. Another glass of punch M. Louet. There! Now begin.--We are all impatience.' ""'You are aware gentlemen ' said M. Louet 'that every Marseillais is born a sportsman.' ""'Perfectly true ' interrupted Méry 'it is a physiological phenomenon which I have never been able to explain; but it is nevertheless quite true.' ""'Unfortunately ' continued M. Louet 'or perhaps I should say fortunately we have neither lions nor tigers in the neighbourhood of Marseilles. On the other hand we have flights of pigeons.' ""'There!' cried Méry 'I told you so. They insist upon it.' ""'Certainly ' replied M. Louet visibly vexed; 'and whatever you may say to the contrary the pigeons _do_ pass. Besides did you not lend me the other day a book of Mr Cooper's the _Pioneers_ in which the fact is authenticated?' ""'Ah yes! Authenticated in America.' ""'Very well! If they pass over America why should they not pass over Marseilles? The vessels that go from Alexandria and Constantinople to America often pass here.' ""'Very true!' replied Méry thunderstruck by this last argument. 'I have nothing more to say. M. Louet your hand. I will never contradict you again on the subject.' ""'Sir every man has a right to his opinion.' ""'True but I relinquish mine. Pray go on M. Louet.' ""'I was saying then that instead of lions and tigers we have flights of pigeons.' M. Louet paused a moment to see if Méry would contradict him. Méry nodded his head approvingly. ""'True ' said he 'they have flights of pigeons.'"" Satisfied by this admission M. Louet resumed. ""'You may easily imagine that at the period of the year when these flights occur every sportsman is on the alert; and as I am only occupied in the evening at the theatre I am fortunately able to dispose of my mornings as I like. It was in 1810 or '11 I was five-and-thirty years of age; that is to say gentlemen rather more active than I am now. I was one morning at my post as usual before daybreak. I had tied my decoy pigeon to the _cimeaux_ and he was fluttering about like a mad thing when I fancied I saw by the light of the stars something perched upon my pine-tree. Unfortunately it was too dark for me to distinguish whether this something were a bat or a bird so I remained quite quiet waiting for the sun to rise. At last the sun rose and I saw that it was a bird. I raised my gun gently to my shoulder and when I was sure of my aim I pulled the trigger. Sir I had omitted to discharge my gun on returning from shooting the evening before. It had been twelve hours loaded and it hung fire. ""'Nevertheless I saw by the way in which the bird flew that he was touched. I followed him with my eyes till he perched again. Then I looked for my pigeon; but by an extraordinary chance a shot had cut the string which tied him and he had flown away. Without a decoy I knew very well it was no use remaining at the post so I resolved to follow up the thrush. I forgot to tell you gentlemen that the bird I had fired at was a thrush. ""'Unluckily I had no dog. When one shoots with a decoy a dog is worse than useless--it is a positive nuisance. I was obliged therefore to beat the bushes myself. The thrush had run along the ground and rose behind me when I thought I still had him in front. At the sound of his wings I turned and fired in a hurry. A shot thrown away as you may suppose. Nevertheless I saw some feathers fall from him.' ""'You saw some feathers?' cried Méry. ""'Yes sir. I even found one which I put in my buttonhole.' ""'In that case ' said Méry 'the thrush was hit?' ""'That was my opinion at the time. I had not lost sight of him and I continued the pursuit; but the bird was scared and this time flew away before I got within range. I fired all the same. There is no saying where a stray shot may go.' ""'A stray shot is not enough for a thrush ' said Méry shaking his head gravely. 'A thrush is a very hard-lived bird.' ""'Very true sir; for I am certain my two first shots had wounded him and yet he made a third flight of nearly half a mile. But I had sworn to have him and on I went. Impossible to get near him. He led me on mile after mile always flying away as soon as I came within fifty or sixty paces. I became furious. If I had caught him I think I should have eaten him alive and the more so as I was beginning to get very hungry. Fortunately as I had calculated on remaining out all day I had my breakfast and dinner in my game-bag and I eat as I went along.' ""'Pardon me ' said Méry interrupting M. Louet; 'I have an observation to make. Observe my dear Dumas the difference between the habits of the human race in northern and southern climes. In the north the sportsman runs after his game; in the south he waits for it to come to him. In the first case he takes out an empty bag and brings home a full one; in the other he takes it out full and brings it home empty. Pray go on my dear M. Louet. I have spoken.' And he recommenced puffing at his cigar. ""'Where was I?' said M. Louet who had lost the threat of his narrative through this interruption. ""'Speeding over hill and dale in pursuit of your thrush.' ""'True sir. I cannot describe to you the state of excitement and irritation I was in. I began to think of the bird of Prince Camaralzaman and to suspect that I too might be the victim of some enchantment. I passed Cassis and La Ciotat and entered the large plain extending from Ligne to St. Cyr. I had been fifteen hours on my feet and I was half dead with fatigue. I made a vow to Our Lady of La Garde to hang a silver thrush in her chapel if she would only assist me to catch the living one I was following; but she paid no attention to me. Night was coming on and in despair I fired my last shot at the accursed bird. I have no doubt he heard the lead whistle for this time he flew so far that I lost sight of him in the twilight. He had gone in the direction of the village of St. Cyr. Probably he intended to sleep there and I resolved to do the same. Fortunately there was to be no performance that night at the Marseilles theatre.'"" The worthy basso goes to the inn at St. Cyr and relates his troubles to the host who decides that the object of his pursuit must have halted for the night in a neighbouring piece of brushwood. By daybreak M. Louet is again a-foot accompanied by the innkeeper's dog Soliman. They soon get upon the scent of the devoted thrush. ""'Every body knows that a true sporting dog will follow any one who has a gun on his shoulder. ""Soliman Soliman!"" cried I; and Soliman came. Sir the instinct of the dog was remarkable: we had hardly got out of the village when he made a point--such a point sir!--his tail out as straight as a ramrod. There was the thrush not ten paces from me. I fired both barrels--Poum! Poum! Powder not worth a rush. I had used all my own the day before and this was some I had got from my host. The thrush flew away unhurt. But Soliman had kept his eye on him and went straight to the place where the bird was. Again he made a most beautiful point; but although I looked with all my eyes I could not see the thrush. I was stooping down in this manner looking for the creature when suddenly it flew away and so fast that before I got my gun to my shoulder it was out of reach. Soliman opened his eyes and stared at me; as much as to say ""What is the meaning of all this?"" The expression of the dog's face made me feel quit humiliated. I could not help speaking to him. ""Never mind "" said I nodding my head ""you will see next time."" You would have thought the animal understood me. He again began to hunt about. In less than ten minutes he stopped as if he were cut out of marble. I was determined not to lose this chance; and I went right before the dog's nose. The bird rose literally under my feet; but I was so agitated that I fired my first barrel too soon and my second too late. The first discharge passed by him like a single ball; the second was too scattered and he passed between it. It was then that a thing happened to me--one of those things which I should not repeat but for my attachment to the truth. The dog looked at me for a moment with a sort of smile upon his countenance: then coming close up to me while I was reloading my gun he lifted his left hind leg made water against my gaiter and then turning round trotted away in the direction of his master's house. You may easily suppose that if it had been a man who had thus insulted me I would have had his life or he should have had mine. But what could I say sir to a dumb beast which God had not gifted with reason?'"" This canine insult only acts as a spur to the indefatigable chasseur who dogless as he finds himself follows up his thrush till he reaches the town of Hyères. Here he loses all trace of the bird but endeavours to console himself by eating the oranges which grow in the garden of his hotel. Whilst thus engaged a thrush perches on a tree beside him and the first glance at the creature's profile satisfied him that it is the same bird whose society he has been rejoicing in the for the last two days. Unfortunately his gun is in the house of which the thrush seems to be aware for it continues singing and dressing its feathers on a branch within ten feet of his head. Afraid of losing sight of it M. Louet waits till the landlord comes to announce supper and then desires him to bring his gun. But there is a punishment of fine and imprisonment for whoever fires a shot between sunset and sunrise within the precincts of the town; and although the enthusiastic sportsman is willing enough to run this risk the hotel-keeper fears to be taken for an accomplice and refuses to fetch the gun threatening to drive away the bird if M. Louet goes for it himself. At last they come to terms. M. Louet sups and sleeps under the tree the bird roosts on the same; and at the first stroke of the matin bell mine host appears with the fowling-piece. Our chasseur stretches out his hand to take it and--the bird flies away. M. Louet throws down the price of his supper and scales the garden wall in pursuit. He follows his intended victim the whole of that day and at last has the mortification of seeing it carried away before his eyes by a hawk. Foot-sore and tired hungry and thirsty the unfortunate musician sinks down exhausted by the side of a road. A peasant passes by. ""'My friend ' said I to him 'is there any town village or house in this neighbourhood?' ""'_Gnor si_ ' answered he '_cé la citta di Nizza un miglia avanti_.' ""The thrush had led me into Italy."" At Nice M. Louet is in great tribulation. In the course of his long ramble his money has worked a hole in his pocket and he discovers that he is penniless just at the moment that he has established himself at the best hotel and ordered supper for three by way of making up for past privations. He gets out of his difficulties however by giving a concert which produces him a hundred crowns; and he then embarks for Toulon on board the letter of marque La Vierge des Sept Douleurs Captain Garnier. Once on the water there is a fine opportunity for a display of French naval heroism at the expense of course of the unfortunate English to whom M. Dumas bears about the same degree of affection that another dark-complexioned gentleman is said to do to holy water. This is one of M. Dumas's little peculiarities or affectations it is difficult to say which. Wherever it is possible to bring in England and the English depreciate them in any way or turn them into ridicule M. Dumas invariably does it and those passages are frequently the most amusing in his books. In the present instance it is a very harmless piece of faufarronade in which he indulges. The armed brig in which M. Louet has embarked falls in which a squadron of English men-of-war. Hearing a great bustle upon deck our musician goes up to enquire the cause and finds the captain quietly seated smoking his pipe. After the usual salutations-- ""'M. Louet have you ever seen a naval combat?' said the captain to me. ""'Never sir.' ""'Would you like to see one?' ""'Why captain to say the truth there are other things I should better like to see.' ""'I am sorry for it; for it you wished to see one a real good one your wish would soon be gratified.' ""'What! captain ' cried I feeling myself grow pale; 'you do not mean to say we are going to have a naval combat? Ha ha! I see you are joking captain.' ""'Joking eh? Look yonder. What do you see?' ""'I see three very fine vessels.' ""'Count again.' ""'I see more. Four five there are six of them.' ""'Can you distinguish what there is on the flag of the nearest one? Here take the glass.' ""'I cannot make out very well but I think I see a harp.' ""'Exactly.--The Irish harp. In a few minutes they'll play as a tune on it.' ""'But captain ' said I 'they are still a long way off and it appears to me that by spreading all those sails which are now furled upon your masts and yards you might manage to escape. In your place I should certainly run away. Excuse me for the suggestion but it is my opinion as fourth bass of the Marseilles theatre. If I had the honour to be a sailor I should perhaps think differently.'"" Very sensible advice too M. Louet _we_ should have thought at least considering the odds of six to one. But the fire-eating Frenchman thinks otherwise. ""'If it were a man instead of a bass who made me such a proposal ' replied the captain 'I should have had a word or two to say to him about it. Know sir that Captain Garnier _never_ runs away! He fights till his vessel is riddled like a sieve then he allows himself to be boarded and when his decks are covered with the enemy he goes into the powder magazine with his pipe in his mouth shakes out the burning ashes and sends the English on a voyage of discovery upwards.' ""'And the French?' ""'The French too.' ""'And the passengers?' ""'The passengers likewise.' ""'At that moment a small white cloud appeared issuing from the side of one of the English ships. This was followed by a dull noise like a heavy blow on the big drum. I saw some splinters fly from the top of the brig's gunwale and an artilleryman who was just then standing on his gun fell backwards upon me. 'Come my friend ' said I 'mind what you are about.' And as he did not stir I pushed him. He fell upon the deck. I looked at him with more attention. His head was off. ""My nerves were so affected by this sight that five minutes later I found myself in the ship's hold without exactly knowing how I had got there."" Thanks to a storm the six English men of war manage to escape from the brig and when M. Louet ventures to re-appear upon deck he finds himself in the Italian port of Piombino opposite the island of Elba. He has had enough of the water and goes on shore where he bargains with a vetturino to take him to Florence. A young officer of French hussars and four Italians are his travelling companions. The former on learning his name and profession asks him sundry questions about a certain Mademoiselle Zephyrine formerly a dancer at the Marseilles theatre and in whom he seems to take a strong interest. Bad springs and worse roads render it very difficult to sleep. At last on the second night of their journey M. Louet succeeds in ge

ting up a doze out of which he is roused in a very unpleasant manner. We will give his own account of it. ""'Two pistol-shots the flash of which almost burned my face awoke me. They were fired by M. Ernest (the hussar officer.) We were attacked by banditti.' ""'_Faccia in terra! Faccia in terra!_' I jumped out of the carriage and as I did so one of the brigands gave me a blow between the shoulders that threw me upon my face. My companions were already in that position with the exception of M. Ernest who was defending himself desperately. At length he was overpowered and made prisoner. ""My pockets were turned inside out and my hundred crowns taken away. I had a diamond ring on my finger which I hoped they would not observe and I turned the stone inside heartily wishing as I did so that it had the power of Gyges' ring and could render me invisible. But all was in vain. The robbers soon found it out. When they had taken every thing from us-- ""'Is there a musician amongst you?' said he who appeared the chief. ""Nobody answered. ""'Well ' repeated he 'are you all deaf? I asked if any of you knew how to play on an instrument.' ""'Pardieu!' said a voice which I recognized as that of the young officer; 'there's M. Louet who plays the bass.' ""I wished myself a hundred feet under ground. ""'Which is M. Louet?' said the brigand. 'Is it this one?' And stooping down he laid hold of the collar of my shooting-jacket and lifted me on my feet. ""'For Heaven's sake what do you want with me?' cried I. ""'Nothing to be so frightened about ' was the answer. 'For a week past we have been hunting every where for a musician without being able to find one. The captain will be delighted to see you.' ""'What!' cried I 'are you going to take me to the captain?' ""'Certainly we are.' ""'To separate me from my companions?' ""'What can we do with them? _They_ are not musicians.' ""'Gentlemen!' cried I 'for God's sake help me! do not let me be carried off in this manner.' ""'The gentlemen will have the goodness to remain with their noses in the dust for the space of a quarter of an hour ' said the brigand. 'As to the officer tie him to a tree ' continued he to the four men who were holding the hussar. 'In a quarter of an hour the postillion will untie him. Not a minute sooner if you value your life.' ""The postillion gave a sort of affirmative grunt and the robbers now moved off in the direction of the mountains. I was led between two of them. After marching for some time we saw a light in a window and presently halted at a little inn on a cross-road. The bandits went up stairs excepting two who remained with me in the kitchen and one of whom had appropriated my fowling-piece and the other my game-bag. As to my diamond ring and my hundred crowns they had become perfectly invisible. ""Presently somebody shouted from above and my guards taking me by the collar pushed me up stairs and into a room on the first floor. ""Seated at a table upon which was a capital supper and numerous array of bottles was the captain of the robbers a fine-looking man of thirty-five or forty years of age. He was dressed exactly like a theatrical robber in blue velvet with a red sash and silver buckles. His arm was passed round the waist of a very pretty girl in the costume of a Roman peasant; that is to say an embroidered boddice short bright-coloured petticoat and red stockings. Her feet attracted my attention they were so beautifully small. On one of her fingers I saw my diamond ring--a circumstance which as well as the company in which I found her gave me a very indifferent idea of the young lady's morality. ""'What countryman are you?' asked the captain. ""'I am a Frenchman your excellency.' ""'So much the better!' cried the young girl. ""I saw with pleasure that at any rate I was amongst people who spoke my own language. ""'You are a musician?' ""'I am fourth bass at the Marseilles theatre.' ""'Bring this gentleman's bass ' said the captain to one of his men. 'Now my little Rina ' said he turning to his mistress 'I hope you are ready to dance."" ""'I always was ' answered she 'but how could I without music?' ""'_Non ho trovato l'instrumento_ ' said the robber reappearing at the door. ""'What!' cried the captain in a voice of thunder; 'no instrument?' ""'Captain ' interposed his lieutenant 'I searched every where but could not find even the smallest violoncello.' ""'_Bestia_!' cried the captain. ""'Excellency ' I ventured to observe 'it is not his fault. I had no bass with me.' ""'Very well ' said the captain 'send off five men immediately to Sienna Volterra Grossetto--all over the country. I must have a bass by to-morrow night.' ""I could not help thinking I had seen Mademoiselle Rina's face somewhere before and I was cudgeling my memory to remember where when she addressed the captain. ""'Tonino ' said she 'you have not even asked the poor man if he is hungry.' ""I was touched by this little attention and on the captain's invitation I drew a chair to the table in fear and trembling I acknowledge; but it was nearly twelve hours since I had eaten any thing and my hunger was perfectly canine. Mademoiselle Rina herself had the kindness to pass me the dishes and fill my glass; so that I had abundant opportunities of admiring my own ring which sparkled upon her finger. I began to perceive however that I should not be so badly off as I had expected and that the captain was disposed to treat me well. ""Supper over I was allowed to retire to a room and a bed that had been prepared for me. I slept fifteen hours without waking. The robbers had the politeness not to disturb me till I awakened of my own accord. Then however five of them entered my room each carrying a bass. I chose the best and they made firewood of the others. ""When I had made my choice they told me the captain was waiting dinner for me; and accordingly on entering the principal room of the inn I found a table spread for the captain Mademoiselle Rina the lieutenant and myself. There were several other tables for the rest of the banditti. The room was lighted up with at least three hundred wax candles. ""The dinner was a merry one. The robbers were really very good sort of people and the captain was in an excellent humour. When the feasting was over ""'You have not forgotten your promise Rina I hope?' said he. ""'Certainly not ' was the reply. 'In a quarter of an hour I am ready.' ""So saying she skipped out of the room. ""'And you Signor Musico ' said the captain 'I hope you are going to distinguish yourself.' ""'I will do my best captain.' ""'If I am satisfied you shall have back your hundred crowns.' ""'And my diamond ring captain?' ""'Oh! as to that no. Besides you see Rina has got it and you are too gallant to wish to take it from her.' ""At this moment Mademoiselle Rina made her appearance in the costume of a shepherdess--a boddice of silver short silk petticoats and a large Cashmere shawl twisted round her waist. She was really charming in this dress. I seized my bass. I fancied myself in the orchestra at Marseilles. ""'What would you like me to play Mademoiselle?' ""'Do you know the shawl-dance in the ballet of _Clary_?' ""'Certainly; it is my favourite.' ""I began to play Rina to dance and the banditti to applaud. She danced admirably. The more I looked at her the more convinced I became that I had seen her before. ""She was in the middle of a _pirouette_ when the door opened and the innkeeper entering whispered something in the captain's ear. ""'_Ove sono_?' said the latter quietly. 'Where are they?' ""'A San Dalmazio.' ""'No nearer? Then there is no hurry.' ""'What is the matter?' said Rina executing a magnificent _entrechat_. ""'Nothing. Only those rascally travellers have given the alarm at Florence and the hussars of the Grand-duchess Eliza are looking for us.' ""'They are too late for the performance ' said Rina laughing. 'I have finished my dance.' ""It was lucky for the bow had fallen from my hands at the news I had just heard. Rina made one bound to the door and then turning as if she had been on the stage curtsied to the audience and kissed her hand to the captain. The applause was deafening; I doubt if she had ever had such a triumph. ""'And now to arms!' cried the captain. 'Prepare a horse for Rina and another for the musician. _We_ will go on foot. The road to Romagna remember! Stragglers to rejoin at Chianciano.' ""For a few minutes all was bustle and preparation. ""'Here I am ' cried Rina running in attired in her Roman peasant's dress. ""'_Usseri Usseri_!' said the innkeeper. ""'Off with you!' cried the captain and every one hurried towards the stairs. ""'The devil!' said the captain turning to me 'you are forgetting your bass I think.' ""I took the bass. I would willingly have crept into it. Two horses stood ready saddled at the house door. ""'Well Monsieur le Musicien ' said Rina 'do you not help me to get on my horse? You are not very gallant.' ""I held out my arm to assist her and as I did so she put a small piece of paper into my hand. ""A cold perspiration stood upon my forehead. What could this paper be? Was it a billet-doux? Had I been so unfortunate as to make a conquest which would render me the rival of the captain? My first impulse was to throw the note away; but on second thoughts I put it in my pocket. ""'_Usseri Usseri_!' cried the innkeeper again and a noise like that of a distant galloping was heard. I scrambled on my horse which two of the robbers took by the bridle; two others led that of Mademoiselle Rina. The captain with his carbine on his shoulder ran beside his mistress the lieutenant accompanied me and the remainder of the band consisting of fifteen or eighteen men brought up the rear. Five or six shots were fired some three hundred yards behind us and the balls whistled in our ears. 'To the left!' cried the captain and we threw ourselves into a sort of ravine at the bottom of which ran a rapid stream. Here we halted and listened and heard the hussars gallop furiously past on the high-road. ""'If they keep on at that pace they'll soon be at Grossetto ' said the captain laughing."" This is the unfortunate musician's first essay in horsemanship and when after twelve hours' march across the country with his bass strapped upon his shoulders he halts at the inn at Chianciano he is more dead than alive. He remembers however to read Mademoiselle Rina's note. From this and a few words which she takes an opportunity of saying to him he finds that she is an opera-dancer named Zephyrine who had had an engagement a year or two previously at the Marseilles theatre. She had since transferred herself to the Teatro de la Valle at Rome where the bandit captain Tonino happening to witness her performance became enamoured of her and laid a plan for carrying her off which had proved successful. Her lover however Ernest the same officer of hussars who had been M. Louet's travelling companion is in search of her; and to assist him in his pursuit she writes her name and that of the place they are next going to upon the window of each inn they stop at. It was for this purpose she had secured M. Louet's diamond ring. If contrast was Dumas' object in writing this volume he has certainly been highly successful in carrying out his intention. Most writers would have contented themselves with composing the female portion of the brigands' society of some dark-browed Italian _contadina_ with flashing eyes and jetty ringlets a knife in her garter and a mousquetoon in her brawny fist and a dozen crucifixes and amulets round her neck. At most one might have expected to meet with some English lady in a green veil (all English ladies who travel wear green veils ) whose carriage had been attacked and herself carried off on the road from Florence to Rome. But M. Dumas scorns such commonplace _dramatis personae_ and is satisfied with nothing less than transporting a French ballet-dancer into the Appenines with all her paraphernalia of gauze drapery tinsel decorations and opera airs and graces; not forgetting the orchestra in the person of the luckless bass player. Yet so ingeniously does he dovetail it all together so probable does he make his improbabilities appear that we become almost reconciled to the idea of finding Mademoiselle Zephyrine Taglionizing away upon the filthy floor of a mountain _osteria_ and are inclined to be astonished that the spectators should not be provided with bouquets to throw at her upon the conclusion of her performance. Several days are passed in running from one place to the other always followed by the hussars from whom the banditti have some narrow escapes. M. Louet is taken great care of in consideration of his skill as a musician and he on his part takes all imaginable care of his bass which he looks upon as a sort of a safeguard. At length they arrive at the castle of Anticoli a villa which the captain rents from a Roman nobleman and where he considers himself in perfect safety. Here M. Louet is installed in a magnificent apartment where he finds linen and clothes of which he is much in need. His toilet completed he is conducted to the drawing-room by a livery servant who bears a strong resemblance to one of his friends the banditti. But we will let him tell his story in his own words. ""There were three persons in the room into which I was ushered; a young lady a very elegantly dressed man and a French officer. I thought there must be some mistake and was walking backwards out of the apartment when the lady said-- ""'My dear M. Louet where are you going? Do you not mean to dine with us?' ""'Pardon me ' said I 'I did not recognise you Mademoiselle.' ""'If you prefer it you shall be served in your apartment ' said the elegant-looking man. ""'What captain ' cried I 'is it you?' ""'M. Louet would not be so unkind as to deprive us of his society ' said the French officer with a polite bow. I turned to thank him for his civility. It was the lieutenant. It put me in mind of the changes in a pantomime. ""'_Al suo commodo_ ' said a powdered lackey opening the folding doors of a magnificent dining-room. The captain offered his hand to Mademoiselle Zephyrine. The lieutenant and I followed. ""'I hope you will be pleased with my cook my dear M. Louet ' said the captain waving me to a chair and seating himself. 'He is a French artist of some talent. I have ordered two or three Provençal dishes on purpose for you.' ""'Pah! with garlic in them!' said the French officer taking a pinch of perfumed snuff out of a gold box. I began to think I was dreaming. ""'Have you seen the park yet M. Louet?' asked the captain. ""'Yes Excellency from the window of my room.' ""'They say it is full of game. Are you fond of shooting?' ""'I delight in it. Are there any thrushes in the park?' ""'Thrushes! thousands.' ""'Bravo! You may reckon upon me captain for a supply of game. That is if you will order my fowling-piece to be returned to me. I cannot shoot well with any other. ""'Agreed ' said the captain. ""'Tonino ' said Mademoiselle Zephyrine 'you promised to take me to the theatre to-morrow. I am curious to see the dancer who has replaced me.' ""'There is no performance to-morrow ' replied the captain 'and I am not sure the carriage is in good condition. But we can take a ride to Tivoli or Subiaco if you like.' ""'Will you come with us my dear M. Louet?' said Mademoiselle Zephyrine. ""'Thank you ' replied I; 'I am not accustomed to ride. I would rather have a day's shooting.' ""'I will keep M. Louet company ' said the lieutenant. ""On retiring to my apartment that night I found my fowling-piece in one corner my game-bag in another and my hundred crowns on the chimney-piece. Captain Tonino was a man of his word. ""Whilst I was undressing the French cook came to know what I would choose for breakfast. 'Count Villaforte ' he said 'had ordered that I should be served in my room as I was going out shooting.' The captain it appeared had changed his name as well as his dress. ""The next morning I had just dressed and breakfasted when the lieutenant came to fetch me and I accompanied him down-stairs. In front of the villa four saddle-horses were being led up and down--one for the captain one for Mademoiselle Zephyrine and the two others for servants. The captain put a brace of double-barrelled pistols into his holsters and the servants did the same. Master and men had a sort of fancy costume which allowed them to wear a couteau-de-chasse. The captain saw that I remarked all these precautions. ""'The police is shocking in this country M. Louet ' said he 'and there are so many bad characters about that it is well to be armed.' ""Mademoiselle Zephyrine looked charming in her riding-habit and hat. ""'Much pleasure my dear M. Louet ' said the captain as he got on his horse. 'Beaumanoir take care of M. Louet.' ""'The best possible care count.' replied the lieutenant. ""'The captain and Zephyrine waved their hands and cantered away followed by their servants. ""'Pardon me sir ' said I approaching the lieutenant; 'I believe it was you whom the count addressed as Beaumanoir.' ""'It was so.' ""'I thought the family of Beaumanoir had been extinct.' ""'Very possible. I revive it that's all.' ""'You are perfectly at liberty to do so sir ' replied I. 'I beg pardon for the observation.' ""'Granted granted my dear Louet. Would you like a dog or not?' ""'Sir I prefer shooting without a dog. The last I had insulted me most cruelly and I should not like the same thing to occur again.' ""'As you please. Gaetano untie Romeo.' ""We commenced our sport. In six shots I killed four thrushes which satisfied me that the one which I had followed from Marseilles had been an enchanted one. Beaumanoir laughed at me. ""'What!' cried he. 'Do you amuse yourself in firing at such game as that?' ""'Sir ' replied I 'at Marseilles the thrush is a very rare animal. I have seen but one in my life and it is to that one I owe the advantage of being in your society.' ""Here and there I saw gardeners and gamekeepers whose faces were familiar to me and who touched their hats as I passed. They looked to me very like my old friends the robbers in a new dress; but I had of late seen so many extraordinary things that nothing astonished me any longer. ""The park was very extensive and enclosed by a high wall which had light iron gratings placed here and there to afford a view of the surrounding country. I happened to be standing near one of these gratings when M. Beaumanoir fired at a pheasant. ""'_Signore_ ' said a countryman who was passing '_questo castello e il castello d'Anticoli?_' ""'Villager ' I replied walking towards the grating 'I do not understand Italian; speak French and I shall be happy to answer.' ""'What! Is it you M. Louet?' exclaimed the peasant. ""'Yes it is ' said I; 'but how do you know my name?' ""'Hush! I am Ernest the hussar officer your travelling companion.' ""'M. Ernest! Ah! Mademoiselle Zephyrine will be delighted.' ""'Zephyrine is really here then?' ""'Certainly she is. A prisoner like myself.' ""'And Count Villaforte?' ""'Is Captain Tonino.' ""'And the castle?' ""'A den of thieves.' ""'That is all I wanted to know. Adieu my dear Louet. Tell Zephyrine she shall soon hear from me.' So saying he plunged into the forest. ""'Here Romeo here!' cried Mr. Beaumanoir to his dog who was fetching the bird he had shot. I hastened to him. ""'A beautiful pheasant!' cried I. 'A fine cock!' ""'Yes yes. Who were you talking to M. Louet?' ""'To a peasant who asked me some question to which I replied that unfortunately I did not understand Italian.' ""'Hum!' said Beaumanoir with a suspicious side-glance at me. Then having loaded his gun 'We will change places if you please ' said he. 'There may be some more peasants passing and as I understand Italian I shall be able to answer their questions.' ""'As you like M. Beaumanoir ' said I. ""The change was effected; but no more peasants appeared. ""When we returned to the house the captain and Zephyrine had not yet come back from their ride and I amused myself in my room with my bass which I found to be an excellent instrument. I resolved more than ever not to part with it but to take it back to France with me if ever I returned to that country. ""At the hour of dinner I repaired to the drawing-room where I found Count Villaforte and Mademoiselle Zephyrine. I had scarcely closed the door when it was reopened and the lieutenant put in his head. ""'Captain!' said he in a hurried voice. ""'Who calls me captain? Here there is no captain my dear Beaumanoir but a Count Villaforte.' ""'Captain it is a serious matter. One moment I beg.' ""The captain left the room. When the door was shut and I was sure he could not hear me I told Zephyrine of my interview with her lover. I had just finished when the captain reappeared. ""'Well ' said Zephyrine running to meet him. 'What makes you look so blank? Are there bad news?' ""'Not very good ones.' ""'Do they come from a sure source?' asked she with an anxiety which this time was not assumed. ""'From the surest possible. From one of our friends who is employed in the police.' ""'Gracious Heaven! What is going to happen?' ""'We do not know yet but it appears we have been traced from Chianciano to the Osteria Barberini. They only lost the scent behind Mount Gennaro. My dear Rina I fear we must give up our visit to the theatre to-morrow.' ""'But not our dinner to-day captain I hope ' said I. ""'Here is your answer ' said the captain as the door opened and a servant announced that the soup was on the table. ""The captain and lieutenant dined each with a brace of pistols beside his plate and in the anteroom I saw two men armed with carbines. The repast was a silent one; I did not dine comfortably myself for I had a sort of feeling that the catastrophe was approaching and that made me uneasy. ""'You will excuse me for leaving you ' said the captain when dinner was over; 'but I must go and take measures for our safety. I would advise you not to undress M. Louet for we may have to make a sudden move and it is well to be ready.' ""The lieutenant conducted me to my apartment and wished me good-night with great politeness. As he left the room however I heard that he double-locked the door. I had nothing better to do than to throw myself on my bed which I did; but for some hours I found it impossible to sleep on account of the anxieties and unpleasant thoughts that tormented me. At last I fell into a troubled slumber. ""I do not know how long it had lasted when I was awakened by being roughly shaken. ""'Subito! subito!' cried a voice. ""'What is the matter?' said I sitting up on the bed. ""'_Non capisco seguir me_!' cried the bandit. ""'And where am I to _seguir_ you?' said I understanding that he told me to follow him. ""'Avanti! Avanti!' ""'May I take my bass?' I asked. ""The man made sign in the affirmative so I put my beloved instrument on my back and told him I was ready to follow him. He led me through several corridors and down a staircase; then opening a door we found ourselves in the park. Day was beginning to dawn. After many turnings and windings we entered a copse or thicket in the depths of which was the opening of a sort of grotto where one of the robbers was standing sentry. They pushed me into this grotto. It was very dark and I was groping about with extended arms when somebody grasped my hand. I was on the point of crying out; but the hand that held mine was too soft to be that of a brigand. ""'M. Louet!' said a whispering voice which I at once recognized. ""'What is the meaning of all this Mademoiselle?' asked I in the same tone. ""'The meaning is that they are surrounded by a regiment and Ernest is at the head of it.' ""'But why are we put into this grotto?' ""'Because it is the most retired place in the whole park and consequently the one least likely to be discovered. Besides there is a door in it which communicates probably with some subterraneous passage leading into the open country.' ""Just then we heard a musket shot. ""'Bravo!' cried Zephyrine; 'it is beginning.' ""There was a running fire then a whole volley. ""'Mademoiselle ' said I 'it appears to me to be increasing very much.' ""'So much the better ' answered she. ""She was as brave as a lioness that young girl. For my part I acknowledge I felt very uncomfortable. But it appears I was doomed to witness engagements both by land and sea. ""'The firing is coming nearer ' said Zephyrine. ""'I am afraid so Mademoiselle ' answered I. ""'On the contrary you ought to be delighted. It is a sign that the robbers are flying.' ""'I had rather they fled in another direction.' ""There was a loud clamour and cries as if they were cutting one another's throats which in fact they were. The shouts and cries were mingled with the noise of musketry the sound of the trumpets and roll of the drum. There was a strong smell of powder. The fight was evidently going on within a hundred yards of the grotto. ""Suddenly there was a deep sigh then the noise of a fall and one of the sentries at the mouth of the cave came rolling to our feet. A random shot had struck him and as he just fell in a ray of light which entered the grotto we were able to see him writhing in the agonies of death. Mademoiselle Zephyrine seized my hands and I felt that she trembled violently. ""'Oh M. Louet.' said she 'it is very horrible to see a man die!' ""At that moment we heard a voice exclaiming--'Stop cowardly villain! Wait for me!' ""'Ernest!' exclaimed Zephyrine. 'It is the voice of Ernest!' ""As she spoke the captain rushed in covered with blood. ""'Zephyrine!' cried he 'Zephyrine where are you?' ""The sudden change from the light of day to the darkness of the cave prevented him from seeing us. Zephyrine made me a sign to keep silence. After remaining for a moment as if dazzled his eyes got accustomed to the darkness. He bounded towards us with the spring of a tiger. ""'Zephyrine why don't you answer when I call? Come!' ""He seized her arm and began dragging her towards the door at the back of the grotto. ""'Where are you taking me?' cried the poor girl. ""'Come with me--come along!' ""'Never!' cried she struggling. ""'What! You won't go with me?' ""'No; why should I? I detest you. You carried me off by force. I won't follow you. Ernest Ernest here!' ""'Ernest!' muttered the captain. 'Ha! 'Tis you then who betrayed us?' ""'M. Louet!' cried Zephyrine 'if you are a man help me!' ""I saw the blade of a poniard glitter. I had no weapon but I seized my bass by the handle and raising it in the air let it fall with such violence on the captain's skull that the back of the instrument was smashed in and the bandit's head disappeared in the interior of the bass. Either the violence of the blow or the novelty of finding his head in a bass so astonished the captain that he let go his hold of Zephyrine at the same time uttering a roar like that of a mad bull. ""'Zephyrine! Zephyrine!' cried a voice outside. ""'Ernest!' answered the young girl darting out of the grotto. ""I followed her terrified at my own exploit. She was already clasped in the arms of her lover. ""'In there ' cried the young officer to a party of soldiers who just then came up. 'He is in there. Bring him out dead or alive.' ""They rushed in but the broken bass was all they found. The captain had escaped by the other door. ""On our way to the house we saw ten or twelve dead bodies. One was lying on the steps leading to the door. ""'Take away this carrion ' said Ernest. ""Two soldiers turned the body over. It was the last of the Beaumanoirs. ""We remained but a few minutes at the house and then Zephyrine and myself got into a carriage and set off escorted by M. Ernest and a dozen men. I did not forget to carry off my hundred crowns my fowling-piece and game-bag. As to my poor bass the captain's head had completely spoiled it. ""After an hour's drive we came in sight of a large city with an enormous dome the middle of it. It was Rome. ""'And did you see the Pope M. Louet?' ""'At that time he was at Fontainbleau but I saw him afterwards and his successor too; for M. Ernest got me an appointment as bass-player at the Teatro de la Valle and I remained there till the year 1830. When I at last returned to Marseilles they did not know me again and for some time refused to give me back my place in the orchestra under pretence that I was not myself.' ""'And Mademoiselle Zephyrine?' ""'I heard that she married M. Ernest whose other name I never knew and that he became a general and she a very great lady."" ""'And Captain Tonino? Did you hear nothing more of him?' ""'Three years afterwards he came to the theatre in disguise; was recognised arrested and hung.' ""'And thus it was sir ' concluded M. Louet 'that a thrush led me into Italy and caused me to pass twenty years at Rome.'"" And so ends the thrush-hunt. One word at parting to qualify any too sweeping commendation we may have bestowed on M. Dumas in the early part of this paper. While we fully exonerate his writings from the charge of grossness and recognise the absence of those immoral and pernicious tendencies which disfigure the works of many gifted French writers of the day we would yet gladly see him abstain from the somewhat too Decameronian incidents and narratives with which he occasionally varies his pages. That he is quite independent of such meretricious aids is rendered evident by his entire avoidance of them in some of his books which are not on that account a whit the less _piquant_. With this single reservation we should hail with pleasure the appearance on our side the Channel of a few such sprightly and amusing writers as Alexander Dumas. * * * * * HIGH LIFE IN THE LAST CENTURY.[5] [5] _George Selwyn and his Contemporaries with Memoirs and Notes_. By T.H. Jesse. 4 vols. The volumes of which we are about to give fragments and anecdotes contain a portion of the letters addressed to a man of witty memory whose existence was passed almost exclusively among men and women of rank; his life in the most expressive sense of the word West End; and even in that West End his chief haunt St James's Street. Parliament and the Clubs divided his day and often his night. The brilliant roués the steady gamesters the borough venders and the lordly ex-members of ex-cabinets were the only population of whose living and breathing he suffered himself to have any cognizance. In reverse of Gray's learned mouse eating its way through the folios of an ancient library--and to whom ""A river or a sea was but a dish of tea And a kingdom bread and butter "" to George Selwyn the world and all that it inhabits were concentrated in Charles Fox William Pitt Richard Brinsley Sheridan and the circle of men of pleasantry loose lives and vivacious temperaments who with whatever diminishing lustre revolved round them. Of the City of London Selwyn probably had heard; for though fixed to one spot he was a man fond of collecting curious knowledge; but nothing short of proof positive can ever convince us that he had passed Temple Bar. He of course knew that there were such things on the globe as merchants and traders because their concerns were occasionally talked of in ""the House "" where however he heard as little as possible about them; for in the debates of the time he took no part but that of a listener and even then he abridged the difficulty by generally sleeping through the sitting. He was supposed to be the only rival of Lord North in the happy faculty of falling into a sound slumber at the moment when any of those dreary persons who chiefly speak on such subjects was on his legs. St James's and the talk of St James's were his business his pleasures the exciters of his wit and the rewarders of his toil. He had applied the art of French cookery to the rude material of the world and refined and reduced all things into a _sauce piquante_--all its realities were concentrated in essences; and disdaining the grosser tastes of mankind he lived upon the _aroma_ of high life--an epicure even among epicures; yet not an indolent enjoyer of the luxuries of his condition but a keen restless and eager _student_ of pleasurable sensations--an Apicius polished by the manners and furnished with the arts of the most self-enjoying condition of mankind that of an English gentleman of fortune in the 18th century. We certainly are not the champions of this style of life. We think that man has other matters to consider than _pâtés_ and _consommés_ the flavour of his Burgundy and pines or even the _bons-mots_ of his friends. We are afraid that we must after all regard the whole Selwyn class as little better than the brutes in their stables or on their hearth-rugs; with the advantage to

he brutes of following their natural appetites having no twinges of either conscience or the gout and not being from time to time stripped by their friends or plundered by the Jews. The closing hours of the horse or the dog are also perhaps more complacent in general and their deaths are less a matter of rejoicing to those who are to succeed to their mangers and cushions. Of higher and more startling contemplations this is not the place to speak. If such men shall yet have the power of looking down from some remoter planet on their idle empty and self-indulgent course in our own perhaps they would rejoice to have exchanged with the lot of him whose bread was earned by the sweat of his brow yet who had fulfilled the duties of his station; and whose hand had been withheld by necessity from that banquet where all the nobler purposes of life were forgotten and where the senses absorbed the higher nature. Still we admit that these are topics on which no man ought to judge the individual with severity. We have spoken only of the class. The individual may have had virtues of which the world can know nothing; he may have been liberal affectionate and zealous when his feelings were once awakened; his purse may have dried many a tear and soothed many a pulse of secret suffering. It is at all events more kindly to speak of poor human nature with fellow feeling for those exposed to the strong temptations of fortune than to establish an arrogant comparison between the notorious errors of others and the secret failures of our own. But we have something to settle with Mr Jesse. He is alive and therefore may be instructed; he is making books with great rapidity and therefore may be advantageously warned of the perils of book-making. The _title_ of his volumes has altogether deceived us. We shall not charge him with intending this; but it has unquestionably had the effect. ""_George Selwyn_ and his contemporaries."" We opened the volumes expecting to find our witty clubbist in every page; George in his full expansion ""in his armour as he lived;"" George every inch a wit glittering before us in his full court suit in his letters his anecdotes his whims his odd views of mankind his caustic sneerings at the glittering world round him; an epistolary HB. turning every thing into the pleasant food of his pen and pungency. But we cannot discover any letters from him excepting a few very trifling ones of his youth. We have letters from all sorts of persons great lords and little statesmen and travellers placemen and place-hunters; and amusing enough many of them are. Walpole furnishes some sketches and nothing can be better. In fact the volumes exhibit not George Selwyn the only one whose letters we should have cared to see but those who wrote to him. And the disappointment is not the less that in those letters constant allusions are made to his ""sparkling delightful sportive characteristic &c. &c. epistles."" Great ladies constantly urge him to write to _them_. Maids wives and widows pour out a stream of perpetual laudation. Men of rank men of letters men at home and men abroad unite in one common supplication for ""London news"" _réchaufféed_ spiced and served up by the perfect _cuisinerie_ of George's art of story-telling; like the horse-leech's two daughters the cry is ""Give give."" And this is what we wanted to see. Selwyn the whole Selwyn and nothing but Selwyn. It is true that there is a preface which talks in this wise:-- It seems to have been one of the peculiarities of George Selwyn to preserve not only every letter addressed to him by his correspondents during the course of his long life but also the most trifling notes and memoranda. To this peculiarity the reader is indebted for whatever amusement he may derive from the perusal of these volumes. The greater portion of their contents consists of letters addressed to Selwyn by persons who in their day moved in the first circles of wit genius and fashion."" We have thus let Mr Jesse speak for himself. If the public are satisfied so let it be. But people seldom read prefaces. The title is the thing and that title is ""_George Selwyn_ and his contemporaries."" If it had been ""Letters of the contemporaries of George Selwyn "" we should have understood the matter. Still we are not at all disposed to quarrel with the volumes. They contain a great deal of pleasant matter; and the letters are evidently in general the work of a higher order of persons than the world has often an opportunity of seeing in their deshabille. The Persian proverb which accounted for the fragrance of a pebble by its having lain beside the rose has been in some degree realized in these pages. They are evidently of the Selwyn school; and if he is not here witty himself he is like the ""fat knight "" the cause of wit in others. We are enjoying a part of the feast which his science had cooked and then distributed to his friends to figure as the _chefs-d'oeuvre_ of their own tables. At all events though often on trifling subjects and often not worth preserving they vindicate on the whole the claim of English letter-writing to European superiority. Taking Walpole as the head and nothing can be happier than his mixture of keen remark intelligent knowledge of his time high-bred ease of language and exquisite point and polish of anecdote; his followers even in these few volumes show that there were many men even in the midst of all the practical business and nervous agitation of public life not unworthy of their master. We have no doubt that there have been hundreds of persons and thousands of letters which might equally contribute to this most interesting and sometimes most brilliant portion of our literature. The French lay claim to superiority in this as in every thing else; but we must acknowledge that it is with some toil we have ever read the boasted letters of De Sévigné--often pointed and always elegant they are too often frivolous and almost always local. We are sick of the adorable Grignan and her ""belle chevelure."" The letters of Du Deffand Espinasse Roland and even of De Staël though always exhibiting ability are too hard or too hot too fierce or too fond for our tastes; they are also so evidently intended for any human being except the one to whom they were addressed or rather for all human beings--they were so palpably ""private effusions"" for the public ear--sentiments stereotyped and sympathies for the circulating library--that they possessed as little the interest as the character of correspondence. Voltaire's letters are always spirited. That extraordinary man could do nothing on which his talent was not marked; but his letters are epigrammes--all is sacrificed to point and all is written for the salons of Paris. What Talleyrand's _might_ be we can imagine from the singular subtlety and universal knowledge of that most dexterous player of the most difficult game which was ever on the diplomatic cards. But as his definition of the excellence of a letter was--""to say any thing but mean nothing "" we must give up the hope of his contribution. Grimm's volumes are after all the only collection which belongs to the style of letters to which we allude. They are amusing and anecdotical and in our conception by much the most intelligent French correspondence that has fallen into our hands. But they are too evidently the work of a man writing as a task gathering the Parisian news as a part of his profession and in fact sending a daily newspaper to his German patron. Of the German epistolary literature we have seen nothing which approaches to the excellence of the English school. The conception is generally vague vapourish and metaphysical. And this predominates absurdly through all its classes. The poet prides himself on being as much a dreamer in his prose as in his poetry; the scholar is proud of being perplexed and pedantic; the statesman is naturally immersed in that problematic style which belongs to the secrecy of despotic governments and to the stiffness of circles where all is etiquette. But Walpole and his tribe have fashion wholly to themselves and possess force without heaviness and elegance without effeminacy. We are strongly tempted to ask whether there may not be letters of the gay the refined and the sparkling George Canning. He was constantly writing; knew every thing and every body; was engaged in all the high transactions of his time; saw human nature in all possible shades; and was a man whose talent though capable of very noble efforts ""on compulsion "" yet naturally loved a more level rank of times and things. It is perfectly true to human experience that there are minds which like caged nightingales and canary-birds though their wings were formed with the faculty of cleaving the clouds yet pass a perfectly contented existence within their wires and sing as cheerfully in return for their water and seeds as if they had the range of the horizon. Canning's whole song for thirty years was in one cage or another and he sang with equal cheerfulness in them all. The moral of all this is that we wish Mr Jesse or any one else to apply himself without delay to the depositaries of George Canning's familiar correspondence and give his pleasant piquant and graceful letters (for we are sure that they are all these) to the world. Lord Dudley's letters have disappointed every body: but it is to be observed that we have only a small portion of them; that they were written to a college tutor a not very exciting species of correspondent at any time and who in this instance having nothing to give back and plodding his way through the well-meant monotony of college news allowed poor Lord Dudley not much more chance of brilliancy than a smart drummer might have of producing a reveillé on an unbraced drum. We must live in hope. Lord Holland we think might as the sailors say ""loom out large."" The life of that ancient Whig having been chiefly employed in telling other men's stories over his own table--and much better employed too than in talking his original follies in public--a tolerable selection from his journals might furnish some variety; for when Whigs are cased up no longer in the stiff braces and battered armour of their clique they may occasionally be amusing men. But Walpole still reigns: his whims his flirtings his frivolities will disappear with his old china and trifling antiquities; but his best letters will always be the best of their kind among men. George Selwyn was a man of fashionable life for the greater part of the last century or perhaps we may more justly say he was a man of fashionable life for the seventy-two years of his existence; for from his cradle he lived among that higher order of mankind who were entitled to do nothing to enjoy themselves and alternately laugh at and look down upon the rest of the world. His family were opulent and naturally associated with rank; for his father had been aide-de-camp to the Duke of Marlborough--a great distinction even in that brilliant age; and his mother was the daughter of a general officer and woman of the bedchamber to Queen Caroline. She is recorded as a woman of talents and peculiarly of wit; qualities which seem frequently connected with long life perhaps as bearing some relation to that good-humour which undoubtedly tends to lengthen the days of both man and woman. If the theory be true that the intellect of the offspring depends upon the mother the remarkable wit of George Selwyn may be adduced in evidence of the position. George born in 1719 was sent like the sons of all the court gentlemen of his age and of our own to Eton. After having there acquired classics aristocracy and cricket all consummated at Oxford he proceeded to go through the last performance of fashionable education and give himself the final polish for St James's; he proceeded to make the tour of Europe. What induced him to recommence his boyhood by returning to Oxford at the ripe age of twenty-five is among the secrets of his career as also is the occasion of his being expelled from the university; if that occasion is not to be found in some of the burlesques of religion which he had learned amongst the fashionable infidels of the Continent similar to those enacted by Wilkes in his infamous monkery. But every thing in his career equally exhibits the times. At an age when he was fit for nothing else he was considered fit to receive the salary of a sinecure; and at twenty-one he was appointed to a brace of offices at the mint. His share of the duty consisted of his enjoying the weekly dinners of the establishment and signing the receipts for his quarter's pay. Within a few years more he came into parliament; and in his thirty-second year by the death of his father and elder brother he succeeded to the family estates consisting of three handsome possessions one of which had the additional value of returning a member of parliament. Nor was this all; for his influence in Gloucestershire enabled him to secure during many years his own seat for Gloucester thus rendering his borough disposable; and thus master of a hereditary fortune an easy sinecurist the possessor of two votes and the influencer of the third--a man of family a man of connexion and a man of the court--George Selwyn began a path strewed with down and rose leaves. In addition to these advantages George Selwyn evidently possessed a very remarkable subtlety and pleasantry of understanding; that combination which alone produced true wit or which perhaps would be the best definition of wit itself; for subtlety alone may excite uneasy sensations in the hearer and pleasantry alone may often be vulgar. But the acuteness which detects the absurd of things and the pleasantry which throws a good-humoured coloring over the acuteness form all that delights us in wit. If we are to judge by the opinion of his contemporaries and this is the true criterion after all Selwyn's wit must have been of the very first order in a witty age. Walpole is full of him. Walpole himself a wit and infinitely jealous of every rival in every thing on which he fastened his fame from a picture gallery down to a snuff-box or from a history down to an epigram bows down to him with almost Persian idolatry. His letters are alive with George Selwyn. The _bons-mots_ which Selwyn carelessly dropped in his morning wall through St James's Street are carefully picked up by Walpole and planted in his correspondence like exotics in a greenhouse. The careless brilliancies of conversation which the one threw loose about the club-rooms of the Court End are collected by the other and reset by this dexterous jeweller for the sparklings and ornaments of his stock in trade with posterity. Yet it may reconcile those less gifted by nature and fortune to their mediocrity; to know that those singular advantages by no means constitute happiness usefulness moral dignity or even public respect. Selwyn as the French Abbé said ""had nothing to do and he did it."" His possession of fortune enabled him to be a lounger through life and he lounged accordingly. The conversations of the clubs supplied him with the daily toys of his mind and he never sought more substantial employment. Though nearly fifty years in parliament he was known only as a silent voter; and after a life of seventy-two years he died leaving three and twenty thousand pounds of his savings to a girl who was not his daughter; and the chief part of his estates to the Duke of Queensberry an old man already plethoric with wealth of which he had never known the use and already dying. His passion for attending executions was notorious and unaccountable except on the ground of that love of excitement which leads others to drinking or the gaming-table. Those sights from which human nature shrinks appear to have been sought for by Selwyn with an eagerness resembling enjoyment. This strange propensity was frequently laughed at by his friends. Alluding to the practice of criminals dropping a handkerchief as a signal for the executioner says Walpole ""George never thinks but _à la tête tranchée_. He came to town the other day to have a tooth drawn and told the man that he would drop his handkerchief for the signal."" Another characteristic anecdote is told on this subject. When the first Lord Holland a man of habitual pleasantry was confined to his bed he heard that Selwyn who had been an old friend had called to enquire for his health. ""The next time Mr Selwyn calls "" said he ""show him up; if I am alive I shall be delighted to see him; and if I am dead he will be delighted to see me."" Walpole says after telling a story of one Arthur Moore ""I told this the other day to George Selwyn whose passion is to see corpses and executions. He replied 'that Arthur Moore had his coffin chained to that of his mistress.' ""Said I 'How do you know?' ""'Why I--I saw them the other day in a vault in St Giles's.' ""George was walking this week in Westminster Abbey with Lord Abergavenny and met the man who shows the tombs. 'Oh your servant Mr Selwyn; I expected to have seen you here the other day when the old Duke of Richmond's body was taken up.'"" Walpole then mentions Selwyn's going to see Cornberry with Lord Abergavenny and a pretty Mrs Frere who were in some degree attached to each other. ""Do you know what you missed in the other room?"" said Selwyn to the lady. ""Lord Holland's picture."" ""Well what is Lord Holland to me?"" ""Why do you know "" said he ""my Lord Holland's body lies in the same vault in Kensington church with my Lord Abergavenny's mother."" Walpole speaking of the share which he had in capturing a house-breaker says ""I dispatched a courier to White's in search of George Selwyn. It happened that the drawer who received my message had very lately been robbed himself and had the wound fresh in his memory. He stalked up into the club-room and with a hollow trembling voice said 'Mr Selwyn Mr Walpole's compliments to you and he has got a house-breaker for you.'"" But some of his practical pleasantries were very amusing. Lady Townshend a woman of wit but in some points of character a good deal scandalized was supposed to have taken refuge from her recollections in Popery. ""On Sunday last "" says Walpole ""as George was strolling home to dinner he saw my Lady Townshend's coach stop at Caraccioli's chapel. He watched; saw her go in; her footman laughed; he followed. She went up to the altar; a woman brought her a cushion; she knelt crossed her self and prayed. He stole up and knelt by her. Conceive her face if you can when she turned and found him close to her. In his demure voice he said 'Pray ma'am how long has your ladyship left the pale of our church?' She looked furies and made no answer. Next day he went to see her and she turned it off upon curiosity. But is any thing more natural? No; she certainly means to go armed with every viaticum: the Church of England in on hand Methodism in the other and the Host in her mouth."" Every one knows that _bons-mots_ are apt to lose a great deal by transmission. It has been said that the time is one-half of the merit and the manner the other; thus leaving nothing for the wit. But the fact is that the wit so often depends upon both as to leave the best _bon-mot_ comparatively flat in the recital. With this palliative we may proceed. Walpole remarking to Selwyn one day at a time of considerable popular discontent that the measures of government were as feeble and confused as in the reign of the first Georges and saying ""There is nothing new under the sun."" ""No "" replied Selwyn ""nor under the grandson."" Selwyn one day observing Wilkes who was constantly verging on libel listening attentively to the king's speech said to him ""May Heaven preserve the ears you lend!"" an allusion to the lines of the _Dunciad_-- ""Yet oh my sons a father's words attend; So may the fates preserve the ears you lend."" The next is better. A man named Charles Fox having been executed the celebrated Charles asked Selwyn whether he had been present at the execution as usual. ""No "" was the keen reply ""I make a point of never attending rehearsals."" Fox and General Fitzpatrick at one time lodged in the house of Mackay an oilman in Piccadilly a singular residence for two men of the first fashion. Somebody probably in allusion to their debts observed that such lodgers would be the ruin of Mackay. ""No "" said Selwyn ""it will make his fortune. He may boast of having the first pickles in London."" _Nonchalant_ manners were the tone of the time; and to cut one's country acquaintance (a habit learned among the French _noblesse_) was high breeding. An old haunter of the pump-room in Bath who had frequently conversed with Selwyn in his visits there meeting him one day in St James's Street attempted to approach him with his usual familiarity. Selwyn passed him as if he had never seen him before. His old acquaintance followed him and said ""Sir you knew me very well in Bath."" ""Well sir "" replied Selwyn ""in Bath I may possibly know you again "" and walked on. When _High Life Below Stairs_ was announced Selwyn expressed a wish to be present at its first night. ""I shall go "" said he ""because I am tired of low life above stairs."" One of the waiters at Arthur's had committed a felony and was sent to jail. ""I am shocked at the committal "" said Selwyn; ""what a horrid idea the fellow will give of us to the people in Newgate."" Bruce's Abyssinian stories were for a long time the laugh of London. Somebody at a dinner once asked him whether he had seen any relics of musical instruments among the Abyssinians or any thing in the style of the ancient sculptures of the Thebaid. ""I think I saw one lyre there "" was the answer. ""Ay "" says Selwyn to his neighbour ""and that one left the country along with him."" Selwyn did not always spare his friends. When Fox's pecuniary affairs were in a state of ruin and a subscription was proposed; one of the subscribers said that their chief difficulty was to know ""how Fox would take it."" Selwyn who knew that necessity has nothing to do with delicacies of this order replied ""Take it why quarterly to be sure!"" Mr. Jesse's anecdotes are generally well told but their version is sometimes different from ours. Selwyn was one day walking up St James's Street with Lord Pembroke when a couple of sweeps brushed against them. ""Impudent rascals!"" exclaimed Lord Pembroke. ""The sovereignty of the people "" said Selwyn. ""But such dirty dogs "" said Pembroke. ""Full dress for the court of St Giles's "" said Selwyn with a bow to their sable majesties. But Selwyn with all his affability and pleasantry had his dislikes and among them was the celebrated Sheridan. The extraordinary talent and early fame of that most memorable and unfortunate man had fixed all eyes upon him from the moment of his entering into public life; and Selwyn who had long sat supreme in wit probably felt some fears for his throne. At all events he determined to keep one place clear from collision with this dangerous wit; and on every attempt to put up Sheridan's name for admission into Brookes's two black balls were found in the balloting-box one of which was traced to Selwyn while the other was supposed to be that of Lord Besborough. One ball being sufficient to exclude the opposition was fatal; but Fox and his friends were equally determined on their side to introduce Sheridan; and for this purpose a curious though not very creditable artifice was adopted. On the evening of the next ballot and while George and Lord Besborough were waiting with their usual determination to blackball the candidate a chairman in great haste brought in a note apparently from Lady Duncannon to her father-in-law Lord Besborough to tell him that his house in Cavendish Square was on fire and entreating him to return without a moment's delay. His lordship instantly quitted the room and hurried homewards. Immediately after a message was sent to George Selwyn that Miss Fagniani the child whom he had adopted and whom he supposed to be his own was suddenlly seized with a fit and that his presence was instantly required. He also obeyed the summons. Both had no sooner left the room than the ballot was proceeded with the two ominous balls were not to be found and Sheridan was unanimously chosen. In the midst of the triumph Selwyn and Lord Besborough returned indignant at the trick but of course unable to find out its perpetrators. How Sheridan and his friends looked may be imagined. The whole scene was perfectly dramatic. Burke's speeches which were destined to become the honour of his age and the delight of posterity were sometimes negligently received by the house. His splendid prolixity which was fitter for an assembly of philosophers than an English Parliament sometimes wearied mere men of business as much as his fine metaphysics sometimes perplexed them; and the man who might have sat between Plato and Aristotle and been listened to with congenial delight by both was often left without an audience. One night when Selwyn was hurrying into the lobby with a crowd of members a nobleman coming up asked him ""Is the house up?"" ""No "" was the reply ""but Burke is."" A model of fashionable life Selwyn unhappily indulged in that vice which was presumed to be essential to the man of fashion. The early gaming propensities of Charles Fox are well known; he was ruined estate personal fortune sinecures and reversions and all before he was five years in public life--ruined in every possible shape of ruin. There were times when he could not command a guinea in the world. Yet there were times when he won immensely. At one sitting he carried off £8000 but in a few more he lost £11 000. He was a capital whist player; and in the cool calculation of the clubs on such subjects it was supposed that he might have made £4000 a-year if he had adhered to this profitable direction of his genius. But like many other great men he mistook his forte and disdained all but the desperation of hazard. There he lost perpetually and prodigiously until he was stripped of every thing and pauperised for life. It gives a strong conception of the universality of this vice to find so timid and girlish a nature as the late William Wilberforce's initiated into the same career. ""When I left the University "" says Wilberforce in his later reminiscences ""so little did I know of general society that I came up to London stored with arguments to prove the authenticity of 'Rowley's Poems ' (the academic and pedantic topic of the day ) and now I was at once immersed in politics and fashion. The very first time I went to Boodle's I won twenty-five guineas of the Duke of Norfolk. I belonged at this time to five clubs Miles' and Evans' Brookes' Boodle's White's and Goosetree's. The first time I was at Brookes' scarcely knowing any one I joined from mere shyness in play at the faro-table where George Selwyn kept bank. A friend who knew my inexperience and regarded me as a victim dressed out for sacrifice called to me--'What Wilberforce is that you?' Selwyn quite resented the interference and turning to him said in his most expressive tone--'Oh sir don't interrupt Mr Wilberforce he could not be better employed.' Nothing could be more harmonious than the style of those clubs--Fox Sheridan Fitzpatrick and all your leading men frequented them and associated upon the easiest terms. You either chatted played at cards or gambled as you pleased."" We have no idea of entering into any of the scandals of the time. The lives of all the men of fashion of that day were habitually profligate. The ""Grand Tour"" was of but little service to their morals and Pope's sarcastic lines were but too true. ""He travell'd Europe round And gather'd every vice on foreign ground; Till home return'd and perfectly well-bred With nothing but a solo in his head; Stolen from a duel follow'd by a nun And if a borough choose him--not undone."" But this vice did not descend among the body of the people. It was limited to the idlers of high life and even among them it was extinguished by the cessation of our foreign intercourse at the French revolution; or was at least so far withdrawn from the public eye as to avoid offending the common decencies of a moral people. Selwyn was probably more cautious in his habits than his contemporaries for he survived almost every man who had begun life with him; and he lived to a much greater age than the chief of the showy characters who rose into celebrity during his career. He died at the age of seventy-two January 25 1791. He had long relinquished gaming assigning the very sufficient reason ""It was too great a consumer of four things--time health fortune and _thinking_."" But what man of his day escaped the gout and the natural termination of that torturing disease in dropsy? After seven years' suffering from both with occasional intervals of relief he sank at last. Walpole almost the only survivor among his early friends thus wrote on the day of his expected death:--""I have lost or am on the point of losing my oldest acquaintance and friend George Selwyn who was yesterday at the extremity. Those misfortunes though they can be so but for a short time are very sensible to the old: but him I loved not only for his infinite wit but for a thousand good qualities."" He writes a few days after ""Poor Selwyn is gone; to my sorrow; and no wonder. Ucalegon feels it."" Selwyn with all his pleasantry had evidently a quick eye for his own interest. He contrived to remain in parliament for half a century and he gathered the emoluments of some half dozen snug sinecures. Among those were the Registrar of Chancery in Barbadoes and surveyor-general of the lands. Thus he lived luxuriously and died rich. Orator Henley is niched in an early part of this correspondence. The orator was known in the last century as a remarkably dirty fellow in his apparel and still more so in his mind. He was the son of a gentleman and had received a gentleman's education at St John's Cambridge. There or subsequently he acquired Hebrew and even Persian; wrote a tragedy on the subject of Esther in which he exhibited considerable poetic powers; and finished his scholastic fame by a grammar of ten languages! On leaving college he took orders and became a country curate. But the decency of this life did not suit his habits and he resolved to try his chance in London for fortune and fame. Opening a chapel near Newport market Lincoln's-Inn-Fields he harangued twice a-week on theological subjects on Sundays and on the sciences and literature on Wednesdays. The audience were admitted by a shilling ticket and the butchers in the neighbourhood were for a while his great patrons. At length finding his audience tired of common sense he tried like other charlatans since his day the effect of nonsense. His manner was theatrical his style eccentric and his topics varied between extravagance and buffoonery. The history of such performances is invariably the same--novelty is essential and novelty must be attained at all risks. He now professed to reform all literature and all religion. But even this ultimately failed him. At length the butchers deserted him and falling from one disgrace to another he sank into dirt and debauchery and died in 1750 at the age of sixty-four remembered in the world only by being pilloried in the Dunciad. ""Embrown'd with native bronze lo! Henley stands Tuning his voice and balancing his hands; How fluent nonsense trickles from his tongue How sweet the periods neither said nor sung. Still break the benches Henley with thy strain While Sherlock Hare and Gibson preach in vain."" The orator's contribution consists but of two notes; the first to Selwyn-- ""I dine at twelve all the year but shall be glad to take a glass with you at the King's Arms any day from four to six. If I have disobliged Mr Parsons (who I hear was with you ) or any of you gentlemen I never intended it and ask your pardons. I shall be proud to oblige my Lord Carteret or you or the rest at any time. Pray let them see this."" ""J. HENLEY."" There appears to have been some kind of riot at one of Henley's lectures probably a rough burlesque of his manner in which Selwyn then a student of Oxford made himself conspicuous. At least the letter is addressed to him. ""I am accountable for the peace of my congregation; and among the rules and articles of my consent and conditions as owner and minister one rule is to go out directly forfeiting what has been given if any person cannot or will not preserve those conditions; for the smallest circumstance of disorder has been inflamed to the highest outrage. The bishop's nephew began something

f the kind two months ago and made me retribution; so have others and I must send an attorney to warn them not to come whom I suspect hereafter. You have been at his sport before."" We now come to a man of more importance Richard Rigby the ""blushing Rigby"" of Junius. He was the son of a linen-draper who as factor to the South Sea Company acquired considerable property. This however his son who had adopted public life as his pursuit rapidly squandered in electioneering in pleasure and the irresistible vice of the time play. Frederic Prince of Wales was the first object of all needy politicians and Rigby for a while attached himself to this feeble personage with all the zeal of a prospective placeman. But the prince remained too long in opposition for the fidelity of courtiership and Rigby glided over to the Duke of Bedford; who unquestionably exhibited himself a steady and zealous friend to his new adherent. The duke lent him money to pay his debts; gave him the secretaryship for Ireland on his appointment to the viceroyalty; gave him a seat in Parliament for Tavistock; was the means of his being made a privy counsellor; obtained for him a sinecure of L.4000 a-year; and at that period when most men are sincere on his deathbed appointed Rigby his executor and cancelled his bond for the sum which he had originally lent to him. We know few instances of such steady liberality in public life and the man who gave and the man who received those munificent tokens of confidence must have had more in them than the world was generally inclined to believe. The duke has been shot through and through by the pungent shafts of Junius: and Rigby was covered with mire throughout life by all the retainers of party. Yet both were evidently capable of strong friendship and thus possessed the redeeming quality most unusual in the selfishness and struggles of political existence. Amongst official men Rigby is recorded as one of the most popular personages of his time. One art of official popularity and that too a most unfailing one he adopted in a remarkable degree--he kept an incomparable table. Sir Robert Walpole one of the shrewdest of men had long preserved his popularity by the same means. Rigby's paymastership of the forces enabled him to support a splendid establishment and it was his custom after the debates in the House of Commons to invite the ministers and the pleasantest men of the time to supper at his apartments in Whitehall. His wines were exquisite his cookery was of the most _recherché_ order; and by the help of a good temper a broad laugh natural joviality and a keen and perfect knowledge of all that was going on round him in the world of fashion he made his parties a delightful resource to the wearied minds of the Cabinet. Wraxall a very pleasant describer of men and manners thus sketches him:--""In Parliament he was invariably habited in a full-dress suit of clothes commonly of a dark colour without lace or embroidery close buttoned with his sword thrust through the pocket. His countenance was very expressive but not of genius; still less did it indicate timidity or modesty. All the comforts of the pay-office seemed to be eloquently depicted in it; his manner rough yet frank admirably set off whatever sentiments he uttered in Parliament. Like Jenkinson he borrowed neither from ancient nor modern authors; his eloquence was altogether his own addressed not to the fancy but to the plain comprehension of his hearers. There was a happy audacity about him which must have been the gift of nature--art could not obtain it by any efforts. He seemed not to fear nor even to respect the House whose composition he well knew; and to the members of which assembly he never appeared to give credit for any portion of virtue patriotism or public spirit. Far from concealing those sentiments he insinuated or even pronounced them without disguise; and from his lips they neither excited surprise nor even commonly awaked reprehension."" But this flow of prosperity was to have its ebb. The jovial placeman was to feel the uncertainties of office; and on Lord North's resignation in 1782 and the celebrated Edmund Burke's appointment to the paymastership Rigby found himself suddenly called on for a considerable arrear. It had been the custom to allow the paymaster to make use of the balances in his hands until they were called for and this formed an acknowledged and very important part of his income. But his expenses left him no resource to meet the demand. Whether fortunately or unfortunately Sir Thomas Rumbold the recalled governor of Madras had just then returned to England under investigation by the House of Commons for malpractices in his office. It was the rumour of the day that Rigby on the advance of a large sum by Rumbold had undertaken to soften the prosecution against him. Whether this were the fact or not it is certain that the charges soon ceased to be pursued and that Rigby's nephew and heir was soon after married to Rumbold's daughter. Rigby who had never been married died in 1788 in his sixty-seventh year. His letter to Selwyn in 1745 is characteristic of the man and the time. ""I am just got home from a cock match where I have won forty pounds in ready money and not having dined am waiting till I hear the rattle of the coaches from the House of Commons in order to dine at White's. ""I held my resolution of not going to the Ridotto till past three o'clock when finding that nobody was willing to sit any longer but Boone who was _not able_ I took as I thought the least of two evils and so went there rather than to bed; but found it so infinitely dull that I retired in half an hour. The next morning I heard that there had been extreme deep play and that Harry Furnese went drunk from White's at six o'clock and won the dear memorable sum of one thousand guineas. ""I saw Garrick in _Othello_ that same night in which I think he was very unmeaningly dressed and succeeded in no degree of comparison with Quin except in the second scene where Iago gives the first suspicions of Desdemona."" As the letter does not describe Garrick's dress we can only suppose it to have been remarkably absurd when it could have attracted the censure of any one accustomed to the stage in the middle of the last century. Nothing could be more ignorant unsuitable or unbecoming that the whole system of theatrical costume. Garrick for example usually played Macbeth in the uniform of an officer of the Guards--scarlet coat cocked hat and regulation sword were the exhibition of the Highland chieftain's wardrobe and the period too when the Highland dress was perfectly known to the public eye. It must be acknowledged that we owe the reformation of the stage in this important point to the French. It was commenced by the celebrated Clairon and perfected by the not less celebrated Talma. ""I supped that night _tête-à-tête_ with Metham who was d----d angry with Hubby Bubby (Doddington) for having asked all the Musquetaires to supper but him. He went to sleep at twelve and I to White's where _I staid till six_. Yesterday I spent a good part of the day with my Lord Coke at a _cock match_; and went towards the latter end of Quin's benefit to Mariamne. ""The coaches rattle by fast and George brings me word the House is up and I assure you I am extremely hungry."" We now come to the name of a man who attained a considerable celebrity in his own time but has almost dropped into oblivion in ours Sir Charles Hanbury Williams. He was the third son of John Hanbury Esq. a Monmouthshire gentleman and took the name of Williams on succeeding to the property of his grandfather. His mother was aunt to George Selwyn. Entering Parliament early in life he adopted the ministerial side and was a steady adherent to Sir Robert Walpole. He had his reward in ministerial honours being created a Knight of the Bath; and though Sir Robert died in 1745 Williams had so far established his court influence that he was successively appointed envoy to Saxony minister at Berlin and ambassador at St Petersburg. He was a man of great pleasantry some wit and perpetual verse-making--the name of poetry is not to be stooped to such compositions as his; but their liveliness and locality their application to existing times and persons and their occasional hits at politics and principles made both them and their author popular. But the fashionable language of the day had tendencies which would not now be tolerated; and Sir Charles a fashionable voluptuary is charged with having written what none should wish to revive. After a residence of ten years on the Continent he fell into a state of illness which deranged his understanding. From this he recovered but subsequently relapsed into the same unhappy state and died it was surmised by his own hand in 1759. His letter details in his own flighty style one of the frolics of fashion. ""The town-talk for some time past has been your child (a note says 'apparently the Honourable John Hobart afterwards Earl of Buckinghamshire;') the moment you turned your back he flew out went to Lady Tankerville's drum-major (a rout ) having unfortunately dined that day with Rigby who plied his head with too many bumpers and also made him a present of some Chinese crackers. Armed in this manner he entered the assembly and resolving to do something that should make a noise he gave a string of four and twenty crackers to Lady Lucy Clinton and bid her put it in the candle which she very innocently did to her and the whole room's astonishment. But when the first went off she threw the rest upon the tea-table where one after the other they all went off with much noise and not a little stench to the real joy of most of the women present who don't dislike an opportunity of finding fault. Lady Lucy indeed was plentifully abused and Mr Hobart had his share; and common fame says he has never had a card since. Few women will curtsy to him; and I question if he ever will lead any one to their chair again as long as he lives. I leave you to judge how deeply he feels this wound. Every body says it would never have happened if you had not retired to your studies; and you are a little blamed for letting him out alone. He has sunk his chairman's wages 5s. a-week upon this accident and intends to turn them off in Passion week because he then can go nowhere at all. All private houses are already shut against him and at that holy time no public place is open."" We have then some letters written in a time of great public anxiety 1745. ""All our forces are come from Flanders. The Pretender's second son (Henry Stuart afterwards Cardinal of York) is come to Dunkirk where it is said there are forty transports. The rebels it is said are very advantageously encamped between two rivers and are fortifying their camp."" Another hurried letter says. ""An express arrives to-day (Dec. 8th ) while his Majesty was at chapel which brought an account of the rebels being close to Derby and that the Duke of Cumberland was at Meredan four miles beyond Coventry observing their motions."" Another of the same date six o'-clock at night says ""The Tower guns have not fired to-day. A letter has been received stating that the rebels had retreated towards Ashbourne."" Walpole in a letter to Sir Horace Mann on the 9th repeats the news and says ""The Highlanders got nine thousand pounds at Derby and had the books brought to them and obliged everybody to give them what they had subscribed against them. They then retreated a few miles but returned again to Derby got £10 000 more and plundered the town; they are gone again and got back to Leake in Staffordshire but miserably harassed; they have left all their cannon behind them and twenty waggons of sick."" Nothing can give a stronger example of the changes which may take place in a country than the different state of preparation for an invader exhibited by England in 1745 and in little more than half a century after. On the threat of Napoleon's invasion England exhibited an armed force of little less than a million which would have been quadrupled in case of an actual descent. In 1745 the alarm was extravagant and almost burlesque. The Pretender with but a few thousand men--brave undoubtedly but almost wholly unprovided for a campaign--marched into the heart of England and reached within a hundred and thirty miles of the capital. But the enterprise was then felt to be wholly beyond his means. A powerful force under the Duke of Cumberland was already thrown between him and London. What was more ominous still no man of English rank had joined him London was firm the Protestant feeling of the nation though slowly excited was beginning to be roused by its recollection of the bigotry of James and in England this feeling will always be ultimately victorious. Even if Charles Edward had arrived in London and seized the throne he would have only had to commence a civil war against the nation. His retreat to the north saved England from this great calamity and probably saved himself and his adherents in both countries from a more summary fate than that which drove his miserable and bigoted father from the throne. One of the chief contributors to this correspondence is George James Williams familiarly styled Gilly Williams; a man of high life uncle by marriage to the minister Lord North and lucky in the possession of an opulent office--that of receiver-general of the excise. He with George Selwyn and Dick Edgecumbe who met at Strawberry Hill at certain seasons formed what Walpole termed his out-of-town party. Life seems to have glided smoothly with him for he lived till 1785 dying at the ripe age of eighty-six. He thus begins:-- ""Dear George--I congratulate you on the near approach of Parliament and figure you before a glass at your rehearsals. I must intimate to you not to forget to begin closing your periods with a significant stroke of the breast and recommend Mr Barry as a pattern (the actor.) ""You must observe in letters from the country every sentence begins with being either sorry or glad. Apropos I am glad to hear B. Bertie (son of the Duke of Ancaster) is returned from Scarborough having laid in such a stock of health and spirits by the waters as to dedicate the rest of his days altogether to wine."" In another letter he says--""I had almost forgot to tell you that I rode near ten miles on my way home with the ordinary of Gloucester and have several anecdotes of the late burnings and hangings which I reserve for your own private ear. I do not know whether he was sensible you had a partiality for his profession; but he expressed the greatest regard for you and I am sure you may command his services."" Gilly writes from Crome Lord Coventry's seat in Worcestershire-- ""Our life here for a while would not displease you for we eat and drink well and the Earl (Coventry) holds a faro-bank every night to us which we have as yet plundered considerably. ""I want to know where to find you and how long you stay at your mansion-house; for it would not be pleasant to ride so far only to see squinting Jenny and the gardener at the end of my journey. I suppose we shall see you here where you will find the Countess of Coventry in high spirits and in great beauty."" We now come to a brief mention of two women the most remarkable of their day for popular admiration if not for finish and fashion--the Gunnings afterwards Lady Coventry and the Duchess of Hamilton. They were the daughters of an Irish country gentleman John Gunning of Castle Coote in Ireland. On their first appearance at court in England the elder was in her nineteenth and the second in her eighteenth year. They appear to have excited a most unprecedented sensation in London. Walpole thus writes to Sir Horace Mann-- ""You who knew England in other times will find it difficult to conceive what indifference reigns with regard to ministers and their squabbles. The two Miss Gunnings are twenty times more the subject of conversation than the two brothers (the Pelhams) and Lord Granville. They are two Irish girls of no fortune who are declared the handsomest women alive. I think there being two so handsome and both such perfect figures is their chief excellence for singly I have seen much handsomer women than either. However they can't walk in the Park or go to Vauxhall but such crowds follow them that they are generally driven away."" And this effect lasted; for two months after Walpole writes--""I shall tell you a new story of the Gunnings who make more noise than any of their predecessors since the days of Helen. They went the other day to see Hampton Court. As they were going into the Beauty room another company arrived and the housekeeper said--'This way ladies here are the beauties ' the Gunnings flew into a passion and asked her what she meant; they came to see the palace not to be shown as sights themselves."" To the astonishment and perhaps to the envy of the fashionable world those two unportioned young women made the most splendid matches of the season. The Duke of Hamilton fell in love with the younger at a masquerade and made proposals to her. The marriage was to take place within some months; but his passion was so vehement that in two nights after he insisted on marrying her at the moment. Walpole tells us that he sent for a clergyman who however refused to marry them without license or ring. At this period marriages were frequently performed in a very unceremonious and unbecoming manner. From the laxity of the law they were performed at all hours frequently in private houses and sometimes even in jails by pretended clergymen. The law however was subsequently and properly reformed. The duke and duchess are said to have been married with a curtain-ring at half-past twelve-at night at May Fair Chapel. This precipitated the marriage of Lord Coventry a personage of a grave stamp but who had long paid attention to the elder sister Maria. He married her about three weeks after. Except that we are accustomed to hear of the frenzy which seizes people in the name of fashion we should scarcely believe the effect which those two women handsome as they were continued to produce. On the Duchess of Hamilton's presentation at Court on her marriage the crowd was immense; and so great was the curiosity that the courtly multitude got on the chairs and tables to look at her. Mobs gathered round their doors to see them get into their chairs; people crowded early to the theatres when they heard they were to be there. Lady Coventry's shoemaker is said to have made a fortune by selling patterns of her shoe; and on the duchess's going to Scotland several hundred people walked about all night round the inn where she slept on the Yorkshire road that they might have a view of her as she went off next morning. Yet they appear to have been strangely neglected in their education; good-humoured and good-natured undoubtedly but little better than hoydens after all. Lord Down met Lord and Lady Coventry at Calais and offered to send her ladyship a tent-bed for fear of bugs at the inn. ""Oh dear!"" said she ""I had rather be bit to death than lie one night from my dear Cov."" She is however memorable for one _étourderie_ which amused the world greatly. Old George II. conversing with her on the dulness of the season expressed a regret that there had been no masquerades during the year the handsome rustic answered him that she had seen sights enough and the only one she wanted to see now was--""a coronation."" The king however had the good sense to laugh and repeated it good-humouredly to his circle at supper. Lady Coventry died a few years after of consumption at the age of twenty-seven. It was said that her death was hastened by the habit of using white lead as a paint the fashionable custom of the time. The Duke of Hamilton had died two years before in 1758 and the duchess became subsequently the wife of Colonel John Campbell afterwards Duke of Argyle. The narrative observes the remarkable circumstance that the untitled daughter of an Irish commoner should have been the wife of two dukes and the mother of four. By her first husband she was the mother of James seventh duke and of Douglas eighth duke of Hamilton; and by her second husband of William sixth duke and of Henry seventh duke of Argyle. The duchess though at the time of Lady Coventry's illness supposed to be in a consumption survived for thirty years dying in 1790. Mason the poet commemorated Lady Coventry's death in a long elegy which had some repute in those days when even Hayley was called a poet. They are dawdling and dulcified to a deplorable degree. ""Yes Coventry is dead; attend the strain Daughters of Albion ye that light as air So oft have trips in her fantastic train With hearts as gay and faces half as fair; For she was fair beyond your highest bloom; This envy owns since now her bloom is fled. &c. &c. &c. We have then a sketch of a man of considerable celebrity in his day Lord Sandwich. Educated at Eton and Cambridge; on leaving college he made the then unusual exertion of a voyage round the Mediterranean of which a volume was published by his chaplain on his return. Shortly after taking his seat in the House of Lords he came into ministerial employment as a Lord of the Admiralty. In 1746 he was appointed minister to the States General. And from that period for nearly thirty years he was employed in high public offices; was twice an ambassador three times first Lord of the Admiralty and twice Secretary of State. Lord Sandwich's personal character was at least accused of so much profligacy that if the charges be true we cannot comprehend how he was suffered to retain employments of such importance for so many years. Wilkes who had known him intimately describes him in his letters to the electors of Aylesbury as ""the most abandoned man of the age."" He is even said not to have been a man of business; yet the Admiralty was a place which can scarcely be managed by an idler and the Secretaryship of State in this country can never be a sinecure. He had certainly one quality which is remarkable for conciliation and without which no minister let his talents be what they may has ever been personally popular; he was a man of great affability and of shrewd wit. The latter was exhibited in peculiarly cutting style to Mr Eden afterwards Lord Auckland. Eden sagacious in his generation had suddenly ratted to Pitt adding however the monstrous absurdity of sending a circular to his colleagues by way of justification. Obviously nothing could be more silly than an attempt of this order which could only add their contempt for his understanding to their contempt for his conduct. Lord Sandwich's answer was in the most cutting spirit of scorn:-- ""Sir --Your letter is now before me and in a few minutes will be _behind me_."" An unhappy circumstance brought Lord Sandwich with painful prominence before the world. A Miss Ray a person of some attraction had unfortunately lived under his protection for several years. It happened however that a young officer on the recruiting service who had dined once or twice at Lord Sandwich's house in the country thought proper to pay her some marked attentions which after allowing them as it appears to proceed to some extent she suddenly declined. On this the officer whose name was Hackman and who was evidently of a fantastic and violent temperament rushed from England in a state of desperation flew over to Ireland threw up his commission and took orders in the church. But instead of adopting the quietude which would have been suitable for his new profession the clerical robes seem to have made him more intractable than the military uniform. After some months of rambling and romance in Ireland he rushed over to England again resolving to conquer or die at her feet; but the lady still rejected him and being alarmed at his violence threatened to appeal to Lord Sandwich. There are many circumstances in the conduct of this unfortunate man amounting to that perversion of common sense which in our times is fashionably and foolishly almost sanctioned as monomania. But nothing can be clearer than the fact that the most unjustifiable dangerous and criminal passion may be pampered until it obtains possession of the whole mind and leads to the perpetration of the most atrocious offences against society. The modern absurdity is to look in the violence of the passion for the excuse of the crime; instead of punishing the crime for the violence of the passion. We might as well say that the violences of a drunkard were more innocent the more furiously he was intoxicated; the whole being a direct encouragement to excessive guilt. The popular feeling of justice in the last century however was different; robbers and murderers were put to death as they deserved and society was relieved without burlesquing the common understandings of man. Mr Hackman was a murderer however he might be a monomaniac and he was eventually hanged as he deserved. The trial which took place in April 1779 excited the most extraordinary public curiosity. By the statement of the witnesses it appeared that a Mr Macnamara being in the lobby of Covent Garden Theatre when the audience were coming away and seeing Miss Ray making her way with some difficulty through the crowd to her carriage he went forward with Irish gallantry to offer her his arm which she accepted; and as they reached the door of the carriage a pistol was fired close to them when Miss Ray clapped her hand to her forehead and fell when instantly another pistol-report followed. He thought that she had fainted away through fright; but when he raised her up he found that she was wounded and assisted the people in carrying her into the Shakspeare Tavern; and on Hackman's being seized and being asked what could possess him to be guilty of such a deed his only answer was to give his name and say ""It is not a proper place to ask such questions."" It appeared in evidence that Hackman had been waiting some time for Miss Ray's coming out of the theatre; that he followed her to the carriage door and pulling out two pistols fired one at the unfortunate woman the ball of which went through her brain and the other at himself crying out as he fell ""Kill me--kill me!"" Of course after evidence like this there could be no defence and none as attempted. Hackman evidently wished to have died by his own hand; but having failed there his purpose was to perish by the law and plead guilty. However on being brought to trial he said that he now pleaded not guilty that he might avoid the appearance of contemning death--an appearance not suitable to his present condition; that on second thoughts he had considered the plea of guilty as rendering him accessory to a second peril of his life; and that he thought that he could pay his debt more effectually to the justice of the country by suffering his offences to be proved by evidence and submitting to the forms of a regular trial. This though it was penitence too late was at least decorous language. His whole conduct on the trial showed that intemperate as his passions were he possessed abilities and feelings worthy of a wiser career and a less unhappy termination. Part of his speech was even affecting. ""I stand here this day "" he said ""the most wretched of human beings and confess myself criminal in a high degree; yet while I acknowledge with shame and repentance that my determination against my own life was formal and complete I protest with that regard which becomes my situation that the will to destroy her who was ever dearer to me than life was never mine till a momentary frenzy overpowered me and induced me to commit the deed I deplore. Before this dreadful act I trust nothing will be found in the tenor of my life which the common charity of mankind will not excuse. I have no wish to avoid the punishment which the laws of my country appoint for my crime; but being already too unhappy to feel a punishment in death or a satisfaction in life I submit myself with penitence and patience to the disposal and judgment of Almighty God and to the consequences of this enquiry into my conduct and intentions."" After a few minutes' consultation the jury returned a verdict of guilty and he was executed two days after. It is surprising how strong an interest was felt on this subject by persons of every condition; by the populace who loved excitement from whatever quarter it may come; by the middle order to whom the romance of the early part of the transaction and the melancholy catastrophe were subjects of natural impression; and by the nobility to whom the character of Miss Ray and the habits of Lord Sandwich were equally known. The Earl of Carlisle thus writes to Selwyn beginning with a sort of customary allusion to Selwyn's extraordinary fondness for those displays:-- ""Hackman Miss Ray's murderer is hanged. I attended his execution in order to give _you_ an account of his behaviour and from no curiosity of my own. I am this moment returned from it. Every one enquired after you. _You have friends_ every where. The poor man behaved with great fortitude; no appearances of fear were to be perceived but very evident signs of contrition and repentance."" A novel of some pathos and considerable popularity was founded on this unhappy transaction and ""The Letters of Mr Hackman and Miss Ray"" long flourished in the circulating libraries. But the groundwork was vulgar mean and vicious after all; and divested of that colouring which imagination may throw on any event was degrading and criminal in all its circumstances. The shame of the wretched woman herself living in a state of open criminality from year to year; the grossness of Hackman in his proposal to make this abandoned woman his wife; the strong probability that his object might have been the not uncommon though infinitely vile one of obtaining Lord Sandwich's patronage by relieving him of a connexion of which that notorious profligate after nine years might be weary--all characterise the earlier portion of their intercourse as destitute of all pretence to honourable feelings. The catastrophe is merely the work of an assassin. If there may be some slight allowance for overwhelming passion for suddenly excited jealousy or for remediless despair yet those impulses act only to the extent of inflicting injury on ourselves. No love ever seeks the death of its object. It is then mere ruffianism brute cruelty savage fury; and even this becomes more the act of a ruffian when the determination to destroy is formed in cold blood. Hackman carried two loaded pistols with him to the theatre. What other man carried loaded pistols there? and what could be his purpose but the one which he effected to fire them both one at the wretched woman and the other at himself? The clear case is that he was neither more nor less than a furious villain resolved to have the life of a profligate milliner's apprentice who preferred Lord Sandwich's house and carriage to Mr Hackman's hovel and going on foot. We shall find that all similar acts originate in similar motives--lucre licentiousness and rage--the three stimulants of the highwayman the debauchee and the ruffian; with only the distinction that in the case of those who murder when they cannot possess the three criminalities are combined. Even with the execution of the criminal the excitement did not cease. The papers of the day tell us that when the body was conveyed to the surgeon's hall so great a crowd was assembled and the efforts to obtain entrance were so violent that caps gowns wigs were torn and cast away in all directions. Old and young men women and children were trampled in the multitude. In the afternoon the crowd diminished and several persons of the better order made their way in but with not a less vexatious result; for on reaching the staircase leading to the theatre they found themselves saluted with a shower from some engine worked under the staircase. This was rather a rough mode of tranquillizing public excitement but seems to have been effectual. It was probably a trick of some of the young surgeons and excited great indignation at the time. Hackman was but four-and-twenty and rather a striking figure. The letters to which we have alluded entitled ""Love and Madness "" attracted attention in higher quarters and even perplexed the fastidiousness of Walpole himself. In one of his letters of March 1780 he thus writes:--""Yesterday was published an octavo pretending to contain the correspondence of Hackman and Miss Ray. I doubt whether the letters are genuine and yet if fictitious they are executed well and enter into his character. This appears less natural and yet the

ditors were certainly more likely to be in possession of hers than his. It is not probable that Lord Sandwich should have sent what he found in her apartments to the press; no account is pretended to be given of how they came to light."" After having thus puzzled the dilettanti it transpired that it was written by Sir Herbert Croft Bart. Another singular character who in connexion with one still more singular remarkably occupied the ear and tongue of the _beau monde_ of his day is introduced in these volumes. This was Augustus John Earl of Bristol third son of John Lord Hervey by the beautiful Mary Lepel. He entered the sea service at an early age and prospered as the sons of men of rank prospered in those days being made a post-captain in 1747 when he was but three and twenty years old. Promotion was heaped upon him and he was rapidly advanced to the rank of vice-admiral and colonel of marines. He was however said to be a brave and skilful officer. More good fortune was in store for him; he was placed in the king's household was a member of Parliament was appointed one of the Lords of the Admiralty and finally rounded the circle of his honours by succeeding to the earldom of Bristol. The history of his wife is a continued adventure. Miss Chudleigh maid of honour to the Princess of Wales had immediately on her appearance at court become the observed of all observers. She was regarded as one of the most beautiful women of her time was remarkably quick and witty in her conversation of a most capricious temper and a most fantastic imagination--all qualities which naturally rendered her a topic in every circle of the country. The circumstances of her marriage rendered her if possible still more a topic. On a visit at the house of a relation she met Lord Bristol then but a lieutenant in the navy and plain Mr Hervey and disregarding all the formalities of high life they were privately married at Lainston in Northamptonshire. They were however separated the very next day the lady declaring her determination never to see her husband's face again. This of course produced an ample fund of conversation of every kind; but the lady returned to court and the gentleman returned to his ship and went to sea. However they met again and the result was she became a mother. From her determination to keep her marriage secret she retired for her accouchement to a secluded spot in Chelsea where her child was born and where it soon after died. It may easily be supposed that the sudden disappearance of so conspicuous a person from the most conspicuous society must have given rise to rumours and ridicule of every kind. She returned to court nevertheless and constantly denying her marriage fought it out with the effrontery which is so easily forgiven in fashionable life to youth wit and beauty. Yet she could not quite escape the flying shafts of wit herself. One day after her return meeting the memorable Lord Chesterfield--""Think my lord "" said she with an air of indignation ""to what lengths the scandalous chronicle will go when it absolutely says that I have had twins."" ""My dear "" said Lord Chesterfield ""I make it a rule never to believe above half what the world says."" She now received the attentions of many suitors extraordinary as the circumstance may be when the mystery of her own conduct and the surmises of the public are considered; and to make assurance doubly sure she determined to extinguish all proof of her hasty marriage. Ascertaining that the clergyman who had married her was dead she went to Lainston church and contrived to carry away the entry of her marriage from the register. Some time after this Miss Chudleigh (for she never would take her husband's name) married the Duke of Kingston. It was strongly asserted though the circumstance is so dishonourable that it can scarcely be believed that the silence of the real husband was purchased by the advance of a large sum of money from the pretended one. The marriage remained undisturbed until the death of the duke. She then came into possession of his very large disposable property and traveled in great pomp to Rome; but the duke's nephew and heir having his suspicious of the fact excited commenced proceedings against the duchess for bigamy. She was tried before her peers in Westminster hall and found guilty of the offence in April 1776; but by claiming the privilege of peerage she was discharged on payment of the usual fees. It is scarcely possible to believe that a man of the rank and profession of Lord Bristol could have been base enough to connive at his wife's marriage with the Duke of Kingston. But there can be no question that in the prevalent opinion of the time he had even taken a large sum of money for the purpose. In one of Walpole's letters subsequently to the trial he says ""if the Pope expects his duchess back he must create her one for her peers have reduced her to a countess. Her folly and her obstinacy here appear in the full vigour at least her faith in the ecclesiastical court trusting to the infallibility of which she provoked this trial in the face of every sort of detection. The living witness of the first marriage a register of it fabricated long after by herself the widow of the clergyman who married her many confidants to whom she had entrusted the secret and even Hawkins the surgeon privy to the birth of the child appeared against her. The Lords were tender and would not probe the earl's collusion; but the ecclesiastical court who so readily accepted their juggle and sanctified the second match were brought to shame--they care not if no reformation follows. The duchess who could produce nothing else in her favour tried the powers of oratory and made a long oration in which she cited the protection of her late mistress the Princess of Wales. Her counsel would have curtailed this harangue; but she told them they might be good lawyers but did not understand speaking to the passions. She concluded her rhetoric with a fit and retired with rage when convicted of the bigamy."" The charge to which Walpole alludes was that the earl had given her a bond for L.30 000 not to molest her; but as there was no proof this gross charge certainly has no right to be implicitly received. Still it is unaccountable why he should have suffered her to have married the Duke of Kingston without any known remonstrance and why he should have allowed her to retain the title of the duke's widow until the rightful heir instituted the proceedings. The earl died in 1779 within three years from the trial. Among the characters which pass through this magic-lantern is Topham Beauclerk so frequently mentioned and mentioned with praise in Boswell's _Johnson_. He seems to have been a man of great elegance of manner and peculiarity of that happy talent of conversation whose wit seems to be spontaneous and whose anecdotes however _recherché_ seem to flow from the subject. ""Every thing "" remarked Johnson ""comes from Beauclerk so easily that it appears to me that I labour when I say a good thing."" Beauclerk was the only son of Lord Sydney Beauclerk a son of Charles first Duke of St Albans. He was educated at Trinity College Oxford and from the moment of his entering fashionable life was remarked for the elegance of manner and the liveliness of conversation which continued to be his distinctions to the close of his career. Unfortunately the fashion of the time not only allowed but seems to have almost required an irregularity of life which would tarnish the character of any man in our more decorous day. His unfortunate intercourse with Viscountess Bolingbroke better known by her subsequent name of Lady Diana Beauclerk produced a divorce and in two days after a marriage. She was the eldest daughter of Charles the second Duke of Marlborough and was in early life as distinguished for her beauty as in later years she was for her wit. Johnson in his old age became acquainted with Topham Beauclerk through their common friend Langton and even the sage and moralist acknowledged the captivation of his manners. ""What a coalition!"" said Garrick when he heard of their acquaintance ""I shall have my old friend to bail out of the roundhouse."" But whatever might be the elegance of his companion's laxity Johnson did not hesitate to rebuke him. Beauclerk like wits in general had a propensity to satire on which Johnson once took him to task in this rough style--""You never open your mouth but with the intention to give pain; and you have now given me pain not from the power of what you have said but from my seeing the intention."" At another tine applying to him that line of Pope's slightly altered he said-- 'Thy love of folly and thy scorn of fools;' everything you do shows the one and every thing you say the other."" Another rather less intelligible rebuke occurred in his saying ""Thy body is all vice and thy mind all virtue."" As the actions of the body proceed from the mind it is difficult to conceive how the one can be impure without the other. At least Beauclerk did not appear to relish the distinction and he was angry at the phrase. However Johnson's attempt to appease him was a curious specimen of his magniloquence. ""Nay sir Alexander the Great marching in triumph into Babylon could not have desired to have had more said to him."" Topham Beauclerk had two daughters by Lady Diana one of whom became Lady Pembroke. He died at his house in Great Russell Street then a place of fashion in 1780 in his 41st year. Selwyn's seat Matson in Gloucestershire received some pretty historical reminiscences. One of Walpole's letters to Bentley thus speaks of a visit to his friend's villa in the autumn of 1753. ""I staid two days at George Selwyn's house which lies on Robin Hood's hill. It is lofty enough for an Alp yet is a mountain of turf to the very top has woods scattered all over it springs that long to be cascades in twenty places; and from the summits it beats even Sir George Littleton's views by having the city of Gloucester at its foot and the Severn widening to the horizon. The house is small but neat; King Charles (the First ) lay here at the siege and the Duke of York with typical fury hacked and hewed the windows of his chamber as a memorandum of his being there. The fact however being that both the princes Charles and James who were then mere boys remained at Matson--a circumstance frequently mentioned to Selwyn's grandfather by James II. observing:--'My brother and I were generally shut up in a chamber on the second floor during the day where you will find that we have left the marks of our confinement inscribed with our knives on the ledges of all the windows.""' The house must have been quite a treasure to Walpole for he found in it a good picture of the famous Earl of Leicester which he had given to Sir Francis Walsingham; and what makes it very curious Walpole observes his age is marked on it fifty-four in 1752. ""I had never been able to discover before in what year he was born and here is the very flower-pot and counterfeit association for which Bishop Sprat was taken up and the Duke of Marlborough sent to the Tower."" It is however by no means clear that this was a ""counterfeit association "" though Walpole abandons his usual scepticism on all disputable points with such facility. The ""association"" was a plot to bring back that miserable blockhead and bigot James II. said to be signed by Marlborough the Bishop of Rochester Lords Salisbury Cornberry and Sir Basil Firebrace. On the information of one Young the draft of the plot was found in a flower-pot in the Bishop's house at Bromley. But fortunately the days of royal terror had passed by. The crown was strong enough to treat conspiracy with contempt and the affair was suffered to fall into oblivion. Yet it is now so notorious that many of the highest persons in the state were tampering with the exiled family that the plot is rendered sufficiently probable. There seems to have been some political infatuation connected with the name of the Stuarts. Though excepting the bravery of Charles I. and the pleasantry of Charles II. they all were evidently the dullest most mulish and most repulsive of mankind; yet many brave men periled their lives to restore them and many men of great distinction hazarded their safety to correspond with them. The ""Stuart Correspondence"" was less a breach of loyalty than a libel on the national understanding. On the whole these volumes are interesting in many parts--very much so. The editor has evidently done his best to illustrate and explain. But can he not discover any remnant of the letters of Selwyn himself? he might then remove the objection to his title and please all readers together. * * * * * NEWS FROM AN EXILED CONTRIBUTOR. MELBOURNE PORT PHILIP NEW SOUTH WALES _July_ 1 1843. BELOVED AND REV. CHRISTOPHER You have been pleased many times in very decided terms to express your ever-to-be-respected conviction that I should eventually come to something; haply to the woolsack--possibly to the gallows; from which prophetic sentiment I have naturally inferred that my genius was rare and that your eagle eye had discovered it. Before my letter reaches your generous shores twelve months will have elapsed most reverend Christopher since we parted in the Hibernian city. Then we were as near to one another as firmly grasped hands could render us; now sixteen thousand miles effectually divide us; and whilst I sit silently wishing you ages of health and mortal happiness the mercury of my thermometer stands lazily at freezing point whereas your own sprightly quicksilver rushes up to 92. All things tell me of our separation. We sailed as you will find by referring to your pocket-book--for you made a memorandum at the time--on the 14th day of November last from Cork; sighted Madeira--about thirty miles abreast--in eight days and out of sight of it on the 22d. A fine fair wind was sent to us and we crossed the Line all well on the 14th of December; then steering pretty far to westward we luckily caught the trade-wind and rounded the Cape in a good gale on the 15th of January. And here it came on to blow right earnestly; but we kept the gale for about eight days on our larboard quarter and we scudded on our course at a fearful rate. Our mizen mast was carried away--both our mainsails split--and we smashed a few spars and lost some running gear; nothing more serious happened save the loss of as fine a young fellow as ever trode shoe-leather--a seaman. He was caught sharply by one of the ropes that gave way and it carried him overboard like a feather. We saw him drop--the sea was running mountains high--we could render him no assistance; and he perished under our very eyes. The wind fortunately for us continued on either quarter of our ship; and it is a remarkable fact and deserving of notice that during the whole of our voyage we had occasion only _to put the ship about_ TWICE. We cast anchor in Hobson's Bay Port Philip on the morning of the 21st of February having made our voyage in the short space of ninety-nine days and the land within a quarter of an hour of the captain's reckoning. The events of the passage may be given _paucis verbis_. We had nine _accouchements_ in the steerage amongst the emigrants some of them premature from violent sea-sickness and seven deaths--all children. Our deaths as I have said were confined to the children. The adults kept free from fever; an astonishing fact when the confinement and closeness of a steerage birth is taken into account. The voyage was agreeable. We were good friends in the cabin. The captain a prudent temperate man took his three glasses of grog per diem and no more; the first at noon the second at dinner the third and last at _""turn-in_."" Your obedient servant ever mindful of your strict injunctions and of your eloquent discourse on sobriety and self-denial and believing that he could not do better than regulate his watch according to the captain's chronometer followed precisely the same rule. We maintained a glorious state of health after the first week; and if all future voyagers would do the same let them neither eat nor drink aboard ship to the full extent of their appetites. This is simple advice but I reckon it the first great secret which my nomadic experience enables me to put down for the benefit of my fellow-creatures; especially on board of a ship _leave off with an appetite._ We passed our time--not having the fear of the Ancient Mariner before our eyes--in shooting albatrosses Cape pigeons and the like; in picking up a porpoise a bonnitta or a dolphin. Books backgammon and whist filled up the measure of the day. _Mem_.--had we been favoured with less wind we should have got more porpoises. We speared many--_first-raters_; but the speed at which we cut along prevented our securing them. But we have cast anchor. The harbour of Hobson's Bay is a splendid inlet of the sea. The bay is very narrow at the entrance but the moment you get past the Heads it extends to a breadth of eight or ten miles and to a length of twenty-two miles from the mouth to the anchoring place. The land around the bay is flat and sandy and covered with wood almost to the water's edge. The tree there resembles our common mountain fir: it is exactly like it in the bark; but it is called by the settlers _the she-oak_. I reckon it to be the beef-tree for it has its appearance when cut up is hard and takes a beautiful polish. Inland this wood grows to a considerable height and thickness; but the principal part of the interior is thickly covered with the various species of the gum and peppermint trees many of them of a singularly large growth: but more of the interior anon. Immediately opposite to the anchorage ground there is a pretty little town called _Williamstown_ in which the water-police magistrate an old seafaring gentleman Captain ---- has his residence. The gallant captain has enough to do with the jolly tars who invariably attempt to cut and run as soon as they have got here. A sailor misconducting himself on the voyage has at least two months' reflection in the jail of Williamstown commencing immediately upon his arrival. The news of this prison establishment will probably reach England before my letter. Should it be spoken of in your presence say that it has been found absolutely necessary for the protection of shipmasters and that an act was passed accordingly for its erection. _Gordon law_ so called after the first magistrate is proverbial and very summary. Every fellow found drunk gets two hours in the stocks and he becomes sober there much sooner than if he had been simply fined five shillings. The town of Melbourne is beautifully situated on the face of a hill in the hollow of which runs the noble river called the _Yarra-Yarra_ words which signify in the native language _""flowing constantly.""_ It is distinguished by its title from the large majority of rivers which are nearly _still_ and which after extending only for a mile or two form at length a species of swamp. Such rivers are generally styled _lagoons_. The _Yarra-Yarra_ is navigable up to the town of Melbourne for ships of a large size--say 400 tons; but the seven miles of distance being circuitous and the banks of sand at the mouth of the river occasionally shifting the larger class of ships generally remain at the anchorage ground in the bay and discharge by common lighters. At the present moment from twenty to thirty very large ships are riding in the bay. A pretty little steamer plies three times a-day between the towns of Melbourne and Williamstown--price five shillings up and down. Another steamer ""The Sea Horse "" plies between Melbourne and Sydney once a fortnight; the passage is made in three days and the fares £12 for cabin £6 for steerage. The communication is a vast accommodation to this district. The steamer is in private hands and did not answer at first; she now carries the mail and promises to turn out a profitable _spec_. The coast is very dangerous and at _every_ season of the year liable to very violent gales. Even in the bay the squalls are sudden violent and dangerous and many lives are lost for want of proper precaution and care on board of small boats. Only yesterday my friend Mr G---- and three men were out in a pleasure boat; in five minutes they were swept off to leeward the boat was upset and they were all drowned. Melbourne is perhaps the most surprising place in her Majesty's dominions. Nothing in the history of colonization approaches her as regards the rapidity of advancement and extent. Six years ago there were not twenty British subjects on the spot and at the present hour Melbourne and its suburbs boast of a population of ten thousand souls. There are already built four splendid edifices for public worship--Episcopalians Presbyterians Wesleyans and Independents are provided for--and there is in addition a very large Roman Catholic chapel in the course of erection. There are three banks all doing excellently well--""The Australasian "" ""The Union Bank of Australia "" and ""Port Philip's Bank""--and there is yet a good field for another under prudent management. The rate of discount is £10 per cent; and the interest given on deposit accounts £7 per cent. The common rate of interest given with good mortgage security is £20 per cent; and in some instances where a little risk is taken £25 and £30. Bills past due at the bank are charged £12 per cent. A court of law (by act of Council) allows £8 per cent on all bills sued upon with a discretionary power of extending the rate to £12 per cent to cover any damage or loss sustained. There are two Club houses a Royal Exchange and some very large buildings for stores. A spacious new jail is building in a most commodious situation and a public court house will soon follow; the one existing being but small and temporary. The new customhouse which has been completed since my arrival is a fine building and forms one side of the Market Square. In front of this and about four hundred yards distant stands the wharf. Melbourne rejoices likewise in its theatre or as it is called ""_pavilion_ "" which place of amusement however the governor does not think proper to license. His refusal is I believe very properly founded upon the questionable condition of the morals of the great body of the population. Two hours at the police-office any morning afford a stranger a tolerably clear insight into this subject generally and acquaint him particularly with the over-night deportment of the Melbournese. The police magistrate holds any thing but a sinecure. We have three newspapers in Melbourne namely _The Patriot_ _The Herald_ and _Gazette_ each published twice a-week; the first on Monday and Thursday the second on Tuesday and Friday the third on Wednesday and Saturday; so that we have a newspaper every day. The advertisements are numerous and varied in matter. I have heard upon good authority that the proprietor of any one of these journals draws at least £4000 to £5000 per annum from the profits of them. It is not difficult to account for these enormous gains. Every thing here is sold by auction and the advertisements are in consequence more numerous than they would otherwise be. An auctioneer alone in good business will pay each of the papers about £1000 per annum for printing and advertising his numerous sales. We have a supreme court with a suitable establishment of officers. John Walpole Willis Esq. was resident judge. He is now amongst you for by the slip which carries this letter he starts for England circumstances having occurred that render it necessary for him to vindicate in person a character which requires no vindication. The people of Melbourne part with the upright and learned judge with infinite regret softened only by the certain hope they entertain of his immediate return. The resident judge holds civil courts as in England during the several terms and criminal courts of general jail-delivery every month. The pleadings are conducted by barristers at law who have been duly admitted in England Ireland Scotland or Isle of Man. The agents or attorneys and solicitors are those duly admitted at Sydney at courts of Westminster in England High Courts in Ireland and _writers to her Majesty's Signet in Scotland_. Others who may have served a regular apprenticeship of not less than five years to any such agent after undergoing a necessary examination are likewise suffered to practise as attorneys. The supreme court has been established about twelve months. Before that time all suits were carried on in Sydney. Conveyances of land may be prepared by any one and before professional men appeared amongst the settlers there were some rare specimens of deeds in this branch of English law. Now they are of course better--and those to which I have adverted have fortunately paved the way for endless litigation. We have a sprinkling of military and mounted police; two very large steam mills for grinding flour and sawing timber; and in a word all the concomitants of a large and flourishing city. I should however except the public streets. These are still unpaved and consequently in wet weather in some places impassable and in dry weather insufferably dusty. I have spoken of the sudden squalls which arise often in the Bay. Whilst one of these prevails clouds of dust are carried from the streets so dense that you cannot see half a yard before you. If you are exposed to the whirlwind and chance to wear clothes of a dark colour you issue from it with the appearance of a man who has been confined in a mill for a week. A house of furniture well cleaned in the morning looks at dinner-time as if it had been coated with dirt for a twelvemonth. Should there be a sudden mortality among the ladies of Port Philip it will undoubtedly be occasioned by this warfare with the dirt which is carried forward day after day without any prospect of retreat on either side. Having read thus far you will very likely tap the floor impatiently with your foot and say--if you have not said it already--""Well but what is the fellow about himself?"" Patience gentle Christopher. I will tell you now. Upon my arrival with a pocket as you are aware not very inconveniently laden I kept of course ""my eye ahead"" for any thing suitable in the farming way; sheep-stock or cattle. But it would not do. _Capital_ was required to get a sheep-station and employment as an overseer in consequence of the depression that existed in the markets _for all kinds of stock_ altogether hopeless. No man is idle here longer than he can help it unless he have the wherewithal to look to; and there are fifty modes of gaining bread here if a man will turn to them? What could a briefless barrister do better than throw himself upon the law? I smelled out the attorneys to begin with. The first with whom I came in contact was one Mr ---- from a northern county in England. He had been here only three years and was already rattling about in his carriage. He arrived without a shoe to his foot or a sixpence in his pocket. Another was my old and respected friend Mr ---- writer to the signet of Edinburgh who had been here about eighteen months was living like a gentleman and on the point of entering a fine new dwelling-house which he had himself erected out of his own honourable gains. Upon him I waited and from his kindness I obtained all the information I stood in need of; and not only this but immediate profitable employment in his office which with his leave I hold until something offers--whether I shall claim admission as attorney solicitor and proctor as some have done before me or resort to my old calling of advocate is as yet an undecided question. I am now in the receipt of more than is necessary for subsistence and I shall look before I leap. The rents of houses are extravagantly high. The poorest tradesmen pay fifteen shillings a-week for his small house--and he must pay it weekly; the better class of tradesmen pay twenty and twenty-five shillings and the higher class from two to four pounds a-week; for a petty dwelling containing only three rooms and a kitchen. A small brick cottage held by a friend of mine and consisting of sitting-room bed-room servant's room and kitchen is considered a great bargain at a hundred pounds per annum. The hours of business are limited with strictness to seven--_videlicit_ from nine in the morning until four P.M. You are your own master after four o'clock and need fear no business-calls or interruptions. Whilst business however is going on the excitement and bustle compel me to regard Cheapside on a Saturday afternoon as a place of great quietness and an agreeable promenade. Fellows are riding as hard as they can tear from one end of the town to the other--cattle are driving to and fro--bullock-drays are crowding from the interior with wood--auctions are eternally at work--settlers are coming from their stations or getting their provisions in. Tradesmen and mercantile men are hurry-skurrying with their orders. A vast amount of work is done up to four o'clock and afterwards all is silence and the place looks unlike nothing so much as itself; and yet notwithstanding all this bustle _money_ is altogether out of the question. From what exact cause or series of causes I cannot tell you now--but the fact is certain that the mercantile community here is nearly _bankrupt_. There is a glut of goods a superabundance of every thing in the market. It has been wrongfully supposed in England that every thing would sell here and the consequence has been that an overflow of every kind of commodity has poured in upon us. The supply has doubled and trebled the demand. Upon the first establishment of these settlements the wants of the people were of course many and their prices for stock were so good and their speculations in land so profitable and bright that they could afford the indulgence of a luxury no matter what price was asked to purchase it. It is very different _now_. The staple commodity of this colony is wool. Well so long as all the stations or sheep-runs continued unoccupied and new settlers arrived the price of sheep kept naturally very high; but every station that can command a due supply of water is now in occupation and consequently the demand for stock has ceased. Sheep which three years ago sold for twenty-five and eighteen shillings command now for first quality eight shillings and sixpence only; ordinary quality six shillings; and middling as low as five shillings. For cash sale by sheriff-warrant I have seen beautiful ewes free from all disease--2000 of them--sold for two and sixpence each! Cattle three years ago sold for ten twelve and sometimes fifteen pounds per head. At this moment they are so plentiful that I could purchase a drove of fat cattle two to three hundred head--and some of them weighing eighty stone--for eight pounds a beast and that on credit too by approved bill at four months' date. Such are a few of the reasons why a damper has come over the Port Philip market reducing amongst other things the price of wages by nearly a third. Emigrants continue to pour in and they stare and are grievously disappointed at the rate of wages so very different to that which they expected. Twelve months since a single labouring man got forty pounds per annum with weekly rations of provisions; now with his rations he receives only twenty-five or at most thirty pounds per annum. Married men with young families will not be hired at any rate for they are only burdens on a station. A good thorough-bred shepherd maintains his price. He is still in great demand and may command from sixty to seventy pounds per annum with rations cow's milk free hut and a portion of produce of stock in addition to all if he chooses to put his wages to that mode of profit. Women servants were formerly much wanted. They are now at a discount. The filthy drabs ejected from Ireland are scarcely worth their meat. I am proud to say it and you should be proud to hear it gentle Christopher that a Scotch servant male or female is forty per cent above every other in value in this colony. Scotch servants get ahead in spite of every thing. The Scotch tradesmen have almost all of them made money; some abundantly. I have met many here from the North who brought nothing but their energy moderation and unconquerable perseverance with them and they are affluent and are becoming daily more so. Donald ---- who was a servant lad at home and is now a respected and respectable man in Melbourne is independent. He went first to Van Diemen's Land and came here some three years ago. ""And had you arrived "" he said to me the other day ""at

he same time you might now have been moving home a prosperous gentleman."" However _nil desperandum_. There is still a fair opportunity for an industrious man who above all things has resolution to be SOBER in his habits. The mischief with the labouring man has been that having suddenly discovered his wages to be high in comparison with those he received in the mother country he has considered himself entitled to have a proportionate extra amount of enjoyment at the public-house where drink is very high. Good tradesmen would infallibly make money but for this great failing. The bullock dray-drivers certainly the best paid of all the working men absolutely think nothing of coming from the Bush into Melbourne with twenty or thirty pounds in their pocket and spending every farthing of the sum--in _one night_--champagne to the mast-head. The innkeepers make fortunes rapidly. Shall I tell how much Boniface will draw in a week? No--for you will not believe me. Certainly as much as many an innkeeper in a country town would draw in twelve months. An innkeeper's license to Government is thirty pounds per annum. This entitles him to keep his house open from six in the morning until eleven o'clock at night; ten pounds more enables him to have open house during the night; and an additional ten pounds enables him to keep a billiard table. There are a great many houses with tables and a number of light houses; but as I have hinted before our police courts exhibit abominations and a police court is a good criterion of the morals of a people. In the first formation and early beginnings of this colony a man having sheep took up his abode in the interior on any spot which he considered suitable and agreeable and he was called a _squatter_. Now no individual may pasture sheep or cattle of any kind without receiving a license from Government for which he pays ten pounds annually and making a return every year of all his stock servants and increase--the license by the way not being available within three miles of Melbourne. The holder of such a license is called a _settler_. A settler is entitled to cut wood upon his own station or run for firing for himself and servants; but if he cut it for sale--and we have no coal here--he pays in addition to the ten pounds three pounds more per annum for the permission so to do. You shall now receive a faithful account of the settling of a settler. Suppose him to have a station in the interior or as it is invariably styled ""in the _Bush_."" The distance is forty fifty or it may be eighty miles from Melbourne and the stock consists of from four to five thousand sheep and from one to two hundred head of cattle. The settler in all probability has been accustomed in early life to good society has been well educated and brought up. Living at his station he sees none but his own servants his _chère amie_ (always a part of a settler's stock ) and perhaps a few black natives not unfrequently hostile visitors. Business calls the settler to Melbourne; he puts up at his inn; any thing in the shape of society rejoices his heart and forthwith he begins ""the lark;"" he dines out--gets fuddled returns to his inn finds a city friend or two waiting for him treats them to champagne of which at ten shillings per bottle they drink no end. Very well. His horse is in the stable at seven shillings and sixpence a-night his own bill varies from six to eight pounds per diem and at the end of a fortnight my settler is called upon to hand over a cheque upon his banker to the tune of a hundred pounds or if he has no bank-account his promissory note at a very short date. Away starts the settler back to his solitude; he has given his bill and he thinks no more about it; but the bill finds its way quickly into the hands of an attorney and in eight days there is an execution out for recovery with an addition of ten pounds already incurred in legal expenses. The sheriff's bailiff rides to the station and demands payment of the whole. He gets no money but settler and bailiff return in company to Melbourne: a friend is applied to; he discounts a bill for the sum required. The attorney is paid the amount by the hands of the sheriff. The bill once more becomes due and is once more dishonoured; expenses run up like wildfire. This time there is no escape and a portion of the stock must be sold to avoid ruin--and it is sold sometimes at a fearful sacrifice. This is no insulated case. It is the history of nine-tenths of the thoughtless fellows who dwell away in the Bush. Such gentlemen at the present hour in consequence of the depressed state of the stock market are all but ruined. Any one of them who twelve months since purchased his flock of two thousand sheep at eighteen or five-and-twenty shillings can only reckon upon a fourth of the amount in value _now_. It is increase only that enables him to pay his servants and he has as much off the wool as affords him the means of living. The sale of his wethers would not pay for the tear and wear of bullocks and drays; and if any profit does by any chance arise it can be only from occasionally catching a few head of cattle which as they run wild in the woods the settler can keep no account of and only with difficulty secure when they come to a lagoon for water where they are watched because at one time or another they are certain to appear. Horses are very dear in Melbourne: a useless brute which in England would be dear at ten pounds sells here quickly for thirty; a good saddle horse will fetch a hundred and I have seen some tolerable cart horses sold for fifty and sixty pounds. In a new colony where almost all the draught is performed by bullocks cart horses must realize a good price. The hire of a horse and cart in Melbourne is one pound four shillings for the day. In addition to those above spoken of there is another class of settlers who were the original stock-holders and land-purchasers in the district. They have large tracts of country in the Bush and thousands of sheep and cattle on then and all managed by servants and overseers. These proprietors live at the clubs in Melbourne and constitute what is here termed the _élite_ of society. A short time ago these gentlemen entertained the pleasing notion that there was to be no termination to the increase and extent of their wealth; and one very young member of the society was heard to exclaim in apparent agony at his excessive good fortune ""upon my soul I am become most disgustingly rich."" But mark the difference The _élite_ have been living in the most extravagant manner. They discounted bills at their own pleasure here at ten per cent; and knowing well that these bills would not be honoured at maturity they sent them to London and cashed them there: with the funds thus raised they speculated in the buying of land and stock hoping to get (as in many instances they did) at least eighty per cent profit by their transactions. But now stock has fallen to a trifle; bills are falling due rushing back from England under protest--and the bubble bursts. The banks are drawing in their accommodation and the _élite_ who were a short time back so disgustingly rich are whilst I write most disgustingly poor. This is no imaginative statement; it is a sober fact. But I do not suppose that the present state of things will last long. Speculation and the rate of interest must come down. When the human body is disordered it is a happy time for the doctor; when the body mercantile is diseased it is the attorney's harvest time. If an attorney has any business at all he must do well in Melbourne for his fees are inordinately high. Protesting a bill is five-and-twenty shillings; noting half-a-guinea; every letter demanding payment of account if under twenty pounds half-a-guinea; above twenty and under a hundred pounds one guinea; above a hundred two guineas. Every summons (a summons being a short printed form) before the supreme court is charged six guineas; and the clients pay down at once without any questions too glad to do so provided they can get rid of their temporary difficulties. Litigation is short and quick. Conveyancing is downright profit; a deed however short conveying a piece of land however trifling costs five guineas. There are no stamps and the work is done in an hour. More valuable properties are conveyed by a deed generally charged nine guineas. My friend ---- has drawn twelve such deeds in his office in the course of one day; and with these eyes I have seen him earn six guineas in as many minutes by appearing at the police-office when a dispute has arisen between a master and his servant. All quarrels of this kind are arranged at the police-office when the amount of wages received by the servant does not exceed thirty pounds annually. An attorney with brains cannot fail to get ahead. He has only to use dispatch and to begin and continue in one even and undeviating course. Our barristers are few in number. There are but four of then. There is still a glorious field for a barrister of talent and especially if he be conversant with the nicer points of conveyancing. Any clever barrister up to the business and a good speaker might rely upon making immediately at least a thousand a-year; the community are looking and waiting for such a man. A fellow with no capital and no profession had better not show his face in Melbourne. It is a thousand to one against him. Compared to his position that of a labourer is an enviable one; yet any respectable and intelligent man tolerably well educated coming here with four or five hundred pounds in his pocket may certainly in a couple of years and in twenty different ways treble that capital. The best and most promising is the following:--Buy in any _growing_ part of the town of Melbourne a small piece of town allotment. This will cost fifty pounds upon this you may erect two small brick cottages containing each two rooms and a kitchen and well fitted for a respectable tradesman. Two hundred and forty pounds will build them up; thus the whole expense of cottages and ground is two hundred and ninety pounds at most. Each cottage will for a moral certainty let for one pound five shillings per week and thus return you a clear rental of sixty-four pounds per annum for the sum of one hundred and forty-four pounds laid out. Some capitalists are not long in discovering this mode of adding to their fortunes and it is not surprising that such men with ease get speedily rich. Many individuals are personally known to me who arrived here with small means a few years back and who are now receiving an income of fifteen hundred pounds a-year from houses which they have raised upon their profits and by not slow degrees. Their returns are certain for mark you every tradesman pays his rent every Monday morning there is no delay. If it be not paid the hour it is due the landlord is empowered by law to send a bailiff to the house to keep him there at an expense to the tenant of three shillings per day--and to request him at the end of five days to sell off the goods and chattels provided the demand is still unsatisfied. I know no better investment for capital be it large or small than that of which I speak. There are no taxes no ground-rents and the tenant is bound to keep his premises in repair. If a mistake has been made in the building of houses it is because some have overshot the mark and built dwellings that are _too large for the purposes required_; these large houses cost a large sum of money and neither let readily nor nearly so high in proportion as the smaller houses occupied by the working-classes. I am unable to give you an accurate notion of the general appearance of the country. Speaking in broad terms it is wooded but not so densely as on the Sydney side Van Diemen's Land or New Zealand. The peculiar and beautiful feature of this country is the open plain which is found at every ten or twelve miles spreading itself over a surface not less than three miles in length and half the distance in breadth. It is as smooth as a lawn. A magnificent tree rears itself to a great height here and there upon the sward on either side of which appears a natural park the finest that taste could fashion or art could execute. Nature has done in fact what no art could accomplish. Gaze upon these grounds and for a moment imagine that the enormous bullocks before you with their fearful horns are a gigantic herd of deer and you have a sight that England famous for her parks shall in vain attempt to rival. But against this royal scene--set off a melancholy drawback one which I fear may never be made good even by the ingenuity and indomitable energy of man. The land has an awful want of _spring water_. There are a few small holes called lagoons the remains of ancient rivers met with now and then; and strange to say one of such holes will be found to contain salt sea-water whilst another within a very few yards of it has water quite fresh or nearly so. In the former are found large seafish such as cod mullet sea-carp and a fish similar to our perch. I an speaking of holes discovered at a distance of a hundred and twenty miles from the sea and having no visible communication with it. In several districts there are large rivers but their course is uncertain and it is impossible to say that any one river empties itself into the sea. Goulburn is a fine river and ninety miles from this on the banks of that river are found very large lobsters and other shell-fish. To stand on an eminence and to cast your eye down into the valley beyond and beneath you is to have an enjoyment which the ardent lover of nature alone can appreciate. Far as the eye can look there is uninterrupted harmony. Splendid plains covered with the fleecy tribe and here and there (alas! only but _here_ and _there_) a speck of water enough to vindicate nature from the charge of utter neglect--and no more. A glance thrown in another direction brings to your view an endless tract of country deprived even of these solitary specks where the grass grows as high as your knee and where no man dare take his flocks and herds for lack of the sweet element. If the surface of this land were blessed with spring water as England is the wealth of this colony would surpass the calculation of any living man. As it is who can tell the ultimate effect of this important deprivation? There are one or two stations on which spring water has been discovered but it is a rare discovery and dearly prized. In Melbourne we have no water but such as is carted by the water barrel carters from the river _Yarra-Yarra_. Every house has its barrel or hogshead for holding water. The _Yarra-Yarra_ water is brackish and causes dysentery. The complaint is now prevailing. In many parts of the interior puddle holes are made and water is thus secured from the heavy rain that falls in the early part of summer. Water saved in this manner never becomes putrid. The leaves of the gum-tree fall into the pool abundantly and not only give to the water a very peculiar flavour but preserve it from all putrefaction. This gum water is safest when boiled with a little tea and drunk cold. Every settler in the Bush drinks water in no other way and--for want of better things--he takes tea and fresh mutton at least three times a-day. His bread is a lump of flour and water rolled into a ball and placed in hot ashes to bake. The loaf is called ""_a damper_."" The country as far as I have seen it bears evident marks of great volcanic change. You meet with a stone round like a turnip as hard as iron like rusty iron in appearance and on the outside honey-combed. There are large beds of it for miles. You then come to the flat country where the soil surpasses any thing you can conceive in richness fit for any cultivation under heaven and upwards of fifteen feet in depth. Before I quitted London I heard that the climate of Australia was fine and equable seldom varying and well suited to a delicate constitution. I am satisfied that many consumptive persons _live_ here who in Scotland would be carried off in a month. You seldom hear a person cough. In church I have listened in vain for a single _hoste_; no not even before the commencement of a psalm do you find the _haughting_ and _clachering_ that are indispensable in England. All pipes are clear as bell. I noticed this as a phenomenon on my first arrival. We are now as you would say in the dead of winter; a strange announcement to a British ear in the month of July. The air is chill in the morning and evening before sunrise and after sunset but during the day the weather is as fine as on the finest September day in Scotland. Notwithstanding what I have said I would not have you ground any theory upon my remarks as yet--or deceive Sir James Clark and the rest of the medical gentlemen who are looking on all sides of the world for a climate for their hopeless invalids. I have stated facts but those which follow are no less authentic. On the 30th and 31st of December last the thermometer at the observatory stood in the shade at 70 deg. and 72 deg. noon. On the 1st of January at noon and up to three o'clock P.M. it stood in the shade at 92 deg. and 93 deg. On the 2d it rose to 95 deg. at noon and fell at sunset eight P.M. to 69 deg. In the middle of the foresaid month of December the thermometer was 86 deg. at breakfast time and before dinner down to 63 deg. These memoranda gained from undoubted sources would show the climate--in summer at least--to be more variable than my reference proves it; yet I am told that even in summer time you hear of little sickness amongst grown up people. New comers suffer from dysentery and children are attacked in the same way. I have had two visitations from which I rallied in the course of four and twenty hours with the aid of arrow root port wine and laudanum. A free use of vegetables is always dangerous to strangers and they are obtained here in perfection. The weather is too hot for apples pears and gooseberries in the summer. Grapes and other English hot-house fruits come to delicious maturity in the open air. The melons are inconceivably exquisite and grow as they were wont in Paradise before the fall without care or trouble spent upon them. The seed is put into the earth; a little water is given to it at that time and the thing is done--""_c'est un fait accompli_."" Potatoes grow at any season of the year and cauliflowers and turnips spring up almost in a night like mushrooms. There are some five farms in cultivation around Melbourne and the crops of wheat are very fair in quality but fall off in quantity. Thirty bushels per acre is considered a good crop. Oats grow too much to straw and are generally cut in the slot blade winnowed and carted to Melbourne and sold for hay. Rye-grass hay does not answer and clover is not more successful; but vetches have just been introduced on a small scale and nothing yet grown has succeeded so well as green food for horses and cows. Hay of fine quality is brought from Van Diemen's Land but it is very dear. A cart load of good oaten hay sells here for about forty-five shillings. Van Diemen's Land hay is at present eleven guineas per ton. The aboriginal natives of this colony are a very savage race and all the efforts hitherto made by missionaries protectors and others have never given promise or warrant of effectual civilization. The males are tall and of fierce aspect; the skin and hair are exceedingly black--the latter very smooth. In many instances the features are striking and good. The women are slender and during the summer naked; in winter the females in the immediate neighbourhood procure clothes from the inhabitants of Melbourne and cut as you may suppose a very original figure. Nothing will induce the natives to work. They live in the Bush and the bark of a large tree forms their habitation. There are three distinct tribes around us in a circuit of about a hundred miles and the difference of features amongst these tribes is easily observed. The three tribes speak three different languages unintelligible to one another. They meet at different periods of the year and hold what they term a ""_corroborice_ ""--that is--a dance. Their bodies on these occasions are covered with oil red paint and green leaves. I have seen two hundred at a meeting but they assemble double that number at times. The festival concludes in pitched battle. There is a grand fight with clubs or arrows and spears. Three or four are generally killed in the onslaught and as many of the survivors as are fortunate enough to get a bite feast upon the fat of the victims' hearts. This fat is their richest dainty. Those who are able to form an opinion on the subject pronounce the aborigines of this colony to be _cannibals_. Many of their children disappear and it is generally supposed that they are devoured by their friends and acquaintances. In many districts of the interior the blacks have lately committed many depredations amongst the sheep and many of the devils are shot without judge or jury. Two natives are now in the jail of Melbourne under sentence of death for committing a dreadful murder upon two sailors who were cast ashore from a whaler. These savages had been for thirteen years under the instruction of a protector and others. They belonged originally to Van Diemen's Land but migrated to a part of this colony called Portland Bay. They spoke English quite well yet notwithstanding all their advantages they perpetrated this cruel and cold-blooded murder and then cunningly hid the bodies in the ground. They were detected by the merest chance in consequence of their having in possession of a few articles which had formerly belonged to the unhappy mariners. None of the natives is allowed to carry fire-arms and a heavy fine is inflicted upon any individual who is known to give them spirits. They are passionately fond of spirits and next to these of _loaf bread_. The females are called by the males ""_Loubras_ "" and the males are designated ""_Coolies_."" There is not promiscuous cohabitation. When a _Coolie_ reaches the age of twenty-one he is allowed to choose his own ""_Loubra_."" Every male who then takes unto himself a helpmate loses a front tooth which is knocked out of him. The natives generally tattoo their arms and breasts but not their faces; many carry a long white wooden pin or a feather pierced through the thin part of the nose; and they all twist kangaroo teeth and the bones of fishes more or less in their hair. Every thing small and diminutive they call ""_Pickaninnie_ "" and any thing very good ""_Merri jig_."" Their language is a queer rattling hard-sounding gibberish incomprehensible to most people; they speak as fast as possible laugh immoderately at trifles and are excellent mimics. Their own children they stile ""_Pickaninnies_."" From all that I have seen I do not hesitate to say that this country will prove a splendid field for future generations. At the present time no man should venture here who is unprepared for many privations and a numerous list of annoyances. The common necessaries of life he will certainly find but none of his ancient and English luxuries. Society is as you may guess very limited. You may acknowledge an _acquaintance_ with any one without committing yourself. To say that you know a man intimately is hazardous; I mean--a man whose friendship you have cultivated only since your arrival. There are many whom you have known at home and whose friendship it is a pride and a pleasure to renew in your exile. But as a general rule ""_keep yourself to yourself_"" is a serviceable adage. If it be attended to--_well_. If it be neglected--you run your head against a stone in less than no time. If any man have a competency let him not travel hither to _enjoy_ it. If he has a little money and desires with a little trouble and inconvenience to double his capital in the shortest possible space of time--let him come out and fearlessly. Living is cheap enough as far as the essentials are concerned. Butcher meat not surpassed in any part of England Scotland or Ireland is to be had at twopence per pound; the fine four pound loaf for sixpence halfpenny; brown sugar fourpence; white sixpence; candles sixpence per pound; tea the finest three shillings the pound; fresh butter one shilling and threepence per pound. Wild fowl in abundance. Vegetables are cheaper than in any part of England. Wines of moderate price but not of good quality. Spirits first-rate and every kind cheaper than in England except whisky which is seventeen and eighteen shillings per gallon; very old at twenty-one and twenty-two. The wine most wanted here is claret. A great deal of it is drunk during the summer but the quality of it is bad. Fish are abundant in the river and pools but the people will not trouble themselves to catch them. However for eighteenpence or two shillings you may get a good dish of mutteel carp or a small fish called ""flatties."" I have never seen any of the salmon tribe or any fish like a sea or river trout. Wild swans--both black and white--quails snipes cranes and water-hens are everywhere abundant and in the Bush the varieties of the parrot kind are out of number. Kangaroos opossums and flying-squirrels are common near the town and afford plenty of amusement to the sportsman. No game license required! _Sunday_ used to be the tradesman's day for shooting and to a new comer the proceeding had a very queer appearance. By act of council Sunday shooting is prohibited under a heavy penalty which has been inflicted on several transgressors but like most laws this is evaded. _Shooting_ is forbidden but _hunting_ is not. Accordingly numerous parties sally forth on the Sabbath to _hunt_ the kangaroo. The dog used for the sport is a cross between a rough greyhound and a bull; but others follow in the pack. Every man woman and child keeps a dog. Some families have eight or nine running over a house and the natives have them without number. A few months ago these animals congregated so thickly in the streets that the magistrates directed the police to shoot all that were not registered and had a collar with the owner's name; as many as fifty were killed in a morning. It costs nothing to feed a dog; the heads of bullocks and the heads and feet of sheep are either thrown away or given to any one who asks for them. The _bone manure system_ if brought into operation would help to keep the streets from a bony nuisance. _Memorandum_: Let the next emigrant to this colony bring a good strong fox-hound bitch with him; he will find it to his advantage. A cross between her and a Newfoundland or large greyhound would do any thing. There are a couple of fox-hounds here but no bitch. It would do your heart good to see the pace at which the fellows ride. Twenty miles on horseback they think about as much of as we do of five. There is nothing to obstruct the animals; they are not even shod and they fly over the smooth sward. A hundred and twenty miles is reckoned a journey of a day and a half. A dray with eight ten or twelve bullocks in it according to load will travel thirty miles a-day. When the folks travel they take no shelter in a house or hut for the night. When night approaches they alight and tie their horses to a stump; they draw down some of the thick branches of the gum-tree and peel off the bark of a large tree kindle a fire with a match or for want of this rubbing two sticks together get up a blaze and fall to sleep beside it. If the traveller be accompanied by a dray the tarpauling is drawn round and he sleeps beneath it. Not amongst the least of the annoyances found here are the ants. There are three species of the insect and they are all very large. Many of them are an inch long and they bite confoundedly. A hand bitten by some of the monsters will swell to the size of a man's head. Along the coast and in every house smaller ants prevail and fleas innumerable. The number of the latter which you shall find upon your blanket any day of the year is literally not to be computed. No house is free from this little disturber who spares neither age nor sex. I have stood upon the sea beach adorned with white trousers which in less than ten minutes have been covered with hundreds of the vermin. It is an easy transition from the trousers to the inner legs. But this is nothing when you are used to it. The _grey horse_ won't live in the colony. So it is said; at all events none are seen; and I am very sure that every emigrant ship brings its fair stock. It is a wise ordination that forbids _their_ settling. The _mawk_ fly is indigenous and thrives wonderfully as you shall hear. This fly is very like our British bluebottle with a somewhat greener head and a body entirely yellow. I have seen two _mawk_ flies strike (as it seemed) a joint of meat just as it was removing from the spit leaving their fly blows there. Before the joint had been ten minutes upon the table small white mawks were moving upon the surface of the meat in considerable numbers. If by any chance these animals are suffered to accompany the meat to the safe or larder in the course of twenty-four hours the small white mawks increase to the length of one-eighth of an inch and are found crawling in hundreds and moving about as you have observed the yellow flies buzzing over the old and rotten carcass of a horse that has been exposed for weeks. In the winter these creatures are of course less troublesome than in summer. Wire meat-covers are in constant use during the latter season. Thus far had got in my epistle when a torrent of ill news rushed in upon us and compelled me to delay my scribble. I am sorry to say that in addition to the account which I have already given of the depressed state of the markets I must add some dismal intelligence. The markets are in a deplorable state and so is the mercantile community in general. Every day there is a fresh bankruptcy and the heaviest yet has just taken place. I cannot but believe that if more emigrant laborers come out just now they must starve. Any man with ten or fifteen thousand pounds could buy half of the district for ready cash. The moneyed men are making fearful hauls as it is. Let emigration stop for a time and the markets must look up again. At the present moment every thing is selling cheaper here than in England; men's wages are down to the ordinary English rate. So long as the banks afford seven per cent for deposits moneyed men will lie in wait for bargains and until such present themselves will lock up the capital which at first was in circulation through the immense speculations in land and stock. The men who saw no end to speculation are gone and floored every one of them. Will you believe that Messrs ---- sent out three thousand pounds worth of brandy to Sydney and so glutted the market that part of the cargo was bought low enough to make it a good spec to reship it for England. Such is the fact. There never was a better moment than the present for a _hit_ in land--sheep are at so low a figure and settlers so hard run. The former I still believe will gradually rise; for on the Sydney side the process of boiling down sheep for the sake of the tallow has commenced and if it succeed as I believe it will the standard value of a sheep will be fixed at something like eight shillings. So much for the fleece and skin so much for the bones so much for the kidney fat and so much for the tallow or fat recovered by boiling the carcass. The great object of this colony must be to increase the export produce and to bring capital in its place. Wool no doubt is and will prove to be the staple commodity; and in time the settlers will pay more attention to the getting up of it and to the packing. But above all they must speedily rid themselves of their bloodsuckers a set of men who charge enormous commissions for anticipated sales and what not amounting to thirty and forty per cent; a sum that is nothing short of utter ruin to a poor fellow who has nothing but his wool to depend upon. Had Judge Willis remained amongst us he would have rooted out whole nests of these hornets. I have no fear of the ultimate success of the colonist if they will but be faithful to themselves. They have a splendid country and its capabilities are now only beginning to be known. Before the end of the present year our exports will consist of wool bark tallow gum hides furs and last although not least the finest cured beef in the world. If the latter article of produce is acknowledged as it deserves to be and finds and establishes an _eastern_ market nothing will prevent the colony from rising to importance. As far as price is concerned we can compete with any country in the worl

. We have no politics in Port Philip. The community are far better employed in attending to their commercial affairs. Let them but persevere honestly and prudently in their course and they must do well. And so much for my first epistle honoured Christopher. If it afford you amusement you shall hear from me again. I have spoken the truth and have writ down simple facts. As such receive them and communicate them to your neighbours. And now with affectionate remembrances to yourself and all enquiring friends Believe me Reverend Christopher Your grateful and attached JOHN WILLIAM. * * * * * THE PROPHECY OF THE TWELVE TRIBES. ""And Jacob called into his sons and said Gather yourselves together that I may tell you _that_ which shall befall you in the last days. ""Gather yourselves together and hear ye sons of Jacob; and hearken unto Israel your father."" --GENESIS xlix. 1 2 &c. The Patriarch sat upon his bed-- His cheek was pale his eye was dim; Long years of woe had bow'd his head And feeble was the giant limb. And his twelve mighty sons stood nigh In grief--to see their father die! But sudden as the thunder-roll A new-born spirit fill'd his frame. His fainting visage flash'd with soul His lip was touch'd with living flame; And burst with more than prophet fire The stream of Judgment Love and Ire. ""REUBEN [6] thou spearhead in my side Thy father's first-born and his shame; Unstable as the rolling tide A blight has fall'n upon thy name. Decay shall follow thee and thine. Go outcast of a hallow'd line! ""SIMEON and LEVI [7] sons of blood That still hangs heavy on the land; Your flocks shall be the robber's food Your folds shall blaze beneath his brand. In swamp and forest shall ye dwell. Be scatter'd among Israel! ""JUDAH![8] All hail thou priest thou king! The crown the glory shall be thine; Thine in the fight the eagle's wing-- Thine on the hill the oil and wine. Thou lion! nations shall turn pale When swells thy roar upon the gale. ""Judah my son ascend the throne Till comes from heaven the unborn king-- The prophesied the mighty one Whose heel shall crush the serpent's sting. Till earth is paradise again And sin is dead and death is slain! ""Wide as the surges ZEBULON [9] Thy daring keel shall plough the sea; Before thee sink proud Sidon's sun And strong Issachar toil for thee. Thou reaper of his corn and oil Lord of the giant and the soil! ""Whose banner flames in battle's van! Whose mail is first in slaughter gored! Thou subtler than the serpent DAN [10] Prince of the arrow and the sword. Woe to the Syrian charioteer When rings the rushing of thy spear! ""Crush'd to the earth by war and woe GAD [11] shall the cup of bondage drain Till bold revenge shall give the blow That pays the long arrear of pain. Thy cup shall glow with tyrant-gore Thou be my Son--and man once more! ""Loved NAPHTALI [12] thy snow-white hind Shall bask beneath the rose and vine. Proud ASHER to the mountain wild Shall star-like blaze thy battle-sign. All bright to both from birth to tomb The heavens all sunshine earth all bloom! ""JOSEPH [13] come near--my son my son! Egyptian prince Egyptian sage Child of my first and best-loved one Great guardian of thy father's age. Bring EPHRAIM and MANASSEH nigh And let me bless them ere I die. ""Hear me--Thou GOD of Israel! Thou who hast been his living shield In the red desert's lion-dell In Egypt's famine-stricken field In the dark dungeon's chilling stone In Pharaoh's chain--by Pharaoh's throne. ""My son all blessings be on thee Be blest abroad be blest at home; Thy nation's strength--her living tree The well to which the thirsty come; Blest be thy valley blest thy hill Thy father's GOD be with thee still! ""Thou man of blood thou man of might Thy soul shall ravin BENJAMIN.[14] Thou wolf by day thou wolf by night Rushing through slaughter spoil and sin; Thine eagle's beak and vulture's wing Shall curse thy nation with a king!"" Then ceased the voice and all was still: The hand of death was on the frame; Yet gave the heart one final thrill And breathed the dying lip one name. ""Sons let me rest by Leah's side!"" He raised his brow to heaven--and died. HAVILAH. [6] The privileges of the _first-born_ passed away from the tribe of Reuben and were divided among his brethren. The double portion of the inheritance was given to Joseph--the priesthood to Levi--and the sovereignty to Judah. The tribe never rose into national power and it was the first which was carried into captivity. [7] The massacre of the Shechemites was the crime of the two brothers. For a long period the tribe of Simeon was depressed; and its position on the verge of the Amalekites always exposed it to suffering. The Levites though finally entrusted with the priesthood had no inheritance in Palestine: they dwelt scattered among the tribes. [8] The tribe of Judah was distinguished from the beginning of the nation. It led the van in the march to Palestine. It was the first appointed to expel the Canaanites. It gave the first judge Othniel. It was the tribe of David and most glorious of all titles was the _Tribe of our_ LORD. [9] Zebulon was a maritime tribe its location extending along the sea-shore and stretching to the borders of Sidon. The tribe of Issachar were located in the country afterwards called Lower Galilee; were chiefly tillers of the soil; were never distinguished in the military or civil transactions of the nation and as they dwelt among the Canaanites seem to have habitually served them for hire. Issachar is characterised as the ""strong ass""--a drudge powerful but patient. [10] The tribe of Dan were remarkable for the daring of their exploits in war and not less so for their stratagems. Their great chieftain Samson distinguished alike for strength and subtlety might be an emblem of their qualities and history. [11] Gad; a tribe engaged in continual and memorable conflicts. [12] Naphtali and Asher inhabited the most fertile portions of Palestine. [13] The two tribes Ephraim and Manasseh descended from Joseph possessed the finest portion of the land along both sides of the Jordan. The united tribes numbered a larger population than any of the rest. Besides Joshua five of the twelve judges of Israel were of the united tribes. In the formation of the kingdom of Israel an Ephraimite was the first king. [14] The tribe of Benjamin was conspicuous for valour. But its turbulence and ferocity wrought its fall in the great battles recorded in Judges xix. and xx. Saul was of this fierce tribe. It was finally lost in that of Judah. This great prophecy was delivered about three hundred years before the conquest of Palestine. * * * * * A BEWAILMENT FROM BATH; OR POOR OLD MAIDS. Mr Editor!--You have a great name with our sex! CHRISTOPHER NORTH is in our flowing cups--of Bohea--""freshly remembered."" To you therefore as to the Sir Philip Sidney of modern Arcadia do I address the voice of my bewailment. Not from any miserable coveting after the publicities of printing. All I implore of you is a punch of your crutch into the very heart of a matter involving the best interests of my sex! You dear Mr Editor who have your eyes garnished with Solomon's spectacles about you cannot but have perceived on the parlour-tables and book-shelves of your fair friends--by whose firesides you are courted even as the good knight and the _Spectator_ by the Lady Lizards of the days of Anne--a sudden inundation of tabby-bound volumes addressed in supergilt letters to the ""Wives of England""--the ""Daughters of England""--the ""Grandmothers of England."" A few arrayed in modest calf or embossed linen address themselves to the sober latitudes of the manse or parsonage-house. Some treat without _per_mission of ""Woman's Mission""--some in defiance of custom of her ""Duties."" From exuberant 4to down to the fid-fad concentration of 12mo--from crown demy to diamond editions--no end to these chartered documentations of the sex! The women of this favoured kingdom of Queen Victoria appear to have been unexpectedly weighed in the balance and found wanting in morals and manners; or why this sudden emission of codes of morality? No one denies indeed that woman has of late ris' wonderfully in the market; or that the weaker sex is coming it amazingly strong. The sceptres of three of the first kingdoms in Europe are swayed by female hands. The first writer of young France is a woman. The first astronomer of young England _idem_. Mrs Trollope played the Chesterfield and the deuce with the Yankees. Miss Martineau turned the head of the mighty Brougham. Mademoiselle d'Angeville ascended Mont Blanc and Mademoiselle Rachel has replaced Corneille and Racine on their crumbling pedestals. I might waste hours of your precious time sir in perusing a list of the eminent women now competing with the rougher sex for the laurels of renown. But you know it all better than I can tell you. You have done honour due in your time to Joanna Baillie and Mrs Jamieson to Caroline Southey and Miss Ferrier. You praised Mrs Butler when she deserved it; and probably esteem Mary Howitt and Mary Mitford and all the other Maries at their just value--to say nothing of the Maria of Edgworthstown so fairly worth them all. I make no doubt that you were even one of the first to do homage to the Swedish Richardson Frederika Bremer; though having sown your wild oats you keep your own counsel anent novel reading. You will therefore probably sympathize in the general amazement that at a moment when the sex is signalizing itself from pole to pole--when a Grace Darling obtains the palm for intrepidity--when the Honourable Miss Grimston's _Prayer-Book_ is read in churches--when Mrs Fry like hunger eats through stone walls to call felons to repentance--when a king has descended from his throne and a prince from royal highnesshood to reward the virtues of the fair partners to whom they were unable to impart the rights of the blood-royal--when the fairest specimen of modern sculpture has been supplied by a female hand and woman in short is at a premium throughout the universe all this waste of sermonizing should have been thrown like a wet blanket over her shoulders! But this is not enough dear Mr Editor. I wish to direct your attention towards an exclusive branch of the grievance. I have no doubt that in your earlier years instead of courting your fair friends as Burns appears to have done with copies of your own works you used to present unto them the ""_Legacy of Dr Gregory to his Daughters_""--or ""_Mrs Chapone's Letters_ "" or Miss Bowdler's or Mrs Trimmer's appropriately bound and gilt; and thus apprized of the superabundance of prose provided for their edification are prepared to feel with me that if they have not Mrs Barbauld and the prophets neither will they be persuaded by the frippery tomes which load the counters of our bazars. _This_ perception has come of itself. If I could _only_ be fortunate enough to enlarge your scope of comprehension! Mr dear Mr Editor I am what is called a lone woman. Shakspeare through whose recklessness originate half the commonplaces of our land's language thought proper to define such a condition as ""SINGLE BLESSEDNESS""--though he aptly enough engrafts it on a thorn! For my part I cannot enough admire the theory of certain modern poets that an angel is an ethereal being composed by the interunion in heaven of two mortals who have been faithfully attached on earth--and as to ""blessedness"" being ever ""single "" either in this world or the next I do not believe a word about the matter! ""Happiness "" Lord Byron assures us ""was born a twin!"" I do not mean to complain of my condition--far from it. But I wish to say that since from the small care taken by English parents to double the condition of their daughters it is clear the state of ""single blessedness"" is of higher account in our own ""favoured country"" than in any other in Europe; it certainly behoves the guardians of the public weal to afford due protection and encouragement to spinsters. Every body knows that Great Britain is the very fatherland of old maids. In Catholic countries the superfluous daughters of a family are disposed of in convents and _béguinages_ just as in Turkey and China they are still more humanely drowned. In certain provinces of the east pigs are expressly kept to be turned into the streets at daybreak for the purpose of devouring the female infants exposed during the night--thus benevolently securing them from the after torments of single ""blessedness."" But a far nobler arrangement was made by that greatest of modern legislators Napoleon--whose code entitles the daughters of a house to share equally with sons in its property and bequeathments; and in France a woman with a dowery is as sure of courtship and marriage as of death and burial. Nay so much is marriage regarded among the French as the indispensable condition of the human species that parents proceed as openly to the task of procuring a proper husband for their daughter as of providing her with shoes and stockings. No false delicacy--no pitiful manoeuvres! The affair is treated like any other negotiation. It is a mere question of two and two making four which enables two to make one. How far more honest than the angling and trickery of English match-making--which by keeping men constantly on the defensive predisposes them against attractions to which they might otherwise give way! However as I said before I do not wish to complain of my condition. I only consider it hard that the interests of the wives of England are to be exclusively studied when the unfortunate females who lack the consolations of matronhood are in so far greater want of sustainment; and that all the theories of the perfectionizement of the fair sex now issuing from the press should purport to instruct young ladies how to qualify themselves for wives and wives how to qualify themselves for heaven; and not a word addressed either in the way of exhortation remonstrance or applause to the highly respectable order of the female community whose cause I have taken on myself to advocate. Have not the wives of England husbands to whisper wisdom into their ears? Why then are _they_ to be coaxed or lectured by tabby-bound volumes while _we_ are left neglected in a corner? _Our_ earthly career the Lord he knows is far more trying--_our_ temptations as much greater as our pleasures are less; and it is mortifying indeed to find our behavior a thing so little worth interference. We may conduct ourselves it seems as indecorously as we think proper for any thing the united booksellers of the United Kingdom care to the contrary! Not that I very much wonder at literary men regarding the education of wives as a matter of moment. The worse halves of Socrates Milton Hooker have been thorns in their sides urging them into blasphemy against the sex. But is this a reason I only ask you for leaving like an uncultivated waste that holy army of martyrs the spinsterhood of Great Britain? Mr Editor act like a man! Speak up for us! Write up for us! Tell these little writers of little books that however they may think to secure dinners and suppers to themselves by currying favour with the rulers of the roast _the greatest of all women have been_ SINGLE! Tell them of our Virgin Queen Elizabeth--the patroness of their calling the protectress of learning and learned men. Tell them of Joan of Arc the conqueror of even English chivalry. Tell them of all the tender mercies of the _Soeurs de Charité_! Tell them that from the throne to the hospital the spinster unharassed by the cares of private life has been found most fruitful in public virtue. Then perhaps you will persuade them that we are worth our schooling; and the ""Old Maids of England"" may look forward to receive a tabby-bound manual of their duties as well as its ""Wives."" I have really no patience with the selfish conceit of these married women who fancy their well-doing of such importance. See how they were held by the ancients!--treated like beasts of burden and denied the privilege of all mental accomplishment. When the Grecian matrons affected to weep over the slain after some victory of Themistocles the Athenian general bade them ""dry their tears and practise a single virtue in atonement of all their weaknesses."" It was to their single women the philosophers of the portico addressed their lessons; not to the domestic drudges whom they considered only worthy to inspect the distaffs of their slaves and produce sons for the service of the country. In Bath Brighton and other spinster colonies of this island the demand for such a work would be prodigious. The sale of canary-birds and poodles might suffer a temporary depression in consequence; but this is comparatively unimportant. Perhaps--who knows--so positive a recognition of our estate as a definite class of the community might lead to the long desiderated establishment of a lay convent somewhat similar to the _béguinages_ of Flanders though less ostensibly subject to religious law--a convent where single gentlewomen might unite together in their meals and devotions under the government of a code of laws set forth in their tabby-bound Koran. Methinks I see it--a modern temple of Vesta without its tell-tale fires--square rectangular simple airy isolated--chaste as Diana and quiet as the grave--the frescoed walls commemorating the legend of Saint Ursula and her eleven thousand--the sacrifice of Jephtha's daughter--Elizabeth Carter translating Epictetus--Harriet Martineau revising the criminal code. In the hall dear Editor should hang the portrait of Christopher North--in that locality appropriately a Kit-cat! Ponder upon this! The distinction is worthy consideration. As the newspapers say it is an ""unprecedented opportunity for investment!"" For the sole Helicon of the institution shall be--""Blackwood's Entire"" its lady abbess-- Your humble servant to command (for the old maids of England ) TABITHA GLUM. _1st Jan. 1844. Lansdowne Bath._ * * * * * MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART VIII. ""Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea puft up with wind Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in the pitched battle heard Loud 'larums neighing steeds and trumpets clang?"" SHAKSPEARE. The action was a series of those grand manoeuvres in which the Prussians excelled all the other troops of Europe. From the spot on which I stood the whole immense plain to the foot of the defiles of Argonne was visible; but the combat or rather the succession of combats was fought along the range of hills at the distance of some miles. These I could discover only by the roar of the guns and by an occasional cloud of smoke rising among the trees. The chief Prussian force stood in columns in the plain below me in dark masses making an occasional movement in advance from time to time or sending forth a mounted officer to the troops in action. Parks of artillery lay formed in the spaces between the columns and the baggage a much more various and curious sight than the troops halting in the wide grounds of what seemed some noble mansion had already begun to exhibit the appearance of a country fair. Excepting this busy part of the scene few things struck me as less like what I had conceived of actual war than the quietness of every thing before and around me. The columns might nearly as well have been streets of rock; and the engagement in front was so utterly lost to view in the forest that except for the occasional sound of the cannon I might have looked upon the whole scene as the immense picture of a quiet Flemish holiday. The landscape was beautiful. Some showery nights had revived the verdure of which France has so seldom to boast in autumn; and the green of the plain almost rivalled the delicious verdure of home. The chain of hills extending for many a league was covered with one of the most extensive forests of the kingdom. The colours of this vast mass of foliage were glowing in all the powerful hues of the declining year and the clouds which slowly descended upon the horizon with all the tinges of the west burning through their folds appeared scarcely more than a loftier portion of those sheets of gold and purple which shone along the crown of the hills. But while I lingered gazing on the rich and tranquil luxury of the scene almost forgetting that there was war in the world I was suddenly recalled to a more substantial condition of that world by the sound of a trumpet and the arrival of my troop who had at length struggled up the hill evidently surprised at finding me there when the suttlers were in full employment within a few hundred yards below. Their petition was unanimous to be allowed to refresh themselves and their horses at this rare opportunity; and their request though respectful in its words yet was so decisive in its tone that to comply was fully as much my policy as my inclination. I mounted my horse and proceeded according to the humble ""command"" of my brave dragoons. This was a most popular movement--the men the very horses evidently rejoiced. The fatigue of our hard riding was past in a moment--the riders laughed and sang the chargers snorted and pranced; and when we trotted huzzaing into the baggage lines half their motley crowd evidently conceived that some sovereign prince was come in fiery haste to make the campaign. We were received with all the applause that is given by the suttler to all arrivals with a full purse in the holsters and a handsome valise no matter from what source filled on the croupe of the charger. But we had scarcely begun to taste the gifts that fortune had sent us in the shape of huge sausages and brown bread--the _luxuries!_ for which the soldier of Teutchland wooes the goddess of war--than we found ourselves ordered to move off the ground by the peremptory mandate of a troop of the Royal Guard who had followed our movement more hungry more thirsty and more laced and epauleted than ourselves. The Hulans tossed their lances; and it had nearly been a business of cold steel when their officer rode up to demand the sword of the presumptuous mutineer who had thus daringly questioned his right to starve us. While I was deliberating for a moment between the shame of a forced retreat and the awkwardness of taking the bull by the horns in the shape of the King's Guard I heard a loud laugh and my name pronounced or rather roared in the broadest accents of Germany. My friend Varnhorst was the man. The indefatigable and good-humoured Varnhorst who did every thing and was every where was shaking my hand with the honest grasp of his honest nature and congratulating me on my return. ""We have to do with a set of sharp fellow "" said he ""in these French; a regiment of their light cavalry has somehow or other made its way between the columns of our infantry and has been picking up stragglers last night. The duke with whom you happen to have established a favouritism that would make you a chamberlain at the court of Brunswick if you were not assassinated previously by the envy of the other chamberlains or pinked by some lover of the ""_dames d'honneur_ "" was beginning to be uneasy about you; and as I had the peculiar good fortune of the Chevalier Marston's acquaintance I was sent to pick him up if he had fallen in honourable combat in the plains of Champagne or if any fragment of him were recoverable from the hands of the peasantry to preserve it for the family mausoleum."" I anxiously enquired the news of the army and the progress of the great operation which was then going on. ""We have beaten every thing before us for these three hours "" was the answer. ""The resistance in the plain was slight for the French evidently intended to make their stand only in the forest. But the duke has pushed them strongly on the right flank; and as you may perceive the attack goes on in force."" He pointed to the entrance of one of the defiles where several columns were in movement and where the smoke of the firing lay heavily above the trees. He then laid his watch on the table beside our champagne flask. ""The time is come to execute another portion of my orders. What think you of following me and seeing a little of the field."" ""Nothing could delight me more. I am perfectly at your service."" ""Then mount and in five minutes I shall allow you one of the first officers in Europe the Count Clairfait he is a Walloon 'tis true and has the ill luck to be an Austrian brigadier besides and to finish his misfortune has served only against the Turks. But for all that if any man in the army now in the field is fit to succeed to the command that man is the Count Clairfait. I only wish that he were a Prussian."" ""Has he had any thing to do in this campaign?"" ""Every thing that has been done. He has commanded the whole advance guard of the army; and let me whisper this in your ear--if his advice had been taken a week ago we should by this time have been smoking our cigars in the Palais Royal."" ""I am impatient to be introduced to the Comte; let us mount and ride on."" He looked at his watch again. ""Not for ten minutes to come. If I made my appearance before him five minutes in advance of the time appointed by my orders Clairfait would order me into arrest if I were his grandmother. He is the strictest disciplinarian between this and the North Pole."" ""A faultless monster himself I presume."" ""Nearly so; he has but one fault--he is too fond of the sabre and bayonet. 'Charge ' is his word of command. His school was among the Turks and he fights _à la Turque_."" ""I should like him the better for it. That dash and daring is the very thing for success."" ""Ay ay--edge and point are good things in their way. But they are the temptations of the general. Frederick's maxim was--The bullet for the infantry the spur for the dragoon. The weight of fire is the true test of infantry the rapidity of charge is the true test of cavalry. The business of a general is manoeuvring--to menace masses by greater masses to throw the weight of an army on a flank to pierce a centre while the flanks were forced to stand and see it beaten; these were Frederick's lessons to his staff: and if Clairfait shall go on with his perpetual hand to hand work those sharp Frenchmen will soon learn his trade and perhaps pay him back in his own coin. But Halt squadron. Dress--advance in parade order."" While I was thus taking my first tuition in the art of heroes we had rode through a deep ravine from which with some difficulty we had struggled our way to a space of more level ground. Our disorder on reaching it required all the count's ready skill to bring us into a condition fit for the eye of this formidable Austrian. But before we were complete a group of mounted officers were seen coming from a column of glittering lances and sabres resting on the distant verge of the plain. My friend pronounced the name of Clairfait and I was introduced to the officer who was afterwards to play so distinguished a part in the gallant and melancholy history of the Flemish fields. I had pictured to myself the broad plump face of the Walloon. I say a countenance darkened probably by the sultry exposure of his southern campaigns but of singular depth and power. It was impossible to doubt that within the noble forehead before me was lodged an intelligence of the first order. His manners were cold yet not uncourteous and to me he spoke with more than usual attention. But when he alluded to the proceedings of the day and was informed by Varnhorst that the time appointed for his movement was come I never saw a more rapid transition from the phlegm of the Netherlander to the vividness of the man of courage and genius. Waiting with his watch in his hand for the exact moment appointed in the brief despatch it had no sooner arrived than the word was given and his whole force composed of Austrian light infantry and cavalry moved forward. Nothing could be more regular than the march for the first half mile; but we then entered a portion of the forest or rather its border thinly scattered over an extent of broken country: to preserve the regularity of a movement along a high-road soon began to be wholly impossible. The officers soon gave up the attempt in despair and the troops enjoyed the disorder in the highest degree. The ground was so intersected with small trenches cut by the foresters that every half dozen yards presented a leap and the clumps of bushes made it continually necessary to break the ranks. Wherever I looked I now saw nothing but all the animation of an immense skirmish the use of sabre and pistol alone excepted. Between two and three thousand cavalry mounted on the finest horses of Austria and Turkey galloping in all directions some springing over the rivulets some dashing through the thickets all in the highest spirits calling out to each other laughing at each other's mishaps their horses in as high spirits as themselves bounding rearing neighing springing like deer; trumpets sounding standards tossing officers commanding in tones of helpless authority to which no one listened and at which they themselves often laughed. The whole like a vast school broke loose for a holiday; the most joyous sportive and certainly the most showy display that had ever caught my eye. The view strongly reminded me of some of the magnificent old hunting pieces by Snyders the field sports of the Archduke Ferdinand with the landscape and horses by Rubens and Jordaens: there we had every thing but the stag or the boar and the dogs. We had the noble trees the rich deep glades the sunny openings the masses of green; and all crowded with life. But how infinitely superior in interest! No holiday sport nor imperial pageant but an army rushing into action; one of the great instruments of human power and human change called into energy. Thousands of bold lives about to be periled; a victory about to be achieved which might fix the fate of Europe; or perhaps losses to be sustained which might cover the future generation with clouds; and all this is on the point of being done. No lazy interval to chill expectancy; within the day within the hour nay within the next five hundred yards the decisive moment might be come. Still we rushed on; the staff pausing from time to time to listen to the distant cannonade and ascertain by its faintness or loudness the progress of the attack which had been made on the great centre and right defiles of the forest. In one of these while I had ridden up as near as the broken ground would suffer me towards Count Clairfait he made a gesture to me to look upwards and I saw almost for the first time a smile on his countenance. I followed the gesture and saw what to me was the novelty of a huge shell leisurely as it seemed traversing the air. The Count and his staff immediately galloped in all directions; but I had not escaped a hundred yards when the shell dropped into the spot where I had been standing and burst with a tremendous explosion almost immediately on its touching the ground. The cavalry had dispersed and the explosion was I believe without injury. But this at least gave evidence that the enemy were not far off and the eagerness of the troops was excited to the highest pitch: all pressed forward to the front and their cries in all the languages of the frontier of Europe the voices of the officers and the clangour of the bugles and trumpets became an absolute Babel but an infinitely bold and joyous one. The yagers were now ordered to clear the way and a thousand Tyrolese and Transylvanian sharpshooters rushed forward to line the border. A heavy firing commenced and the order was given to halt the cavalry until the effect of the fire was produced. This was speedily done; the enemy evidently in inferior force and unprepared for this attack gave way and the first squadrons which reached the open ground made a dash among them and took the greater part prisoners. This whole day was full of splendid exhibitions. On reaching the edge of the wood the first object below us as the succession of deep columns which I had seen some hours before and which appeared to have been rooted to the ground ever since. But an aide-de-camp from the circle where the count stood darted down on the plain and as if a flash of lightning had awoke them all were instantly in motion. The columns on the right now made a sudden rush forward and to my surprise four or five strong brigades which rapidly followed from the centre took up their position. Varnhorst who had been beside me during the whole day now exhibited great delight. ""I told yo

"" said he ""that Clairfait would turn out well. I see that he has been taught in our school. Observe that manoeuvre;"" he continued his comment with increasing force of gesture--""That was the Great Frederic's favourite the oblique formation. The finest invention in tactics with that he gained Rosbach and beat the French and Austrians; with that he gained the battle of Breslau; and with that he gained the grand fight of Torgau and finished the war. Yet the king always said that he had learned the manoeuvre from Epaminondas and was only fighting the battle of Leuctra over again. But look there!"" He pointed to a rising ground a bluff of the forest ridge to which a battalion of sharpshooters were hastening; it had seemed destitute of defence and the sharpshooters were already beginning to scramble up its sides; when on the instant a large body of the enemy which had been covered by the forest rushed upon its summit with a shout and poured down a general volley. The whole Prussian line returned it by one tremendous discharge. The drums and trumpets struck up the battalions and squadrons advanced singing their national hymn. The skirmishers poured forward and the battle began. How shall I speak of what I felt at that moment; the sensation was indescribable! It was mingled of all feelings but personal. I was absorbed in that glorious roar in that bold burst of human struggle in all that was wild ardent and terrible in the power of man. I had not a thought of any thing but of the martial pomp and spirit-stilling grandeur of the scene before me. I was aroused from my contemplations by the loud laugh of my veteran friend; he was trying the benefit of a large brandy flask which I remembered and with some not very respectful opinion of his temperance to have seen him place in one of his holsters at our visit to the suttlers. He now offered it to me. ""You look wretchedly pale "" said he; ""our kind of life is too rough for you gentlemen _diplomats_ and you will find this glass right Nantz the very best thing if not the only good thing that its country has to give."" This took me down from my heroics at once the brandy was first-rate and I found myself restored to the level of the world at once and infinitely the better for the operation. We now followed the advance of the troops. The leading columns had already forced their way into the entrance of the forest; but it was a forest of three leagues' depth and twice the number in length a wooded province and the way was fought foot by foot. It is only justice to the French to say that they fought well--held the pass boldly--often charged our advance and gave way only when they were on the point of being surrounded. But our superiority of discipline and numbers combined did not suffer the success to be for a moment doubtful. Still as we followed the battle raged in the depths of the forest already as dark as if night had come on--our only light the incessant illumination of the musketry and the bursts of fire from the howitzers and guns. As we were standing on the last height at the entrance of the defile ""Look round "" exclaimed Varnhorst ""and take your first lesson in our art if you ever adopt the trade of soldiership. The Duke has outwitted the Frenchman. I suspected something of this sort in the morning when I first heard his guns so far to the right. I allow that the enemy may be puzzled for a while who has five passes to defend with half a dozen leagues between them and a Prussian army in front ready to make him choose. He has evidently drawn off the strength of his troops to the Duke's point of attack and has stripped the wing before us. Clairfait's mass has been thrown upon it and the day is our own. Onward."" The roads and the surrounding glades gave fearful evidence of the obstinacy of the struggle; but it also gave some curious evidence of the force of habit in making light of the troubles of life. The cavalry which had been comparatively unemployed from the nature of the service during the day had taken advantage of the opportunity to consult their own comfort as much as possible. On the flank and rear of the infantry the troopers had taken the whole affair _en amateur_ and had lit their campfires cooked their rations handsomely augmented by the general spoliation of the hen-coops within many a league. Something like a fair was established round them by the suttlers; while the shells were actually falling and many a branch was shattered over their banquets by the shot which constantly whizzed through the trees. But ""_Vive la fortune!_"" Even the sober Teuton and the rough son of the Bannat could enjoy the few moments that war gives to festivity and what the next night or morning might bring was not suffered to disturb their sense of ""schnapps "" and their supper. The trampling of horses in our rear and the galloping of the chasseurs of the ducal escort now told us that the generalissimo was at hand. He rode up in high spirits received our congratulations with princely courtesy and bestowed praises on the troops and especially on Clairfait which made the count's dark features absolutely glow. The whole group rode together until we reached the open country. A decisive success had unquestionably been gained; and in war the first success is of proverbial importance. On this point the duke laid peculiar weight on the few words which he could spare to me. ""M. Marston "" he observed taking me cordially by the hand ""we are henceforth more than friends we are camarades. We have been in the field together; and with us Prussians that is a tie for life."" I made my acknowledgments for his highness's condescension. Business then took the lead. ""You will now have a good despatch to transmit to our friends in England. The Count Clairfait has shown himself worthy of his reputation. I understand that the enemy's force consisted chiefly of the household troops of France; if so we have beaten the best soldiers of the kingdom and the rest can give us but little trouble. You will remark upon these points; and now for Paris."" A cry or rather a shout of assent from the circle of officers echoed the words and we all put spurs to our horses and followed the _cortège_ through the noble old groves. But before we reached its confines the firing had wholly ceased and the enemy were hurrying down the slope of the Argonne and crossing in great disorder a plain which separated them from their main body. Our light troops and cavalry were dashing in pursuit and prisoners were continually taken. From the spot where we halted the light of the sinking day showed us the rapid breaking up of the fugitive column the guns one by one left behind; the muskets thrown away; and the soldiers scattered until our telescopes could discover scarcely more than a remnant reaching the protection of the distant hill. We supped that night on the green sward. The duke had invited his own staff and that of Clairfait to his tent in honour of the day and I never spent a gayer evening. His incomparable finish of manners mingled with the cordiality which no man could more naturally assume when it was his pleasure and his mixture of courtly pleasantry with the bold humour which campaigning in some degree teaches to every one made him if possible more delightful to my conception than even in our first interview. Towards the close of the supper which like every thing else round him was worthy of Sardanapalus he addressed himself to me and giving a most gracious personal opinion of what my ""services had merited from the English minister "" said that ""limited as his own means of rewarding zeal and ability might be he begged of me to retain a slight memorial of his friendship and of our day together on the heights of Argonne."" Taking from the hand of Guiscard the riband and star of the ""Order of Merit "" the famous order instituted by the Great Frederic he placed it round my neck and proposed my health to the table as a ""Knight of Prussia."" This was a flattering distinction and if I could have had entire faith in all the complimentary language addressed to me by the sitters at that stately table I should have had visions of very magnificent things. But there is no antidote to vanity equal to an empty purse. If I had been born to one of the leviathan fortunes of our peerage I might possibly have imagined myself possessed of all the talents of mankind and with all its distinctions waiting for my acceptance; but I never could forget the grave lesson that I was a younger son. I sat like the Roman in his triumph with the slave to lecture him behind. However I had a more ample evidence of the sincerity with which those compliments were paid in the higher degree of trust reposed in me from day to day. After the repast was ended and the principal part of the guests had withdrawn I was desired to wait for the communication of important intelligence--Guiscard and Varnhorst being the only officers of the staff who remained. A variety of papers taken in the portfolio of one of the French generals who had fallen in the engagement of the day were laid before us and our little council proceeded to examine them. They were of a very various kind and no bad epitome of the mind of a gallant and crackbrained coxcomb. Reflections on the conduct of the Allied armies and conjectures on their future proceedings--both of so fantastic a kind that the duke's gravity often gave way and even the grim Guiscard sometimes wore a smile. Then came in a letter from some ""_confrère_"" in Paris a tissue of gossip and grumbling anecdotes of the irregularities of private life and merciless abuse of the leaders of party. Interspersed with those were epistles of a more tender description; from which it appeared that the general's heart was as capacious as his ambition and that he contrived to give his admiration to half a dozen of the _élite_ of Parisian beauty at a time. Varnhorst was delighted with this portion of the correspondence; even the presence of the duke could not prevent him from bursting into explosions of laughter; and he ended by imploring possession of the whole as models of his future correspondence in any emergency which compelled him to put pen to paper in matters of the sex. But nearly the last of the documents in the portfolio was one deserving of all attention. It was a statement of the measures which had been enjoined by the Republican government for raising the population in arms; and as an appendix the muster-roll of the various corps which were already on their way to join the army of Dumourier. The duke read this paper with a countenance from which all gaiety had vanished and handed it to Guiscard to read aloud. ""What think you of that gentlemen?"" asked the duke in his most deliberate tone. Varnhorst in his usual unhesitating style said--""It tells us only that we shall have some more fighting; but as we are sure to beat them the more the better. Your highness knows as well as any man alive that the maxim of our great master was 'Begin the war by fighting as many pitched battles as you can. Skirmishes teach discipline to the rabble; allow the higher orders time to escape the government to tamper and to encourage the resistance of all. Pitched battles are thunderbolts; they finish the business at once; and like the thunderbolts they appear to come from a source which defies resistance by man.'"" ""I think "" said Guiscard with his deep physiognomy still darkening ""that we lost what is the most difficult of all things to recover--time."" The duke bit his lip. ""How was it to be helped Guiscard? _You_ know the causes of the delay; they were many and stubborn."" ""Ay "" was the reply with an animation which struck me with surprise ""as many as the blockheads in Berlin and as stubborn as the rock under our feet or the Aulic council."" ""Well "" said the duke turning to me with his customary grace of manner--""What does our friend the Englishman say?"" Of course I made no pretence to giving a military opinion. I merely said ""That I had every reliance on the experienced conduct of his highness and on the established bravery of his army."" ""The truth is M. Marston as Guiscard says we _have_ lost time though it is no fault of ours and I observe from these papers that the enemy availed themselves of the delay by bringing up strong corps from every point. Still our duty lies plain before us; we _must_ advance and rescue the unfortunate royal family--we _must_ tranquillize France by overthrowing the rabble influence which now threatens to subvert all law; and having done that we may then retire with the satisfaction of having fought without ambition and been victorious without a wish for aggrandizement."" After a pause which none attempted to interrupt he finished by saying--""I admit that our work is likely to become more difficult than I had supposed."" Varnhorst's sanguine nature bore this with visible reluctance. ""Pardon me your highness but my opinion is for instant action whatever may happen. Let us but move to-morrow morning and I promise you another battle of Rosbach within the next twelve hours."" The idea was congenial to the gallantry of the duke; he smiled and shook the bold speaker by the hand. ""I see by these lists "" said Guiscard as he slowly perused the returns ""that the troops with which we have been engaged to-day amounted to little more than twenty thousand men under the new general Dumourier. They fought badly I think. I scarcely expected that they would have fought at all since the emigration of their officers. Sixteen or eighteen thousand men are already moving up from Flanders; a strong corps under my old acquaintance and countryman Kellerman--and whatever he may be as an officer a bolder and braver veteran does not exist--are coming by forced marches from the Rhine; the sea-coast towns are stripped of their garrisons to supply a supplementary force; and I should not be surprised to find that we rather under than over calculated the force which will be in line against us within a week. ""So be it!"" exclaimed Varnhorst ""What are troops without discipline and generals without science? Both made to be beaten. The fifty thousand Prussians with us would march through Europe. I am for the advance. That was a brilliant dash of Clairfait's this afternoon. Let us match it to-morrow morning."" ""It was admirable!"" replied the duke with the colour mounting to his cheek. ""Any officer in Europe might envy the decision the daring and the success. His sagacity in discovering the weak point of the enemy's position and his skill in its attack deserve all praise. His flank movement _was_ perfectly admirable."" ""Well we have only to try him again "" exclaimed Varnhorst with increasing animation. ""We have turned the position and taken a thousand prisoners and some guns. Our men are in high spirits; and if I were in command of a corps to-morrow my only countersign would be--'Paris.'"" ""Varnhorst "" said the duke ""you have only anticipated my intention with regard to yourself. You shall have a command; the three brigades of Prussian grenadiers shall be given into your charge and you shall operate on the flank. It is my wish to make our principal movement in that direction and I _know_ you well."" Varnhorst's gratitude almost denied him words; but his countenance spoke better than his tongue. One of those papers contained a detail of several projects by the leading members of the Assembly for the government of France. Guiscard after bending his wise head over them pronounced them all equally futile and equally tending to democracy. The duke was of the opposite opinion and after a glance at the papers observed--""that he thought some of those schemes ingenious; but that they so closely resembled the ideas thrown out in Germany under the patronage of the Emperor Joseph as to deprive them of any strong claim to originality."" ""No "" said he gaily ""I shall never believe that Frenchmen are changed until I hear that there is no ballet in Paris; you might as well tell me that the Swiss will abjure the money which makes a part of his distinction as the Frenchman give up the laced coat the powdered queue and the order of St Louis at his buttonhole. Those things are the man they are his mind his senses himself. He is a creation of monarchy--a clever amusing ingenious and brave one; but rely upon my knowledge of human nature--if French nature be any thing of the kind--that Paris a capital without balls and a government without embroidery will disgust him beyond all forgiveness. It is my opinion that if democracy were formed to-morrow it would be danced away in a week; or if every pedigree in France were burned in this evening's fire you would have the Boulevards crowded with marquises and marchionesses before the month was over. Is my friend _un peu philosophe_?"" He laughed at his own picture of a revolution and his pleasantry of manner would have made his sentiments popular on any subject. Still our long-headed friend Guiscard was not to be convinced. ""I may have every contempt "" said he in a hurried tone ""for the shallowness of idlers and talkers attempting to mould men by theories; but the question whether France is to remain a monarchy or not is one of the most pressing importance to your highness's operations. It is only in this practical sense that I should think of the topic at all. You have taken the frontier towns and have beaten the frontier army. Thus so far as the regular force of France is concerned the war is at an end. But then comes the grand point. A country of thirty millions of people cannot be conquered if they can but be roused to resist. All the troops of Europe--nay perhaps all the princes of the earth--might perish before they fully conquered a country so large as France with so powerful a population. This seems even to be one of the provisions of Providence against ambition that an invasion of a populous country is the most difficult operation in the world unless the people welcome the invader. It gives every ditch the character of a fortress and every man the spirit of a soldier. I recollect no instance in European history where an established kingdom was conquered by invasion. They all stand at this hour as they stood a thousand years ago. In France we found the people without leaders without troops and without experience in war; of course they have not resisted our hussars and guns. But they have not joined us. In any other country of Europe we should have recruits crowding to ask for service. But the French farmer shuts up his house; the peasant flies; the citizen barricades his gates and gives a cannon-shot for an answer. The whole land rejects us if it dares not repel; and if we conquer we shall have to colonize."" ""Well we must fight them into it "" said Varnhorst. ""Or leave them to fight themselves out of it "" I observed--""my national prejudices not being favourable to reasoning at the point of the bayonet."" ""Or take the chances of the world and float on wherever the surge carries us "" laughed the duke. But Guiscard was still inflexible. His deep eye flashed with a light which I never could have looked for under those projecting brows. His cheek was visited by a tinge which argued a passionate interest in the subject; and as he spoke his tongue uttered a nervous and powerful eloquence which showed that Guiscard was thrown among camps while he might have figured in senates and councils. Of course at this distance of time I can offer but a faint memory of his bold and spontaneous wisdom. ""I can see no result for France but democracy. This war is like no other since the fall of the Roman Empire. It is a war of the passions. What man can calculate the power of those untried elements? I implore your highness to consider with the deepest caution every step to be taken from this moment. Europe has no other commander whom it can place in a rank with yourself; and if you at the head of the first army of Europe shall find it necessary to retreat before the peasantry of France it will form a disastrous era in the art of war and a still more disastrous omen to every crowned head of Europe."" The duke looked uneasy. But he merely said with a smile--""My dear Guiscard we must keep these sentiments to ourselves in camp. You are a cosmopolite and look on these things with too refined a speculation. Like myself you have dined and supped with the Diderots and Raynals--pleasant people no doubt but dangerous advisers."" ""I have!"" exclaimed his excited hearer; ""and neither I nor any other man would have met them without admiring their talents. But I always looked on their _coterie_ as a sort of moral lunatics the madder the more light they have."" ""Our question is simply one of fact "" said the duke. ""Yes and of a fact on which the fate of Europe hinges at this moment! The monarchy of France is already cloven down. What wild shape of power is now to take up its fallen sword? The sovereignty of time laws and loyalty are in the grave and the funeral rites will be bloody; but what hand is to make the ground of that grave firm enough to bear the foundations of a new throne? ""The heels of our boots and the hoofs of our horses will trample it solid enough!"" exclaimed Varnhorst. ""The much stronger probability is "" replied Guiscard ""that they will trample it into a mire so deep that we may reckon the Allied powers fortunate if they can draw themselves out of it. France is revolutionized irrecoverably. Three things have been done within the last three months any one of which would overthrow the strongest government on the Continent. By confiscating the property of the nobles she has set the precedent for breaking down all property thrown the prize into the hands of the populace and thus after corrupting them by the robbery has bound them by the bribe. By destroying and banishing the persons of the nobility she has done more than extinguish an antagonist to the mob--she has swept away a protector of the people. The provinces will henceforth be helpless; Paris will be the sovereign and Paris itself will have the mob for its master. And by her third step the ruin of the church she has given the death-blow to the few and feeble feelings which acknowledged higher objects than those of the hour. The pressing point for us is how the Revolution will act upon the military spirit of the nation. The French nay succumb; but they make good soldiers they are the only nation in Europe who have an actual fondness for war who contemplate it as a pastime and in spite of all their defeats regard it as their natural path to power."" ""But they fly before our squadrons "" observed the duke. ""Yes as schoolboys fly before their master until they are strong enough to rebel; or as the Indians fled before the lances and horses of Cortes until they became accustomed to them. It would be infinitely wiser to leave the republicans to struggle with each other than unite them by a national attack. Mobs like the wolves always fall upon the first wounded. The first faction that receives a blow in those campaigns of the Palais Royal will have all the others tearing it to fragments. The custom will spread; every new drop of blood will let loose a torrent in retaliation; and when France has thus been drained of her fever will be the time either to restore her or to paralyse for ever her power of disturbing the world."" The sound of a gun from either flank of the army reminded us that the hour of the evening hymn had come. It broke up our council. The incomparable harmony of so many thousand voices ascended into the air; and at the discharge of another gun all was still once more. The night had now fallen and the fatigues of the day made repose welcome. But the conversation of the last hour made me anxious to obtain all the knowledge of the actual state of the country and the prospects of the campaign which could be obtained from Guiscard. Varnhorst full of a soldier's impetuosity was gone to the quarters of his grenadiers and was busy with hurried preparations for the morrow. The duke had retired and through the curtains of his tent I could see the lamps by whose light his secretaries were in attendance and with whom he would probably pass the greater part of the next twelve hours. With Guiscard I continued pacing up and down in front of our quarters listening to the observations of a mind as richly stored and as original as I have ever met. He still persisted in his conviction ""that we had come at the wrong time either too early or too late; _before_ the nation had grown weary of anarchy and _after_ they had triumphed over the throne. ""The rebound "" said he energetically ""will be terrible. Ten times our force would be thrown away in this war. The army may drive all things before its front; but it will be assailed in the rear in the flanks--every where. It is like the lava which I have seen pour down from Etna into the sea. It drove the tide before it and threw the water up in vapour; but they were too powerful for it after all. And there stands the lava fixed and cold and there roll the surges once again burying it from the sight of man."" A sudden harmony of trumpets from various points of the vast encampment pierced the ear and in another moment the whole line of the hills was crowned with flame. The signal for lighting the fires of the Austrian and Prussian outposts had been given and the effect was almost magical. In this army all things were done with a regularity almost perfect. The trumpet spoke and the answer was instantaneous. All comparisons are feeble to realities of this order--seen too while the heart of man is quickened to enjoy and wonder and feels scarcely less than a new existence in the stirring events every where round him. The first comparison that struck me was the vague one of a shower of stars. The mountain pinnacles were in a blaze. The general fires of the bivouacs soon spread through the forest and down the slopes of the hills all round to the horizon. The night was fine the air flowed refreshingly from the verdure of the immense woods and the scent of the thyme and flowers of the heath pressed by my foot rose ""wooingly on the air."" All was calm and odorous. The flourish of the evening trumpets still continued to swell in the rich harmonies which German skill alone can breathe and thoughts of the past and the future began to steal over my mind. I was once more in England gazing on the splendid beauty of Clotilde; and imagining the thousand forms in which my weary fortunes must be shaped before I dared offer her a share in my hopes of happiness. I saw Mariamne once more with her smile reminding me of Shakspeare's exquisite picture-- ""Oh what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of that lip!"" Then came a vision of my early home. The halls of Mortimer castle--the feebly surviving parent there whom I still loved--the heartless and haughty brother--the pomp and pageantry to which he was born; while I was flung out into the wilderness like the son of the handmaid to perish or like him escape only by a miracle. At that hour perhaps there were revels in the house of my fathers while their descendant was wandering on a hill-side in the midst of hostile armies exposed to the chances of the conflict and possibly only measuring with his pace the extent of his grave. But while I was thus sinking in heart my hand in making some unconscious gesture struck the badge of Frederic's order on my bosom. What trifles change the current of human thoughts! That star threw more light over my darkness than the thousand constellations that studded the vault above my head. Success honours and public name filled my mind. I saw all things events and persons through a brilliant haze of hope; and determining to follow fortune wherever she might lead me abjured all thoughts of calamity in my unfriended yet resolute career. Is it to consider the matter too curiously to conceive that the laws of nature affect the mind? or that the spirit of man resembles an instrument after all--an Aeolian harp which owes all its pulses to the gusts that pass across its strings and in which it simply depends upon the stronger or the feebler breeze whether it shall smile with joyous and triumphant chords or sink into throbs and sounds of sorrow? The galloping of horses roused me. It was Guiscard with an escort. ""What! not in your bed yet?"" was his hurried salutation. ""So much the better; you will have a showy despatch to send to England to-night. Clairfait has just outdone himself. He found that the French were retreating and he followed them without loss of time. His troops had been so dispersed by the service of the day that he could collect but fifteen hundred hussars; and with these he gallantly set forth to pick up stragglers. His old acquaintance Chazot whom he had beaten the day before was in command of a rearguard of ten thousand men. His fifteen hundred brave fellows were now exposed to ruin; and doubtless if they had exhibited any show of retreating they must have been ruined. But here Clairfait's _à la Turque_ style was exactly in place. He ordered that not a shot should be fired but that the spur and sabre should do the business; and at once plunged into the mass of infantry cavalry and artillery. In five minutes the whole were put to the rout--guns baggage and ammunition taken; and the French general-in-chief as much stripped of his rearguard as ever a peacock was plucked of his tail."" ""Will the duke follow up the blow?"" was my enquiry. ""Beyond doubt. I have just left him giving orders for the advancement of the whole line at daybreak; and unless M. Dumouier is remarkably on the alert we shall have him supping in the camp within the next twenty-four hours. But you will have better intelligence from himself; for he bade me prepare you for meeting him as he rides to the wing from which the march begins."" ""Excellent news! You and Varnhorst will be field-marshals before the campaign is over."" His countenance changed. ""No; my course unfortunately lies in a different direction. The duke has been so perplexed by the delays continually forced upon him by the diplomacy of the Allied cabinets that he has been more than once on the point of giving up the command. Clairfait's success and the prospect of cutting off the retreat of the French or of getting between them and Paris have furnished him with new materials; and I am now on my way to Berlin to put matters in the proper point of view. Farewell Marston I am sorry to lose you as a comrade; but we _must_ meet again--no laurels for _me_ now. The duke must not find me here; he will pass by within the next five minutes."" The noble fellow sprang from his horse and shook my hand with a fervour which I had not thought to be in his grave and lofty nature. ""Farewell!"" he uttered once more and threw himself on his saddle and was gone. I had scarcely lost the sound of his horse's hoofs as they rattled up the stony ravine of the hill when the sound of a strong body of cavalry announced the approach of the generalissimo. He soon rode up and addressed me with his usual courtesy. ""I really am afraid Mr Marston that you will think me in a conspiracy to prevent your enjoying a night's rest for all our meetings I think have been at the 'witching hour!' But would you think it too much to mount your horse now and ride with me before you send your despatches to your cabinet? I must visit the troops of the left wing without delay; we can converse on the way."" I was all obedience a knight of Prussia and therefore at his highness's service. ""Well well I thought so. You English gentlemen are ready for every thing. In the mean time while your horse is saddling look over this letter. That was a gallant attempt of Clairfait's and if we had not been too far off to support him we might have pounced upon the main body as effectually as he did upon the rear. Chazot has escaped but one of M. Dumourier's aides-de-camp a remarkably intelligent fellow has been taken and on him has been found the papers which I beg you to peruse."" It was a letter from the commander-in-chief to the _Bureau de la Guerre_ in Paris. ""MONSIEUR LE MINISTRE --I write this after having been on horseback for eighteen hours. We must have reinforcements without a moment's delay or we are lost--the honour of France is lost--France herself is lost. I have with me less than 20 000 men to defend the road to Paris against 100 000. The truth must be told--truth becomes a citizen. We have been beaten! I have been unable to hold the passes of Argonne and the enemy's hussars are already scouring the country in my rear. I have sent order upon o

der to Kellerman and all my answer is that he is preparing to advance; but he has not stirred a step. I daresay that he is playing trictrac at Metz this moment. ""My march from the Argonne has been a bold manoeuvre but it has cost us something. Chazot to whom I entrusted the protection of the march and to whom I had given the strictest orders to keep the enemy's light troops at a distance has suffered himself to be entrapped by those experienced campaigners and has lost men. Duval fought bravely at the head of his brigade and Miranda narrowly escaped being taken in a dashing attempt to save the park of artillery. He had a horse killed under him and was taken from the field insensible. Macdonald who takes this will explain more. He is a promising officer--give him a step. In the mean time send me every man that you can. _France is in danger_."" ""The object now "" observed the duke ""will be to press upon the enemy in his present state of disorder until we shall either be enabled to force him to fight a pitched battle at a disadvantage or strike in between him and the capital. And now forward!"" I mounted and we rode through the camp--the duke occasionally giving some order for the morning to the officers commanding the successive divisions and conversing with me on the points in discussion between England and the Allies. He was evidently dissatisfied with continental politics. ""The king and the emperor are both sincere; but that is more than I can always say for those about them. We have too many Italians and even Frenchmen at our German courts. They are republicans to a man; and by consequence every important measure is betrayed. I can perceive in the manoeuvres of the enemy's general that he must have been acquainted with my last despatch from Berlin; and I am so thoroughly persuaded of the fact that I mean to manoeuvre to-morrow on that conviction. The order from Berlin is that I shall act upon his flanks. Within two hours after daylight I shall make a push for his centre; and breaking through that shall separate his wings and crush them at my leisure. One would think "" said he pausing and looking round him with the exaltation of conscious power ""that the troops had overheard us and already anticipated a victory."" The sight from the knoll where we drew our bridles was certainly of the most striking kind. The fires which at first I had seen glittering only on the mountain tops were now blazing in all quarters; in the cleared spaces of the forest on the heaths and in the ravines: the heaps of fagots gathered for the winter consumption of the cities by woodmen of the district were put in requisition and the axes of the pioneers laid many a huge larch and elm on the blaze. Soldiers seldom think much of those who are to come after them; and the flames shot up among the thickets with the most unsparing brilliancy. Cheerfulness too prevailed; the sounds of laughter and gay voices and songs arose on every side. The well-preserved game of this huge hunting-ground the old vexation of the French peasant now fell into hands which had no fear of the galleys for a shot at a wild boar or bringing down a partridge. The fires exhibited many a substantial specimen of forest luxury in the act of preparation. No man enjoys rest and food like the soldier. A day's fighting and fasting gives a sense of delight to both such as the man of cities can scarcely conceive. No epicure at his most _recherché_ board ever knew the true pleasure of the senses equal to the campaigner stretched upon the grass until his supper was ready and then sitting down to it. I acknowledge that to me that simple rest and that simple meal often gave a sense of enjoyment which I have never even conceived in the luxuries of higher life. The instantaneous sleep that followed; the night without a restless moment; the awaking with all my powers refreshed and yet with as complete an unconsciousness of the hours past away as if I had lain down but the moment before and started from night into sunshine--all belong to the campaigner: he has his troubles but his enjoyments are his own exclusive delicious incomparable. An officer of the staff now rode up to make a report on some movement of the division intended to lead in the morning and the duke gave me permission to retire. He galloped off in the direction of the column and I slowly pursued my way to my quarters. Yet I could not resist many a halt to gaze on the singular beauty of the bursts of flame which lighted the landscape. More than once it reminded me of the famous Homeric description of the Trojan bivouac by the ships. All the images were the same except that for the sea we had the endless meadows of Champagne and for the ships the remote tents of the enemy. We had the fire the exulting troops the carouse the picketed horses the shouts and songs the lustre of the autumnal sky and the bold longings for victory and the dawn. Even in Pope's feeble translation the scene is animated-- ""The troops exulting sate in order round And beaming fires illumined all the ground."" Then follows the famous simile of the moon suddenly throwing its radiance over the obscure features of the landscape. But Homer the poet of realities soon returns to the true material-- ""So many flames before proud Ilion blaze And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild And shoot a shadowy lustre o'er the field. Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend Whose umber'd arms by fits thick flashes send; Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn And ardent warriors wait the rising morn."" I leave it to others to give the history of this campaign one of the most memorable of Europe from its consequences--the tramp of that army roused the slumbering giant of France. If the Frenchman said of a battle that it was like a ball-room you see little beyond your opposite partner; he might have said of a campaign that you scarcely see even so much. The largeness of the scale is beyond all personal observation. I can answer only for myself that I was on horseback before daybreak and marched in the midst of columns which had no more doubt of beating up the enemy's quarters than they had of eating their first meal. All were in the highest spirits; and the opinions of the staff among whom the duke had assigned me a place were so sanguine that I felt some concern at their reaching the ear of the captive aide-de-camp. This induced me to draw him away gradually from the crowd. I found him lively as his countrymen generally are but exhibiting at once a strength of observation and a frankness of language which are more uncommon. ""I admit "" said he ""that you have beaten us; but this is the natural effect of your incomparable discipline. Our army is new our general new every thing new but our imprudence in venturing to meet your 100 000 with our 25 000. Yet France is not beaten. In fact you have not met the French up to this hour."" ""What!"" I exclaimed in surprise; ""of what nation are the troops which we have fought in the Argonne and are now following through the high-road to Paris? The Duke of Brunswick will be amused by hearing that he has been wasting his cannon-shot on spectres."" ""Ah you English "" he replied with a broad laugh which made me still more doubt his nation ""are such matter-of-fact people that you require substance in every thing. But what are the troops of France? Brave fellows enough but not one of them has ever seen a shot fired in his life; even the few battalions which we had in America saw nothing but hedge-firing. The men before you have never seen more service than they could find in a cabaret or hunting a highwayman. Some of them I admit have served their King in the shape of shouldering their muskets at his palace gates in Versailles or marching in a procession of cardinals and confessors to Notre-Dame. My astonishment is that at the first shot they did not all run to their soup and at the second leave their muskets to take care of themselves. But they are brave; and if they once learn to fight the pupils will beat the master."" ""You are a philosopher Monsieur but I hope no prophet. I think I observe in you something of our English blood after all. You have opinions and speak them."" ""Not quite English nor quite French. My father was a borderer; so not even exactly either English or Scotch. He took up arms for the son of James--of course was ruined as every one was who had to do with Stuart from the beginning of time--luckily escaped after the crash of Culloden entered the Scottish Brigade here and left to me nothing but his memory his sword and the untarnished name of Macdonald."" I bowed to a name so connected with honour and the lively aide-de-camp and I became from that moment fast friends. After a long and fatiguing march about noon in one of the most sultry days of a British autumn our advanced guard reached the front of the enemy's position. The outposts were driven in at once and the whole army as it came up was formed in order of battle. Rumours had been spread of large reinforcements being on their way; and the clouds of dust which rose along the plain and the confused sound of baggage-wagons and heavy guns behind the hills rendered it probable. Still the country before us was clear to the eye and our whole force moved slowly forward to storm a range of heights in the shape of a half-moon which commanded the field. This was one of the sights which nothing but war can furnish and to which no other sight on earth is equal. The motion the shouts the rapidity of all things--the galloping of the cavalry--the rolling of the parks of artillery--the rush of the light troops--the pressing march of the battalions--and all glittering with all the pomps of war waving standards flashing sabres and the blaze thrown back from the columns' bayonets that looked like sheets of steel made me almost breathless. The aide-de-camp evidently enjoyed the sight as much as myself and gave way to that instinct by which man is a wolf let the wise say what they will and exults in war. But when he heard shots fired from the range of hills his countenance changed. ""There must be some mistake here "" he said with sudden gravity. ""Dumourier could never have intended to hold his position so far in advance and so wholly unprotected. Those troops will be lost and the whole campaign may be compromised."" The attack now commenced along the line and the resistance was evidently serious. A heavy fire was sustained for some time; but the troops gradually established themselves on the lower part of the range. ""I know it all now!"" exclaimed my agitated companion after a long look through my glass: ""it is Kellerman's corps "" said he ""which ought to have been a league to the rear of its present position at this moment. He must have received counter orders since I left him or been desperately deceived; another half hour there and he will never leave those hills but a prisoner or a corpse."" From the shaking of his bridle and the nervous quivering of his manly countenance I saw how eagerly he would have received permission to bring the French general out of his dilemma. But he was a man of honour and I was sure of him. In the midst of a thunder of cannon which absolutely seemed to shake the ground under our feet the firing suddenly ceased on the enemy's side. The cessation was followed on ours; there was an extraordinary silence over the field and probably the generalissimo expected a flag of truce or some proposal for the capitulation of the enemy's corps. But none came; and after a pause in which aides-de-camp and orderlies were continually galloping between the advance and the spot where the duke stood at the head of his staff the line moved again and the hill was in our possession. But Kellerman was gone; and before our light troops could make any impression on the squadrons which covered the movement he had again taken up a position on the formidable ground which was destined to figure so memorably in the annals of French soldiership the heights of Valmy. ""What think you now my friend?"" was my question. ""Just what I thought before "" was the answer. ""We want science without which bravery _may_ fail; but we have bravery without which science _must_ fail. Kellerman may have been deceived in his first position but he has evidently retrieved his error. He has now shortened his distance from his reinforcements he has secured one of the most powerful positions in the country and unless yon drive him out of it before nightfall you might as well storm Ehrenbreitstein or your own Gibraltar by morning."" ""Well the experiment is about to be made for my glass shows me our howitzers _en masse_ moving up to cannonade him with grape and canister. He will have an uneasy bivouac of it."" ""Whether Kellerman can manoeuvre I do not know. But that he will fight I am perfectly sure. He is old but one of the most daring and firm officers in our service. If it is in his orders to maintain those heights he will hold them to his last cartridge and his last man."" Our conversation was now lost in the roar of artillery and after a tremendous fire of an hour on the French position which was answered with equal weight from the heights a powerful division was sent to assail the principal battery. The attempt was gallantly made and the success seemed infallible when I heard through all the roar the exclamation of Macdonald ""Brave Steingell!"" At the words he pointed to a heavy column of infantry hurrying down the ravine in rear of the redoubt. ""Those are from the camp "" he exclaimed ""and a few thousands more will make the post impregnable."" The sight of the column seemed to have given renewed vigour to both sides; for while the French guns rapidly increased their fire aided by the musketry of the newly arrived troops the Prussian artillerists then the first in Europe threw in their balls in such showers that the forest which hitherto had largely screened the enemy began to fall in masses; branch and trunk were swept away and the ground became as naked of cover as if it had been stripped by the axe. The troops thus exposed could not withstand this ""iron hail "" and they were palpably staggered. The retreat of a brigade after suffering immense loss shook the whole line and produced a charge of our dragoons up the hill. I gave an involuntary glance at Macdonald. He was pale and exhausted; but in another moment his eye sparkled his colour came and I heard him exclaim ""Bravo Chazot! All is not lost yet."" I saw a group of mounted officers galloping into the very spot which had been abandoned by the brigade and followed by the colours of three or four battalions which were planted directly under our fire. ""There comes Chazot with his division!"" cried the aide-de-camp; ""gallant fellow let him now make up for his ill fortune! Monsieur Brunswick will not sleep on the hill of Valmy to-night. He has been unable to force the centre and now both flanks are secured: another attack would cost him ten thousand men. Nor will Monsieur Brunswick sleep on the hills of Valmy to-morrow. Dumourier was right; there was his Thermopylæ. But it will not be stormed. _Vive la France!_"" The prediction was nearly true. The unexpected reinforcements and the approach of night determined the generalissimo to abandon the assault for the time. The fire soon slackened the troops were withdrawn and after a heavy loss on both sides both slept upon the field. I was roused at midnight from the deep sleep of fatigue by an order to attend the duke who was then holding a council. Varnhorst was my summoner and on our way he slightly explained the purpose of his mission. ""We are all in rather bad spirits at the result of to-day's action. The affair itself was not much as it was only between detachments but it shows two things; that the French are true to their revolutionary nonsense and that they can fight. On even ground we have beaten them and shall beat them again; but if Champagne gives them cover what will it be when we get into the broken country that lies between this and Paris? Still there has been no rising of the people and until then we have nothing to fear for the event of the campaign."" ""What then have you to fear?"" was my question. ""What calls the council to-night?"" ""My good friend "" said Varnhorst with a grave smile which more reminded me of Guiscard ""remember the Arab apologue that every man is born with two strings tied to him one large and visible but made of twisted feathers; the other so fine as to be invisible but made of twisted steel. Thus there are few men without a visible motive which all can see and an invisible one--which however pulls then just as the puller pleases. Berlin pulls now and the duke's glory and the good of Europe must be sacrificed to policy."" ""But will the king suffer this? Will the emperor stand by and see this done?"" ""They are both zealous for the liberation of the unfortunate royal family. But _entre nous_--and this is a secret which I scarcely dare whisper even in a French desert--their counsellors have other ideas. Poland is the prize to which the ministers of both courts look. They know that the permanent possession of French provinces is impossible. It is against the will of your great country against the deepest request of the French king and against their own declarations. But Polish seizures would give them provinces to which nobody has laid claim and which nobody can envy. The consequence is that a negotiation is on foot at this moment to conclude the war by treaty and having ensured the safety of the royal family to withdraw the army into Lorraine."" ""Why am I then summoned?"" ""To put your signature to the preliminaries."" I started with indignation. ""They shall wait long enough if they wait till I sign them. I shall not attend this council."" ""Observe "" said Varnhorst ""I have spoken only on conjecture. If I return without you my candour will be rewarded by an instant sentence for Spandau."" This decided me. I shook my gallant friend by the hand the cloud passed from his brow and we rode together to the council. This was of a more formal nature than I had yet witnessed. Two officers expressly sent from Vienna and Berlin a kind of military envoys had brought the decisions of their respective cabinets upon the crisis. The duke said little. He had lost his gay nonchalance of manners and was palpably dispirited and disappointed. His address to me was gracious as ever; but he was more of the prince and the diplomatist and less of the soldier. Our sitting closed with a resolution to agree upon an armistice and to make the immediate release of the king one of the stipulations. I combated the proposal as long as I could with decorum. I placed in the strongest light that I could the immense impulse which any pause in our advance must give to the revolutionary spirit in France or even in Europe--the impossibility of relying on any negotiation which depended on the will of the rabble--and above all the certainty that the first sign of tardiness on the part of the Allies would overthrow the monarchy which was now kept in existence only by the dread of our arms. I was overruled. The proposal for the armistice was signed by all present but one--that one myself. And as we broke up silently and sullenly at the first glimpse of a cold and stormy dawn the fit omen of our future fate I saw a secretary of the duke accompanied by Macdonald sent off to the headquarters of the enemy. All was now over and I thought of returning to my post at Paris. I spent the rest of the day in paying parting civilities to my gallant friends and ordered my calèche to be in readiness by morning. But my prediction had been only too true though I had not calculated on so rapid a fulfilment. The knowledge of the armistice was no sooner made public--and to do the French general justice he lost neither time nor opportunity--than it was regarded as a national triumph. The electric change of public opinion in this most electric of all countries raised the people from a condition of the deepest terror to the highest confidence. Every man in France was a soldier and every soldier a hero. This was the miracle of twenty-four hours. Dumourier's force instantly swelled to 100 000 men. He might have had a million if he had asked for them. The whole country became impassable. Every village poured out its company of armed peasants; and notwithstanding the diplomatic cessation of hostilities a real universal and desperate peasant war broke upon us on every side. After a week of this most harassing warfare in which we lost ten times the number of men which it would have cost to march over the bodies of Dumourier's army to the capital the order was issued for a general retreat to the frontier. I remembered Mordecai's letter; but it was now too late. Even if I could have turned my horse's head to a French post I felt myself bound to share the fortunes of the gallant army to which I had been so closely attached. In the heat of youth I went even further and as my mission had virtually ceased and I wore a Prussian order I took the _un_diplomatic step of proposing to act as one of the duke's aides-de-camp until the army had left the enemy's territory. Behold me now a hulan of the duke's guard! I found no reason to repent my choice though our service was remarkably severe. The present war was chiefly against the light troops and irregulars of the retreating army--the columns being too formidable to admit of attack at least by the multitude. Forty thousand men of the main army of France were appointed to the duty of ""seeing us out of the country."" But every attempt at foraging every movement beyond the range of our cannon was instantly met by a peasant skirmish. Every village approached by our squadrons exhibited a barricade from which we were fired on; every forest produced a succession of sharp encounters; and the passage of every river required as much precaution and as often produced a serious contest as if we were at open war. Thus we were perpetually on the wing and our personal escapes were often of the most hair-breadth kind. If we passed through a thicket we were sure to be met by a discharge of bullets; if we dismounted from our horses to take our hurried and scanty meal we found some of them shot at the inn-door; if we flung ourselves as tired as hounds after a chase on the straw of a village stable the probability was that we were awakened by finding the thatch in a blaze. How often we envied the easier life of the battalions! But there an enemy more fearful than the peasantry began to show itself. The weather had changed to storms of rain and bitter wind; the plains of Champagne never famed for fertility were now as wild and bare as a Russian steppe. The worst provisions supplied on the narrowest scale--above all disgust the most fatal canker of the soldier's soul--spread disease among the ranks; and the roads on which we followed the march gave terrible evidence of the havoc that every hour made among them. The mortality at last became so great that it seemed not unlikely that the whole army would thus melt away before it reached the boundary of this land of death. The horror of the scene even struck the peasantry and whether through fear of the contagion or through the uselessness of hunting down men who were treading to the grave by thousands the peasantry ceased to follow us. Yet such was the wretchedness of that hideous progress that this cessation of hostility was scarcely a relief. The animation of the skirmishes though it often cost life yet kept the rest more alive; the strategem the adventure the surprise nay even the failure and escape relieved us from the dreadful monotony of the life or rather the half-existence to which we were now condemned. Our buoyant and brilliant career was at an end; we were now only the mutes and mourners of a funeral procession of seventy thousand men. I still look back with an indescribable shudder at the scenes which we were compelled to witness from day to day during that month of misery; for the march which began in the first days of October was protracted till its end. I had kept up my spirits when many a more vigorous frame had sunk and many a maturer mind had desponded; but the perpetual recurrence of the same dreary spectacles the dying and the more fortunate dead covering the highways the fields and the village streets at length sank into my soul. Some recollections of earlier principles and the memory of my old friend Vincent prevented my taking the summary and unhappy means of ridding myself of my burden which I saw daily resorted to among the soldiery--a bullet through the brain or a bayonet through the heart cured all. But thanks to early impressions I was determined to wait the hand of the enemy or the course of nature. Many a night I lay down beside my starving charger with something of a hope that I should never see another morning; and many a morning when I dragged my feeble limbs from the cold and wet ground I looked round the horizon for the approach of some enemy's squadron or peasant band which might give me an honourable chance of escape from an existence now no longer endurable. But all was in vain. For leagues round no living object was visible except that long column silently and slowly winding on through the distance like an army of spectres. My diminished squadron had at length become almost the only rear-guard. From a hundred and fifty as fine fellows as ever sat a charger we were now reduced to a third. All its officers youths of the first families of Prussia had either been left behind dying in the villages or had been laid in the graves by the road-side and I was now the only commandant. Perhaps even this circumstance was the means of saving my life. My new responsibility compelled me to make some exertion; and I felt that live or die I might still earn an honourable name. Even in those darkest hours the thought that Clotilde might ask where and how I finished my ill-fortuned career and perhaps give a moment's sorrow to one who remembered her to the last had its share in restoring me to a sense of the world. In that sort of fond frenzy which seems so fantastic when it is past but so natural and is actually so irresistible while it is in the mind I wrote down my feelings wild as they were--my impossible hopes and a promise never to forget her while I remained in this world and if there could be an intercourse between the living and the dead in that world to which I felt myself hastening. I then bade her a solemn and heartfelt farewell. Placing the paper in my bosom with a locket containing a ringlet of her beautiful hair which Marianne had contrived to obtain for me the only legacy I had to offer I felt as if I had done my last duty among mankind. Still we wandered on through a country which had the look of a boundless cemetery. Not a peasant was met; not a sound of human labour joy or sorrow reached the ear; not a smoke rose from mansion or cottage; all was still except when the wind burst in bitter gusts over the plain or the almost ceaseless rain swelled into sheets and sent the rivers roaring down before us. If the land had never been inhabited or had been swept of its inhabitants by an avenging Providence it could not have been more solitary. I never conceived the idea of the wilderness before. It was the intensity of desolation. We seemed even to make no progress. We began to think that the scene would never change. But one evening when the troop had lain down under the shelter of a knoll my sergeant a fine Hungarian whose eyes had been sharpened by hussar service on the Turkish border aroused me saying that he had discovered French horse-tracks in advance of us. We were all instantly on the alert the horse-tracks were found to be numerous and it was evident that a strong body of the enemy's cavalry had managed to get in between us and the army. It is true that there was a treaty in which the unmolested movement of the duke was an article. But it might have been annulled; or the French general might have been inclined to make a daring experiment on our worn-down battalions; or at all events it was our business to keep him as far off as we could. We were on horseback immediately. The track led us along the high-road for one or two leagues and then turned off towards a village on a height at some distance. We now paused and the question was whether to follow the enemy or to dismount and try to rest ourselves and our tired horses for the night. We had scarcely come to the decision of unloosing girths when the sky above the village showed a sudden glow; and a confused clamour of voices came upon the wind. Dispatching an orderly to the duke to inform him of the French movement we rode towards the village. We found the road in its immediate neighbourhood covered with fugitives; who however instead of flying from us with the usual horror of the peasantry threw themselves beside our stirrups hung on our bridles and implored us with every wild gesticulation to hasten to the gates. All that I could learn from the outcries of men women and children was that their village or rather town--for we found it of considerable size--had been the quarters of some of the Austrian cavalry and that the officers had given a ball to which the leading families had been invited. The ball was charged as a national crime by the democrats in Paris and a regiment of horse had been sent to punish the unfortunate town. To attack such a force with fifty worn-out men was obviously hopeless and my hulans brave as they were hung down their heads; but a fresh concourse came rushing from the gates with even louder outcries than before and the words _massacre_ and _conflagration_ were heard with fearful emphasis. While I pondered for a moment on our want of means a fine old man with his white hair stained with blood from a sabre wound in his forehead clung to my charger's neck and implored me by the honour of soldiership to make but one effort against the revolutionary brigands as he termed them. ""I am a French officer and noble!"" he exclaimed--""I have served my king I have a son in the army of Condé and now the wretches have seized on my only daughter my Amalia and they are carrying her to their accursed guillotine."" I could resist no longer; yet I looked round despairingly at my force. ""Follow me "" said the agonized old man; ""one half of the villains are drunk in the cafes already the other half are busy in that horrid procession to the axe. I shall take you by a private way and you may fall upon them by surprise. You shall find me and all who belong to me sword in hand by your side. Come on; and the God of battles and protector of the unhappy will give you victory."" He knelt at my feet with his hands upraised.--""For my child's sake!""--he continued faintly to exclaim--""for my innocent child's sake!"" I saw tears fall down some of our bronzed faces and I had but one word to utter; but that was--""Forward!"" We followed our guide swiftly and silently through the narrow streets; and then suddenly emerging into the public square saw such a sight of terror as never before met my eyes. * * * * * SECESSION FROM THE CHURCH OF SCOTLAND. A great revolution has taken place in Scotland. A greater has been threatened. Nor is that danger even yet certainly gone by. Upon the accidents of such events as may arise for the next five years whether fitted or not fitted to revive discussions in which many of the Non-seceders went in various degrees along with the Seceders depends the final (and in a strict sense the very awful) question What is to be the fate of the Scottish church? Lord Aberdeen's Act is well qualified to tranquillize the agitations of that body; and at an earlier stage if not intercepted by Lord Melbourne might have prevented them in part. But Lord Aberdeen has no power to stifle a conflagration once thoroughly kindled. That must depend in a great degree upon the favourable aspect of events yet in the rear. Meantime these great disturbances are not understood in England; and chiefly on the differences between the two nations as to the language of their several churches and law courts. The process of ordination and induction is totally different under the different ecclesiastical administrations of the two kingdoms. And the church courts of Scotland do not exist in England. We write therefore with an express view to the better information of England proper. And with this purpose we shall lead the discussion through four capital questions:-- I. _What_ is it that has been done by the moving party? II. _How_

as it done? By what agencies and influence? III. What were the _immediate results_ of these acts? IV. What are the _remote results_ yet to be apprehended? * * * * * I. First then WHAT _is it that has been done_? Up to the month of May in 1834 the fathers and brothers of the ""Kirk"" were in harmony as great as humanity can hope to see. Since May 1834 the church has been a fierce crater of volcanic agencies throwing out of her bosom one-third of her children; and these children are no sooner born into their earthly atmosphere than they turn with unnatural passions to the destruction of their brethren. What _can_ be the grounds upon which an _acharnement_ so deadly has arisen? It will read to the ears of a stranger almost as an experiment upon his credulity if we tell the simple truth. Being incredible however it is not the less true; and being monstrous it will yet be recorded in history that the Scottish church has split into mortal feuds upon two points absolutely without interest to the nation: 1st Upon a demand for creating clergymen by a new process; 2dly Upon a demand for Papal latitude of jurisdiction. Even the order of succession in these things is not without meaning. Had the second demand stood first it would have seemed possible that the two demands might have grown up independently and so far conscientiously. But according to the realities of the case this is _not_ possible the second demand grew _out_ of the first. The interest of the Seceders as locked up in their earliest requisition was that which prompted their second. Almost every body was contented with the existing mode of creating the pastoral relation. Search through Christendom lengthways and breadthways there was not a public usage an institution an economy which more profoundly slept in the sunshine of divine favour or of civil prosperity than the peculiar mode authorized and practised in Scotland of appointing to every parish its several pastor. Here and there an ultra-Presbyterian spirit might prompt a murmur against it. But the wise and intelligent approved; and those who had the appropriate--that is the religious interest--confessed that it was practically successful. From whom then came the attempt to change? Why from those only who had an alien interest an indirect interest an interest of ambition in its subversion. As matters stood in the spring of 1834 the patron of each benefice acting under the severest restraints--restraints which (if the church courts did their duty) left no room or possibility for an unfit man to creep in nominated the incumbent. In a spiritual sense the church had all power: by refusing first of all to ""_license_"" unqualified persons; secondly by refusing to ""_admit_"" out of these licensed persons such as might have become warped from the proper standard of pastoral fitness the church had a negative voice all-potential in the creation of clergymen; the church could exclude whom she pleased. But this contented her not. Simply to shut out was an ungracious office though mighty for the interests of orthodoxy through the land. The children of this world who became the agitators of the church clamoured for something more. They desired for the church that she should become a lady patroness; that she should give as well as take away; that she should wield a sceptre courted for its bounties and not merely feared for its austerities. Yet how should this be accomplished? Openly to translate upon the church the present power of patrons--_that_ were too revolutionary that would have exposed its own object. For the present therefore let this device prevail--let the power nominally be transferred to congregations; let this be done upon the plea that each congregation understands best what mode of ministrations tends to its own edification. There lies the semblance of a Christian plea; the congregation it is said has become anxious for itself; the church has become anxious for the congregation. And then if the translation should be effected the church has already devised a means for appropriating the power which she has unsettled; for she limits this power to the communicants at the sacramental table. Now in Scotland though not in England the character of communicant is notoriously created or suspended by the clergyman of each parish; so that by the briefest of circuits the church causes the power to revolve into her own hands. That was the first change--a change full of Jacobinism; and for which to be published was to be denounced. It was necessary therefore to place this Jacobin change upon a basis privileged from attack. How should _that_ be done? The object was to create a new clerical power; to shift the election of clergymen from the lay hands in which law and usage had lodged it; and under a plausible mask of making the election popular circuitously to make it ecclesiastical. Yet if the existing patrons of church benefices should see themselves suddenly denuded of their rights and within a year or two should see these rights settling determinately into the hands of the clergy the fraud the fraudulent purpose and the fraudulent machinery would have stood out in gross proportions too palpably revealed. In this dilemma the reverend agitators devised a second scheme. It was a scheme bearing triple harvests; for at one and the same time it furnished the motive which gave a constructive coherency and meaning to the original purpose it threw a solemn shadow over the rank worldliness of that purpose and it opened a diffusive tendency towards other purposes of the same nature as yet undeveloped. The device was this: in Scotland as in England the total process by which a parish clergyman is created subdivides itself into several successive acts. The initial act belongs to the patron of the benefice: he must ""_present_""; that is he notifies the fact of his having conferred the benefice upon A B to a public body which officially takes cognizance of this act; and that body is not the particular parish concerned but the presbytery of the district in which the parish is seated. Thus far the steps merely legal of the proceedings were too definite to be easily disturbed. These steps are sustained by Lord Aberdeen as realities and even by the Non-intrusionists were tolerated as formalities. But at this point commence other steps not so rigorously defined by law or usage nor so absolutely within one uniform interpretation of their value. In practice they had long sunk into forms. But ancient forms easily lend themselves to a revivification by meanings and applications new or old under the galvanism of democratic forces. The disturbers of the church passing by the act of ""presentation"" as an obstacle too formidable to be separately attacked on its own account made their stand upon one of the two acts which lie next in succession. It is the regular routine that the presbytery having been warned of the patron's appointment and having ""received"" (in technical language) the presentee--that is having formally recognised him in that character--next appoint a day on which he is to preach before the congregation. This sermon together with the prayers by which it is accompanied constitute the probationary act according to some views; but according to the general theory simply the inaugural act by which the new pastor places himself officially before his future parishioners. Decorum and the sense of proportion seem to require that to every commencement of a very weighty relation imposing new duties there should be a corresponding and ceremonial entrance. The new pastor until this public introduction could not be legitimately assumed for known to the parishioners. And accordingly at this point it was--viz. subsequently to his authentic publication as we may call it--that in the case of any grievous scandal known to the parish as outstanding against him arose the proper opportunity furnished by the church for lodging the accusation and for investigating it before the church court. In default however of any grave objection to the presentee he was next summoned by the presbytery to what really _was_ a probationary act at their bar; viz. an examination of his theological sufficiency. But in this it could not be expected that he should fail because he must previously have satisfied the requisitions of the church in his original examination for a license to preach. Once dismissed with credit from this bar he was now beyond all further probation whatsoever; in technical phrase he was entitled to ""admission."" Such were the steps according to their orderly succession by which a man consummated the pastoral tie with any particular parish. And all of these steps subsequent to the ""_reception_"" and inaugural preaching were now summarily characterised by the revolutionists as ""spiritual;"" for the sake of sequestering them into their own hands. As to the initiatory act of presentation _that_ might be secular and to be dealt with by a secular law. But the rest were acts which belonged not to a kingdom of this world. ""These "" with a new-born scrupulosity never heard of until the revolution of 1834 clamoured for new casuistries; ""these "" said the agitators ""we cannot consent any longer to leave in their state of collapse as mere inert or ceremonial forms. They must be revivified. By all means let the patron present as heretofore. But the acts of 'examination' and 'admission ' _together with power of altogether refusing to enter upon either_ under a protest against the candidate from a clear majority of the parishioners--these are acts falling within the spiritual jurisdiction of the church. And these powers we must for the future see exercised according to spiritual views."" Here then suddenly emerged a perfect ratification for their own previous revolutionary doctrine upon the creation of parish clergymen. This new scruple was in relation to former scruples a perfect linch-pin for locking their machinery into cohesion. For vainly would they have sought to defeat the patron's right of presenting unless through this sudden pause and interdict imposed upon the _latter_ acts in the process of induction under the pretext that these were acts competent only to a spiritual jurisdiction. This plea by its tendency rounded and secured all that they had yet advanced in the way of claim. But at the same tine though indispensable negatively positively it stretched so much further than any necessity or interest inherent in their present innovations that not improbably they faltered and shrank back at first from the immeasurable field of consequences upon which it opened. Thy would willingly have accepted less. But unfortunately it sometimes happens that to gain as much as is needful in one direction you must take a great deal more than you wish for in another. Any principle which _could_ carry them over the immediate difficulty would by mere necessity carry them incalculably beyond it. For if every act bearing in any one direction a spiritual aspect showing at any angle a relation to spiritual things is therefore to be held spiritual in a sense excluding the interference of the civil power there falls to the ground at once the whole fabric of civil authority in any independent form. Accordingly we are satisfied that the claim to a spiritual jurisdiction in collision with the claims of the state would not probably have offered itself to the ambition of the agitators otherwise than as a measure ancillary to their earlier pretension of appointing virtually all parish clergymen. The one claim was found to be the integration or _sine quâ non_ complement of the other. In order to sustain the power of appointment in their own courts it was necessary that they should defeat the patron's power; and in order to defeat the patron's power ranging itself (as sooner or later it would) under the law of the Land it was necessary that they should decline that struggle by attempting to take the question out of all secular jurisdictions whatever. In this way grew up that twofold revolution which has been convulsing the Scottish church since 1834; first the audacious attempt to disturb the settled mode of appointing the parish clergy through a silent robbery perpetrated on the crown and great landed aristocracy secondly and in prosecution of that primary purpose the far more frantic attempt to renew in a practical shape the old disputes so often agitating the forum of Christendom as to the bounds of civil and spiritual power. In our rehearsal of the stages through which the process of induction ordinarily travels we have purposely omitted one possible interlude or parenthesis in the series; not as wishing to conceal it but for the very opposite reason. It is right to withdraw from a _representative_ account of any transaction such varieties of the routine as occur but seldom: in this way they are more pointedly exposed. Now having made that explanation we go on to inform the Southern reader--than an old traditionary usage has prevailed in Scotland but not systematically or uniformly of sending to the presentee through the presbytery what is designated a ""_call_"" subscribed by members of the parish congregation. This call is simply an invitation to the office of their pastor. It arose in the disorders of the seventeenth century; but in practice it is generally admitted to have sunk into a mere formality throughout the eighteenth century; and the very position which it holds in the succession of steps not usually coming forward until _after_ the presentation has been notified (supposing that it comes forward at all ) compels us to regard it in that light. Apparently it bears the same relation to the patron's act as the Address of the two Houses to the Speech from the Throne: it is rather a courteous echo to the personal compliment involved in the presentation than capable of being regarded as any _original_ act of invitation. And yet in defiance of that notorious fact some people go so far as to assert that a call is not good unless where it is subscribed by a clear majority of the congregation. This is amusing. We have already explained that except as a liberal courtesy the very idea of a call destined to be inoperative is and must be moonshine. Yet between two moonshines some people it seems can tell which is the denser. We have all heard of Barmecide banquets where out of tureens filled to the brim with--nothing the fortunate guest was helped to vast messes of--air. For a hungry guest to take this tantalization in good part was the sure way to win the esteem of the noble Barmecide. But the Barmecide himself would hardly approve of a duel turning upon a comparison between two of his tureens question being--which had been the fuller or of two nihilities which had been seasoned the more judiciously. Yet this in effect is the reasoning of those who say that a call signed by fifty-one persons out of a hundred is more valid than another signed only by twenty-six or by nobody; it being in the mean time fully understood that neither is valid in the least possible degree. But if the ""_call_"" was a Barmecide call there was another act open to the congregation which was not so. For the English reader must now understand that over and above the passive and less invidious mode of discountenancing or forbearing to countenance a presentee by withdrawing from the direct ""_call_"" upon him usage has sanctioned another and stronger sort of protest; one which takes the shape of distinct and clamorous _objections_. We are speaking of the routine in this place according to the course which it _did_ travel or _could_ travel under that law and that practice which furnished the pleas for complaint. Now it was upon these ""objections "" as may well be supposed that the main battle arose. Simply to want the ""call "" being a mere _zero_ could not much lay hold upon public feeling. It was a case not fitted for effect. You cannot bring a blank privation strongly before the public eye. ""The 'call' did not take place last week;"" well perhaps it will take place next week. Or again if it should never take place perhaps it may be religious carelessness on the part of the parish. Many parishes notoriously feel no interest in their pastor except as a quiet member of their community. Consequently in two of three cases that might occur there was nothing to excite the public: the parish had either agreed with the patron or had not noticeably dissented. But in the third case of positive ""objections "" which (in order to justify themselves as not frivolous and vexatious) were urged with peculiar emphasis the attention of all men was arrested. Newspapers reverberated the fact: sympathetic groans arose: the patron was an oppressor: the parish was under persecution: and the poor clergyman whose case was the most to be pitied as being in a measure _endowed_ with a lasting fund of dislike had the mortification to find over and above this resistance from within that he bore the name of ""intruder"" from without. He was supposed by the fiction of the case to be in league with his patron for the persecution of a godly parish; whilst in reality the godly parish was persecuting _him_ and hallooing the world _ab extra_ to join in the hunt. In such cases of pretended objections to men who have not been tried we need scarcely tell the reader that usually they are mere cabals and worldly intrigues. It is next to impossible that any parish or congregation should sincerely agree in their opinion of a clergyman. What one man likes in such cases another man detests. Mr A. with an ardent nature and something of a histrionic turn doats upon a fine rhetorical display. Mr B. with more simplicity of taste pronounces this little better than theatrical ostentation. Mr C. requires a good deal of critical scholarship. Mr D. quarrels with this as unsuitable to a rustic congregation. Mrs X. who is ""under concern"" for sin demands a searching and (as she expresses it) a ""faithful"" style of dealing with consciences. Mrs Y. an aristocratic lady who cannot bear to be mixed up in any common charge together with low people abominates such words as ""sin "" and wills that the parson should confine his ""observations"" to the ""shocking demoralization of the lower orders."" Now having stated the practice of Scottish induction as it was formerly sustained in its first stage by law in its second stage by usage let us finish that part of the subject by reporting the _existing_ practice as regulated in all its stages by law. What law? The law as laid down in Lord Aberdeen's late Act of Parliament. This statement should historically speaking have found itself under our _third_ head as being one amongst the consequences immediately following the final rupture. But it is better placed at this point; because it closes the whole review of that topic; and because it reflects light upon the former practice--the practice which led to the whole mutinous tumult: every alteration forcing more keenly upon the reader's attention what had been the previous custom and in what respect it was held by any man to be a grievance. This Act then of Lord Aberdeen's removes all _legal_ effect from the ""_call_."" Common sense required _that_. For what was to be done with patronage? Was it to be sustained or was it not? If not then why quarrel with the Non-intrusionists? Why suffer a schism to take place in the church? Give legal effect to the ""call "" and the original cause of quarrel is gone. For with respect to the opponents of the Non-intrusionists _they_ would bow to the law. On the other hand if patronage _is_ to be sustained then why allow of any lingering or doubtful force to what must often operate as a conflicting claim? ""A call "" which carries with it any legal force annihilates patronage. Patronage would thus be exercised only on sufferance. Do we mean then that a ""call"" should sink into a pure fiction of ceremony like the English _congé-d'élire_ addressed to a dean and chapter calling on them to elect a bishop when all the world knows that already the see has been filled by a nomination from the crown? Not at all; a _moral_ weight will still attach to the ""call "" though no legal coercion: and what is chiefly important all those _doubts_ be removed by express legislation which could not but arise between a practice pointing sometimes in one direction and sometimes in another between legal decisions again upholding one view whilst something very like legal prescription was occasionally pleaded for the other. Behold the evil of written laws not rigorously in harmony with that sort of customary law founded upon vague tradition or irregular practice. And here by the way arises the place for explaining to the reader that irreconcilable dispute amongst Parliamentary lawyers as to the question whether Lord Aberdeen's bill were _enactory_ that is created a new law or _declaratory_ that is simply expounded an old one. If enactory then why did the House of Lords give judgment against those who allowed weight to the ""call?"" That might need altering; _that_ might be highly inexpedient; but if it required a new law to make it illegal how could those parties be held in the wrong previously to the new act of legislation? On the other hand if declaratory then show us any old law which made the ""call"" illegal. The fact is--that no man can decide whether the act established a new law or merely expounded an old one. And the reason why he cannot--is this: the practice the usage which often is the law had grown up variously during the troubles of the seventeenth century. In many places political reasons had dictated that the elders should nominate the incumbent. But the ancient practice had authorized patronage: by the act of Queen Anne (10th chap.) it was even formally restored; and yet the patron in known instances was said to have waived his right in deference to the ""call."" But why? Did he do so in courteous compliance with the parish as a party whose _reasonable_ wishes ought for the sake of all parties to meet with attention? Or did he do so in humble submission to the parish as having by their majorities a legal right to the presentation? There lay the question. The presumptions from antiquity were all against the call. The more modern practice had occasionally been _for_ it. Now we all know how many colourable claims of right are created by prescription. What was the exact force of the ""call "" no man could say. In like manner the exact character and limit of allowable objections had been ill-defined in practice and rested more on a vague tradition than on any settled rule. This also made it hard to say whether Lord Aberdeen's Act were enactory or declaratory a predicament however which equally affects all statutes _for removing doubts_. The ""call "" then we consider as no longer recognised by law. But did Lord Aberdeen by that change establish the right of the patron as an unconditional right? By no means. He made it strictly a conditional right. The presentee is _now_ a candidate and no more. He has the most important vote in his favour it is true: but that vote may still be set aside though still only with the effect of compelling the patron to a new choice. ""_Calls_"" are no longer doubtful in their meaning but ""_objections_"" have a fair field laid open to then. All reasonable objections are to be weighed. But who is to judge whether they _are_ reasonable? The presbytery of the district. And now pursue the action of the law and see how little ground it leaves upon which to hang a complaint. Every body's rights are secured. Whatever be the event first of all the presentee cannot complain if he is rejected only for proved insufficiency. He is put on his trial as to these points only: 1. Is he orthodox? 2. Is he of good moral reputation? 3. Is he sufficiently learned? And note this (which in fact Sir James Graham remarked in his official letter to the Assembly ) strictly speaking he ought not to be under challenge as respects the third point; for it is your own fault the fault of your own licensing courts (the presbyteries ) if he is not qualified so far. You should not have created him a licentiate should not have given him a license to preach as must have been done in an earlier stage of his progress if he were not learned enough. Once learned a man is learned for life. As to the other points he may change; and _therefore_ it is that an examination is requisite. But how can _he_ complain if he is found by an impartial court of venerable men objectionable on any score? If it were possible however that he should be wronged he has his appeal. Secondly how can the patron complain? _His_ case is the same as his presentee's case; his injuries the same; his relief the same. Besides if _his_ man is rejected it is not the parish man that takes his place. No; but a second man of his own choice: and if again he chooses amiss who is to blame for _that_? Thirdly can the congregation complain? They have a _general_ interest in their spiritual guide. But as to the preference for oratory--for loud or musical voice--for peculiar views in religion--these things are special: they interest but an exceedingly small minority in any parish; and what is worse that which pleases one is often offensive to another. There are cases in which a parish would reject a man for being a married man: some of the parish have unmarried daughters. But this case clearly belongs to the small minority; and we have little doubt that where the objections lay ""for cause not shown "" it was often for _this_ cause. Fourthly can the church complain? Her interest is represented 1 not by the presentee; 2 not by the patron; 3 not by the congregation; but 4 by the presbytery. And whatever the presbytery say _that_ is supported. Speaking either for the patron for the presentee for the congregation or for themselves as conservators of the church that court is heard; what more would they have? And thus in turn every interest is protected. Now the point to be remarked is--that each party in turn has a separate influence. But on any other plan giving to one party out of the four an absolute or unconditional power no matter which of the four it be--all the rest have none at all. Lord Aberdeen has reconciled the rights of patrons for the first time with those of all other parties interested. Nobody has more than a conditional power. Every body has _that_. And the patron as necessity requires if property is to be protected has in all circumstances the reversionary power. II. _Secondly_ How _were these things done?_ By what means were the hands of any party strengthened so as to find this revolution possible? We seek not to refine; but all moral power issues out of moral forces. And it may be well therefore rapidly to sketch the history of religion which is the greatest of moral forces as it sank and rose in this island through the last two hundred years. It is well known that the two great revolutions of the seventeenth century--that in 1649 accomplished by the Parliament armies (including its reaction in 1660 ) and secondly that in 1688-9--did much to unsettle the religious tone of public morals. Historians and satirists ascribe a large effect in this change to the personal influence of Charles II. and the foreign character of his court. We do not share in their views; and one eminent proof that they are wrong lies in the following fact--viz. that the sublimest act of self-sacrifice which the world has ever seen arose precisely in the most triumphant season of Charles's career a time when the reaction of hatred had not yet neutralized the sunny joyousness of his Restoration. Surely the reader cannot be at a loss to know what we mean--the renunciation in one hour on St Bartholomew's day in 1662 of two thousand benefices by the non-conforming clergymen of England. In the same year occurred a similar renunciation of three hundred and sixty benefices in Scotland. These great sacrifices whether called for or not argue a great strength in the religious principle at that era. Yet the decay of external religion towards the close of that century is proved incontestably. We ourselves are inclined to charge this upon two causes; first that the times were controversial and usually it happens--that where too much energy is carried into the controversies or intellectual part of religion a very diminished fervour attends the culture of its moral and practical part. This was perhaps one reason; for the dispute with the Papal church partly perhaps with a secret reference to the rumoured apostasy of the royal family was pursued more eagerly in the latter half of the seventeenth than even in any section of the sixteenth century. But doubtless the main reason was the revolutionary character of the times. Morality is at all periods fearfully shaken by intestine wars and by instability in a government. The actual duration of war in England was not indeed longer than three and a half years viz. from Edgehill fight in the autumn of 1642 to the defeat of the king's last force under Sir Jacob Astley at Stow-in-the-wolds in the spring of 1646. Any other fighting in that century belonged to mere insulated and discontinuous war. But the insecurity of every government between 1638 and 1702 kept the popular mind in a state of fermentation. Accordingly Queen Anne's reign might be said to open upon an irreligious people. This condition of things was further strengthened by the unavoidable interweaving at that time of politics with religion. They could not be kept separate; and the favour shown even by religious people to such partisan zealots as Dr Sacheverell evidenced and at the same time promoted the public irreligion. This was the period in which the clergy thought too little of their duties but too much of their professional rights; and if we may credit the indirect report of the contemporary literature all apostolic or missionary zeal for the extension of religion was in those days a thing unknown. It may seem unaccountable to many that the same state of things should have spread in those days to Scotland; but this is no more than the analogies of all experience entitled us to expect. Thus we know that the instincts of religious reformation ripened every where at the same period of the sixteenth century from one end of Europe to the other; although between most of the European kingdoms there was nothing like so much intercourse as between England and Scotland in the eighteenth century. In both countries a cold and lifeless state of public religion prevailed up to the American and French Revolutions. These great events gave a shock every where to the meditative and consequently to the religious impulses of men. And in the mean time an irregular channel had been already opened to these impulses by the two founders of Methodism. A century has now passed since Wesley and Whitfield organized a more spiritual machinery of preaching than could then be found in England for the benefit of the poor and labouring classes. These Methodist institutions prospered as they were sure of doing amongst the poor and the neglected at any time much more when contrasted with the deep slumbers of the Established church. And another ground of prosperity soon arose out of the now expanding manufacturing system. Vast multitudes of men grew up under that system--humble enough by the quality of their education to accept with thankfulness the ministrations of Methodism and rich enough to react upon that beneficent institution by continued endowments in money. Gradually even the church herself that mighty establishment under the cold shade of which Methodism had grown up as a neglected weed began to acknowledge the power of an extending Methodistic influence which originally she had haughtily despised. First she murmured; then she grew anxious or fearful; and finally she began to find herself invaded or modified from within by influences springing up from Methodism. This last effect became more conspicuously evident after the French Revolution. The church of Scotland which as a whole had exhibited with much unobtrusive piety the same outward torpor as the church of England during the eighteenth century betrayed a corresponding resuscitation about the same time. At the opening of this present century both of these national churches began to show a marked rekindling of religious fervour. In what extent this change in the Scottish church had been due mediately or immediately to Methodism we do not pretend to calculate; that is we do not pretend to settle the proportions. But _mediately_ the Scottish church must have been affected because she was greatly affected by her i

tercourse with the English church (as e.g. in Bible Societies Missionary Societies &c.;) and the English church had been previously affected by Methodism. _Immediately_ she must also have been affected by Methodism because Whitfield had been invited to preach in Scotland and _did_ preach in Scotland. But whatever may have been the cause of this awakening from slumber in the two established churches of this island the fact is so little to be denied that in both its aspects it is acknowledged by those most interested in denying it. The two churches slept the sleep of torpor through the eighteenth century; so much of the fact is acknowledged by their own members. The two churches awoke as from a trance in or just before the dawning of the nineteenth century; this second half of the fact is acknowledged by their opponents. The Wesleyan Methodists that formidable power in England and Wales who once reviled the Establishment as the dormitory of spiritual drones have for many years hailed a very large section in that establishment--viz. the section technically known by the name of the Evangelical clergy--as brothers after their own hearts and corresponding to their own strictest model of a spiritual clergy. That section again the Evangelical section in the English church as men more highly educated took a direct interest in the Scottish clergy upon general principles of liberal interest in all that could affect religion beyond what could be expected from the Methodists. And in this way grew up a considerable action and reaction between the two classical churches of the British soil. Such was the varying condition when sketched in outline of the Scottish and English churches. Two centuries ago and for half a century beyond that we find both churches in a state of trial of turbulent agitation and of sacrifices for conscience which involved every fifth or sixth beneficiary. Then came a century of languor and the carelessness which belongs to settled prosperity. And finally for both has arisen a half century of new light--new zeal--and spiritually speaking of new prosperity. This deduction it was necessary to bring down in order to explain the new power which arose to the Scottish church during the last generation of suppose thirty years. When two powerful establishments each separately fitted to the genius and needs of its several people are pulling together powerfully towards one great spiritual object vast must be the results. Our ancestors would have stood aghast as at some fabulous legend or some mighty miracle could they have heard of the scale on which our modern contributions proceed for the purposes of missions to barbarous nations of circulating the Scriptures (whether through the Bible Society that is the National Society or Provincial Societies ) of translating the Scriptures into languages scarcely known by name to scholars of converting Jews of organizing and propagating education. Towards these great objects the Scottish clergy had worked with energy and with little disturbance to their unanimity. Confidence was universally felt in their piety and in their discretion. This confidence even reached the supreme rulers of the state. Very much through ecclesiastical influence new plans for extending the religious power of the Scottish church and indirectly of extending their secular power were countenanced by the Government. Jealousy had been disarmed by the upright conduct of the Scottish clergy and their remarkable freedom hitherto from all taint of ambition. It was felt besides that the temper of the Scottish nation was radically indisposed to all intriguing or modes of temporal ascendency in ecclesiastical bodies. The nation therefore was in some degree held as a guarantee for the discretion of their clergy. And hence it arose that much less caution was applied to the first encroachment of the Non-intrusionists than would have been applied under circumstances of more apparent doubt. Hence it arose that a confidence from the Scottish nation was extended to this clergy which too certainly has been abused. In the years 1824-5 Parliament had passed acts ""for building additional places of worship in the highlands and islands of Scotland."" These acts may be looked upon as one section in that general extension of religious machinery which the British people by their government and their legislature have for many years been promoting. Not as is ordinarily said that the weight of this duty had grown upon them simply through their own treacherous neglect of it during the latter half of the eighteenth century; but that no reasonable attention to that duty _could_ have kept pace with the scale upon which the claims of a new manufacturing population had increased. In mere equity we must admit--not that the British nation had fallen behind its duties (though naturally it might have done so under the religious torpor prevalent at the original era of manufacturing extension ) but that the duties had outstripped all human power of overtaking them. The efforts however have been prodigious in this direction for many years. Amongst those applied to Scotland it had been settled by parliament that forty-two new churches should be raised in the highlands with an endowment from the Government of L.120 annually for each incumbent. There were besides more than two hundred chapels of ease to be founded; and towards this scheme the Scottish public subscribed largely. The money was entrusted to the clergy. _That_ was right. But mark what followed. It had been expressly provided by Parliament--that any district or circumjacent territory allotted to such parliamentary churches as the range within which the incumbent was to exercise his spiritual ministrations should _not_ be separate parishes for any civil or legal effects. Here surely the intentions and directions of the legislature were plain enough and decisive enough. How did the Scottish clergy obey them? They erected all these jurisdictions into _bona fide_ ""parishes "" enjoying the plenary rights (as to church government) of the other parishes and distinguished from them in a merely nominal way as parishes _quoad sacra_. There were added at once to the presbyteries which are the organs of the church power 203 clerical persons for the chapels of ease and 42 for the highland churches--making a total of 245 new members. By the constitution of the Scottish church an equal number of lay elders (called ruling elders) accompany the clerical elders. Consequently 490 new members were introduced at once into that particular class of courts (presbyteries) which form the electoral bodies in relation to the highest court of General Assembly. The effect of this change made in the very teeth of the law was twofold. First it threw into many separate presbyteries a considerable accession of voters--_all owing their appointments to the General Assembly_. This would at once give a large bias favourable to their party views in every election for members to serve in the Assembly. Even upon an Assembly numerically limited this innovation would have told most abusively. But the Assembly was _not_ limited; and therefore the whole effect was at the same moment greatly to extend the electors and the elected. Here then was the machinery by which the faction worked. They drew that power from Scotland rekindled into a temper of religious anxiety which they never could have drawn from Scotland lying torpid as she had lain through the 18th century. The new machinery (created by Parliament in order to meet the wishes of the Scottish nation ) the money of that nation the awakened zeal of that nation; all these were employed honourably in one sense that is not turned aside into private channels for purposes of individuals but factiously in the result as being for the benefit of a faction; honourably as regarded the open _mode_ of applying such influence--a mode which did not shrink from exposure; but most dishonourably in so far as privileges which had been conceded altogether for a spiritual object were abusively transferred to the furtherance of a temporal intrigue. Such were the methods by which the new-born ambition of the clergy moved; and that ambition had become active simply because it had suddenly seemed to become practicable. The presbyteries as being the effectual electoral bodies are really the main springs of the ecclesiastical administration. To govern _them_ was in effect to govern the church. A new scheme for extending religion had opened a new avenue to this control over the presbyteries. That opening was notoriously unlawful. But not the less the church faction precipitated themselves ardently upon it; and but for the faithfulness of the civil courts they would never have been dislodged from what they had so suddenly acquired. Such was the extraordinary leap taken by the Scottish clergy into a power of which hitherto they had never enjoyed a fraction. It was a movement _per saltum_ beyond all that history has recorded. At cock-crow they had no power at all; when the sun went down they had gained (if they could have held) a papal supremacy. And a thing not less memorably strange is that even yet the ambitious leaders were not disturbed; what they had gained was viewed by the public as a collateral gain indirectly adhering to a higher object but forming no part at all of what the clergy had sought. It required the scrutiny of law courts to unmask and decompose their true object. The obstinacy of the defence betrayed the real _animus_ of the attempt. It was an attempt which in connexion with the _Veto_ Act (supposing that to have prospered ) would have laid the whole power of the church at their feet. What the law had distributed amongst three powers patron parish and presbytery would have been concentred in themselves. The _quoad sacra_ parishes would have riveted their majorities in the presbyteries; and the presbyteries under the real action of the _Veto_ would have appointed nearly every incumbent in Scotland. And this is the answer to the question when treated merely in outline--_How were these things done?_ The religion of the times had created new machineries for propagating a new religious influence. These fell into the hands of the clergy; and the temptation to abuse these advantages led them into revolution. III. Having now stated WHAT was done as well as HOW it was done let us estimate the CONSEQUENCES of these acts; under this present or _third_ section reviewing the immediate consequences which have taken effect already and under the next section anticipating the more remote consequences yet to be expected. In the spring of 1834 as we have sufficiently explained the General Assembly ventured on the fatal attempt to revolutionize the church and (as a preliminary towards _that_) on the attempt to revolutionize the property of patronage. There lay the extravagance of the attempt; its short-sightedness if they did not see its civil tendencies; its audacity if they _did_. It was one revolution marching to its object through another; it was a vote which if at all sustained must entail a long inheritance of contests with the whole civil polity of Scotland. ""Heu quantum fati parva tabella vehit!"" It might seem to strangers a trivial thing that an obscure court like the presbytery should proceed in the business of induction by one routine rather than by another; but was it a trivial thing that the power of appointing clergymen should lapse into this perilous dilemma--either that it should be intercepted by the Scottish clerical order and thus that a lordly hierarchy should be suddenly created disposing of incomes which in the aggregate approach to half a million annually; or on the other hand that this dangerous power if defeated as a clerical power should settle into a tenure exquisitely democratic? Was _that_ trivial? Doubtless the Scottish ecclesiastical revenues are not equal nor nearly equal to the English; still it is true that Scotland supposing all her benefices equalized gives a larger _average_ to each incumbent than England of the year 1830. England in that year gave an average of £299 to each beneficiary; Scotland gave an average of £303. That body therefore which wields patronage in Scotland wields a greater relative power than the corresponding body in England. Now this body in Scotland must finally have been the _clerus_; but supposing the patronage to have settled nominally where the Veto Act had placed it then it would have settled into the keeping of a fierce democracy. Mr Forsyth has justly remarked that in such a case the hired ploughmen of a parish mercenary hands that quit their engagements at Martinmas and _can_ have no filial interest in the parish would generally succeed in electing the clergyman. That man would be elected generally who had canvassed the parish with the arts and means of an electioneering candidate; or else the struggle would lie between the property and the Jacobinism of the district. In respect to Jacobinism the condition of Scotland is much altered from what it was; pauperism and great towns have worked ""strange defeatures"" in Scottish society. A vast capital has arisen in the west on a level with the first-rate capitals of the Continent--with Vienna or with Naples; far superior in size to Madrid to Lisbon to Berlin; more than equal to Rome and Milan; or again to Munich and Dresden taken by couples: and in this point beyond comparison with any one of these capitals that whilst _they_ are connected by slight ties with the circumjacent country Glasgow keeps open a communication with the whole land. Vast laboratories of encouragement to manual skill too often dissociated from consideration of character; armies of mechanics gloomy and restless having no interfusion amongst their endless files of any gradations corresponding to a system of controlling officers; these spectacles which are permanently offered by the _castra stativa_ of combined mechanics in Glasgow and its dependencies (Paisley Greenock &c. ) supported by similar districts and by turbulent collieries in other parts of that kingdom make Scotland when now developing her strength no longer the safe and docile arena for popular movements which once she was with a people that were scattered and habits that were pastoral. And at this moment so fearfully increased is the overbalance of democratic impulses in Scotland that perhaps in no European nation--hardly excepting France--has it become more important to hang weights and retarding forces upon popular movements amongst the labouring classes. This being so we have never been able to understand the apparent apathy with which the landed body met the first promulgation of the _Veto_ Act in May 1834. Of this apathy two insufficient explanations suggest themselves:--1st It seemed a matter of delicacy to confront the General Assembly upon a field which they had clamorously challenged for their own. The question at issue was tempestuously published to Scotland as a question exclusively spiritual. And by whom was it thus published? The Southern reader must here not be careless of dates. _At present_ viz. in 1844 those who fulminate such views of spiritual jurisdiction are simply dissenters; and those who vehemently withstand them are the church armed with the powers of the church. Such are the relations between the parties in 1844. But in 1834 the revolutionary party were not only _in_ the church but (being the majority) they came forward _as_ the church. The new doctrines presented themselves at first not as those of a faction but of the Scottish kirk assembled in her highest court. The _prestige_ of that advantage has vanished since then; for this faction after first of all falling into a minority afterwards ceased to be any part or section of the church; but in that year 1834 such a _prestige_ did really operate; and this must be received as one of the reasons which partially explain the torpor of the landed body. No one liked to move _first_ even amongst those who meant to move. But another reason we find in the conscientious scruples of many landholders who hesitated to move at all upon a question then insufficiently discussed and in which their own interest was by so many degrees the largest. These reasons however though sufficient for suspense seem hardly sufficient for not having solemnly protested against the _Veto_ Act immediately upon its passing the Assembly. Whatever doubts a few persons might harbour upon the expediency of such an act evidently it was contrary to the law of the land. The General Assembly could have no power to abrogate a law passed by the three estates of the realm. But probably it was the deep sense of that truth which reined up the national resistance. Sure of a speedy collision between some patron and the infringers of his right other parties stood back for the present to watch the form which such a collision might assume. In that same year of 1834 not many months after the passing of the Assembly's Act came on the first case of collision; and some time subsequently a second. These two cases Auchterarder and Marnoch commenced in the very same steps but immediately afterwards diverged as widely as was possible. In both cases the rights of the patron and of the presentee were challenged peremptorily; that is to say in both cases parishioners objected to the presentee without reason shown. The conduct of the people was the same in one case as in the other; that of the two presbyteries travelled upon lines diametrically opposite. The first case was that of _Auchterarder_. The parish and the presbytery concerned both belonged to Auchterarder; and there the presbytery obeyed the new law of the Assembly: they rejected the presentee refusing to take him on trial of his qualifications; And why? we cannot too often repeat--simply because a majority of a rustic congregation had rejected him without attempting to show reason for his rejection. The Auchterarder presbytery for _their_ part in the affair were prosecuted in the Court of Session by the injured parties--Lord Kinnoul the patron and Mr Young the presentee. Twice upon a different form of action the Court of Session gave judgment against the presbytery; twice the case went up by appeal to the Lords; twice the Lords affirmed the judgment of the court below. In the other case of _Marnoch_ the presbytery of Strathbogie took precisely the opposite course. So far from abetting the unjust congregation of rustics they rebelled against the new law of the Assembly and declared by seven of their number against three that they were ready to proceed with the trial of the presentee and to induct him (if found qualified) into the benefice. Upon this the General Assembly suspended the seven members of presbytery. By that mode of proceeding the Assembly fancied that they should be able to elude the intentions of the presbytery: it being supposed that whilst suspended the presbytery had no power to ordain; and that without ordination there was no possibility of giving induction. But here the Assembly had miscalculated. Suspension would indeed have had the effects ascribed to it; but in the mean time the suspension as being originally illegal was found to be void: and the presentee on that ground obtained a decree from the Court of Session ordaining the presbytery of Strathbogie to proceed with the settlement. Three of the ten members composing this presbytery resisted; and they were found liable in expenses. The other seven completed the settlement in the usual form. Here was plain rebellion; and rebellion triumphant. If this were allowed all was gone. What should the Assembly do for the vindication of their authority? Upon deliberation they deposed the contumacious presbytery from their functions as clergymen and declared their churches vacant. But this sentence was found to be a _brutum fulmen_; the crime was no crime the punishment turned out no punishment: and a minority even in this very Assembly declared publicly that they would not consent to regard this sentence as any sentence at all but would act in all respects as if no such sentence had been carried by vote. _Within_ their own high Court of Assembly it is however difficult to see how this refusal to recognise a sentence voted by a majority could be valid. Outside the civil courts came into play; but within the Assembly surely its own laws and votes prevailed. However this distinction could bring little comfort to the Assembly at present; for the illegality of the deposal was now past all dispute; and the attempt to punish or even ruin a number of professional brethren for not enforcing a by-law when the by-law itself had been found irreconcilable to the law of the land greatly displease the public as vindictive oppressive and useless to the purposes of the Assembly. Nothing was gained except the putting on record an implacability that was _confessedly_ impotent. This was the very lunacy of malice. Mortifying it might certainly seem for the members of a supreme court like the General Assembly to be baffled by those of a subordinate court: but still since each party must be regarded as representing far larger interests than any personal to themselves trying on either side not the energies of their separate wits but the available resources of law in one of its obscurer chapters there really seemed no more room for humiliation to the one party or for triumph to the other than there is amongst reasonable men in the result from a game where the game is one exclusively of chance. From this period it is probably that the faction of Non-intrusionists resolved upon abandoning the church. It was the one sole resource left for sustaining their own importance to men who were now sinking fast in public estimation. At the latter end of 1842 they summoned a convocation in Edinburgh. The discussions were private; but it was generally understood that at this time they concerted a plan for going out from the church in the event of their failing to alarm the Government by the notification of this design. We do not pretend to any knowledge of secrets. What is known to every body is--that on the annual meeting of the General Assembly in May 1843 the great body of the Non-intrusionists moved out in procession. The sort of theatrical interest which gathered round the Seceders for a few hurried days in May was of a kind which should naturally have made wise men both ashamed and disgusted. It was the merest effervescence from that state of excitement which is nursed by novelty by expectation by the vague anticipation of a ""scene "" possibly of a quarrel together with the natural interest in _seeing_ men whose names had been long before the public in books and periodical journals. The first measure of the Seceders was to form themselves into a pseudo-General Assembly. When there are two suns visible or two moons the real one and its duplicate we call the mock sun a _parhelios_ and the mock moon a _paraselene_. On that principle we must call this mock Assembly a _para-synodos_. Rarely indeed can we applaud the Seceders in the fabrication of names. They distinguish as _quoad sacra_ parishes those which were peculiarly _quoad politica_ parishes; for in that view only they had been interesting to the Non-intrusionists. Again they style themselves _The Free Church_ by way of taunting the other side with being a servile church. But how are they any church at all? By the courtesies of Europe and according to usage a church means a religious incorporation protected and privileged by the State. Those who are not so privileged are usually content with the title of Separatists Dissenters or Nonconformists. No wise man will see either good sense or dignity in assuming titles not appropriate. The very position and aspect towards the church (legally so called) which has been assumed by the Non-intrusionists--viz. the position of protestors against that body not merely as bearing amongst other features a certain relation to the State but specifically _because_ they bear that relation makes it incongruous and even absurd for these Dissenters to denominate themselves a ""church."" But there is another objection to this denomination--the ""Free Church"" have no peculiar and separate Confession of Faith. Nobody knows what are their _credenda_--what they hold indispensable for fellow-membership either as to faith in mysteries or in moral doctrines. Now if they reply--""Oh! as to that we adopt for our faith all that ever we _did_ profess when members of the Scottish kirk""--then in effect they are hardly so much as a dissenting body except in some elliptic sense. There is a grievous _hiatus_ in their own title-deeds and archives; they supply it by referring people to the muniment chest of the kirk. Would it not be a scandal to a Protestant church if she should say to communicants--""We have no sacramental vessels or even ritual; but you may borrow both from Papal Rome."" Not only however is the Kirk to _lend_ her Confession &c.; but even then a plain rustic will not be able to guess how many parts in his Confession are or may be affected by the ""reformation"" of the Non-intrusionists. Surely he will think if this reformation were so vast that it drove them out of the national church absolutely exploded them then it follows that it must have interveined and _indirectly_ modified innumerable questions: a difference that was punctually limited to this one or these two clauses could not be such a difference as justified a rupture. Besides if they have altered this one or these two clauses or have altered their interpretation how is any man to know (except from a distinct Confession of Faith) that they have not even _directly_ altered much more? Notoriety through newspapers is surely no ground to stand upon in religion. And now it appears that the unlettered rustic needs two guides--one to show him exactly how much they have altered whether two points or two hundred as well as _which_ two or two hundred; another to teach him how far these original changes may have carried with them secondary changes as consequences into other parts of the Christian system. One of the known changes viz. the doctrine of popular election as the proper qualification for parish clergymen possibility is not fitted to expand itself or ramify except by analogy. But the other change the infinity which has been suddenly turned off like a jet of gas or like the rushing of wind through the tubes of an organ upon the doctrine and application of _spirituality_ seems fitted for derivative effects that are innumerable. Consequently we say of the Non-intrusionists--not only that they are no church; but that they are not even any separate body of Dissenters until they have published a ""Confession"" or a _revised_ edition of the Scottish Confession. IV. Lastly we have to sum and to appreciate the _ultimate_ consequences of these things. Let us pursue them to the end of the vista.--First in order stands the dreadful shock to the National Church Establishment; and that is twofold: it is a shock from without acting through opinion and a shock from within acting through the contagion of example. Each case is separately perfect. Through the opinion of men standing _outside_ of the church the church herself suffers wrong in her authority. Through the contagion of sympathy stealing over men _inside_ of the church peril arises of other shocks in a second series which would so exhaust the church by reiterated convulsions as to leave her virtually dismembered and shattered for all her great national functions. As to that evil which acts through opinion it works by a machinery viz. the press and social centralization in great cities which in these days is perfect. Right or wrong justified or _not_ justified by the acts of the majority it is certain that every public body--how much more then a body charged with the responsibility of upholding the truth in its standards!--suffers dreadfully in the world's opinion by any feud schism or shadow of change among its members. This is what the New Testament a code of philosophy fertile in new ideas first introduced under the name of _scandal_; that is any occasion of serious offence ministered to the weak or to the sceptical by differences irreconcilable in the acts or the opinions of those whom they are bound to regard as spiritual authorities. Now here in Scotland is a feud past all arbitration: here is a schism no longer theoretic neither beginning nor ending in mere speculation: here is a change of doctrine _on one side or the other_ which throws a sad umbrage of doubt and perplexity over the pastoral relation of the church to every parish in Scotland. Less confidence there must always be henceforward in great religious incorporations. Was there any such incorporation reputed to be more internally harmonious than the Scottish church? None has been so tempestuously agitated. Was any church more deeply pledged to the spirit of meekness? None has split asunder so irreconcilably. As to the grounds of quarrel could any questions or speculations be found so little fitted for a popular intemperance? Yet no breach of unity has ever propagated itself by steps so sudden and irrevocable. One short decennium has comprehended within its circuit the beginning and the end of this unparalleled hurricane. In 1834 the first light augury of mischief skirted the horizon--a cloud no bigger than a man's hand. In 1843 the evil had ""travelled on from birth to birth."" Already it had failed in what may be called one conspiracy; already it had entered upon a second viz. to rear up an _Anti-Kirk_ or spurious establishment which should twist itself with snake-like folds about the legal establishment; surmount it as a Roman _vinea_ surmounted the fortifications which it beleaguered; and which under whatsoever practical issue for the contest should at any rate overlook molest and insult the true church for ever. Even this brief period of development would have been briefer had not the law courts interposed many delays. Demurs of law process imposed checks upon the uncharitable haste of the _odium theologicum_. And though in a question of schism it would be a _petitio principii_ for a neutral censor to assume that either party had been originally in error yet it is within our competence to say that the Seceders it was whose bigotry carried the dispute to that sad issue of a final separation. The establishment would have been well content to stop short of that consummation: and temperaments might have been found compromises both safe and honourable had the minority built less of their reversionary hopes upon the policy of a fanciful martyrdom. Martyrs they insisted upon becoming: and that they _might_ be martyrs it was necessary for them to secede. That Europe thinks at present with less reverence of Protestant institutions than it did ten years ago is due to one of these institutions in particular; viz. to the Scottish kirk and specifically to the minority in that body. They it was who spurned all mutual toleration all brotherly indulgence from either side to what it regarded as error in the other. Consequently upon _their_ consciences lies the responsibility of having weakened the pillars of the Reformed churches throughout Christendom. Had those abuses been really such which the Seceders denounced were it possible that a primary law of pure Christianity had been set aside for generations how came it that evils so gross had stirred no whispers of reproach before 1834? How came it that no aurora of early light no prelusive murmurs of scrupulosity even from themselves had run before this wild levanter of change? Heretofore or now there must have been huge error on their own showing. Heretofore they must have been traitorously below their duty or now mutinously beyond it. Such conclusions are irresistible; and upon any path seceding or not seceding they menace the worldly credit of ecclesiastical bodies. That evil is now past remedy. As for the other evil that which acts upon church establishments not through simple failure in the guarantees of public opinion but through their own internal vices of composition; here undeniably we see a chasm traversing the Scottish church from the very gates to the centre. And unhappily the same chasm which marks a division of the church internally is a link connecting it externally with the Seceders. For how stands the case? Did the Scottish Kirk at the last crisis divide broadly into two mutually excluding sections? Was there one of these bisections which said _Yes_ whilst the other responded _No_? Was the affirmative and negative shared between them as between the black chessmen

and the white? Not so; and unhappily not so. The two extremes there were but these shaded off into each other. Many were the _nuances_; multiplied the combinations. Here stood a section that had voted for all the changes with two or three exceptions; there stood another that went the _whole_ length as to this change but no part of the way as to that; between these sections arose others that had voted arbitrarily or _eclectically_ that is by no law generally recognised. And behind this eclectic school were grouped others who had voted for all novelties up to a certain day but after _that_ had refused to go further with a movement party whose tendencies they had begun to distrust. In this last case therefore the divisional line fell upon no principle but upon the accident of having at that particular moment first seen grounds of conscientious alarm. The principles upon which men had divided were various and these various principles were variously combined. But on the other hand those who have gone out were the men who approved totally not partially--unconditionally not within limits--up to the end and not to a given day. Consequently those who stayed in comprehended all the shades and degrees which the men of violence excluded. The Seceders were unanimous to a man and of necessity; for he who approves the last act the extreme act which is naturally the most violent act _à fortiori_ approves all lesser acts. But the establishment by parity of reason retained upon its rolls all the degrees all the modifications all who had exercised a wise discretion who in so great a cause had thought it a point of religion to be cautious; whose casuistry had moved in the harness of peace and who had preferred an interest of conscience to a triumph of partisanship. We honour them for that policy; but we cannot hide from ourselves that the very principle which makes such a policy honourable at the moment makes it dangerous in reversion. For he who avows that upon public motives he once resisted a temptation to schism makes known by that avowal that he still harbours in his mind the germ of such a temptation; and to that scruple which once he resisted hereafter he may see reason for yielding. The principles of schism which for the moment were suppressed are still latent in the church. It is urged that in quest of unity many of these men _succeeded_ in resisting the instincts of dissension at the moment of crisis. True: But this might be because they presumed on winning from their own party equal concessions by means less violent than schism; or because they attached less weight to the principle concerned than they may see cause for attaching upon future considerations; or because they would not allow themselves to sanction the cause of the late Secession by going out in company with men whose principles they adopted only in part or whose manner of supporting those principles they abhorred. Universally it is evident that little stress is to be laid on a negative act; simply to have declined going out with the Seceders proves nothing for it is equivocal. It is an act which may cover indifferently a marked hostility to the Secession party or an absolute friendliness but a friendliness not quite equal to so extreme a test. And again this negative act may be equivocal in a different way; the friendliness may not only have existed but may have existed in strength sufficient for any test whatever; not the principles of the Seceders but their Jacobinical mode of asserting them may have proved the true nerve of the repulsion to many. What is it that we wish the English reader to collect from these distinctions? Simply that the danger is not yet gone past. The earthquake says a great poet when speaking of the general tendency in all dangers to come round by successive and reiterated shocks-- ""The earthquake is not satisfied at once."" All dangers which lie deeply seated are recurrent dangers; they intermit only as the revolving lamps of a lighthouse are periodically eclipsed. The General Assembly of 1843 when closing her gates upon the Seceders shut _in_ perhaps more of the infected than at that time she succeeded in shutting _out_. As respected the opinion of the world outside it seemed advisable to shut out the least number possible; for in proportion to the number of the Seceders was the danger that they should carry with them an authentic impression in their favour. On the other hand as respected a greater danger (the danger from internal contagion ) it seemed advisable that the church should have shut out (if she could) very many of those who for the present adhered to her. The broader the separation and the more absolute between the church and the secession so much the less anxiety there would have survived lest the rent should spread. That the anxiety in this respect is not visionary the reader may satisfy himself by looking over a remarkable pamphlet which professes by its title to separate the _wheat from the chaff_. By the ""wheat "" in the view of this writer is meant the aggregate of those who persevered in their recusant policy up to the practical result of secession. All who stopped short of that consummation (on whatever plea ) are the ""chaff."" The writer is something of an incendiary or something of a fanatic; but he is consistent with regard to his own principles and so elaborately careful in his details as to extort admiration of his energy and of his patience in research. But the reason for which we notice this pamphlet is with a view to the proof of that large intestine mischief which still lingers behind in the vitals of the Scottish establishment. No proof in a question of that nature _can_ be so showy and _ostensive_ to a stranger as that which is supplied by this vindictive pamphlet. For every past vote recording a scruple is the pledge of a scruple still existing though for the moment suppressed. Since the secession nearly 450 new men may have entered the church. This supplementary body has probably diluted the strength of the revolutionary principles. But they also may perhaps have partaken to some extent in the contagion of these principles. True there is this guarantee for caution on the part of these new men that as yet they are pledged to nothing; and that seeing experimentally how fearfully many of their older brethren are now likely to be fettered by the past they have every possible motive for reserve in committing themselves either by their votes or by their pens. In _their_ situation there is a special inducement to prudence because there is a prospect that for _them_ prudence is in time to be effectual. But for many of the older men prudence comes too late. They are already fettered. And what we are now pointing out to the attention of our readers is that by the past by the absolute votes of the past too sorrowfully it is made evident that the Scottish church is deeply tainted with the principles of the secession. These germs of evil and of revolution speaking of them in a _personal_ sense cannot be purged off entirely until one generation shall have passed away. But speaking of them as _principles_ capable of vegetation these germs may or may not expand into whole forests of evil according to the accidents of coming events whether fitted to tranquillize our billowy aspects of society; or on the other hand largely to fertilize the many occasions of agitation which political fermentations are too sure to throw off. Let this chance turn out as it may we repeat for the information of Southerns--that the church by shutting off the persons of particular agitators has not shut off the principles of agitation; and that the _cordon sanataire_ supposing the spontaneous exile of the Non-intrusionists to be regarded in that light was not drawn about the church until the disease had spread widely _within_ the lines. Past votes may not absolutely pledge a man to a future course of action; warned in time such a man may stand neutral in practice; but thus far they poison the fountains of wholesome unanimity--that if a man can evade the necessity of squaring particular _actions_ to his past opinions at least he must find himself tempted to square his opinions themselves or his counsels to such past opinions as he may too notoriously have placed on record by his votes. But if such are the continual dangers from reactions in the establishment so long as men survive in that establishment who feel upbraided by past votes and so long as enemies survive who will not suffer these upbraidings to slumber--dangers which much mutual forbearance and charity can alone disarm; on the other hand how much profounder is the inconsistency to which the Free church is doomed!--They have rent the unity of that church to which they had pledged their faith--but on what plea? On the plea that in cases purely spiritual they could not in conscience submit to the award of the secular magistrate. Yet how merely impracticable is this principle as an abiding principle of action! Churches that is the charge of particular congregations will be with _them_ (as with other religious communities) the means of livelihood. Grounds innumerable will arise for excluding or attempting to exclude each other from these official stations. No possible form regulating the business of ordination or of induction can anticipate the infinite objections which may arise. But no man interested in such a case will submit to a judge appointed by insufficient authority. Daily bread for his family is what few men will resign without a struggle. And that struggle will of necessity come for final adjudication to the law courts of the land whose interference in any question affecting a spiritual interest the Free church has for ever pledged herself to refuse. But in the case supposed she will not have the power to refuse it. She will be cited before the tribunals and can elude that citation in no way but by surrendering the point in litigation; and if she should adopt the notion that it is better for her to do _that_ than to acknowledge a sufficient authority in the court by pleading at its bar upon this principle once made public she will soon be stripped of every thing and will cease to be a church at all. She cannot continue to be a depository of any faith or a champion of any doctrines if she lose the means of defending her own incorporations. But how can she maintain the defenders of her rights or the dispensers of her truths if she refuses upon immutable principle to call in the aid of the magistrate on behalf of rights which under any aspect regard spiritual relations? Attempting to maintain these rights by private arbitration within a forum of her own she will soon find such arbitration not binding at all upon the party who conceives himself aggrieved. The issue will be as in Mr O'Connell's courts where the parties played at going to law; from the moment when they ceased to play and no longer ""made believe"" to be disputing the award of the judge became as entire a mockery as any stage mimicry of such a transaction. This should be the natural catastrophe of the case and the probable evasion of that destructive consummation to which she is carried by her principles will be--that as soon as her feelings of rancour shall have cooled down these principles will silently drop out of use; and the very reason will be suffered to perish for which she ever became a dissenting body. With this however we that stand outside are noways concerned. But an evil in which we _are_ concerned is the headlong tendency of the Free church and of all churches adulterating with her principle to an issue not merely dangerous in a political sense but ruinous n an anti-social sense. The artifice of the Free church lies in pleading a spiritual relation of any case whatever whether of doing or suffering whether positive or negative as a reason for taking it out of all civil control. Now we may illustrate the peril of this artifice by a reality at this time impending over society in Ireland. Dr Higgins titular bishop of Ardagh has undertaken upon this very plea of a spiritual power not amenable to civil control a sort of warfare with Government upon the question of their power to suspend or defeat the O'Connell agitation. For says he if Government should succeed in thus intercepting the direct power of haranguing mobs in open assemblies then will I harangue them and cause then to be harangued in the same spirit upon the same topics from the altar or the pulpit. An immediate extension of this principle would be--that every disaffected clergyman in the three kingdoms would lecture his congregation upon the duty of paying no taxes. This he would denominate passive resistance; and resistance to bad government would become in his language the most sacred of duties. In any argument with such a man he would be found immediately falling back upon the principle of the Free church: he would insist upon it as a spiritual right as a case entirely between his conscience and God whether he should press to an extremity any and every doctrine though tending to the instant disorganization of society. To lecture against war and against taxes as directly supporting war would wear a most colourable air of truth amongst all weak-minded persons. And these would soon appear to have been but the first elements of confusion under the improved views of spiritual rights. The doctrines of the _Levellers_ in Cromwell's time of the _Anabaptists_ in Luther's time would exalt themselves upon the ruins of society if governments were weak enough to recognise these spiritual claims in the feeblest of their initial advances. If it were possible to suppose such chimeras prevailing the natural redress would soon be seen to lie through secret tribunals like those of the dreadful _Fehmgericht_ in the middle ages. It would be absurd however seriously to pursue these anti-social chimeras through their consequences. Stern remedies would summarily crush so monstrous an evil. Our purpose is answered when the necessity of such insupportable consequences is shown to link itself with that distinction upon which the Free church has laid the foundations of its own establishment. Once for all there is no act or function belonging to an officer of a church which is faces. And every examination of the case convinces us more and more that the Seceders took up the old papal distinction as to acts spiritual or not spiritual not under any delusion less or more but under a simple necessity of finding some evasion or other which should meet and embody the whole rancour of the moment. But beyond any other evil consequence prepared by the Free Church is the appalling spirit of Jacobinism which accompanies their whole conduct and which latterly has avowed itself in their words. The case began Jacobinically for it began in attacks upon the rights of property. But since the defeat of this faction by the law courts language seems to fail them for the expression of their hatred and affected scorn towards the leading nobility of Scotland. Yet why? The case lies in the narrowest compass. The Duke of Sutherland and other great landholders had refused sites for their new churches. Upon this occurred a strong fact and strong in both directions; first for the Seceders; secondly upon better information _against_ them. The _Record_ newspaper a religious journal ably and conscientiously conducted took part with the Secession and very energetically; for they denounced the noble duke's refusal of land as an act of ""persecution;"" and upon this principle--that in a county where his grace was pretty nearly the sole landed proprietor to refuse land (assuming that a fair price had been tendered for it) was in effect to show such intolerance as might easily tend to the suppression of truth. Intolerance however is not persecution; and if it were the casuistry of the question is open still to much discussion. But this is not necessary; for the ground is altogether shifted when the duke's reason for refusing the land comes to be stated: he had refused it not unconditionally not in the spirit of Non-intrusion courts' ""_without reason shown_ "" but on this unanswerable argument--that the whole efforts of the new church were pointed (and professedly pointed) to the one object of destroying the establishment and ""sweeping it from the land."" Could any guardian of public interests under so wicked a threat hesitate as to the line of his duty? By granting the land to parties uttering such menaces the Duke of Sutherland would have made himself an accomplice in the unchristian conspiracy. Meantime next after this fact it is the strongest defence which we can offer for the duke--that in a day or two after this charge of ""persecution "" the _Record_ was forced to attack the Seceders in terms which indirectly defended the duke. And this not in any spirit of levity but under mere conscientious constraint. For no journal has entered so powerfully or so eloquently into the defence of the general principle involved in the Secession (although questioning its expediency ) as this particular _Record_. Consequently any word of condemnation from so earnest a friend comes against the Seceders with triple emphasis. And this is shown in the tone of the expostulations addressed to the _Record_ by some of the Secession leaders. It spares us indeed all necessity of quoting the vile language uttered by members of the Free Church Assembly if we say that the _neutral_ witnesses of such un-Christian outrages have murmured remonstrated protested in every direction; and that Dr Macfarlane who has since corresponded with the Duke of Sutherland upon the whole case--viz. upon the petition for land as affected by the shocking menaces of the Seceders--has in no other way been able to evade the double mischief of undertaking a defence for the indefensible and at the same time of losing the land irretrievably than by affecting an unconsciousness of language used by his party little suited to his own sacred calling or to the noble simplicities of Christianity. Certainly it is unhappy for the Seceders that the only disavowal of the most fiendish sentiments heard in our days has come from an individual not authorized or at all commissioned by his party--from an individual not showing any readiness to face the whole charges disingenuously dissembling the worst of them and finally offering his very feeble disclaimer which equivocates between a denial and a palliation--not until _after_ he found himself in the position of a petitioner for favours. Specifically the great evil of our days is the abiding temptation in every direction to popular discontent to agitation and to systematic sedition. Now we say it with sorrow that from no other incendiaries have we heard sentiments so wild fierce or maliciously democratic as from the leaders of the Secession. It was the Reform Bill of 1832 and the accompanying agitation which first suggested the _veto_ agitation of 1834 and prescribed its tone. From all classes of our population in turn there have come forward individuals to disgrace themselves by volunteering their aid to the chief conspirators of the age. We have earls we have marquesses coming forward as Corn-League agents; we have magistrates by scores angling for popularity as Repealers. But these have been private parties insulated disconnected disowned. When we hear of Christianity prostituted to the service of Jacobinism--of divinity becoming the handmaid to insurrection--and of clergymen in masses offering themselves as promoters of anarchy we go back in thought to that ominous organization of irreligion which gave its most fearful aspects to the French Revolution. Other evils are in the rear as likely to arise out of the _funds_ provided for the new Seceders were the distribution of those funds confessedly unobjectionable but more immediately under the present murmurs against that distribution. There are two funds: one subscribed expressly for the building of churches the other limited to the ""sustentation"" of incumbents. And the complaint is--that this latter fund has been invaded for purposes connected with the first. The reader can easily see the motive to this injustice: it is a motive of ambition. Far more display of power is made by the annunciation to the world of six hundred churches built than of any difference this way or that in the comfort and decorous condition of the clergy. This last is a domestic feature of the case not fitted for public effect. But the number of the churches will resound through Europe. Meantime _at present_ the allowance to the great body of Seceding clergy averages but £80 a-year; and the allegation is--that but for the improper interference with the fund on the motive stated it would have averaged £150 a-year. If any where a town parish has raised a much larger provision for its pastor even _that_ has now become a part of the general grievance. For it is said that all such special contributions ought to have been thrown into one general fund--liable to one general principle of distribution. Yet again will even this fund partially as it seems to have been divided continue to be available? Much of it lies in annual subscriptions: now in the next generation of subscribers a son will possibly not adopt the views of his father; but assuredly he will not adopt his father's zeal. Here however (though this is not probable ) there may arise some compensatory cases of subscribers altogether new. But another question is pressing for decision which menaces a frightful shock to the schismatical church: female agency has been hitherto all potent in promoting the subscriptions; and a demand has been made in consequence--that women shall be allowed to vote in the church courts. Grant this demand--for it cannot be evaded--and what becomes of the model for church government as handed down from John Knox and Calvin? Refuse it and what becomes of the future subscriptions? But these are evils it may be said only for the Seceders. Not so: we are all interested in the respectability of the national teachers whatever be their denomination: we are all interested in the maintenance of a high standard for theological education. These objects are likely to suffer at any rate. But it is even a worse result which we may count on from the changes that a practical approximation is thus already made to what is technically known as Voluntaryism. The ""_United Secession_ "" that is the old collective body of Scottish Dissenters who having no regular provision are carried into this voluntary system already exult that this consummation of the case cannot be far off. Indeed so far as the Seceders are dependent upon _annual_ subscriptions and coupling that relation to the public with the great doctrine of these Seceders that congregations are universally to appoint their own pastors we do not see how such an issue is open to evasion. The leaders of the new Secession all protest against Voluntaryism: but to that complexion of things they travel rapidly by the mere mechanic action of their dependent (or semi-dependent) situation combined with one of their two characteristic principles. The same United Secession journal openly anticipates another and more diffusive result from this great movement; viz. the general disruption of church establishments. We trust that this anticipation will be signally defeated. And yet there is one view of the case which saddens us when we turn our eyes in that direction. Among the reasonings and expostulations of the Schismatic church one that struck us as the most eminently hypocritical and ludicrously so was this: ""You ought "" said they when addressing the Government and exposing the error of the law proceedings ""to have stripped us of the temporalities arising from the church stipend glebe parsonage but not of the spiritual functions. We had no right to the emoluments of our stations when the law courts had decided against us but we _had_ a right to the laborious duties of the stations."" No gravity could refuse to smile at this complaint--verbally so much in the spirit of primitive Christianity yet in its tendency so insidious. For could it be possible that a competitor introduced by the law and leaving the duties of the pastoral office to the old incumbent but pocketing the salary should not be hooted on the public roads by many who might otherwise have taken no part in the feud? This specious claim was a sure and brief way to secure the hatefulness of their successors. Now we cannot conceal from ourselves that something like this invidious condition of things might be realized under two further revolutions. We have said that a second schism in the Scottish church is not impossible. It is also but too possible that Puseyism nay yet rend the English establishment by a similar convulsion. But in such contingencies we should see a very large proportion of the spiritual teachers in both nations actually parading to the public eye and rehearsing something very like the treacherous proposal of the late Seceders viz. the spectacle of one party performing much of the difficult duties and another party enjoying the main emoluments. This would be a most unfair mode of recommending Voluntaryism. Falling in with the infirmities of many in these days such a spectacle would give probably a fatal bias to that system in our popular and Parliamentary counsels. This would move the sorrow of the Seceders themselves: for they have protested against the theory of all Voluntaries with a vehemence which that party even complain of as excessive. Their leaders have many times avowed that any system which should leave to men in general the estimate of their own religious wants as a pecuniary interest would be fatal to the Christian tone of our national morals. Checked and overawed by the example of an establishment the Voluntaries themselves are far more fervent in their Christian exertions than they could be when liberated from that contrast. The religious spirit of both England and Scotland under such a change would droop for generations. And in that one evil let us hope the remotest and least probable of the many evils threatened by the late schism these nations would have reason by comparison almost to forget the rest. * * * * * SITTING FOR A PORTRAIT What could induce you my dear Eusebius to commit yourself into the hands of a portrait-painter? And so you ask me to go with you. Are you afraid that you want me to keep you in countenance where I shall be sure to put you out? You ask too petitioningly as if you suspected I should refuse to attend your _execution_; for you are going to be _be-headed_ and soon will it be circulated through your village that you have had your _head taken off_: I will not go with you--it would spoil all. You are afraid to trust the painter. You think he may be a physiognomist and will hit some characteristic which you would quietly let slip his notice; and you flatter yourself that I might help to mislead him. Are you afraid of being made too amiable or too plain? No no! You are not vain. Whence comes this vagary?--well we shall all know in good time. Were I to be with you I should talk--perhaps maliciously--on purpose to see how your features would unsettle and shift themselves to the vagrant humour that though one would know another from habit and their old acquaintanceship the painter would never be able to keep them steadily together. I should laugh to see every lineament ""going ahead "" and art ""non compos."" I will however venture to put down some plain directions how you are to sit. First let me tell you how you are not to sit. Don't in your horror of a sentimental amiable look put on yourself the air of a Diogenes or you will be like nothing human--and if you shun Diogenes you may put on the likeness of a still greater fool. No man living can look more wise than you; but if you fall out with wisdom or would in your whim throw contempt on it no one can better play the fool. You are the laughing or crying Philosopher at pleasure--but sit as neither for in either character you will set the painter's house in a roar. I fear the very plaster figures in it will set you off--to see yourself in such motley company with Bacchus and Hercules and Jupiter and Saturn with his marble children to devour. You will look Homer and Socrates in the face; and I know will make antics throw out and show fight to the Gladiator. This may be if your painter as many of them do affect the antique; but if he be another sort of guess person it may be worse still with you. You may not have to make your bow to a Venus Anadyomene--but how will you be able to face the whole Muggletonian synod? Imagine the ""Complete Body "" from the Evangelical Magazine framed and glazed round the walls and all looking at you in the condemned cell. Against this you must prepare; for many country artists prefer this line to the antique. It is their connexion--and should you make a mistake and go to the wrong man you will most assuredly be added to the Convocation if not put to head a controversy as frontispiece. It will be in vain for you to say ""Fronti nulla fides;"" ""[Greek: gnothi seauton]"" before you get there or nobody will know you. Take care lest your physiognomy be canvassed by many more besides the painter. Are you prepared to have your every lineament scrutinized by every body? to hear behind a screen the disparagement of your lips your eyes thought deceitful and in addition a sentence of general ugliness passed upon you? So you must stoop to paint-pots have daubs of reds and yellows and greys perked up against your nose for comparison. Your man may be a fancy mesmerizer or mesmerize you now that it is flying about like an epidemic without knowing it. If he can he will surely do it to keep you still: that is the way to get a good sitter. Eusebius in a _coma_! answering all comers like one of the heads in the play of Macbeth! But I was to tell you how to sit--that is the way get into a _coma_--that will be the painter's best chance of having you; or when he has been working for hours he may find you a Proteus and that you have slipped through his fingers after all his toil to catch you. I will tell you what happened to a painter of my acquaintance. A dentist sat to him two days--the third the painter worked away very hard--looked at the picture then at his sitter. ""Why sir "" said he; ""I find I have been all wrong--what can it be? Why sir your mouth is not at all like what it was yesterday."" ""Ah! ah! I will tell you vat it ees "" replied the French dentist; ""ah! good--my mouse is not de same--no indeed--yesterday I did have my jaw in but I did lend it out to a lady this day."" Don't you think of this now while you are sitting. You know the trick Garrick played the painter who foiled in his attempt started up and said--""You must be Garrick or the d----!"" Then as to attitude 'tis ten to one but you will be put into one which will be quite uncomfortable to you. One perhaps after a pattern. I should advise you to resist this--and sit easy--if you can. Don't put your hand in your waistcoat and one arm akimbo like a Captain Macheath however he may entreat you; and don't be made looking up like a martyr which some wonderfully affect; and don't be made turn your head round as if it was in disgust with the body; and don't let your stomach be more conspicuous than the head like a cucumber running to seed. Don't let him put your arm up as in command or accompanied with a rapt look as if you were listening to the music of the spheres; don't thrust out your foot conspicuously as if you meant to advertise the blacking. Some artists are given to fancy attitudes such as best set off the coats they are but nature's journeymen at the faces; don't fancy that the cut colour or cloth of your coat will exempt you from the penalty of their practice. Why Eusebius they have lay-figures and dress them just as you see them at the tailor's or perfumer's; and one of these things will be put up for you--a mannikin for Eusebius! In such hands the coat is by far the best piece of work you may be sure your _own_ won't be taken for a pattern. You will despise it when you see it and it will be one you can never change--it will defy vamping. You may be at any time new varnished whenever after generations shall wish to see how like a dancing-master the old gentleman must have looked. It is enough to make you a dancing bear now to think of it. Others again equip you with fur and make you look as if you were in the Hudson's Bay Company. Luckily for you flowered dressing-gowns are out or you might have been represented a Mantelini. What can you be doin

! It is difficult to put you in your positions. There are some that will turn you about and about a half an hour or more before they begin as they would a horse at the fair--ay and look in your mouth too. If they cannot get you otherwise into an attitude they will shampoo you into one. And remember all this they will do because they have not the skill to paint any one sitting quite easy. Don't have a roll in your hand--that always signifies a member of Parliament. Don't have your finger on a book--that would be a pedantry you could not endure. I cannot imagine what you will do with your hands. Ten to one however but the painter leaves then out or copies them out of some print when you are gone. This will be picking and stealing that you will have no hand in. What to do with any one's hands is a most difficult thing to say--too many do not know what to do with them themselves; and under the suffering of sitting I think you will be one of them. If there is a child in the room you will be making rabbits with your fingers. Then you are at the mercy of the painter's privilege--the foreground and background. If you have the common fate your head will be stuck upon a red curtain a watered pattern. If your man has used up his carmine you will be standing in a fine colonnade waiting with the utmost patience for the burst of a thunder cloud that makes the marble column stand out conspicuously and there will be a distant park scene; and thus you will represent the landed interest: or you will perhaps have your glove in your hand--a device adopted by some to intimate that they are hand and glove with all the neighbouring gentry. And it is a common thing to have a new hat and a walking-cane upon a marble table. This shows the sitter has the use of his legs which otherwise might be doubted and is therefore judicious. If you are supposed to be in the open air you will not know at first sight that you are so represented until you have learned the painter's hieroglyphic for trees. You will find them to be angular sorts of sticks with red and yellow flag-rags flapping about; and ten to one but you have a murky sky and no hat on your head; but as to such a country as you ever walked in or ever saw don't expect to see such a one as a background to your picture and you will readily console yourself that you are turning your back upon it. If you are painted in a library books are cheap--so that the artist can afford to throw you in a silver inkstand into the bargain and a pen--such a pen! the goose wouldn't know it that bred it--and perhaps an open letter to answer with your name on the cover. If you are made answering the letter that will never be like you--perhaps it would be more like if the letter should be unopened. Now do not flatter yourself; Eusebius that all these things are matters of choice with you. ""_Non omnia possumus omnes_ "" is the regular rule of the profession; some stick to the curtain all their lives from sheer inability to set it--to draw it aside. You remember the sign-painter that went about painting red lions and his reply to a refractory landlord who insisted upon a white lamb. ""You may have a white lamb if you please but when all is said and done it will be a great deal more like a red lion."" And I am sorry to say the faces too are not unfrequently in this predicament for they have a wonderful family likeness and these run much by counties. A painter has often been known totally to fail by quitting his beat. There is certainly an advantage in this; for if any gentleman should be so unfortunate as to have no ancestors he may pick up at random in any given county in England a number that will very well match and all look like blood-relations. There is an instance where this resemblance was greatly improved by the advice of an itinerant of the profession who at a very moderate price put wigs on all the Vandyks. And there you see some danger Eusebius that--be represented how you may--you are not sure of keeping your condition ten years; you may have by that time a hussar cap put upon your unconscious head. But portraits fare far worse than that. I remember when a boy walking with an elderly gentleman and passing a broker's stall there was the portrait of a fine florid gentleman in regimentals; he stopped to look at it--he might have bought it for a few shillings. After we had gone away --""that "" said he ""is the portrait of my wife's great uncle--member for the county and colonel of militia: you see how he is degraded to these steps."" ""Why do you not rescue him?"" said I. ""Because he left me nothing "" was the reply. A relative of mine an old lady hit upon a happy device; the example is worth following. Her husband was the last of his race for she had no children. She took all the family portraits out of their frames rolled up all the pictures and put them in the coffin with the deceased. No one was more honourably accompanied to the grave--and so he slept with his fathers. It has not to be sure Eusebius much to do with your portrait but thinking of these family portraits one is led on to think of their persons &c.; so I must tell you what struck me as a singular instance of the _'sic nos non nobis.'_ I went with a cousin upon a sort of pilgrimage at some distance to visit some family monuments. There was one large handsome marble one in the chancel. You will never guess how it had been treated. A vicar's wife had died and the disconsolate widower had caused a square marble tablet with the inscription of his wife's virtues to be actually inserted in the Very centre of our family monument: and yet you by sitting for your portrait hope to be handed down unmutilated to generations to come --yes they will come and you will be a mark for the boys to shoot peas at--that is if you remain at all in the family--you may be transferred to the wench's garret or the public-house and have a pipe popped through the canvass into your mouth to make you look ridiculous. I really think you have a chance of being purchased to be hung up in the club parlour as pictorial president of the Odd-Fellows. Why should you be exempt from what kings are subject to? The ""king's head"" is a sign in many a highway to countenance ill-living. You too will be bought at a broker's--have your name changed without your consent--and be adopted into a family whereof you would heartily despise the whole kith and kin. If pride has not a fall in the portraits of the great and noble where shall we find it?"" A painter once told me that he assisted one of the meanest of low rich men to collect some family portraits; he recommended to him a fine Velasquez. ""Velasquez!--who's he?"" said the head of his family. ""It is a superb picture sir--a genuine portrait by the Spaniard and doubtless of some Spanish nobleman. ""Then "" said he ""I won't have it; I'll have no Spanish blood contaminate my family sir."" ""Spanish blood "" rejected by the plebeian! I have known better men than you Eusebius--excuse the comparison--vamped up and engraved upon the spur of the moment for celebrated highwaymen or bloody murderers. But this digression won't help you out in your sitting. Let me see what the learned say upon the subject--what advice shall we get from the man of academies. Here we have him Gerrard Larresse; you may be sure that he treats of portrait-painting and with importance enough too. Here it is--""Of Portraiture."" But that is far too plan. We must have an emblem:-- ""Emblem touching the handling of portraits."" ""Nature with her many breasts is in a sitting posture. Near her stands a little child lifting her garment off her shoulders. On the other side stands Truth holding a mirror before her wherein she views herself down to the middle and is seemingly surprised at it. On the frame of this glass are seen a _gilt pallet and pencils. Truth has a book and palm branch_ in her hand."" What do you think of that Eusebius for a position? But why Nature or Truth should be surprised at viewing herself down to the middle I cannot imagine. It evidently won't do to surprise you in that manner. Poor Gerrard I see thinks it a great condescension in him to speak of portrait-painting at all; he calls it ""departing from the essence of art and subjecting (the painter) to all the defects of nature."" Hear that Eusebius! you are to sit to be a specimen of the _defects_ of nature. He is indignant that ""such great masters as Vandyke Lely Van Loo the old and young Bakker and others "" possessed of great talents postponed what is noble and beautiful to what is more ordinary. There you are again Eusebius with your ordinary visage unworthy such men as the old and young Bakker whoever they were. But since there must be portraits he could endure the method of the ancients who ""used to cause those from whom the commonwealth had received extraordinary benefits either in war or civil affairs or for eminence in religion to be represented in marble or metal or in a picture that the sight of them by those honours might be a spur to posterity to emulate the same virtues. This honour was first begun with their deities; afterwards it was paid to heroes and of consequence to philosophers orators religious men and others not only to perpetuate their virtues but also to embalm their names and memories. But now it goes further; a person of any condition whatsoever have he but as much money as the painter asks must sit for his picture. This is a great abuse and sprung from as laudable a cause."" Are you not ashamed to sit after that? He is not however without his indulgences. He will allow something to a lover and a husband. ""Has a citizen's wife but an only babe? he is drawn at half a year old; at ten years old he sits again; and for the last time in his twenty-fifth year in order to show her tender folly: and then she stands wondering how a man can so alter in that time. Is not this a weighty reason? a reprovable custom if painters did not gain by it. But again portraits are allowable when a lover is absent from his mistress that they may send each other their pictures to cherish and increase their loves; a man and wife parted so may do the same."" You undertake you perceive a matter of some responsibility--you must account to your conscience for the act of sitting for your picture. Then there is a chapter upon defects which as I suppose he presumes people don't know themselves he catalogues pretty fully till you are quite out of humour with poor human nature. The defects are ""natural ones--accidental ones--usual ones."" Natural--""a wry face squint eyes wry mouth nose "" &c. Accidental. ""Loss of an eye a cut on the cheek or other part of the face pits of the small-pox and the like."" Usual. ""Contraction of the eyes and mouth or closing or gaping of the latter or drawing it in somewhat to this or that side upwards or downwards "" &c. As for other bodily infirmities how many have wry necks hunchbacks bandy legs--withered or short arms or one shorter than another; dead or lame hands or fingers."" Now are you so sure of the absence of all these defects that you venture? You must think yourself an Adonis and not think that you are to be flattered by having any very considerable number of your defects hid. ""The necessary ones ought to be seen because they _help the likeness_; such as a wry face squint eyes low forehead thinness and fatness; a wry neck too short or too long a nose; wrinkles between the eyes; ruddiness or paleness of the cheeks or lips; pimples or warts about the mouth; and such like."" After this it is right you should know that ""Nature abhors deformity."" Nay that we always endeavour to hide our own--and which do you mean to hide or do you intend to come out perfect? I daresay you can discover some little habits of your own Eusebius free from vanity as you are that tend to these little concealments! Do you remember how a foolish man lost a considerable sum of money once by forgetting this human propensity? He had lost some money to little K---- of Bath the deformed gambler--and being netted at his loss thought to pique the winner. ""I'll wager "" said he ""£50 I'll point out the worst leg in company.""--""Done "" said K---- to his astonishment. ""The man does not know himself "" thought he for there sat K---- crouched up all shapes by the fireside. The wagerer to win his bet at once cried ""Why that "" pointing to K----'s leg which was extended towards the grate. ""No "" said K---- quietly unfolding the other from beneath the chair and showing it ""that's worse."" By which you may learn the fact--that every man puts his best leg foremost. But we must not quit our friend Gerard yet. I like his grave conceit. I rejoice to find him giving the painters a rap over their knuckles. He says Eusebius that they are fond of having ""smutty pictures"" in their rooms; and roundly tells them that though fine pictures are necessary there is no need of their having such subjects as ""Mars and Venus and Joseph and Potiphar's Wife."" Now though I do not think our moderns offend much in this respect--the hint is good--and some exhibit studies from models about their rooms that evidently sat without their stays. Gerard was the man for contrivances--here is a capital one. He does not quite approve of painting a wooden leg; but if it be to be done see with what skill even that in the hands of a Gerard may be dignified--and the painter absolved ""lege solutus."" ""But if the hero insist upon the introducing of such a leg on a supposition that 'tis an honour to have lost a limb in his country's service the painter must then comply with his desires; or _else contrive it lying on a table covered with red velvet_."" But capital as this is it is not all. He quite revels in contrivances; ""if he desire it after the antique manner it must be contrived in a bas-relief wherein the occasion of it may be represented; or it may hang near him on a wall with its buckles and straps as is done in hunting equipages; or else it may be placed among the ornaments of architecture to be more in view."" You see he scorns to hide it--has worked up his imagination to conceive all possible ways of showing it; depend upon it he longed to paint a wooden leg to which the face should be the appendage the leg the portrait. ""Hoc ligno "" not ""hoc signo vinces."" But here Gerard bounces--giving an instance of a gentleman ""who being drawn in little and comparing the smallness of the eyes with his own asked the painter whether he had such? However in complaisance and for his pleasure he desired that one eye at least might be as big as his own the other to remain as it was."" Fie Gerard! you have spoiled your emblem by taking the mirror out of truth's hand. He is particular about postures and backgrounds. ""It will not be improper to treat also about easiness and sedateness in posture opposed to stir and bustle and the contrary--namely that the picture of a gentlewoman of repute who in a grave and sedate manner turns towards that of her husband hanging near it gets a great decorum by _moving and stirring hind-works_ whether by means of waving trees or crossing architecture of stone and wood or any thing else that the master thinks will best _contrast_ or oppose the _sedate posture of his principal figure_."" Here you see Eusebius how hind-works tend to keep up a _bustle_! ""And because these are things of consequence and may not be plainly apprehended by every one "" he explains himself by ten figures in one plate--and such figures! As a sitter he would place you very much above the eye--that is technically speaking adopt a low horizon; ""because--the because is a because--because it's certain that when we see any painted figure or object in a place where the life can be expected as standing on the ground leaning over a balcony or balustrade or out at a window &c. it deceives the eye and by being seen unawares (though expected ) causes sometimes a pleasing mistake; or it frightens and surprises others when they meet with it unexpectedly at such places as aforesaid and where there is _any likelihood_ for it."" Your artist will probably put you on an inverted box and sitting in a great chair probably covered with red morocco leather in which you will not be at home and in any manner comfortable. We see this deal box sometimes converted into a marble step as a step to a throne and such it is in one of the pictures of the Queen; but it is so ill coloured that it looks for all the world like a great cheese; it should be sent to the farmers who made the Queen the cheese present to show the pride of England walking upon the ""fat of the land."" He presents us with many methods of showing the different characters of persons to be painted some of which will be novel to you. For instance you would not expect directions to represent a secretary of state with the accompaniments of a goose. ""With a secretary the statue of Harpocrates and in tapestry or bas-relief the story of Alexander shutting Hephæstion's mouth with a seal-ring; also the emblem of fidelity or a goose with a stone in its bill."" Methinks the director or governor of the East India Company must look very small beside his bedizened accessory meant to represent Company. ""She is to be an heroine with a scollop of mother-of-pearl on her head in the nature of an helmet and thereon a coral branch; a breast ornament of scales; pearls and corals about her neck; buskins on her legs with two dolphins conjoined head to head adorned with sea-shells; two large shells on her shoulders a trident in her hand and her clothing a long mantle; a landskip behind her of an Indian prospect with palm and cocoa trees some figures of _blacks_ and elephant's teeth. This figure also suits an admiral or commander at sea when a sea-fight is introduced instead of a landskip."" Such a figure may indeed be more at home at sea and such a one may have been that famous lady whose captain so ""very much applauded her "" and ""Made her the first lieutenant Of the gallant Thunder Bomb."" Not a painter of the present day it seems knows how to paint the clergy. Mr Pickersgill has done quite common things and simply shown the cloth and the band--that is poor device. See how Gerard would have it done. Every clergyman should be a Dr Beattie. ""With a divine agrees the statue of truth represented in a Christian-like manner or else this same emblem in one of his hands and his other on his breast besides tapestries bas-reliefs or paintings and some Christian emblems of the true faith; and representation of the Old and New Testament--in the offskip a temple."" All the portraits of the great duke are defective inasmuch as none of them have ""Mars in a niche "" or Victory sitting on a trophy or a statue of Hercules. You probably have no idea what a great personage is a ""sea-insurer."" He is accompanied by Arion on a dolphin; and in a picture a sea-haven with a ship under sail making towards it; on the shore the figure of Fortune and (who are think you the ""supercargoes?"") over the cargo ""Castor and Pollux."" In this mode of portrait-painting it would be absolutely necessary to go back to the old plan of putting the names underneath the personages; and even then though you write under such this is Castor this Pollux and this the sea-insurer it will ever puzzle the whole ship's crew to conjecture how they came there together. Gerard admits we cannot paint what we have not seen and by example rather condemns his own recommendations. Fewer have seen Castor and Pollux than have seen a lion and he says men cannot paint what they have not seen. ""As was the case of a certain Westphalian who representing Daniel in the lions' den and having never seen a lion he painted hogs instead of lions and wrote underneath 'These should be lions.'"" By this time Eusebius you ought to know how to sit if you have not made up your mind not to sit at all. You need not however be much alarmed about the emblems--modern masters cut all that matter short. They won't throw in any superfluous work you may be sure of that unless you should sit to Landseer and he will paint your dog and throw in your superfluous self for nothing. You would be like Mercury with the statuary mortified to find his own image thrown into the bargain. Besides your own defects you have to encounter the painter's. His unsteady uncertain hand may add an inch to your nose before you are aware of it. It is quite notorious that few painters paint both eyes of the same size; and after your utmost efforts to look straight in his face he may make you squint for ever and not see that he has done so. Unless he be himself a sensible man he will be sure to make you look like a fool. Then what is like to-day will be unlike to-morrow. His megillups will change so that in six months you may look like a copper Indian; or the colours may fade and leave you the ghost of what you were. Again he may paint you lamentably like odiously like yet give you a sinister expression or at least an unpleasant one. Then if you remonstrate he is offended; if you refuse to take it he writes you word that if not paid for and removed by next Tuesday he will add a tail to it and dispose of it to Mr Polito. Did not Hogarth do something of this kind? If he please himself he may not satisfy you and if you are satisfied none of your friends are who take an opportunity of the portrait to say sarcastic things of you. For in that respect you may be most like your picture or it most like you for every body will have some fault to find with it. Why don't you remember but last year some _friends_ poked out the eye from a portrait even after it had been on the exhibition walls. Then what with the cleaning and varnishing you have to go through as many disorders as when you were a child. You will have the picture-cleaner's measles. It was not long ago I saw a picture in a most extraordinary state; and on enquiry I found that the cook of the house had rubbed it over with fat of bacon to make it bear out and that she had learned it at a great house where there is a fine collection which are thus bacon'd twice every year. You are sure not to keep even your present good looks but will become smoked and dirty. Then must you be cleaned and there is an even chance that in doing it they put out at least one of your eyes (I saw both eyes taken out of a Correggio ) and the new one to be put in will never match the other. The ills that flesh is heir to are nothing to the ills its representative is heir to. At best the very change of fashion in dress will make you look quizzical in a few years. For you are going to sit when dress is most unbecoming and it is only by custom that the eye is reconciled to it so that all the painted present generation must look ridiculous in the eyes of posterity. Don't have your name put on the canvass; then you may console yourself that in all these mortal chances and changes whatever happens to it you will not be known. I have one before me now with the name and all particulars in large gilt letters. Happily this ostentation is out; you may therefore hope when the evil day comes _fallere_ to escape notice. I hope the painter will give you that bold audacious look which may stare the beholder in the face and deny your own identity; no small advantage for doubtless the ""[Greek: sêmata lugra]"" of Bellerophon was but his portrait which by a hang-look expression intimatd death. Your painter may be ignorant of phrenology and without knowing it may give you some detestable bumps; and your picture may be borrowed to lecture upon at inns and institutions and anecdotes rummaged up or forged to match the painter's doing--the bumps he has given you. You must not however on this account think too ill of the poor painter. He is subject to human infirmities--so are you--and his hand and eye are not always in tune. He has too to deal with all sorts of people--many difficult enough to please. You know the fable of the painter who would please everybody and pleased nobody. You sitters are a whimsical set and most provokingly shift your features and position and always expect miracles at a moment too; you are here to-day and must be off to-morrow. It is nothing to you that paint won't dry for you so even that must be forced and you are rather varnished in than painted and no wonder if your faces go to pieces and you become mealy almost as soon as you have had the life's blood in you and that with the best carmine. And often you take upon yourselves to tell the painter what to do as if you knew yourselves better than he though he has been staring at nothing but you for an hour or two at a time perhaps. You ask him too perpetually what feature he is now doing that you may call up a look. You screw up your mouths and try to put all the shine you can into your eyes till from continual effort they look like those of a shotten herring; and yet you expect all to be like what you are in your ordinary way. After he has begun to paint your hair you throw it about with your hands in all directions but the right and all his work is to begin over again. You have no notion how ignorant of yourselves you are. I happened to call some time since upon a painter with whom I am on intimate terms. I found him in a roar of laughter and quite alone. ""What is the matter?"" said I. ""Matter!"" replied he; ""why here has Mr B. been sitting to me these four days following and at last about half an hour ago he sitting in that chair puts up his hand to me thus with 'Stop a moment Mr Painter; I don't know whether you have noticed it or not but it is right that I should tell you that _I have a slight_ cast in my eye.' You know Mr B. a worthy good man but he has the very worst gimlet eye I ever beheld."" Yes and only _slightly_ knew it Eusebius. And I have to say he thought his defect wondrously exaggerated when for the first time he saw it on canvas; and perhaps all his family noticed it there whom custom had reconciled into but little observation of it and the painter was considered no friend of the family. For the poor artist is expected to please all down to the youngest child and perhaps that one most for she often rules the rest. And people do not too much consider the _feelings_ of painters. I knew an artist a great humorist who spent much time at the court at Lisbon. He had to paint a child I believe the Prince of the Brazils. I remember as if I saw him act the scene but yesterday and it is many years ago. Well the maid of honour or whatever was her title brought the child into the room and remained some time but at length left him alone with the painter. When he found himself only in this company his pride took the alarm. He put on great airs frowned pouted looked disdainful superbly swelling and got off the chair retreating slowly scornfully. The artist who was a great mimic imitated his every gesture and with some extravagance frowned as he frowned swelled as he swelled blew out his breath as the child did advanced as he retreated till the child at length found himself pinned in the corner at which the artist put on such a ridiculous expression that risible nature could stand it no longer; pride was conquered by humour and from that hour they were on the most familiar terms. It was not an ill-done thing of our Henry VIII. when he made one of his noble courtiers apologize to Holbein for some slight bidding him at the same time to know that he could make a hundred such as he but it was past his power to make a Holbein. And you know how a great monarch picked up Titian's pencil which had fallen. How greatly did Alexander honour Apelles in that he would suffer none else to paint his portrait. And when the painter by drawing his Campaspe fell in love with her he presented her to him. It is a bad policy Eusebius to put slights upon these men--and it is more it is ungenerous; they may revenge themselves upon you whenever they please and give you a black eye too that will never get right again. They can in effigy put every limb out of joint; and you being no anatomist may only see that you look ill and know not where you went wrong. All you sitters expect to be flattered and very little flattery do you bestow. Perversely you won't even see your own likenesses. Take for instance the following scene which I had from a miniature painter:--A man upwards of forty years of age had been sitting to him--one of as little pretensions as you can well imagine; you would have thought it impossible that he could have had an homoeopathic proportion of vanity--of personal vanity at least; but it turned out otherwise. He was described as a greasy bilious man with a peculiarly conventicle aspect--that is one that affects a union of gravity and love. ""Well sir "" said the painter ""that will do--I think I have been very fortunate in your likeness."" The man looks at it and says nothing puts on an expression of disappointment. ""What! don't you think it like sir?"" says the artist. ""Why--ye-ee-s it is li-i-ke--but----"" ""But what sir?--I think it exactly like. I wish you would tell me where it is not like?"" ""Why I'd rather you should find it out yourself. Have the goodness to look at me.""--And here my friend the painter declared that he put on a most detestably affected grin of amiability.--""Well sir upon my word I don't see any fault at all; it seems to me as like as it can be; I wish you'd be so good as to tell me what you mean."" ""Oh sir I'd rather not--I'd rather you should find it out yourself--look again."" ""I can't see any difference sir; so if you don't tell me it can't be altered."" ""Well then with reluctance if I must tell you I don't think you have given my _sweet expression about the eyes_."" Oh Eusebius Eusebius what a mock you would have made of that man; you would have flouted his vanity about his ears for him gloriously; I would have given a crown to have had him sit to you and you should have let me be by to attend your colours. How we would have bedaubed the fellow before he had left the room with his sweet eyes! But there your patient painter must endure all that and not give a hint that he disagrees in the opinion: or if he speak his mind on the occasion he may as well quit the town for under the influence of those sweet eyes nor man woman nor child will come to sit to him. And consider Eusebius their misery in having such sitters at all. They are not Apollos and Venuses nor Adonises that knock at painters' doors. Not one in a hundred has even a tolerably pleasant face. I certainly once knew a rough-dealing artist who told a gentleman very plainly--""Sir I do not paint remarkably ugly people."" But he came to no good. Not but that a clever fellow might do something of this kind with management with good effect; get the reputation of being a painter of ""beauties "" with a little skill make beauties of every body and stoutly maintain that he never will have any others sit to him. I am not quite certain that something of this kind has been practised or I do not think I should have the art to invent it. All those who sit during a courtship to present their portraits as lovers I look upon it come as professed cheats and mean to be most egregiously flattered; and if the thing succeeds through the painter's skill within six months after the marriage he the painter is called the cheat and the portrait not in the least like. So easy is it to get out of repute by doing your best to please them with a little flattery. You will never get into a book of beauty Eusebius. Hitherto the list runs in the female line. The male will soon come in depend upon it. Have a little pity upon the poor artist who would but cannot flatter--who is conscious of his inability to put in those blandishments that shall give a grace to ugliness--from whose hand unmitigated ugliness becomes uglier--who at length driven from towns where people begin to see this as a dauber takes refuge among the farm houses; at first paints the farmers and their wives their ugly faces stretching to the very edge of the frames and is at last reduced to paint the favourite cow or the fat ox--the prodigal (alas! no; the simply miserable in mistaking his profession) feeding the swine and with them and they not over-proud of his doings. Then there is another poor self-deluded character among the tribe. I have the man in my eye at this moment. It is not long since I paid him a visit to see a great historical composition which I had been requested to look at. It was the most miserable of all miserable daubs; yet so conspicuously set off with colours and hardness that the eye could not escape it. It was a most determined eye-sore. The quiet the modest demeanour of the young man at first deceived me; I

entured to find some trifling fault. The artist was up--still his manner was quiet--somewhat in truth contemptuously so; but as for modesty I doubt not he was modest in every other matter relating to himself; but in art he as calmly talked of himself Michael Angelo and Raffaelle as a trio--that two had obtained immortality of fame and that he sought the same and he trusted by the same means and believed with similar powers: as calmly did he speak in this manner as if it were a thing long settled in his own mind and in fate--and in the manner of an indulgent communication. He lamented the lack of taste and knowledge in the world; that so little was real art appreciated that he was obliged to submit to the drudgery of portrait. _Submit!_--and such portraits. Poor fellow! how long will he get sitters to _submit_? I have recently heard the fate of one of his great compositions. He had persuaded the vicar and church-wardens of a parish to accept a picture. He attended the putting it up. It was a fine old church. With the quietest conceit he had a fine east window blocked up to receive the picture--had the tables of Commandments mutilated and thrust up in a corner--damaged the wall to give effect to the picture--and really believed that he was conferring an honour and benefit upon the parishioners and the county. Soon however men of better taste and sense began to cry out. The incumbent died. His successor related to me the shocking occurrence of the picture. He had it removed and the damage done to the edifice repaired. And what became of the grand historical? The church-warden alone who in the pride of his heart and ignorance had paid the poor artist for the colours gladly took the picture. His account of it was that it was so powerful in his small room as to affect several ladies to tears--and that he had covered it with a thin gauze to keep down _the fierceness of the sentiment_; for it was too affecting. Now here is a man who if you should happen to sit to him will think it the greatest condescension to take your picture and will paint you such as you never would wish to be seen or known. There is a predilection now for schools of design; and the world will teem with these poor creatures. Many there are however who having considerable ability have much to struggle against--who love the profession of art and with that unaccountable giving themselves up to it are quite unfit for any other occupation in life yet from adverse circumstances--ill health strange temperaments--do not succeed. Many years ago I knew a very interesting young man and a very industrious one too of very considerable ability as a painter but not at that time of portraits. While hard at work getting just enough to live by he was seized with an illness that threatened rapid consumption. The kind physician who gratuitously visited him told him one day--""You cannot live here. I do not say that you have a year of safety in this climate or a month of safety but you have not weeks. You must instantly go to a warmer climate."" Ill and without means beyond the few pounds he could gather from his hasty breaking-up he had courage to look on the cheerful side of things and went off in the first vessel to the West Indies. I saw him afterwards. He gave me a history of his adventures. He went from island to island--became portrait-painter--a painter of scenes--of any thing that might offer; by good conduct urbanity gentleness and industry was respected liked and patronized; lived and sent home a thousand pounds or two--came to England to see his friends for a few months. I saw him on his way to them. He was then in health and spirits--told me the many events of the few years--and in six weeks the climate killed him. But the anecdote of his turning portrait-painter is what I have to tell. On the passage they touched at one of the islands and he found but very little money in his pocket; and while others went off to hotels or estates of friends he went his way quietly to seek out cheap lodgings. He found such which the good woman told him he could have in three hours. He afterwards learned that she waited that time for the then tenant _to die in the bed which he was to occupy_. Walking away to pass the time he met some of his fellow passengers who asked him if he had been to see the governor. He had not. They told him it was necessary he should go. So thither he went. Now the governor asked him ""What brought him out to the West Indies?"" He replied that he came as an artist. ""An artist!"" said the governor. ""That is a novelty indeed. Have you any specimens? I should like to see them."" Now among his things he had a miniature of himself painted by a man who attained eminence in the profession and whom I knew well. Here with an ingenuousness characteristic of the man he acknowledged to me how starvation staring him in the face _he_ stared in the governor's; and the governor being rather a hard-featured man whose likeness though he had never taken a portrait he thought he could hit; when the governor admired the miniature and asked him ""If it was his?"" he did not resist the temptation and said ""Yes."" Upon which the governor sat to him. Then others sat to him; and so he left the island with a replenished purse and from that time became a portrait-painter. If the poor fellow had been the veriest dauber you Eusebius would have sat to him twenty times over and have told all the country round quite as great a fib as he did the governor that he was a very Raffaelle in outline and Titian in coloring. And what shall the ""recording angel"" do? Poor fellow! he had no conceit. But you Eusebius need not trust or give your countenance in the way of the art to any man because you like his history or his manners. A thing you are very likely to do in spite of this advice though you multiply portraits for ""Saracen's Heads."" Foolish artists themselves who affect to talk of the great style and set themselves up as geniuses speak slightingly of portrait-painting as degrading--as pandering to vanity &c. I verily believe that half this common cant arose from jealousy of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Degradation indeed!--as if Raffaelle and Titian and Vandyk and Reynolds degraded the art or were degraded by their practice; and as to pandering to vanity--view it in another light and it is feeding affection. I knew a painter who honourably refused to paint a lady's picture when he waited upon her on purpose sent by some injudicious friends to take her portrait in her last days. She had been a woman of great celebrity--she received the painter--but with a weakness pointed first to one side of the room where were portraits of earls and bishops saying ""these are or were all my particular friends""--and then to the other side of the room to a well filled library--""and these are all my works."" ""Now "" said the painter to me ""I did not think it fair to her reputation to take her portrait--and she had had many taken at better times."" Here was one who would not pander to vanity. After all it is astonishing how few flattering painters there have been. Even he who made Venus Minerva and Juno starting with astonishment at the presence of Queen Elizabeth certainly made her by far the ugliest of the quartette. You may see the picture at Hampton Court. She must have been difficult to please for she insisted upon being painted without shadow. ""Glorious Gloriana"" was to be the sun of female beauty. She is quite as well as some in ""The Book."" For modern ""beauty"" manufacturers make beauty to consist in silliness or sentimentality. Do you believe in the story of the origin of portrait--the Grecian maid and her lover? I cannot--for I have often tried my hand and such frights were the result that it would have been a cure for love. For lack of the art of portrait-painting we have really no idea what mankind were like before the time of our Eighth Harry. What we see could not possibly be likenesses because they are not humanity. But in Holbein's heads such as the royal collection published by Chamberlaine we begin to see what men and women were. What our early Henrys and Edwards were: what the court or the people were we cannot know; they are buried in the night of art like the brave who lived before the time of Agamemnon. Perhaps it is quite as well--""_omne ignotum pro mirifico_""--and who would lose the pleasure of wonder and conjecture with all its imaginary phantasmagoria? We might have a mesmeric _coma_ that might put us in possession of the past if it can of the future--and gratify curiosity wofully at the expense of what is more valuable than that kind of truth. A mesmeric painter may take the portrait of Helen of Troy and you may knock at your twenty neighbours' doors and find perhaps a greater beauty especially if chronology be trusted as to her age at the Trojan war. Would you like to see a veritable portrait of Angelica--or of your Orlando in his madness? The great portrait-painter--the sun in his diurnal course all over the world may be for aught we know photographing mankind and registering us too; and if we are to judge from the specimens we do see the collection cannot be very flattering. Who dares call the sun a flatterer? ""... Solem quis dicere falsum Audeat?"" At the very moment that you are sitting to your man to be set off with smirk and smile and the graces of art you are perhaps making a most formidable impression elsewhere. You would not like to ""Look upon this picture _and_ on this."" Some poor country people have an unaccountable dislike to having their portraits taken. Savages think them second selves and that may be bewitched and punished; possibly something of this feeling may be at the bottom of the dislike. I was once sketching in a country village and an old woman went by and I put her into the picture. Some looking over me called out to her that her likeness was taken. She cried because she had not her best cap and gown on. I was once positively driven from a cottage door because a woman thought I was ""taking her off."" I know not but that it was a commendable wish in the old woman to appear decent before the world and so might have been the fine lady's wish-- ""Betty put on a little red One surely need not look a fright when dead."" We choose to be satirical and call it vanity; but put both anecdotes into tolerably good grave Latin and name them Portia and Lucretia and we should have as fine a sentiment as the boasted one of the hero endeavouring to fall decently. There may be but little difference and that only just what we in our humours choose to make it. I am sure you Eusebius will stand up for the old village crone and the fine lady too. But the fraternity of the brush if they do now and then promote vanity much more commonly gratify affection. Private portraits seem to me to be things so sacred that they ought not to survive the immediate family or friends for whose gratification they are painted. I much like the idea of burying them at last. I will show you how estimable these things sometimes are. You remember a portrait I have--a gentleman in a dress of blue and gold--in crayon. Did I ever tell you the anecdote respecting him? If not you shall have it as I had from my father. If you recollect the picture you must recollect that it is of a very handsome man. His horses took fright the carriage was overturned and he was killed upon the spot. The property came to my father. One day an unknown lady in a handsome equipage stopped at his door and in an interview with him requested a portrait of this very person not the one you have seen but another in oil-colour and of that the head only. My father cut it out and gave it to her. Many many years afterwards it was returned to him by an unknown hand with an account of the accident that caused the death pasted on the back; and it is now in my possession. The lady was never known. No Eusebius we must not deny portrait-painters nor portrait painting. It is the line in which we excel--and that we have above all others patronized and had great men too arise from our encouragement--Who are so rich in Vandyks as we are? And some we have had better than the world allowed them to be--Sir Peter Lely was occasionally an admirable painter--though Sir Joshua did say ""We must go beyond him now."" There was Sir Joshua himself and Gainsborough--would that either were alive to take you Eusebius though I were to pay for the sitting. I think too that I should have given the preference to Gainsborough--it would have been so true. Did you ever see his portrait of Foote?--so unaffected--it must be like. I won't be invidious by naming any where we have so many able portrait-painters--but if you have not fixed upon your man come to me and I will tell half-a-dozen and we will go to them and you shall judge for yourself--and if you like miniature there are those who will make what is small great. What wonderful power Cooper had in this way. I recently had in my hands a wondrous and marvellous portrait of Andrew Marvell by him. The sturdy honest Andrew. This man Cooper had such wonderful largeness of style of execution too even in his highest finished small oil pictures--such as in this of Andrew Marvell. We had an age certainly of very bad taste and it was not extinct in the days of Sir Joshua and Gainsborough; nay sometimes under both of these I am sorry to say it was even made worse. The age of shepherds and shepherdesses--in the case of Gainsborough brought down to downright rustics. This of making the sitters affect to be what they were not was bad enough--and it was any thing but poetical. But it was infinitely worse in the itinerants of the day--and is very well ridiculed by Goldsmith who lived much among painters in his Vicar of Wakefield and family sitting for the family picture. We have happily quite got out of that folly. But we are getting into one of most unpoetical pageantry--portrait likenesses. We have not seen yet a good portrait of Wellington and the Queen or the Prince; and if they must send their portraits to foreign courts let them be advised to learn if they know not yet how and we are told they do to paint them themselves. Montaigne tells us that he was present one day at Bar-le-duc when King Francis the Second for a memorial of Réné King of Sicily was presented with a picture the king had drawn of himself. Some how or other kings and queens are apt to have too many trappings about them; and the man is often chosen to paint who paints velvets and satins best and faces the worst. That is the reason we have them so ill done; and even if the faces are well painted they are overpowered by the ostentation of the dress. Now the Venetian portrait-painters contrived to keep down the glare of all this ornament to make it even more rich but not obtruding. I remember seeing a portrait of our queen where in a large bonnet her face looked like a small pip in the midst of an orange. It would be a good thing too if you could contrive to spend a week or so in company with your painter before you sit that he may know you. Many a characteristic may he lose for want of knowing that it is a characteristic; and may give you that in expression which does not belong to you while he may miss ""your sweet expression about your eyes."" He may purse up your large and generous mouth because you may screw it for a moment to keep some ill-timed conceit from bolting out and besides missing that noble feature may give you an expression of a caution that is not yours. A painter the other day as I am assured in a country town made a great mistake in a characteristic and it was discovered by a country farmer. It was the portrait of a lawyer--an attorney who from humble pretensions had made a good deal of money and enlarged thereby his pretensions but somehow or other not very much enlarged his respectability. To his pretensions was added that of having his portrait put up in the parlour as large as life. There it is very flashy and very true--one hand in his breast the other in his small-clothes' pocket. It is market-day--the country clients are called in--opinions are passed--the family present and all complimentary--such as ""Never saw such a likeness in the course of all my born days. As like 'un as he can stare."" ""Well sure enough there he is."" But at last--there is one dissentient! ""'Tain't like--not very--no 'tain't "" said a heavy middle-aged farmer with rather a dry look too about his mouth and a moist one at the corner of his eye and who knew the attorney well. All were upon him. ""Not like!--How not like? Say where is it not like?"" ""Why don't you see "" said the man ""he's got his hand in his breeches' pocket. It would be as like again if he had his hand in any other body's pocket."" The family portrait was removed especially as after this many came on purpose to see it; and so the attorney was lowered a peg and the farmer obtained the reputation of a connoisseur. But it is high time Eusebius that I should dismiss you and portrait-painting or you will think your thus sitting to me worse than sitting for your picture; which picture if it be of my Eusebius as I know him and love him will ever be a living speaking likeness but if it be one but of outward feature and resemblance it will soon pass off to make up the accumulation of dead lumber--while do you Eusebius as you are _vive valeque_. * * * * * MY FRIEND. Wouldst thou be friend of mine?-- Thou must be quick and bold When the right is to be done And the truth is to be told; Wearing no friend-like smile When thine heart is hot within Making no truce with fraud or guile No compromise with sin. Open of eye and speech Open of heart and hand Holding thine own but as in trust For thy great brother-band. Patient and stout to bear Yet bearing not for ever; Gentle to rule and slow to bind Like lightning to deliver! True to thy fatherland True to thine own true love; True to thine altar and thy creed And thy good God above. But with no bigot scorn For faith sincere as thine Though less of form attend the prayer Or more of pomp the shrine; Remembering Him who spake The word that cannot lie ""Where two or three in my name meet There in the midst am I!"" I bar thee not from faults-- God wot it were in vain! Inalienable heritage Since that primeval slain! The wisest have been fools-- The surest stumbled sore: _Strive_ thou to stand--or fall'n arise I ask thee not for more! This do and thou shalt knit Closely my heart to thine; Next the dear love of God above Such Friend on earth be mine! O.O. LONDON _January_ 1844. * * * * * THE LAND OF SLAVES. ""Le printemps--le printemps!""--_Berenger_. 'Twas a sunny holiday Scene Killarney--time last May; In the fields the rustic throng Every linnet in full song Not a cloud to threaten rain As I walk'd with lovely Jane. While we wander'd round the bay Came the gayest of the gay Pouring from a painted barge Anchor'd by the flowery marge; Sporting round its cliffs and caves:-- Ireland is the land of slaves! Next we met an infant group Never was a happier troop; Dancing o'er the primrose plain. ""Joyous infancy!"" said Jane; ""Free from care as winds and waves."" --""No my darling _these_ are slaves!"" On we walk'd--a garden shade Show'd us matron man and maid Laughing talking _all_ coquetting ""Here "" said Jane ""I see no fretting: Mammon makes but fools or knaves."" --""No my darling _these_ are slaves!"" On we walk'd--we saw a dome Fill'd with furious dupes of Rome Ranting of the sword and chain. ""Let us run away "" said Jane: ""How that horrid rebel raves!"" --""No my darling _these_ are slaves!"" As we ran a monster-crowd Stopp'd us uttering vengeance loud; Giving nobles to the halter Cursing England's throne and altar Brandishing their pikes and staves. ""Love "" said Jane ""are all _these_ slaves?"" [Greek: Aion] * * * * * THE PRIEST'S BURIAL. He is dead!--he died of a broken heart Of a frighten'd soul and a frenzied brain: He died--of playing a desperate part For folly; which others play'd for gain. Yet o'er his turf the rebels rave! Be silent wretches!--spare the grave! He is dead!--bewilder'd betray'd beguiled; Swept on by faction's fiery blast. In its blood-stain'd track a fool a child! His doom is fix'd--his lot is cast. Yet scowls by his bier earth's blackest knave. Be silent wretches!--spare the grave! They dress'd the cold clay in mimic state And the peasants came crowding round; And many a vow of revenge and hate In that hour on their souls was bound-- Oh! ruthless creed that never forgave! Be silent wretches!--spare the grave! They bore him along by the village road And they yell'd at the village spire! And they laid him at rest in his long abode In a storm of revenge and ire; And round him their furious banners wave. Be silent wretches!--spare the grave! Then o'er him the bigot chant was sung And was said the bigot prayer And wild hearts with many a thought were stung That left its venom there To madden in many a midnight cave. Be silent wretches!--spare the grave! All is done; he is buried--the crowd depart He is laid in his kindred clay There freed from the torture that ate his heart He rests till the last great day. O THOU! who alone canst defend and save Wake Ireland wise from this lowly grave. [Greek: Aion.] * * * * * PRUDENCE. ""Bide your time.""--_Rebel Song_. Bide your time--bide your time! Patience is the true sublime. Heroes bottle up your tears; Wait for ten or ten score years. Shrink from blows but rage in rhyme: Bide your time--bide your time! Bide your time--bide your time! Snakes are safest in their slime. Sages look before they leap; Heroes to your hovels creep. Christmas loves pantomime: Bide your time--bide your time! Bide your time--bide your time! ""Shoulder arms""--but never prime. Keep your skins from Saxon lead; Plunder paupers for your bread. Popish begging is no crime: Bide your time--bide your time! [Greek: Aion.] * * * * * FREE TRADE AND PROTECTION Whoever has travelled in the highlands of Scotland or the mountains of Wales must have observed the remarkable difference which exists between artificial plantations and the natural woods of the country. Planted _all at once_ the former grow up of uniform height and all their trees present nearly the same form and symmetry. Sown at different periods with centuries between their growth the latter exhibit every variety of age and form from the decaying patriarchs of the forest which have survived the blasts of some hundred years to the infant sapling which is only beginning to shoot under the shelter of a projecting rock or stem. Nor is the difference less remarkable in the room which is severally afforded for growth in the artificial plantations and in the wilds of nature. The larches or firs in the stiff and angular enclosure are always crowded together; and if not thinned by the care of the woodsman will inevitably choke each other or shoot up thin and unhealthy in consequence of their close proximity to each other and the dense mass of foliage which overshadows the upper part of the wood. But no such danger need be apprehended In the natural forest. No woodman is called to thin its denizens. No forester's eye is required to tell which should be left and which cut away in the vast array. In the ceaseless warfare of the weaker with the stronger the feeble plants are entirely destroyed. In vain the infant sapling attempts to contend with the old oak the branches of which overshadow its growth--it is speedily crushed in the struggle. Nor are the means of removing the useless remains less effectual. The hand of nature insensibly clears the waste of its incumbrances; the weakness of time brings them to the ground when their allotted period is expired; and youth as in the generations of men springs beside the decay of age and finds ample room for its expansion over the fallen remains of its paternal stems. The difference between the artificial plantation and the natural wood illustrates the distinction between the imaginary communities which the political economist expects to see grow up in conformity with his theories and acting in obedience to his dictates and the nations of flesh and blood which exist around us of which we form a part and which are immediately affected by ill-judged or inapplicable measures of commercial regulation. Nations were planted by the hand of nature; they were not sown nor their place allotted by human foresight. They exist often close to each other and under apparently the same physical circumstances under every possible variety of character age and period of growth. The difference even between those ruled by the same government and inhabited apparently by the same race is prodigious. Who could suppose that the Dutchman methodical calculating persevering was next neighbour to the fiery war-like and impetuous Frenchman? Or that the southern and western Irish vehement impassioned and volatile came from the same stock which pervades the whole west of Britain? England for centuries the abode of industry effort and opulence is subject to the same government and situated in the same latitude as Ireland where indolence is almost universal wealth rare and manufactures in general unknown. Russia ignorant united and ever victorious adjoins Poland weak distracted and ever vanquished; and Prussia has risen with unheard-of rapidity in national strength and every branch of industry at the very time when Spain was fast relapsing into slavery and barbarism. Familiar as these truths are to all they seem to have been in an unaccountable manner forgotten by our modern political economists; and the oblivion of them is the principal cause of the remarkable failure which has attended the application to practice of all their theories. They invariably forget the different age of nations; they overlook the essential difference between communities with different national character or in different stages of manufacturing or commercial advancement and fall into the fatal error of supposing that one general system is to be readily embraced by and found applicable to a cluster of nations existing under every possible variety of physical social and political circumstances. Fixing their eyes upon their own country or rather upon the peculiar interest to which they belong in their own country they reason as if all mankind were placed in the same circumstances and would be benefited by the arrangements which they find advantageous. They forget that all nations were not planted at the same time nor in the same soil; that the difference in their age the inequality in their growth the variety in their texture is as great as in the trees of the forest the seeds of which have been scattered by the hand of nature; that the incessant warfare of the weaker with the stronger exists not less in the social than the physical world; and that all systems founded on the oblivion of that continued contest must ever be traversed by the strongest of all moral laws--the instinct of SELF-PRESERVATION. We have said that the modern theories when applied to practice have in a remarkable manner failed. In saying so we have chiefly in view the acknowledged failure of the strenuous efforts made by England during the last twenty years to effect an interchange in the advantages of free trade and the entire disappointment which has attended the long establishment on a great scale of the reciprocity system. To the first we shall advert in the present paper; the second will furnish ample room for reflection in another. The abstract principles on which the doctrines of free trade are founded are these; and we put it to the warmest advocates of those principles whether they are not fairly stated. All nations were not intended by nature nor are they fitted by their physical circumstances to excel in the same branches of industry; and it is the variety in the production which they severally can bring to maturity which at once imposes the necessity for and occasions the profit of commercial intercourse. Nothing therefore can be so unwise as to attempt either by arbitrary regulations to create a branch of industry in a country for which it is not intended by nature or to retain it in that branch where it is created by forced prohibitions. Banish all restrictions therefore from commerce; let every nation apply itself to that particular branch of industry for which it is adapted by nature and receive in exchange the produce of other countries raised in like manner in conformity with their natural capabilities. Then will the industry of each people be turned into the channel most advantageous and lucrative to itself; each will enjoy the immense advantage of purchasing the commodities it requires at the cheapest possible rate; hopeless or absurd hot-bed attempts to force extraneous industry will cease; and in the mutual interchange of the surplus produce of each the foundation will be laid of an advantageous and durable commercial intercourse. England on this principle should not attempt to raise wine nor France iron or cotton goods; but the calicoes and hardware of Great Britain should be exchanged for the wines and fruits of France: both nations will thus be enriched and a vast commercial traffic grow up which being founded on mutual interest and attended with mutual advantage may be expected to be durable and to extinguish in the end the rivalry of their respective people or the jealousy of their several governments. Such is the theory of free trade; and it may be admitted it wears at first sight a seducing and agreeable aspect. Let us now enquire how far experience the great test of truth has verified its doctrines or demonstrated its practicability. To illustrate this matter we shall have recourse to no mean or doubtful authority; we shall have recourse to the statement of an enlightened but candid contemporary whose advocating of a moderate system of free trade has excited no small anxiety in the British empire; and which report from the information and ability it displays has assigned to the present accomplished head of the Board of Trade. The efforts made in Great Britain to introduce a general system of free trade especially within the last three years are thus enumerated in the _Foreign and Colonial Review_. ""England without gaining or asking a single boon from any foreign country has-- ""1. Reduced by about one-half the duties upon foreign corn. ""2. By nearly the same amount the duties on foreign timber. ""3. Has removed her prohibitions against the importation of cattle and other animals for food and has fixed upon them duties ranging on the average at about ten per cent _ad valorem_. ""4. Has made flesh meat admissible. ""5. Has reduced the duty on salt provisions for home consumption by one-third and one-half; and has placed them on a footing of entire equality with the British article for the supply of the whole marine frequenting her ports. ""6. Has lowered her duties on vegetables and seeds in general to one-half one-sixth and even one-twelfth (in the case of that most important esculent the potatoe) of what they formerly were. ""7. Has made all _great_ articles of manufacture except silk which is reserved for future negotiations admissible at duties of ten twelve and a half and fifteen per cent and only in some few instances so much as twenty per cent. ""8. Upon some minor articles of manufacture where our people lie under heavy disadvantages in obtaining the raw material and where their habits have been formed in their particular occupation wholly under the shelter and therefore upon the responsibility of the law she has retained duties in some cases as high as thirty per cent _ad valorem_ but yet has reduced them to rates insignificant in comparison with those formerly charged. ""9. In her colonies she has fixed the ordinary rules of differential duties upon foreign productions at four and seven per cent with exceptions altogether trifling in amount on which a higher charge has been laid for special reasons. ""10. She has withdrawn the prohibition to export machinery except so far as regards the linen manufacture and the spinning of the yarns employed in it. ""11. With regard to many other articles such as butter and cheese indeed with regard to all articles to which the simple and essential interests of the revenue will allow the same rules to be applied--it has been declared that they are only temporarily exempted from the operations of those rules and it is well understood that no time will be allowed to pass except such as is necessary before the work is completed; and lastly ""12. She has not even excluded from the benefit of these reductions the very countries under whose simultaneous enactments of

hostile character she is at this moment suffering: these advantages will be enjoyed by the tar and cordage of Russia; by the corn and timber the woollens linens and hosiery of northern Germany; by the gloves the boots and shoes the light writing-papers the perfumery the corks the straw-hats the cottons and cambrics the dressed skins the thrown silk and even (from an incidental charge with respect to the charge of duty on the bottles) the wines of France; by the salt provisions the ashes the turpentine the rice the furs and skins the sperm oil of America; and she in particular may expect to derive advantage from the alteration in our colonial import duties upon the great articles of flour salt provisions fish and lumber.""[15] [15] _Foreign and Colonial Review_ Vol. i. p. 235. Such have been the sacrifices which Great Britain has recently made in order to secure a system of free commercial enterprise throughout the world. Let us now enquire what return she has met with for these concessions; and the recent occurrences in this respect are detailed in the same unexceptionable authority. ""Within the last year France has passed an ordinance doubling the duty on linen yarns--a measure hostile enough had it been uniform in its application to all countries; but lest there should be any ambiguity about its meaning she has actually left open her Belgian frontier to that article at the former duty on the condition that Belgium should levy the high French duty in her custom-houses so as to prevent the transit of the British yarns through that country. To this disreputable and humiliating proposal Belgium has consented. Again amidst the loudest professions from the Prussian government of an anxiety to advance the relaxation of commercial restrictions that government has nevertheless adopted a proceeding not less hostile or mischievous than the measure of France with regard to linen yarns. The Congress of the Deputies of the Zollverein at Stuttgard have in a new tariff which was to take effect on the 1st of January besides some minor alterations of an unfavourable kind decreed upon the proposal of Prussia that goods mixed of cotton and wool if of more than one colour shall pay fifty thalers the centner instead of thirty; that is instead of a very high shall be liable to an exorbitant and as it may prove a prohibitory duty. Next America as all our readers must be aware has after a struggle passed a tariff subverting altogether the arrangement established by the Compromise Act of 1833 and imposing upon the various descriptions of manufactured goods rates of duty varying from thirty to forty and fifty per cent and upwards which have had the effect of stopping a great portion of the shipments of cotton goods to that country from Great Britain during the past autumn and without doubt have added greatly to the distresses of our manufacturing population. Besides these greater instances Russia according to her wont in such matters and Spain have published within the test fifteen months new tariffs of which it is difficult to say whether they are still worse than or only as execrably bad as those which they succeeded but in the close rivalry between the old and the new the latter seem upon the whole entitled to the palm of prohibitive rigour. And Portugal likewise has augmented the duties payable upon certain classes of her imports by a measure of the recent date of March 1841 and by another of last year. In the mean time Spain has concluded a treaty with Belgium for the admission of her linens. And the king of Prussia has effected an arrangement with the czar which in certain particulars secures upon his own frontier a relaxation of the iron strictness of the Russian system. England has concluded no commercial treaty with any of these powers; and the negotiation with France which the measures of Lord Palmerston interrupted in 1840 at the very period of its ripeness appears still to slumber--owing we believe in part to the prevalence of an anti-Anglican feeling in that country which for the credit of common sense and of human nature we trust will be temporary; but much more to the high protective notions and the political activity and influence of the French manufacturers which overawe an administration far less strong we regret to say than it deserves."" Our recent attempts therefore to introduce a general system of free trade among nations have proved a signal failure on the admission of the most enlightened advocates for that species of policy. Nor have our earlier efforts been more successful. Mr Huskisson as it is well known introduced full twenty years ago the system of free trade and repealed the navigation laws in the hope of making the Northern Powers of Europe more favourable to the admission of British manufactures and materially reduced the duties on French silks watches wines and jewellery in the hope that the Government of that country would see the expedience of making a corresponding reduction in the duties levied on our staple manufactures in the French harbours. But after twenty years' experience of these concessions on our part the French Government are so far from evincing a disposition to meet us with a similar conciliatory policy that they have done just the reverse. Scarce a year has elapsed without some additional duty being imposed on our fabrics in their harbours; and the great reductions contained in Sir R. Peel's tariff were immediately met as already noticed by the imposition of an additional and very heavy duty on British linens. Nay so far has the free trade system been from enlarging the market for our manufactures in Europe that after twenty years' experience of its effects and an increase over Europe generally of fully a third in numbers and at least a half in wealth it is an ascertained fact that our exports to the European-States _are less than they were forty years ago_.[16] ""That part of our commerce "" says Mr Porter himself a decided free trader ""which being carried on with the rich and civilized inhabitants of European nations should present the greatest field for extension will be seen to have fallen off in a remarkable degree. The annual average exports to the whole of Europe were _less in value by nearly twenty per cent_ on an average of five years from 1832 to 1836 _than they were during the five years that followed the close of the war;_ and it affords strong evidence of the unsatisfactory footing on which our trading regulations with Europe are established that our exports to the United States of America which with their population of 12 000 000 (in 1837 ) are situated 3000 miles from us across the Atlantic have amounted to more than half the sum of our shipments to the whole of Europe with a population fifteen times as great as that of the United States of America and with an abundance of productions suited to our wants which they are naturally desirous of exchanging for the produce of our mines and looms.""[17] [16] _Foreign and Colonial Review_ Vol. i. p. 233. [17] Porter's _Progress of the Nation_ Vol. i. p. 101. This was written by Mr Porter in 1837; but while subsequent times have evinced an increased anxiety on the part of this country to extend the principles of free trade they have been met by such increased determination on the part of the European governments to _resist the system _ and adhere more rigorously to their protecting policy that the disproportion is now universal and is every day becoming more remarkable. The following table will show that our exports to Europe notwithstanding our twelve reciprocity treaties with its maritime powers and unceasing efforts to give a practical exemplification of the principles of free trade are stationary or declining.[18] [18] Table showing the date and value of Exports of British Iron Manufacturers to Europe in the afore-mentioned years. Northern Europe. Southern Europe. Total. 1814 £14 113 773 £12 753 816 £26 867 589 1815 11 791 692 8 764 552 20 556 544 1816 11 369 086 7 284 467 18 653 555 1817 11 408 083 9 685 491 19 093 574 1818 11 809 243 7 639 139 19 448 382 1819 9 805 397 6 896 287 16 601 684 1820 11 289 891 7 139 042 18 428 433 1833 9 313 549 5 686 949 15 000 498 1834 9 505 892 8 501 141 18 007 033 1835 10 303 316 8 161 117 18 464 433 1836 9 999 861 9 011 205 19 000 066 1837 11 097 436 7 789 126 18 187 662 1838 11 258 473 9 481 372 20 739 845 1839 11 991 236 9 376 241 21 367 477 In one particular instance the entire failure of the free trade system to procure any corresponding return from the very continental states whose harbours it was chiefly intended to open has been singularly conspicuous. In February 1821 the reciprocity system in regard to shipping was introduced by Mr Huskisson and acted upon by the legislature; and the following reason was assigned by that eminent man for deviating from the old navigation laws of Cromwell which had so long constituted the strength of the British navy. Mr Huskisson maintained--""That the period had now arrived when it had become indispensable to introduce a more liberal system in regard to the admission of foreign shipping into our harbours if we would avoid the total exclusion of our manufacturers into their harbours. The exclusive system did admirably well as long as we alone acted upon it; when foreign nations were content to take our goods though we excluded their shipping. But they had now become sensible of the impolicy of such a system and right or wrong were resolved to resist it. Prussia in particular had resisted all the anxious endeavours of this country to effect the introduction of goods of our manufacture on favourable terms into her harbours; and the reason assigned was that the navigation laws excluded her shipping from ours. The reciprocity system has been rendered indispensable by the prohibitory system which the other European powers have adopted. The only means of meeting the heavy duties they have imposed on our goods and shipping is to place our duties upon a system of perfect reciprocity with theirs. Foreign nations have no advantage over us in the carrying trade: from the London report it clearly appeared that the ships of Norway Sweden Russia Prussia France and Holland cannot compete with British either in long or short voyages. But at any rate the repeal of our discriminating duties has become matter of necessity if we would propose any trade with these countries.""[19] [19] Hansard's Parliamentary Debates February 13 1823; and Annual Register 1823 p. 104. Table showing the British and Foreign tonnage with Sweden Norway Denmark and Prussia since 1823 when the reciprocity system began in each of the following years:-- SWEDEN. NORWAY. DENMARK. PRUSSIA. Years British Foreign British Foreign British Foreign British Foreign Tons. Tons Tons. Tons. Tons. Tons. Tons. Tons. 1821 23 005 8 508 13 855 61 342 5 312 3 969 79 590 37 720 1822 20 799 13 692 13 377 87 974 7 096 3 910 102 847 58 270 1823 20 986 22 529 13 122 117 015 4 413 4 795 81 202 86 013 1824 17 074 40 092 11 419 135 272 6 738 23 689 94 664 151 621 1825 15 906 53 141 14 825 157 910 15 158 50 943 189 214 182 752 1826 11 829 16 939 15 603 90 726 22 000 56 544 119 060 120 589 1827 11 719 21 822 13 945 96 420 10 825 52 456 150 718 109 184 1828 14 877 24 700 10 826 85 771 17 464 49 293 133 753 99 195 1829 16 536 25 046 9 985 86 205 24 576 53 390 125 918 127 861 1830 12 116 23 158 6 459 84 585 12 210 51 420 102 758 139 646 1831 11 450 39 689 4 518 114 865 6 552 62 190 83 908 140 532 1832 8 335 25 755 3 798 82 155 7 268 35 772 62 079 89 187 1833 10 009 29 454 5 901 98 931 6 840 38 620 41 735 108 753 1834 15 353 35 910 6 403 98 303 5 691 53 282 32 021 118 111 1835 12 036 35 061 2 592 95 049 6 007 49 008 25 514 124 144 1836 10 865 42 439 1 573 12 875 2 152 51 907 42 567 174 439 1837 7 608 42 602 1 035 88 004 5 357 55 961 67 566 145 742 1838 10 425 38 991 1 364 110 817 3 466 57 554 86 734 175 643 1839 8 359 42 270 2 582 109 228 5 535 106 960 111 470 229 208 1840 11 933 53 337 3 166 114 241 6 327 103 067 112 709 237 984 --PORTER'S Part. Tables. Such were Mr Huskisson's reasons. They were grounded on alleged necessity. He said in substance:--""The navigation laws are very good things; and if we could only persuade other nations to take our goods while we virtually shut out their shipping it would doubtless be very advisable to continue the present system. But you can no longer do this. Foreign nations see the undue advantage which has been so long obtained of them. They insist upon an exchange of interests. We as the richer and the more powerful are called on to make the first advances. We must relinquish our navigation laws in favor of their staple manufacture shipping if we would induce them to admit on favourable terms our staple article cotton goods."" These were Mr Huskisson's principles; and it may be admitted that in the abstract they were well-founded for all commercial intercourse to be beneficial and lasting must be founded on a mutual exchange of advantages. But in carrying into execution this principle he committed a fatal mistake which has already endangered without the slightest advantage and if persevered in may ultimately destroy the commercial superiority of Great Britain. He virtually repealed by the 4 Geo. IV. c. 77 and the 5 Geo. IV. c. 1 the navigation laws by authorizing the King by an order in council to permit the exportation and importation of goods in foreign vessels on payment of the same duties as where chargeable on British vessels in favour of those countries which did not levy discriminating duties on British vessels bringing goods into their harbours and to levy on the vessels of such countries the same tonnage duties as they charged on British vessels. This was in effect to say--We will admit your vessels on the same terms on which you admit ours; and nothing at first sight could seem more equitable. But nevertheless this system involved a fatal mistake the pernicious effects of which have now been amply demonstrated by experience and which lies at the bottom of the whole modern doctrines of free trade. _It stipulates for no advantages corresponding to the concession made_ and thus the reciprocity was on one side only. Mr Huskisson repealed in favour of the Baltic powers the British navigation laws; that is he threw open to Baltic competition without any protection the British shipping interest: but _he forgot to exact from them any corresponding favour for British iron or cotton goods in the Baltic harbours_. He said--""We will admit your shipping on the same terms on which you admit ours."" What he should have said is--""We will admit your shipping into our harbors on the same term you admit _our cotton goods_ into your harbours."" This would have been real reciprocity because each side would have given free ingress to that staple commodity in which its neighbor had the advantage; and thus the most important branch of industry of each would have been secured an inlet into the other's territories. The British tonnage might have been driven out of the Baltic trade by the shipowners of Denmark and Norway but the Prussian cotton manufacturers would have been crushed by the British. It might then have come to be a question of whether the upholding of our shipping interest or the extension of our cotton manufactures was the most advisable policy. But no such question need be considered now. We have gained nothing by exposing our shipping interest to the ruinous competition of the Baltic vessels. The Danish Norwegian and Prussian ships have come into our harbours but the British cotton and iron goods have not entered theirs. The reciprocity system has been all on one side. After having been twenty years in operation it has failed in producing _the smallest concession_ in favour of British manufactures or producing in those states with whom the reciprocity treaties were concluded the _smallest extension of British exports_. Since we so kindly permitted it they have taken every thing and given nothing. They have done worse. They have taken good and returned evil. The vast concession contained in the repeal of our navigation laws has been answered by the enhanced duties contained in the Prussian Zollverein. Twenty-six millions of Germans have been arrayed under a commercial league which by levying duties practically varying from thirty to fifty though nominally only ten _per cent_ effectually excludes British manufactures; and after twenty years' experience our exports are only a few hundred thousands a year and our exports of cotton manufactures _only a few hundreds a year_ to the whole States of Northern Europe in favour of whom the navigation laws were swept away and an irreparable wound inflicted on British maritime interests and in whose wants Mr Huskisson anticipated a vast market for our manufacturing industry and an ample compensation for the diminution of our shipping interest. Nature has established this great and all-important distinction between the effects of wealth and national age on the productions of agriculture and of manufactures. The reason is this:--If capital machinery and knowledge conferred the same immediate and decisive advantage on agricultural that they do on manufacturing industry old and densely-peopled states would possess an undue superiority over the ruder and more thinly-inhabited ones; the multiplication of the human race would become excessive in the seats in which it had first taken root and the desert parts of the world would never but under the pressure of absolute necessity be explored. The first command of God to man ""Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth and subdue it "" would be frustrated. The apprehensions of the Malthusians as to an excessive increase of mankind with its attendant dangers would be realized in particular places while nineteen-twentieths of the earth lay neglected in a state of nature. The desert would be left alone in its glory. The world would be covered with huge and densely-peopled excrescences--with Babylons Romes and Londons--in which wealth power and corruption were securely and permanently intrenched and from which the human race would ne'er diverge but under the pressure of absolute impossibility to wrench a subsistence from their over-peopled vicinities. These dangers threatening alike to the moral character and material welfare of nations are completely prevented by the simple law the operations of which we every day see around us--viz. that wealth civilization and knowledge add rapidly and indefinitely to the powers of manufacturing and commercial but comparatively slowly to those of agricultural industry. This simple circumstance effectually provides for the dispersion of the human race and the check of an undue growth in particular communities. The old state can always undersell the young one in manufactures but it is everlastingly undersold by them in agriculture. Thus the equalization of industry is introduced the dispersion of the human race secured and a limit put to the perilous multiplication of its members in particular communities. The old state can never rival the young ones around it in raising subsistence; the young ones can never rival the old one in manufactured articles. Either a free trade takes place between them or restrictions are established. If the commercial intercourse between them is unrestricted agriculture is destroyed and with it national strength is undermined in the old state and manufactures are nipped in the bud in the young ones. If restrictions prevail and a war of tariffs is introduced the agriculture of the old state and with it its national strength is preserved but its export of manufactures to the adjoining states is checked and they establish growing fabrics for themselves. Whichever effect takes place the object of nature in the equalization of industry the limitation of aged communities and the dispersion of mankind is gained in the first by the ruin of the old empire from the decay of its agricultural resources; in the second by the check given to its manufacturing prowess and the transference of mercantile industry to its younger rivals. Generally the interests and necessities of the young states introduce a prohibitory system to exclude the manufactures of the old one; and it is this necessity which England is now experiencing and vainly endeavours to obviate by introducing a system of free trade. But in one memorable instance and one only the preponderance of a particular power rendered this impossible and illustrated on a great scale and over the whole civilized world for a course of centuries the effects of a perfect freedom of trade. The Roman empire spreading as it did round the shores of the Mediterranean afforded the utmost facilities for a great internal traffic; while the equal policy of the emperors and indeed the necessity of their situation introduced a perfect freedom in the interchange of commodities between every part of their vast dominions. And what was the result? Why that the agriculture of Italy was destroyed--that 300 000 acres in the champaign of Naples alone reverted to a state of nature and were tenanted only by wild-boars and buffaloes before a single barbarian had crossed the Alps--that the Grecian cities were entirely maintained by grain from the plains of Podolia--and the mistress of the world according to the plaintive expression of the Roman annalist depended for her subsistence on the floods of the Nile.[20] Not the corruption of manners not the tyranny of the Caesars occasioned the ruin of the empire for they affected only a limited class of the people; but the practical working of free trade joined to domestic slavery which destroyed the agricultural population of the heart of the empire and left only effeminate urban multitudes to contend with the hardy barbarians of the north. [20] Tacitus Vol. xiv. p. 21; Michelet's _Hist. de France _ Vol. i. p. 217. The advocates of free trade are not insensible to the superior advantages of the rising over the old state in agriculture and of the latter over the former in manufactures. On the contrary it is a secret but clear sense of the reality of this distinction which causes them so strenuously to contend for the removal of all restrictions. They hope by so doing to effect a great extension of their sales in foreign countries without as they pretend creating any diminution in their own. But the views which have now been given show that this is a vain conceit and demonstrate how it has happened that the more strenuously England contends for the principles of free trade and the more energetically that she carries them into practice the more decided is the resistance which she meets on foreign states in the attempt and the more rigorously do they act on the principles of protection. It is because they are striving to become manufacturing and commercial communities that they do this--it is a clear sense of the ruin which awaits them if deluged with British goods which makes them so strenuous in their system of exclusion. The more that we open our trade the more will they close theirs. They think and not without reason that we advocate unrestricted commercial intercourse only because it would be profitable to us and deprecate our old system of exclusion only because it has now been turned against ourselves. ""Now then "" say they ""is the time when England is suffering under the system of exclusion which we have at length had sense enough to borrow from her to draw closer the bonds of that system and complete the glorious work of our own elevation on her ruins. Our policy is clearly chalked out by hers; we have only to do what she deprecates and we are sure to be right."" It is evident that these views will be permanently entertained by them because they are founded on the strongest of all instincts that of self-preservation. When we cease to be a great manufacturing nation when we are no longer formidable rivals they will open their harbours; but not till then. In striving to introduce a system of free trade therefore we gratuitously inflict a severe wound on our domestic industry without any chance even of a compensation in that which is destined for the foreign markets. We let in their goods into our harbours but we do not obtain admission nor will we ever obtain admission for ours into theirs. The reciprocity is and ever must be all on one side. It is by mistaking the dominant influence among the continental states that so large a portion of the community are deceived on this subject. They say if we take their grain and cattle they will take our cotton goods; that their system of exclusion is entirely a consequence of and retaliation for ours. Can they produce a single instance in which our concessions in favour of their rude produce have led to a corresponding return in favour of ours? How can it be so when in all old states the monied is the prevailing interest which sways the determinations of government? The landholders separated from each other without capital almost all burdened with debt are no match in the domestic struggle for the manufacturing and commercial interests. Their superiority is founded on a very clear footing--the same which has rendered the British House of Commons omnipotent. _They hold the purse._ It is their loans which support the credit of Government; it is by the customs which their imports pay that the public revenue is to be chiefly raised. The more popular that governments become the more strongly will their influences appear in the war of tariffs. If pure democracies were established in all the neighbouring states we would be met in then all by a duty of sixty per cent. Witness the American tariff of 1842 and the progressive increases of duties against us since the popular revolutions we have fostered and encouraged in France Belgium and Portugal. Is then a free and unrestrained system of commercial intercourse impossible between nations and must it ever end in a war of tariffs and the pacific infliction of mutual injury? We consider it is impossible between two nations both manufacturing or aspiring to be so and in the same or nearly the same age and social circumstances. It is mere folly to attempt it; because interests which must clash are continually arising on both parts and reciprocity if attempted is on one side only. With such nations the only wisdom is to conclude treaties not of reciprocity but of _commerce_; that is treaties in which in consideration of certain branches of our manufactures being admitted on favourable terms we agree to admit certain articles of their produce on equally advantageous conditions. Thus a treaty by which we agreed to admit for a moderate duty the wines of France which we can never rival in return for their admitting our iron and cotton goods on similar terns would be a measure of equal benefit to both countries. It would be as wise a measure as Mr Huskisson's reduction of the duties on French silks gloves and clocks was a gratuitous and unwarranted injury to staple branches of our own industry. The only countries to which the reciprocity system is really applicable are distant states in an early state of civilization whose natural products are essentially different from our own and whose stage of advancement is not such as to have made them enter on the career of manufacture of jealousy and of tariffs. Colonies unite all these advantages; and it is in them that the real sources of our strength and the only secure markets for our produce are to be found; but that subject so vast so interesting so vital to our individual and national advancement must be reserved for a future occasion. * * * * * "

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Siddle and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team. BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. NO. CCCXLI. MARCH 1844. VOL. LV. CONTENTS. ETHIOPIA A WORD OR TWO OF THE OPERA-TIVE CLASSES. BY LORGNON THE PIRATES OF SEGNA. A TALE OF VENICE AND THE ADRIATIC. PART I. COLONEL DAVIDSON'S TRAVELS IN INDIA BELFRONT CASTLE. A RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW DUMAS IN HIS CURRICLE MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART IX. THE OLYMPIC JUPITER A ROMAN IDYL GOETHE HYMN OF A HERMIT THE LUCKLESS LOVER FREE TRADE AND PROTECTION--THE CORN LAWS * * * * * ETHIOPIA[1] [1] _The Highlands of Ethiopa._ by Major W. CORNWALLIS HARRIS H.E. I.C. Engineers. 3 vols. From the various circumstances of our day the impression is powerfully made upon intelligent men in Europe that some extraordinary change is about to take place in the general condition of mankind. A new ardour of human intercourse seems to be spreading through all nations. Europe has laid aside her perpetual wars and seems to be assuming a _habit_ of peace. Even France hitherto the most belligerent of European nations is evidently abandoning the passion for conqest and begining to exert her fine powers in the cultivation of commerce. All the nations of Europe are either following her example or sending out colonies of greater or less magnitude to fill the wild portions of the world. Regions hitherto utterly neglected and even scarcely known are becoming objects of enlightened regard; and mankind in every quarter is approaching with greater or less speed to that combined interest and mutual intercourse which are the first steps to the true possession of the globe. But we say it with the gratification of Englishmen proud of their country's fame and still prouder of its principles--that the lead in this noblest of all human victories has been clearly taken by England. It is she who pre-eminently stimulates the voyage and plants the colony and establishes the commerce and civilizes the people. And all this has been done in a manner so little due to popular caprice or national ambition to the mere will of a sovereign or the popular thirst of possession that it invests the whole process with a sense of unequaled security. Resembling the work of nature in the simplicity of its growth it will probably also resemble the work of nature in the permanence of its existence. It is not an exotic fixed in an unsuitable soil by capricions planting; but a seed self-sown nurtured by the common air and dews assimilated to the climate and strikig its roots deep in the ground which it has thus by its own instincts chosen. The necessities of British commerce the urgency of English protection and the overflow of British population have been the great acting causes of our national efforts; and as those are causes which regulate themselves their results are as regular and unshaken as they are natural and extensive. But England has also had a higher motive. She has unquestionably mingled a spirit of benevolence largely with her general exertions. She has laboured to communicate freedom law a feeling of property and a consciousness of the moral debt due by man to the Great Disposer of all wherever she has had the power in her hands. No people have ever been the worse for her and all have been the better in proportion to their following her example. Wherever she goes oppression decays the safety of person and property begins to be felt the sword is sheathed the pen and the ploughshare commence alike to reclaim the mental and the physical soil and civilization comes like the dawn however slowly advancing to prepare the heart of the barbarian for the burst of light in the rising of Christianity upon his eyes. The formation of a new route between India and Europe by the Red Sea--a route though well known to the ancient world yet wholly incapable of adoption by any but an Arab horseman from the perpetual tumults of the country--compelled England to look for a resting-place and depot for her steam-ships at the mouth of the Red Sea. Aden a desolated port was the spot fixed on; and the steam-vessels touching there were enabled to prepare themselves for the continuance of their voyage. We shall subsequently see how strikingly British protection has changed the desolateness of this corner of the Arab wilderness how extensively it has become a place of commerce and how effectually it will yet furnish the means of increasing our knowledge of the interior of the great Arabian peninsula. It is remarkable that Africa one of the largest and most fertile portions of the globe remains one of the least known. Furnishing materials of commerce which have been objects of universal desire since the deluge--gold gems ivory fragrant gums and spices--it has still remained almost untraversed by the European foot except along its coast. It has been circumnavigated by the ships of every European nation its slave-trade has divided its profits and its pollutions among the chief nations of the eastern and western worlds; and yet to this hour there are regions of Africa probably amounting to half its bulk and possessing kingdoms of the size of France and Spain of which Europe has no more heard than of the kingdoms of the planet Jupiter. The extent of Africa is enormous:--5000 miles in length 4600 in breadth it forms nearly a square of 13 430 000 square miles! the chief part solid ground; for we know of no Mediterranean to break its continuity--no mighty reservoir for the waters of its hills--and scarcely more than the Niger and the Nile for the means of penetrating any large portion of this huge continent. The population naturally divides itself into two portions connected with the character of its surface--the countries to the north and the south of the mountains of Kong and the Jebel-al-Komr. To the north of this line of demarcation are the kingdoms of the foreign conquerors who have driven the original natives to the mountains or have subjected them as slaves. This is the Mahometan land. To the south of this line dwells the Negro in a region a large portion of which is too fiery for European life. This is Central Africa; distinguished from all the earth by the unspeakable mixture of squalidness and magnificence simplicity of life yet fury of passion savage ignorance of its religious notions yet fearful worship of evil powers its homage to magic and desperate belief in spells incantations and the _fetish_. The configuration of the country so far as it can be conjectured assists this primeval barbarism. Divided by natural barriers of hill chasm or river into isolated states they act under a general impulse of hostility and disunion. If they make peace it is only for purposes of plunder; and if they plunder it is only to make slaves. The very fertility of the soil at once rendering them indolent and luxurious excites their passions and the land is a scene alike of profligacy and profusion. To the south of this vast region lies a third--the land of the Caffre occupying the eastern coast and with the Betjouana and the Hottentot forming the population of the most promising portion of the continent. But here another and more enterprising race have fixed themselves; and the great English colony of the Cape with its dependent settlements has begun the first real conquest of African barbarism. Whether Aden may not act on the opposite coasts of the Red Sea and Abyssinia become once more a Christian land; or whether even some impulse may not divinely come from Africa itself are questions belonging to the future. But there can scarcely be a doubt that the existence of a great English viceroyalty in the most prominent position of South Africa the advantages of its government the intelligence of its people their advancement in the arts essential to comfort and the interest of their protection their industry and their example must year by year operate in awaking even the negro to a feeling of his own powers of the enjoyment of his natural faculties and of that rivalry which stimulates the skill of man to reach perfection. The name of Africa which in the Punic tongue signifies "ears of corn " was originally applied only to the northern portion lying between the Great Desert and the shore and now held by the pashalics of Tunis and Tripoli. They were then the granary of Rome. The name Lybia was derived from the Hebrew _Leb_ (heat ) and was sometimes partially extended to the continent but was geographically limited to the provinces between the Great Syrtis and Egypt. The name Ethiopia is evidently Greek (burning or black visage.) There is strong reason to believe that the Portuguese boast of the sixteenth century--the circumnavigation of Africa--was anticipated by the Phoenician sailors two thousand years and more. We have the testimony of Herodotus that Necho king of Egypt having failed in an attempt to connect the Nile with the Red Sea by a canal determine to try whether another route might not be within his reach and sent Phoenician vessels from the Red Sea with orders to sail round Africa and return by the Mediterranean. It is not improbable that from being unacquainted with the depth to which it penetrates the south he had expected the voyage to be a brief one. It seems evident that the navigators themselves did not conceive that it could extend beyond the equator from their surprise at seeing the sun rise on their _right hand_. The narrative tells us--"The Phoenicians taking their course from the Red Sea entered into the Southern Ocean on the approach of autumn; they landed in Lybia planted corn and remained till the harvest. They then sailed again. After having thus spent two years they passed the Columns of Hercules in the third and returned to Egypt." Herodotus doubted their story--"Their relation " says the honest old Greek "may obtain belief from others but to me it seems incredible; for they affirmed that having sailed round Africa they _had the sun on their right hand_. Thus was Africa for the first time known." Thus the very circumstance which the old historian regarded as throwing doubt on the discovery is now one of the strongest corroborations of its truth.[2] There appear to have been several attempts to sail along the west coast by ancient expeditions; but to the Portuguese is due the modern honour of having first sailed round the Cape. From 1412 the Portuguese under a race of adventurous princes had extended their discoveries; but it occupied them sixty years to reach the Line and nearly thirty years more to reach the Cape which they first called Cabo Tormentoso (Stormy Cape.) But the king gave it the more lucky though the less poetical title which it now bears. [2] Reunell p. 682. The triumph of Columbus in his discovery of the New World in 1493 raised the emulation of the Portuguese then regarded as the first navigators in the world; yet it was not until four years after that their expedition was sent to equalize the stupendous accession to the Spanish domains by the possession of the East. In July 1497 Gama sailed reached Calicut May 2 1498 and returned to Portugal covered with well-earned renown after a voyage of upwards of two years. Having given this brief outline of the divisions and character of the mighty continent which seemed important to the better understanding of the immediate subject we revert to the intelligent and animated volumes of Captain (now Major) Harris. A letter from the Bombay government 29th April 1841 gave him this distinguished credential:-- "SIR--I am directed to inform you that the Honourable the Governor in Council having formed a very high estimate of your talents and acquirements and of the spirit of enterprise and decision united with prudence and discretion exhibited in your recently published travels through the territories of the Maselakatze to the Tropic of Capricorn has been pleased to select you to conduct the mission which the British Government has resolved to send to Sahela Selasse the king of Shoa in Southern Abyssinia whose capital Ankober is supposed to be about four hundred miles inland from the port of Tajura on the African coast." [Then followed the mention of the vessels appointed to carry the mission.] (Signed) "J.P. WILLOUGHBY " "Secretary to Government." The persons comprising the mission were Major W.C. Harris Bombay Engineers Captain Douglas Graham Bombay army principal assistant with others naturalists draftsmen &c. and an escort of two sergeants and fifteen rank and file volunteers from H.M. 6th foot and the Bombay Artillery. On the afternoon of a sultry day in April Major Harris with his gallant and scientific associates embarked on board the East India Company's steam ship Auckland in the harbour of Bombay on their voyage to the kingdom of Shoa in Southern Abyssinia in the year 1841. The steam frigate pursued her way prosperously through the waters and on the ninth day was within sight of Cape Aden after a voyage of 1680 miles. The Cape named by the natives Jebel Shemshan rises nearly 1800 feet above the ocean is frequently capped with clouds a wild and fissured mass of rock and evidently intended by nature for one of those great beacons which announce the approach to an inland sea. On rounding the Cape the British eye was delighted with the sight of the Red Sea squadron riding at anchor within the noble bay. The arrival of the frigate also caused a sensation on the shore; and Major Harris happily describes the feelings with which a new arrival is hailed by the British garrison on that dreary spot their only excitement being the periodical visits of the packets between Suez and Bombay. In the dead of the night a blue light shoots up in the offing. It is answered by the illumination of the block ship then the thunder of her guns is heard then as she nears the shore the flapping of her paddles is heard through the silence then the spectral lantern appears at the mast-head and then she rushes to her anchorage leaving in her wake a long phosphoric train. Wherever England drops an anchor a new scene of existence has begun. At Aden the supply of coals for the steam-ships has introduced a new trade; gangs of brawny Seedies negroes from the Zanzibar coast but fortunately enfranchised make a livelihood by transferring the coal from the depots on shore to the steamers. Though the most unmusical race in the world they can do nothing without music but it is music of their own--a tambourine beaten with the thigh-bone of a calf; but their giant frames go through prodigious labour carry immense sacks and drink prodigious draughts to wash the coal-dust down. Such is the furious excitement with which they rush into this repulsive operation that Major Harris thinks that for every hundred tons of coal thus embarked at least one life is sacrificed; those strong savages at once inflamed by drink and overcome with toil throwing themselves down on the dust or the sand to rise no more. This shows the advantage of English philosophy: our coal-heavers in the Thames toil as much are nearly as naked nearly as black and probably drink more; but we never hear of their dying in a fit of rapture in the embrace of a coal-sack. When the day is done drunk or sober washed or unwashed they go home to their wives sleep untroubled by the cares of kings and return to fresh dust drink and dirt next morning. The coast of Arabia has no claims to the picturesque: all its charms like those of the oyster lie within the roughest of possible shells. Its first aspect resembles heaps of the cinders of a glass-house--a building whose heat seems to be fully realized by the temperature of this fearful place. England has a resident there Captain Haynes named as political agent. That any human being who could exist in any other place would remain in Aden is one of the wonders of human nature. An officer of course must go wherever he is sent; but such is the innate love for a post that if this gallant and intelligent person were roasted to death as might happen in one of the coolest days of the Ethiopian summer there would be a thousand applications before a month was over to the Foreign Office for the honour of being carbonaded on the rocks of Aden. The promontory has all the marks of volcanic eruption and is actually recorded by an Arab historian of the tenth century to have been thrown up about that period. "Its sound like the rumbling of thunder might then be heard many miles and from its entrails vomited forth redhot stones with a flood of liquid fire." The crater of the extinguished volcano is still visible though shattered and powdered down by the tread under which Alps and Appennines themselves crumble away--that of Time. The only point on which we are sceptical is the late origin of the promontory. Nothing beyond a sandhill or a heap of ashes has been produced on the face of nature since the memory of man. That a rock or rather a mountain chain with a peak 1800 feet high should have been produced at any time time within the last four thousand years altogether tasks our credulity. The powers of nature are now otherwise employed than in rough-hewing the surface of the globe. She has been long since like the sculptor employed in polishing and finishing--the features were hewn out long ago. Her master-hand has ever since been employed in smoothing them. Aden's reputation for barrenness is an old one--"Aden " says Ben Batuta of Tangiers "is situate upon the sea-shore; a large city without either seed water or tree." This was written five hundred years ago; yet the ruins of fortifications and watch-towers along the rocks show that even this human oven was the object of cupidity in earlier times; and the British guns bristling among the precipices show that the desire is undecayed even in our philosophic age. Yet the Arab imagination has created its wonders even in this repulsive scene; and the generation of monkeys which tenant the higher portion of the rocks are declared by Arab tradition to be the remnant of the once powerful tribe of Ad changed into apes by the displeasure of Heaven when "the King of the World " Sheddad renowned in eastern story presumptuously dared to form a garden which should rival Paradise. The prophet Hud remonstrated; but his remonstrances went for nothing and the indignant monarch and his courtiers suddenly found their visages simious their tongues chattering and their lower portions furnished with tails--a species of transformation which so far as regards visage and tongue is supposed to be not unfrequent among courtiers to this day. But this showy tradition goes further still. The Bostan al Irem (Garden of Paradise) is believed still to exist in the deserts of Aden; though geographers differ on its position. It still retains its domes and bowers--both of indescribable beauty; its crystal fountains and its walks strewed with pearls for sand. It is true that no living man can absolutely aver that he has seen this place of wonders; but that is a mere result of our very wicked age. This has not been always the case; for Abdallah Ibn Aboo Kelaba passed a night in its palace in the reign of Moowiych the prince of the Faithful. Lucky the man who shall next find it but unlucky the world when he does; for then the day of the general conflagration will be at hand. In the mean time it remains like the top of Mount Meru covered with clouds or like the inside of a Chinese puzzle a work of unrivaled art conceivable but intangible by man. In this pleasant mingling of fact visible to his shrewd eye and fiction drawn from ancient fancy Major Harris leads us on. But Aden is not yet exhausted of wonders--an island in its bay Seerah (the fortified black isle ) is pronounced to have been the refuge of Cain on the murder of Abel; and its volcanic and barren chaos is no unequal competitor for the honour with the rocks of the Caucasus. But England which changes every thing is changing all this. Within the next generation the railway will run down the romances of Nutrib; a cotton manufactory will send up its smokes to blot out the celestial blue by day and shoot forth its sullen illumination by night over the anointed soil; the minstrel will turn policeman and the sheik be a justice of peace; political economy will have its itinerant lecturers enlightening the Bedouins on the principles of rent and taxes; the city will have a lord mayor and corporation of the deepest black; the volcano will be planted with villas; turnpikes will measure out the sands; a hotel will flourish on the summit of Jebel Shemshan; and Aden will differ from Liverpool in nothing but being two thousand miles further from the smoke and multitudes of London. The Arab is still the prominent person among the native population of this territory. Major Harris describes him well. The bronzed and sunburnt visage surrounded by long matted locks of raven hair; the slender but wiry and active frame and the energetic gait and manner proclaimed the untamable descendant of Ishmael. He nimbly mounts the crupper of his now unladen dromedary and at a trot moves down the bazar. A checked kerchief round his brows and a kilt of dark blue calico round his frame comprise his slender costume. His arms have been deposited outside the Turkish wall; and as he looks back his meagre ferocious aspect flanked by that tangled web of hair stamps him the roving tenant of the desert. It is curious to find in this remote country a custom similar to that of the fiery cross which in old times summoned the Celtic tribes to arms. On the alarm of invasion a branch torn by the priest from the _nebek_ (a tree bearing a fruit like the Siberian crab ) is lighted in the fire the flame is then quenched in the blood of a newly slaughtered ram. It is then sent forth with a messenger to the nearest clan. Thus great numbers are assembled with remarkable promptitude. In the invasion under Ibrahim Pasha sixteen thousand of these wild warriors were assembled from one tribe. They crept into the Egyptian camp by night and using only their daggers made such formidable slaughter that the Pasha was glad to escape by a precipitate retreat. The Jews form an important part of the population as artizans and manufacturers. Feeling the natural veneration for the Chosen People in all their misfortunes and convinced that the time will come when those misfortunes will be obliterated it is highly gratifying to find that even in this place of their ancient sufferings they are beginning to feel the benefit of British protection. Hitherto through their indefatigable industry having acquired opulence in Arabia as elsewhere they were afraid either to display or to enjoy it; but now under the protection of the British flag they not merely enjoy their wealth but they publicly practise the rights of their religion. Stone slabs with Hebrew inscriptions mark the place of their dead. They have schools for the education of their children; and their men and women arrayed in their holiday apparel sit fearlessly in the synagogue and listen to the reading of the law and the prophets as of old. It is a great source of gratification to the philanthropist to find that wherever England extends her power industry commerce and peace are the natural result. Aden barren as the soil is is evidently approaching to a prosperity which it never possessed even in its most flourishing days. Emigrants from Yemen and from both shores of the Red Sea are daily crowding within the walls through the security which they offer against native oppression. In the short space of three years the population has risen to twenty thousand souls. Substantial dwellings are rising up in every quarter and at all the adjacent ports hundreds of native merchants are only waiting the erection of permanent fortifications in token of our intending to remain to flock under the guns with their families and wealth. The opinion of this intelligent writer is that Aden as a free port whilst she pours wealth into a now impoverished land must erelong become the queen of the adjacent seas and rank amongst the most useful dependencies of the British crown. The mission having remained some time at Aden to purchase horses and stores sailed on the 15th May; and on losing sight of Aden the members of the mission characteristically took the "Pilgrims' vow" not to shave until their return. On the 17th they opened the town of Tajura on the verge of a broad expanse of blue water over which a gossamerlike fleet of fishing catamarans already plied their craft. Their pilot an old Arab was a man of fun and the specimens of his tongue are good. In some reference to the anchorage he said "Now if we only had two-fathom Ali here you would not have all these difficulties. When they want to lay out an anchor they have nothing to do but to hand it over to Ali and he walks away with it into six or eight feet without any ado. I went once upon a time in the dark to grope for a berth on board of his buggalow and stumbling over some one's toes enquired to whom they belonged. 'To Ali ' was the reply. 'And whose knees are these?' said I after walking half across the deck. 'Ali's.' 'And this head in the scuppers pray whose is it?' 'Ali's; what do you want with it?' 'Ali again!' I exclaimed; 'then I must even look for stowage elsewhere.'" The sight of a shark in the harbour let loose the old jester again. "A friend of mine " said he "pilot of a vessel almost as fast a sailer as my own which is acknowledged to be the best in these seas was bound to Mocha with camels on board. When off the high table-land betwixt the Bay of Tajura and the Red Sea one of the beasts dying was hove overboard. Up came a shark ten times the size of that fellow there and swallowed the camel leaving only his hinder legs sticking out of his jaws; but before he had time to think where he was to find stowage for it up came another tremendous fellow and bolted the shark camel legs and all." In return for this anecdote the major gave him the story of the two Kilkenny cats in the saw-pit which fought until nothing remained of either but the tail and a bit of the flue. The old pilot doubted. "How can that be?" said he revolving the business seriously in his mind. "As for the story I have told you it is as true as the Koran." After a short stay and presentation to the Sultan of Tajura a slave-port with a miserable old man for its master the mission once more set forth for Shoa; yet even here we glean a specimen of Arab speech. "Trees attain not to their growth in a single day " said an Arab when remonstrating with the sultan on his inordinate love of lucre. "Take the tree as your text and learn that property is to be gathered only by slow degrees." "True " said the old miser; "but sheik you must have lost sight of the fact that my leaves are already withered and that if I would be rich I have not a moment to lose." The packing up for the journey was a new source of trouble; every camel-driver found fault with his load. However at length every article was stowed except a hand-organ and a few stand of arms. At length a great hulking savage offered to take the arms provided they were cut in two to suit the back of his animals. We have then another instance of Arab drollery. "You are a tall man " said the old pilot; "suppose we shorten you by the legs." "No no " said the barbarian "I am flesh and blood and shall be spoiled." "So will the contents of these cases you offspring of an ass " said the old man "if you divide them." The progress to the interior from the port of Tajura led them over immense ranges of basaltic cliffs where the heat of the sun was felt with an intensity scarcely conceivable by European feelings. In this land of fire the road skirting the base of a barren range covered with heaps of lava blocks and its foot marked by piles of stones the memorials of deeds of blood the lofty conical peak of Jebel Seearo rose in sight and not long afterwards the far-famed Lake Assad surrounded by its dancing mirage was seen sparkling at its base. The first glimpse of this phenomenon "though curious was far from pleasing"--"an elliptical basin seven miles in its transverse axis filled half with smooth water of the deepest cerulean hue and half with a sheet of glittering snow-white salt girded on three sides by huge hot-looking mountains that dip their basins into its very bowl and on the fourth by crude half-formed rocks of lava broken and divided by chasms. No sound broke on the ear not a ripple played on the water. The molten surface of the lake lay like burnished steel the fierce sky was without a cloud and the angry sun like a ball of metal at a white heat rode in full blaze." It is scarcely wonderful that among a people devoted to superstition those terrible passes and sultry hollows should be marked as the haunts of the powers of evil. Adyli a deep mysterious cavern at the extremity of one of those melancholy plains is believed to be the especial abode of gins and _afreets_ whose voices are heard in the night and who carry off the traveller to devour him without remorse. A late instance was mentioned of a man who was compelled by the weariness of his camel to fall behind the caravan and who left no remnants behind him but his spear and shield. Major Harris well describes this spot as one which from its desolate position might be believed to be the last stage of the habitable world. "A close mephitic stench impeding respiration arose from the saline exhalations of the stagnant lake. A frightful glare from the white salt and limestone hillocks threatened extinction to the vision and a sickening heaviness in the loaded atmosphere was enhanced rather than alleviated by the fiery breath of the north-westerly wind which blew without interruption during the day. The air was inflamed the sky sparkled and columns of burning sand which at quick intervals towered high into the atmosphere became so illumined as to appear like tall pillars of fire. Crowds of horses mules and camels tormented to madness by the poisonous gad-fly flocked to share the only bush; and disputing with their heels the slender shelter it afforded compelled several of the party to seek refuge in caves formed below by fallen masses of volcanic rock heated to the temperature of a potter's kiln and fairly baking up the marrow in the bones." The heat in this place with the thermometer under the shade of cloaks and umbrellas was at 126°. It is only surprising how any of the party survived. Certainly if Abyssinia is to be approached only by this road the prospect of an intercourse with it from the east appears among the most improbable things of this world. One of the advantages of continental travel has been long since said to be its teaching us how many comfortable things we enjoy at home; and it appears that no Englishman can comprehend the value of that despised fluid fresh water until he has left the precincts of his own fortunate land: but it is in Africa and peculiarly on this Abyssinian high-road that the value of a draught of spring water is to be especially estimated. "Since leaving the shores of India " says Major Harris "the party had gradually been in training towards a disregard of dirty water. On board a ship of any description the fluid is seldom very clear or very plentiful. At Cape Aden there was little perceptible difference between the sea water and the land water. At Tajura the beverage obtainable was far from being improved in quality by the taint of the new skins in which it was transferred from the only well; and now in the very heart of the scorching Tehama where a copious draught of pure water seemed absolutely indispensable every five minutes the mixture was the very acme of abomination. Fresh hides stript from the he-goat besmeared inside as well as out with old tallow and strong bark tan filled from an impure well at Sagallo tossed and tumbled during two days and nights under a distilling heat " formed a drink which we should conclude to be little short of poison. However the human throat learns to accommodate itself to every thing in time and the time came when even this abomination was longed for. But the worst was not yet come. It was midnight when the party commenced the steep ascent of the south-eastern boundary of the lake a ridge of volcanic rocks. "The north-east wind had scarcely diminished its parching fierceness and in hot suffocating gusts swept over the glittering expanse of water and salt where the moon shone brightly; each deadly puff succeeded by the stillness that foretells a tropical hurricane. The prospect around was wild--beetling basaltic cones and jagged slabs of shattered lava." The path itself was formidable winding along the crest of the ridge over sheets of broken lava with scarcely more than sufficient width to admit of the progress in single file. "The

horrors of this dismal night set all description at defiance."" The hope of water though at the distance of sixteen miles excited them for a while; but at length even this excitement failed. And ""owing to the heat fasting and privation the limbs of the weaker refused the task and after the first two miles they dropped fast into the rear. Under the fiery blast of the midnight sirocco the cry for water uttered feebly and with difficulty by numbers of parched throats now became incessant; and the supply for the whole party falling short of a gallon and a half it was not long to be answered. A tiny sip of diluted vinegar for a moment assuaged the burning thirst which raged in the vitals; but its effects were transient and after struggling a few steps they sank again declaring their days to be numbered and their resolution to rise up no more. Dogs incontinently expired upon the road horses and mules that once lay down were abandoned to their fate; while the lion-hearted soldier who had braved death at the cannon's mouth subdued and unmanned by thirst lay gasping by the wayside hailing approaching dissolution with delight as the termination of tortures which were no longer to be endured. As another day dawned and the ""round red sun"" again rose over the lake of salt the courage even of those who had borne up against this fiery trial began to flag: ""a dimness came before the drowsy eyes giddiness seized the brain and the hope held out by the guides of water in advance seemed like the delusion of a dream."" In this crisis at which our chief wonder is that Major Harris and his explorers were ever heard of again or had left any memorials of themselves but their bones a wild Bedouin was seen ""like a delivering angel "" hurrying forward with a large skin filled with muddy water. This well-timed supply was divided among the fainting people: a quantity was poured over the face and down the throat of each; and at a late hour ""ghastly haggard and exhausted like men who had escaped from the jaws of death the whole had contrived to straggle into a camp which but for the foresight and firmness of the son of Ali Abi (who had sent the water ) few individuals would have reached alive."" After traversing this terrible desert of fifty miles--a barrier to all general and commercial intercourse which we should think impassable however it might be overcome by a small party of bold and hardy men well led furnished with every supply water excepted which could sustain them through its horrors (and which yet through that single want had nearly perished)--they persued a long and dlifficult march through a dreary country scantily peopled dotted with robber clans and exhibiting impediments of all kinds in the knavery and villany of the native authorities; until they reached the borders of Abyssinia. We had by no means been aware that volcanoes had made so large a share of this portion of Africa. The whole border seems to be volcanic and to retain in its blasted and broken surface evidence of its having been in remote ages perhaps in the earliest the scene of most intense and general volcanic action. In Major Harris's animated description--""singular and interesting indeed is the wild scenery in the vicinity of the treacherous oasis of Sultelli. A field of extinct volcanic cones vomited out of the entrails of the earth and each encircled by a black belt of vitrified lava environs it on three sides; and of these Mount Abida three thousand feet in height whose cup enveloped in clouds stretches some two and a half miles in _diameter_ would seem to be the parent. Beyond the still loftier crater of Aiulloo the ancient landmark of the now-decayed empire of Ethiopia is visible in dim perspective; and looming hazily in the extreme distance is the great blue Abyssinian range."" In any part of Africa a river of tolerable magnitude is an object of the most anxious interest; and the approach to the Hawash the boundary river of the kingdom of Shoa was looked to with eager speculation. At length the height was reached from which was obtained ""an exhilarating prospect over the dark lone valley of the long looked-for Hawash. The course of the river was marked by a dense belt of trees and verdure stretching towards the base of the great mountain range of which the cloud-capped cone which frowns over the capital of Shoa forms the most conspicuous feature."" The mission now began to exalt:--""Though still far distant the ultimate destination of the embassy appeared almost to have been gained and none had an idea of the length of time that must elapse before his foot should press the soil of Ankober."" A day of intense heat was as usual followed by a heavy fall of rain which owing to the unaccommodating arrangement of striking the tents at sunset thoroughly drenched the whole party. The new difficulty was how to cross the Hawash ""second of the rivers of Abyssinia and rising in the very heart of Ethipoia at an elevation of 8000 feet above the sea. It is fed by niggardly tributaries from the high bulwarks of Shoa and Efat and flows like a great artery through the arid plains of the Adaiel green and wooded throughout its long course and finally absorbed in the lagoons of Aussa. The canopy of fleecy clouds which as mid-day dawned hung thick and heavy over the lofty blue peaks beyond gave sad presage of the deluge that was pouring between its verdant banks from the higher regions of the source."" The party now descended to enjoy the real luxuries of shade and water in a region where they had hitherto seen nothing but salt and lava. At first thinly wooded they found the soil covered with tall rank grass from which however the perpetual incursions of the robber tribes scare the flocks and herds. Deeper down they entered among gum-bearing acacias and fruit-trees. ""Guinea-fowl rose before them groves of tamarisk ringing to the voice of the bell-bird flanked every open glade and the fractured branches of the nobletrees gave proof of the presence of the most ponderous of the mammalia."" Forcing their way with some difficulty through this jungle they obtained their first near view of the river a ""deep volume of turbid water "" covered with drift wood and rolling at the rate of three miles an hour between clayey walls twenty-five feet in height. The breadth fell short of sixty yards but the flood was not yet at its maximum. Willows drooping over the stream were festooned with recent drift hanging many feet above the level of the banks; and it was evident that the waters had lately been out to the overflowing of the country for many miles. The river now upwards of 2200 feet above the level of the ocean forms in this quarter the nominal boundary of the kingdom of Shoa. They were now on ""the spot which exhibited the forest life of Africa."" In a lake adjoining the river the hippopotamus ""rolled his unwieldy carcass to the surface and floating crocodiles protruding his snout to blow a snort that might be heard at the distance of a mile."" An unfortunate donkey which had been partly drowned and partly strangled was thrown out of the camp. No sooner had night fallen than this prey roused the appetites of the whole forest the howl and growl of wild beasts was heard at their banquet on the donkey throughout the night. Lightening played over the woods; the ""violent snapping of the branches proclaimed the nocturnal movements of the elephant and hippopotamus;"" the loud roar and startling snort were constantly heard; and by morning every vestige of the dead animal even to the skull had disappeared. Africa in all its provinces is the scene of the boldest field sports in the world--India and its tigers perhaps excepted. But Africa excels even India in the variety and multitude of its mighty savages--lions elephants panthers and hippopotami; the sands the forests the jungles the rivers the marshes every thing and place abounds with brute life on the largest the boldest and the fiercest scale. Africa with the human race on the lowest grade has the brute on the highest and its true name is the great kingdom of savage nature. A two-ounce ball had been lodged in the forehead of hippopotamus on the evening of reaching the Hawash; but the animal having dived the natives in some jealousy of the skill of the British rifle declared that it had not been mortally struck. The next dawn however decided the question for the ""freckled pink sides of a dead hippopotamus were to be seen high above the surface as the distended carcass floated like a monstrous buoy at anchor."" Hawsers were carried out with all diligence and the ""colossus"" was towed ashore amidst the acclamations of the whole caravan. Then came a native scene. A tribe of savages who had waited squatting to see the arrival of the monster threw aside their bows and arrows and stripping its thick hide from the ribs attacked it with the vigour of an African horde. Donkeys and women were laden with incredible despatch and ""staggering under huge flaps of meat "" the savages went their way. The soil now became swampy yet only the more filled with animal existence. LE ADO (the White Water ) a lake which they skirted of two miles' diameter was the haunt of countless wild-fowl geese mallards teal herons flamingoes. A party of Bedouin women deposed to having seen another ""party"" of elephants taking a bath in the spot half an hour before and the prints of their huge feet in the moist sands corroborated the testimony. Hideously withered women followed the march of the mission carrying curds and covered over with marsh-flies. Above vast flights of locusts which had stripped the coast were pouring in towards Abyssinia. ""They quite darkened the air"" where the caravan halted; and above them again were a host of adjutant birds sometimes bursting down through the mass and then stooping to the ground and stalking along to devour the killed and wounded. This is the land too of the hurricane. Nature is queen or tyrant here; the thunder tears the sensorium; the lightning burns out the eyes; the rain is a cataract; the hall is a continued volley of ice; the clouds stoop to earth and bury the daylight like a shroud; the rivers become torrents; the dry plain becomes first a swamp and then a sea. Tents and tarpaulins are useless to keep out the deluge from above or are beaten down by its weight on the heads of the unfortunates who trust to them for shelter until at length the caravan stripped of all covering has no resource but to bide the pelting of the pitiless storm and shivering and shelterless wait until the hurricane has howled itself away. At length they reached the city of Furri loaded for the thirty-fifth time with the baggage of the British embassy. The caravan escorted by a detachment of three hundred matchlock men with flutes playing and muskets echoing and the heads of the warriors decorated with white plumes on the 16th July entered the frontier town of the kingdom of Efat. Clusters of conical-roofed houses covering the sides of twin hills here presented the first permanent habitations that had greeted the eye since leaving the sea-coast--rude and ungainly but right welcome signs of transition from depopulated waste to the abodes of man. The African seems a robber by nature and the sight of the bales and boxes excited the national propensity in a most violent degree. Even the royal ministers and courtiers seem to have felt a passion for looking into those prohibited treasures which evidently tempted their virtue in a most perilous degree. Meanwhile a special messenger arrived bearing reiterated compliments from the Negoos (king ) with a horse and a mule from the royal stud attired in the peculiar trappings which belong to majesty. Those animals awoke all the loyal curiosity of the people. At the sight women and girls enveloped in blood-red shifts who had thronged to stare at the strangers burst into a scream of acclamation. A group of hooded widows thrust their fingers into their ears and joined in the clamour. The escort and camel-drivers placed no bounds to their hilarity. A fat ox that had been promised was turned loose among the spectators pursued by fifty savages with their gleaming _creeses_ and hamstrung by a dexterous blow which threw it bellowing to the earth in the height of its mad career and tribes of lean curs commenced an indiscriminate engagement over the garbage. The neighbouring nations look upon the population of this province with great contempt. They say that their tongues are long for lying their arms are long for stealing and their legs are long for running away. The mission now approached another region perhaps the finest in Africa. Every change in the climate and soil in Africa is in extremes and barreness and unbounded fertility lie side by side. ""As if by the touch of the magician's wand the scene now passes in an instant from parched wastes to the geen and lovely islands of Abyssinia presenting one scene of rich and thriving cultivation. The baggage having at length been consigned to the shoulders of six hundred grumbling Moslem porters--for here the camel from the steepness of the hills was useless--and forming a line which extended upwards of a mile the embassy on the morning of the 17th comnenced the ascent of the Abyssinian Alps; the flutes again played the wild warriors of the escort again chanted their songs. It was a cool and lovely morning and an invigorating breeze played over the mountains' side on which now less than ten degrees from the equator flourished the vegetation of northern climes. The rough and stony road wound on by a steep ascent over hill and dale now skirting some precipitous ascent now dipping into the basin of some verdant hollow where it suddenly emerged into a succession of shady lanes bounded by flowering hedgerows."" All this is so like England and so unlike Africa that we should suspect the major's memory to have been as active at least as his observation. But the work contains so much internal evidence of accuracy independently of the confidence attached to the character of the intelligent writer himself that we must believe the heart of Ethiopa to possess secnes that would be worthy of the heart of our own fresh and flower-bearing island. The scene which follows is quite Arcadian. ""The wild rose the fern the lantana and the honeysuckle smiled round a succession of highly cultivated terraces and on every eminence stood a cluster of conically thatched houses environed by green hedges and partially embowered amid dark trees As the troop passed on the peasant abandoned his occupation to gaze at the novel procession; while merry groups of hooded women decked in scarlet and crimson left their avocations in the hut to welcome the king's guests with a shrill _ziroleet_ which ran from every hand. Birds warbled among the groves. At various turns of the road the prospect was rugged wild and beautiful. The first Christian village was soon revealed on the summit of a height. Three principal ranges of hills were next crossed in succession. Lastly the view opened upon the wooded site of Ankober occupying a central position in a horseshoe crescent of mountains still high above which enclose a magnificent amphitheatre of ten miles in diameter. This is clothed throughout with a splendid vigorous and varied vegetation."" The embassy now halted waiting for permission to enter the capital and taking up their quarters in a town three thousand feet above Furri on the frontier. The escort of the troop fired a salute on entering and as they marched along performed the war dance. A veteran capered before the ranks with a drawn sword between his teeth and the martial song was chorused by three hundred Christian throats. The prospect from this elevated point naturally struck the travellers with astonishment and admiration. The site of the town is only one of the thousand cones into which the mountain side is broken as it approaches the plain. The prospect over the plain was boundless and countless villages met the eye upon the mountain slope. Wherever the plough could go all was cultivated. Wheat barley Indian corn beans peas cotton and oil plant throve luxuriantly round every hamlet. The regularly marked fields mounted in terraces to the height of three or four thousand feet becoming in their boundaries more and more indistinct until totally lost in the shadowy green side of Mamrat (the Mother of Grace.) This mountain is a wonder shrouded in clouds whilst all was sunshine below. It is clothed with a dense forest and ascends to an elevation of 13 000 feet above the sea. Here are collected for security the treasures of the monarch which have been amassing since the re-establishment of the kingdom one hundred and fifty years since. After remaining some time in the market-place the governor of the town appeared and conducted the mission to the house of an old Moslem woman where they were to lodge for the night. The names of the three daughters Major Harris observes were worthy of the days of Prince Cherry and Fair Star. They were Eve Sweet Limes and Sunbeam. The ladies vacated the house with great good-humour; but it was low intolerably filthy and without bedding or food. The unfortunate mission had thus to spend a night probably unequaled by their sufferings in the open field. Though so near the equator they felt the cold severely; rain set in with great violence pouring through the roof and entering into the threshold. A fire was indispensable yet they were nearly suffocated with smoke; they were devoured with insects and in this torment and fever tossed till dawn. At the arrival of morning they received the disappointing message that the king could not yet visit his capital but that they might either seek him among the mountains or wait for him where they were. Major Harris imputes this disappointment to the accidental opening of one of the boxes of presents. Royal cupidity had been so strongly excited by the conjectures of their contents that the king had evidently been anxious in the first instance to hasten their delivery as much as possible. Gold and jewels were probably uppermost in the royal conceptions; but the box happening to contain only the leathern buckets belonging to the ""galloper guns "" the spectators were loud in their derision. ""These "" they exclaimed ""are but a poor people! What is their nation compared with the Amhara? for behold in this trash specimens of the offerings brought from their boasted land to the footstool of the mightiest of monarchs."" The rainy season was now setting in and the situation of the embassy became more comfortless from day to day. Notes were written and answers received from the monarch but the royal interview was still postponed partly by the artifice of the knavish governors who kept a longing eye on the presents and partly by the barbarian etiquette of showing the natives the scorn with which their king was entitled to treat all the nations of the world. The residence of the mission in this comfortless place however gave a opportunity of acquiring considerable knowledge of the habits and commerce of the interior. The chief traffic is in slaves but coffee is exported extensively from Hurrna and large caravans three times in the year visit the ports Zeyla and Barbara laden with ivory ostrich feathers ghee saffrons gums and myrrh. In return are brought blue and white calicoes Indian piece goods Indian prints silks and shawls red cotton yarn silk threads beads frankincense copper wire and zinc. A fortnight rolled away painfully in this detestable place which was named Alio Amba when a summons came from the monarch in these formal words:--""Tarry not by day neither stay ye by night; for the heart of the father longeth to see his children and let him not be disappointed."" They now ascended through a country of romantic beauty to Machalwan the place appointed for the interview. The Abyssinian in charge of the embassy was now sent forward to obtain permission to fire a salute of twenty-one guns on the arrival of the troop at the royal residence. This request seemed to have alarmed his majesty in no slight degree. The most romantic reports of the ordnance had gone before them. It was currently believed that their discharge was sufficient to set fire to the ground to shiver rocks and to dismantle mountain fastnesses. Men were said to have arrived with ""copper legs "" who served those tremendous engines; and in alarm for the safety of his palace capital and treasures the suspicious monarch still peremptorily insisted on withholding the desired license until he should have seen the battery ""with his own eyes."" It rained incessantly during the night which preceded the day of presentation and until the morning broke; when a great volume of white mist rose from the deep valleys and drifted like a scene-curtain across the summit of the giant Mamrat. The whole troop now began to ascend the mountain; and as they approached within sight of the stockaded palace the escort commenced to fire their matchlocks. The view here is described as very lovely and giving some conception of European variety of vegetation with tropical luxuriance. Farm-houses rich fields foaming cascades and bright green meadows covered with flowers met the eye on every side; and above all towered the great Abyssinian range some thousand feet perpendicularly overhead with its summits crested with clouds. The crowd of spectators was immense and were repelled only by strokes of the bamboo. At length a large tent was pitched for the reception of the embassy the floor was strewed with heath myrtles and other aromatic shrubs; and the weather having cleared up ""the mission radiant with plumes and gold embroidery moved on."" As they reached the precincts of the palace the artillery fired a salute which equally awed and astonished the multitude the discharge being followed by universal shouts in the native tongue of--""Wonderful English! Well done well done!"" After several further stoppages they entered the reception hall. It was circular and showy. The lofty walls glittered with a profusion of silver ornaments emblazoned shields matchlocks and double-barreled guns. Persian carpets and rugs of all sizes colours and patterns covered the floors; and crowds of governors chiefs and officers of the court in their holiday attire stood in a posture of respect uncovered to the girdle. Two wide alcoves receded on either side in one of which blazed a cheerful wood fire engrossed by indolent cats; while in the other on a flowered satin ottoman surrounded by withered slaves and juvenile pages and supported by gay velvet cushions lay ""His most Christian majesty Sahela Selasse!"" The Dech Agulari (state doorkeeper ) as master of the ceremonies stood with a rod of green rushes to preserve the exact distance of approach to royalty; and as the British entered and made their bows pointed them to chairs which done it was commanded that all should be covered. The monarch was not unworthy of figuring in this pomp. Forty summers of which eight-and-twenty had been passed on the throne had slightly furrowed his forehead and grizzled a full bushy head of hair arranged in elaborate curls. But though wanting the left eye ""the expression of his manly features open pleasing and commanding did not belie the character for impartial justice which he had obtained far and wide; even the robber tribes of the low country calling him a fine balance of gold."" After the delivery of the ambassadorial letters the exhibition commenced which had so long been the envy of the courtiers and probably the conversation of the kingdom. The presents were displayed. A rich Brussels carpet which completely covered the hall Cashmere shawls and embroidered Delhi scarfs of resplendent hues excited universal admiration. The finer specimens were handed to the king. As the various presents succeeded the delight increased. A group of Chinese dancing figures produced bursts of merriment; and when the European escort in full uniform with the sergeant at their head marched into the hall paced in front of the throne and performed the manual and platoon exercises amid ornamented clocks chiming and musical boxes playing ""God save the Queen "" his majesty appeared quite entranced. ""But many and bright were the smiles that lighted up the royal features as three hundred muskets with bayonets fixed were piled in front of the royal footstool. A buzz of mingled wonder and applause arose from the crowded courtiers; and the monarch's satisfaction now filled to overflowing. 'God will reward you ' he exclaimed--'for I cannot!'"" But a more serious and a more striking display was still to follow. The artillery were to exhibit their powers; and the crowd rushed out and scattered over the hill to see its practice. A sheet was attached to the opposite face of the ravine the valley rang to the roar of the guns; and as the white cloth flew in shreds to the wind under a rapid discharge of round shot canister and grape amid the crumbling of the rock and the rush of falling stones shouts of admiration rang from hill to hill. This eventful evening was closed by testimonies of the king's satisfaction in the shape of a huge pepper pie from the royal kitchen with his commands that his children might feast; and a visit from the royal confessor a dwarf enveloped in robes and turbans and armed with silver cross and crosier. Seating himself in a chair he delivered a speech which affords as good a specimen of court oratory as any thing that we remember; and also shows the powerful effect of the presents on the courtly sensibilities. The speech was as follows:-- ""Forty years have rolled away since Asfa Woosen on whose memory be peace! grandsire to our beloved monarch saw in a dream that the red men were bringing into his kingdom curious and beautiful commodities from countries beyond the great sea. The astrologers on being commanded to give an interpretation thereof predicted with one accord that foreigners from the land of Egypt would come into Abysinia during his majesty's most illustrious reign; and that yet more and wealthier would follow in that of his son and of his son's son who should sit next upon the throne. Praise be unto God that the dream and its interpretation have now been fulfilled! Our eyes though they be old have never beheld wonders until this day; and during the reign over Shoa of seven successive kings no such miracles as these have been wrought in Ethiopia!!"" The embassy were now fixed under the protection of the monarch; and they were invited to join in the various displays and festivals of the new year which the Abyssinians begin on the 10th of September. Of these the cavalry review was by far the most showy as well as the most suited to the gratification of the British officers. Some parts of this display seemed to have been borrowed from the days of European knighthood. The king's master of the horse advanced at the head of his squadrons of picked household cavalry ""the flower of the Christian lances."" Ayto Melkoo their leader was arrayed in a party-coloured vest surmounted by a crimson Arab fleece handsomely studded with silver jets. A gilt embossed gauntlet encircled his right arm from the wrist to the elbow; his targe and horse trappings glittered with a profusion of silver crosses and devices and he looked a stately and martial figure curveting at the head of his well-appointed lancers. This warrior advancing with his line galloped up in front and made a speech in the manner of old heroic times vaunting his past prowess and his present loyalty his troopers accompanying the more succcessful parts of his speech by striking the lance upon the targe. At the close he threw his spears upon the ground unsheathed his two-edged falchion gave a howl which was answered by a roar from his horsemen and a discharge of fire-arms; and the whole made a dash and charged across the parade. At the royal command the British now fired a salute of twenty-one guns to the great wonder and astonishment of the wild Galla and the multitude of spectators. Thirteen governors (of provinces we presume ) clothed in the skins of lions and leopards and covered with silver chains cuirasses and gauntlets emblems of their gallantry in the field next passed before the king each at the head of his troop and each making a harangue. Abyssinia must be a very oratorical country. Last of all came the tall martial figure of Abegoz Moreteh chief of the tributary Galla of the south at the head of his legion three thousand in number: this ""sea of wild horsemen"" moved in advance to the sound of kettle-drums their arms and decorations flashing in the sun and their ample white robes and long sable hair streaming in the breeze. At the war-hoop of their leader ""with the rush of a hurricane the moving forest of lances disappeared under a cloud of dust."" From _eight to ten thousand_ cavalry were in the field; and the spectacle which lasted from nine in the morning until five in the afternoon was ""exceedingly wild and impressive."" But the most impressive display of all was to be supplied by the British. With fire-arms the people were acquainted already. The ""brass galloper "" though viewed with ""wonderful respect "" was still only an engine on a larger scale than those to which they were familiarized. But the rocket was a formidable and splendid novelty. Night had now thrown her mantle round the field and by the king's command the rocket practice began; the first brilliant rush into the air was matter of amazement to all. When the rocket started with a roar from its bed men women and children fell on their faces--horses and mules broke from their tethers--and the warriors who had any heart remaining shouted aloud. The Galla tribes who witnessed the explosion ascribed the phenomenon to ""potent medicines "" and declared that since the Gyptzis (British) could at pleasure produce comets in the sky and rain fire down heaven there was nothing for them but submission to the king's command. The review was followed at some interval of time by a more substantial display. Thrice in the year the king summons his rude militia for an inroad into some of the neighbouring lands; and as he was particularly anxious to have the presence of the embassy on this occasion and as they conceived it to offer the best opportunity of seeing the country they accordingly accepted the invitation. As it is to be presumed that they had no intention of taking any personal part in this marauding expedition we are not disposed to criticise their acquiescence; otherwise there could be no doubt whatever that they had no right to assist the king of Shoa in his foray on his neighbours more than they would have had a right to assist his neighbours in their attacks upon the king of Shoa. The march was peculiar and even pompous in its kind. It was extraordinary to see it preceded by a copy of the Holy Scriptures under a canopy of scarlet cloth and borne on a mule; but it must be owned accompanied by the ""Ark of the cathedral of St Michael "" which works miracles and is regarded as a pledge of victory. Then came the king on a specially caparisoned mule surrounded by his guard of shield-bearers and flanked by matchlock-men; then came forty damsels royal cooks painted with ochre and muffled in crimson-striped robes of cotton--a troop rigorously guarded by attendants with long white wands. Beyond these as far as the eye could penetrate the clouds of dust every hill and valley teemed with horsemen camp-followers sumpter-mules and men carrying sheaves of spears and leading caparisoned horses all mixed in the most picturesque confusion. After a march of fifteen miles the female cooks halted like a flight of flamingoes in a pretty secluded valley. It was evident that the day's march was now at an end and the army halted to bivouac for the night. In the centre of this straggling camp which could not be less than five miles in diameter was raised a suite of royal tents consisting of a gay party-coloured marquee of Turkish manufacture surrounded by twelve ample awnings of black serge over which floated five crimson pennons surmounted respectively by silver globes. There was something of African or perhaps European pomp in this proceeding. Until the royal tents were enclosed from the vulgar eye the Negoos ascending an adjacent eminence with his chiefs and an escort of picked warriors remained seated on cushioned _alga_ and under the crimson canopy of the state umbrella. When night fell rockets were fired by the royal command ""to instil terror into the breasts of the Galla hordes;"" and the peak which ran near the headquarters was chosen as the most central spot for t

e display. The effect brilliant every where was here all that even Majesty could have desired. The ""fire-rainers"" (the picturesqe name which we presune Major Harris has adopted from the natives) produced delight wonder and terror in all their degrees; and if the Galla nation were present they must to a man have solicited chains rather than be roasted alive by those flying monsters which the people seem to have taken for the works of magic if not magicians themselves. The display was followed by a repast in the old heroic style and which will not be forgotten should Abyssinia ever give the world a sable Homer. ""The chiefs and nobles sat down to their feast in the royal pavilion where hydromel beer and _raw_ flesh were in regal profusion!! After supper speeches were made in the Homeric style boasting of what the warriors had done and intended to do. A fragment of one of the speeches; addressed to the English as the party broke up gives a fair idea of Abyssinian table eloquence 'You are the adorners ' (the orator had been decorated with a scarlet cloak;) 'you have given me scarlet broadcloth and behold I have reserved the gift for this day. This garment will bring me success; for the Pagan who sees a crimson cloak on the shoulders of the Amhara ' (Abyssinian ) 'believing him to be a warrior of distinguished valour will take like an ass to his heels and be speared without the smallest danger.'"" The march and the foray into the country of one of the Galla tribes are admirably told and perhaps are among the best descriptions in the volumes--exact without being tedious and deeply coloured without exaggeration. But we must hasten to other things. This was the monarch's eighty-fourth foray; and on this we may conceive something of the horrors of barbarian life and of the tremendous evils which nations have escaped whose laws and principles tame down the original evil of man. We are glad to find that the embassy refused to take any share in this horrible work though they fell into some disrepute with the troops and even with the monarch for their remissness. The king had even reserved an unlucky Galla in a tree to be shot by his guests. But this they declined first on the pretext of its being the Sabbath and next more distinctly on the ground that--""no public body was authorized by the law of nations to draw a sword offensively in any country not at war with its own."" They then offered the compromise ""that an elephant was esteemed equivalent to forty Gallas and a wild buffalo to five and that they were ready to shoot as many of both as his Majesty pleased."" But the embassy did more effectual things; the sick and wounded received relief from them to the extent of their means and they even prevailed on the king to liberate all his prisoners. The troops in the foray amounted to about 20 000. On the return of this destroying expedition which seems to have turned a very fine country into a desert the king made a kind of triumphal entry into his capital. His costume was splendidly savage. A lion's skin over his shoulders richly ornamented and half concealing beneath its folds an embroidered green mantle of Indian manufacture; on his right shoulder were three chains of gold as emblems of the Holy Trinity (!) and the fresh-plucked bough of asparagus which denoted his recent exploit rose from the centre of an embossed coronet of silver on his brow. His dappled war-horse in housings of blue and yellow was led beside him; and in front his ""champion"" rode a coal-black charger bearing the royal shield of massive silver with the cross upon it and dressed in a panther's hide. The two chief officers of his army rode either side of the crimson umbrella; at the palace gates a deputation of priests in white robes received the conqueror with a benediction and a volley of musketry announced his arrival. The leader of the royal matchlock-men performed a war dance before the Ark as it was borne along and in the inner court the principal warriors each carring some human fragment on his lance flung then on the ground before the royal footstool and shouted their war praise. The embassy at length attained personal distinction by the death of an elephant which one of the party brought to the ground by a two-ounce ball. The ""warriors"" were all in astonishment at this feat to which all had predicted the most disastrous termiration; and ""Boroo the brave chief of the Soopa "" exclaimed in his delight ""The world was made for you and no one else has any business in it!"" The chief object of the embassy was still to be accomplished--the formation of something that approached to a treaty of commerce. Beads cutlery and trinkets had been received from the coast; but the beggary of the nobles for those things was perpetual and intolerable. They called those ornanents pleasing things and the cry was constant ""show me pleasing things "" ""give me delighting things "" ""adorn me from head to foot."" It is scarcely surprising that the natives should be enamoured of European conmodities; for though an old commerce had subsisted with Arabia the supplies brought by the English were of the most exciting kind. Detonating caps were in great request; treble strong canister powder was also much in demand. Yet there was some ingenuity amongst themselves; for a young fellow was taken up for making dollars of pewter. Every spot and letter had been closely represented with punch and file. ""Tell me "" said the king on the case of this culprit being mentioned to him ""how is that machine made which in your country pours out the silver crowns like a shower of rain?"" The hand corn-mills presented by the British Government had been erected within the palace walls and slaves were turning the wheels with unceasing diligence. ""Demetrius the Armenian made a machine to grind corn "" exclaimed his majesty in a transport of delight as the flour streamed upon the floor; ""and though it cost the people a year of hard labour to construct it was useless when finished because the priest declared it to be the devil's work and cursed the bread. But may the Sahela Selasse die--these engines are the work of clever hands."" The monarch elated with his knowledge now determined to build a bridge which in three days was completed; and as was predicted by the quiet English spectators in three hours fell down on the very first fresh produced by the annual rains. Weaving excepted the people manufactured nothing; but British commerce has long been known though evidently of the coarsest kind. At length on his majesty's being told that five thousand looms would bring him more wealth than ten thousand soldiers he gradually consented to form a commercial treaty. The crown had hitherto appropriated the property of strangers dying in the country. The purchase or display of costly goods by the subject had been interdicted and a maxim exhibiting the whole jealousy of savage life had been established that the stranger who once entered was never to depart from Abyssinia. By the articles of the commercial treaty all those barbarous prohibitions have been abolished. As the monarch returned the deed he made a short speech sufficiently able and appropriate: ""You have loaded me with costly presents the rainment that I wear the throne on which I sit the curiosities in my store-houses and the muskets which hang round my great hall--all are from your country. What have I to give in return for such wealth? My kingdom is as nothing."" The hereditary provinces at this day subject to the King of Shoa are comprised in a rectangular domain of 150 by 90 miles; an area traversed by five systems of mountains of which the culminating point divides the basin of the Nile from that of the Hawash. The Christian population of Shoa and Efat are estimated at a million; and the Moslem and Pagan population at a million and a half. The royal revenues are said to amount to 80 000 or 90 000 German crowns arising chiefly from import duties in slaves merchandise and salt. As the annual expenses of the state do not exceed 10 000 dollars; it is presumed that the king during his thirty years' reign has amassed much treasure which is regularly deposited under ground. We recommend the enquirers into the truth of Herodotus to examine the curious illustrations stated in these volumes; and among the rest the kingdom of pigmies. The geographer will find ample interest in tracing the course of the Gochob a sort of central Nile; and the naturalist botanist and entomologist will find abundant information in the very interesting and complete appendices on those subjects. The history of the Christian missions of early ages is an excellent chapter and the general statistics of religion. The practical religion of the Abyssinian Christian is of the very lowest degree of formality. Fasts penances and excommunications form the chief discipline; but the penitent can always provide a substitute for the two former and the latter is always to be averted by money. Spiritual offences however are rare; for murder and sacrilege alone give umbrage to the easy conscience of the natives of Shoa. Abstinence and largesses of money are equivalent to wiping away every sin. Their creed advises the invocation of saints confession to the priest and faith in charms and amulets. Prayers for the dead and absolution are indispensable; and as a more summary mode of relieving the burdens of the flesh it is pronounced that all sins are forgiven from the moment that the kiss of the pilgrim is imprinted on the stones of Jerusalem and that even kissing the hand of a priest purifies the body from all sin. A creed of this order which makes spiritual safety dependent not upon personal purification of mind and divine mercy but upon forms which are unconnected with either and which even can be executed by a substitute of course excludes the necessity for morals of any kind. All is corruption--""Born amid falsehood and deceit cradled in bloodshed and nursed in the arms of idleness and debauchery the national character almost defies the missionary."" There are some strange remnants of Judaism still lingering amongst the tribes of these highland regions. The Galla have a tradition that their whole nation will one day be called on to march _en masse_ and reconquer Palestine for the return of the Jews. The king of Shoa regards himself as a direct descendant of the house of Solomon calls himself king of Israel and the national standard bears the motto ""The Lion of the tribe of Judah hath prevailed."" They believe the 45th Psalm to be a prophecy of Queen Magueda's visit to Jerusalem; whither she was attended by a daughter of Hiram king of Tyre. The Jewish prohibitions against the flesh of unclean animals are observed by the Abyssinians. The sinew which shrank and the eating of which was prohibited to the Israelite is also prohibited in Shoa. The Jewish Sabbath is strictly observed. The Abyssinians are said by Ludolf to be the greatest fasters in the world. The Wednesdays and Fridays are fasts; the forty days before Easter are rigidly observed as a fast; and from the Thursday preceding Easter till the Sunday no morsel of meat is to enter the lips and the prohibition against drink is equally rigorous. St Michael and the Virgin Mary are venerated in the highest degree; St Michael as the leader of the hosts of heaven and the latter as the chief of all saints and queen of heaven and earth and both as the great intercessors of mankind. Like the Jews of old the Abyssinians weep and lament on all occasions of death; and the shriek ascends to the sky as if the soul could be recalled from the world of spirits. As with the Jews the most inferior garments are employed as the weeds of woe; and the skin torn from the temples and scarified on the cheeks and breast proclaims the last extremity of grief. As the Rabbins believe that angels were the governors of all sublunary things the Abyssinians adopt this belief: carrying it even further they confidently implore their assistance in all concerns and invoke and adore them in a higher degree than the Creator. The clergy enjoy the price of deathbed confession; and the churchyard is sternly denied to all who die without the rite or whose relations refuse the fee and the funeral feast. Eight pieces of salt are the price of wafting a poor man's soul to the place of rest and the feast for the dead places him in a state of happiness according to the cost of the entertainment. For the rich money procures the attendance of priests who absolve and pray continually day and night. The anniversaries of the deaths of the six kings of Shoa are held with great ceremony in the capital; and once every twelvemonth before a splendid feast their souls are absolved from all sin. Major Harris expresses himself ardently and eloquently on the hopes of commerce which might be maintained by Great Britain with this little-known but productive part of the world. It is notorious that gold and gold dust ivory ostrich feathers peltries spices wax and precious gums form a part of the lading of every slave caravan; notwithstanding that the tediousness of the transport and the penuriousness of the Indian and Arab merchant offer but a small compensation for their labour. No quarter of the globe abounds to a greater extent in vegetable and mineral productions than tropical Africa; and in the populous fertile and salubrious portions lying immediately north of the equator the very highest capabilities are presented for the employment of British capital. Coal has already been found; cotton of a quality unrivaled in the whole world is every where a weed and might be cultivated to any extent. The coffee which is sold in Arabia as the produce of Mocha is chiefly of wild African growth; and that species of the tea plant which is used by the lower orders of the Chinese flourishes so widely and with so little care that the climate would doubtless be found well adapted for the higher-flavoured and more delicate species. If at a very moderate calculation a sum falling very little short of a hundred thousand pounds sterling can be annually invested in European goods to supply the wants of some of the poorer tribes adjacent to Abyssinia what important results might not be anticipated from well-directed efforts adopting the natural neans of communication in Africa? Another winter passed--a dreary time for the mission in Ankober. Torrents rushed down the mountains every footpath had been converted into a stream and every valley into a morass. The season was peculiarly tempestuous; the heavy white clouds constantly hung on the mountain pinnacles and the torrents swelled the Hawash to such an extent that the land for many miles on both sides was inundated. There must have been some difficulty in spending the time of this solitary confinement among the hills; but the author was well employed in writing his volumes and engineers were employed in erecting a Gothic hall to the great delight of his Abyssinian majesty. He would allow them to do every thing except paint his portrait--the national idea being that whoever takes a likeness immediately becomes invested with power over the original. ""You are writing a book "" he said. ""I know this because I never enquire what you are doing that they do not tell me you are using a pen or gazing at the heavens. That is a good thing and it pleases me. You will speak favourably of myself; but you shall not insert my portrait as you have done that of the King of Zingero."" The English had new wonders for him; they shaped planks out of trees in a fashion new to the Abyssinians who waste a tree on every plank. ""You English are indeed a strange people "" said the king as he saw the first plank formed in this economical style. ""I do not understand your stories of the roads dug under rivers nor of the carriages that gallop without horses; but you are a strong people and employ wonderful inventions."" At length the Gothic hall was complete. It may be presumed that nothing like it was ever seen in Abyssinia before; for the mission not merely built but furnished it with couches ottomans chairs tables and curtains; doubtless a very showy affair though we camot exactly comprehend the author's expression of its being furnished after the manner of an English cottage ornee. The king however was delighted with it. ""I shall turn it into a chapel "" said his majesty patting his chief ecclesiastic on the back. ""What say you to that plan my father?"" As a last finishing touch were suspended in the centre hall a series of large coloured engravings representing the chase of the tiger in all its various phases. The domestication of the elephant and its employment in war or in the pageant had ever proved a stumbling block to the king; but the appearance of the hugest of beasts in his hunting harness struck the chord of a new idea. ""I will have a nunber caught on the Roby "" he exclaimed ""that you may tame then and that I too may ride on an elephant before I die!"" Another of those fearful displays of barbarian plunder and havoc took place at the end of September. Twenty thousand warriors headed by the king made an inroad on the Galla. Those unfortunate people were so little prepared that they seem to have been slaughtered without resistance. Between four and five thousand were butchered and forty-three thousand head of cattle were driven off. A thousand captives chiefly women and children were marched in triumph to the capital; but they were soon liberated apparently on the remonstrance of the British mission. But a terrible disaster was to befall the palace and the people. The dweller amongst mountains must be always exposed to their dilapidation; and a season of unusual rain continuing to a much later period than usual produced an earth-avalanche. ""As the evening of an eventful night (Dec. 6th) closed in not a single breath of wind disturbed the thick fog which brooded over the mountain. A sensible difference was perceptible in the atmosphere; but the rain again began to descend and for hours pelted like the dischage of a waterspout. Towards morning a violent thunder storm careered along the crest of the range and every rock and cranny re-echoed from the crash of the thunder. Deep darkness again settled on the mountains and a heavy rumbling noise like the passage of artillery wheels as followed by the shrill cry of despair. The earth saturated with moisture had slidden from their steep slopes houses and cottages were engulfed in the debris or shattered to fragments by the descending masses and daylight presented a strange scene of ruin. Perched on the apex of the conical peak the palace buildings were now stripped of their palisades or overwhelmed: the roads along the hill were completely obliterated. The desolation had spread for miles along the great range: houses with their inmates had been hurried away."" Before the mission took its departure it did honour to the character of its country by one act which alone would have been worth its time and trouble. The horrid policy of African despotism condemns all the brothers of the throne to the dungeon from the moment of the royal accession. The king had exhibited qualities of a very unexpected order in an African despot and under the guidance of the mission had made some advances to justice and even to clemency. At this period he was suddenly seized with an alarming spasmodic disorder and he apprehended that his constitution enfeebled by the habits of his life was likely to give way. On his recovery being despaired of by both priests and physicians he suddenly sent for the British mission. ""'My children ' said his majesty in a sepulchral voice as he extended his burning hand towards them 'behold I am sore stricken. Last night they believed me dead and the voice of mourning had arisen within the palace walls; but God hath spared me until now.'"" It seems to be the custom for the king's physician to taste the draught prescribed for him and an attenpt being made to do this by the British the sick monarch generously forbade it. ""'What need is there now of this?' he exclaimed reproachfully. 'Do I not know that you would administer to Sahela Selasse nothing that could do him mischief?'"" The reader will probably remember an almost similar act of confidence of Alexander the Great in his physician. An opportunity was now taken of urging him to an act of humanity however strongly opposed to the habits of the country and to the interests of the man. It was represented to him that his uncles and brothers had been immured in a dungeon during the thirty years of his reign and that no act could be more honourable to himself or acceptable to Heaven than the extinction of this barbarous custom. ""'And I will release them ' returned the monarch after a moment's debate within himself. 'By the Holy Eucharist I swear and by the Church of the Holy Trinity in Koora Gadel that if Sahela Selasse arise from this bed of sickness all of whom you speak shall be restored to the enjoyment of liberty.'"" Fortunately he did arise from that bed of sickness and he honourably determined to keep his promise. The royal captives were seven and the British mission were summoned to see their introduction into the presence. They had been so exhausted by long captivity that at first they seemed scarcely to comprehend freedom. They had been manacled and spent their time in the fabrication of harps and combs of which they brought specimens to lay at the feet of their monarch. This touching interview concluded with a speech of the king to the embassy-- ""'My children you will write all that you have seen to your country and will say to the British Queen that though far behind the nations of the White Men from whom Ethiopia first received her religion there yet remains a spark of Christian love in the breast of the King of Shoa.'"" We have thus given a rapid and bird's-eye view of a work which we regard as rivaling in interest and importance any ""book of travels"" of this century. The name of Abyssinia was scarcely more than a recollection connected with the adventurous ramblings of Bruce for the romantic purpose of discovering the source of the Nile. His narrative had also been wholly profitless--attracting public curiosity in a remarkable degree at he time no direct foundation of European intercourse was laid and no movement of European traffic followed. But giving Bruce all the credit which was so long denied him for fidelity to fact and for the spirit of bold adventure which he exhibited in penetrating a land of violence and barbarism the mission of Major Harris at once establishes its object on more substantial grounds. It is not a private adventure but a public act rendered natural by the circumstances of British neighbourhood and important for the opening of Abyssinia and central Africa to the greatest civilizer which the world has ever seen--the commerce of England. There are still obvious difficulties of transit between the coast and the capital by the ordinary route. But if the navigation of the Gochob or the route from Tajura should once be secured the trade will have commenced which in the course of a few years will change the face of Abyssinia; limit if not extinguish that disgrace of human nature--the slave trade; and if not reform at least enlighten the clouded Christianity of the people. As the author was commissioned not merely as a discoverer but a diplomatist it is to be presumed that on many interesting points he writes under the restraints of diplomatic reserve. But he has told us enough to excite our strong interest in the beauty the fertility and the capabilities of the country which he describes; and more than enough to show that it is almost a British duty to give the aid of our science our inventions and our principles to a monarch and a people evidently prepared for rising in the scale of nations. We have a kind of impression that some general improvement is about to take place in the more neglected portions of the world and that England is honoured to be the chief agent in the great work. Africa which has been under a _ban_ for so many thousand years may be on the eve of relief from the misery lawlessness and impurity of barbarism; and we are strongly inclined to look upon this establishment of British feeling and intercourse in Abyssinia as the commencement of that proud and fortunate change. All attempts to enter Africa by the western coast have failed. The heat the swamps the rank vegetation and the unhealthy atmosphere have proved insurmountable barriers. The north is fenced by a line of burning wilderness. But the east is open free fertile and beautiful. A British factory in Abyssinia would be not merely a source of infinite comfort to the people by the communication of European conveniences and manufactures but a source of light. British example would teach obedience and loyalty to the laws subordination on the part of the people and mercy on that of the sovereign. But we have also another object sufficiently important to determine our Government in looking to the increase of our connexion with Eastern Africa. It is certainly a minor one but one which no rational Government can undervalue. The policy of the present French King is directed eminently to the extension of commercial influence in all countries. To this policy none can make objection. It is the duty of a monarch to develop all the resources of his country; and while France exerts herself only in the rivalry of peace her advance is an advance of all nations. But her extreme attention of late years to Africa ought to open our eyes to the necessity of exertion in that boundless quarter. On the western coast she had long fixed a lazy grasp; but that grasp is now becoming vigorous and extending hour by hour. Her flag flies at Golam 250 miles up the Senegal. She has a settlement at Gori; she has lately established a settlement at the mouth of the Assinee another at the mouth of the Gaboon and is on the point of establishing another in the Bight of Benin; when she will command all Western Africa. She is not less active on the eastern shore. At Massawah on the coast of Abyssinia she is fast monopolizing the trade in gold and spices. She has purchased Edh and is endeavouring to purchase Brava. Her attention to _Northern_ Abyssinia is matter of notoriety and we must regard this system not so much with regard to advantages which such possessions might give to ourselves as to their prejudice to us in falling into rival hands. The possession of Algeria should direct the eye of Europe to the ulterior objects of France; the first change of masters in Egypt must be looked to with national anxiety; and the transmission of the great routes of Africa into her hands must be guarded against with a vigilance worthy of the interests of England and Europe. If the river shall be found navigable to any extent what an opening is thus presented to both the Merchant and the philanthropist; a soil surpassed by none in the world a climate varying only 1º in the mean temperature of summer and winter and presenting an average of 55-1/2º and a population who could hardly fail to feel the advantages of commerce and civilization. From such a point as Aden offers access is promised to the very heart of Africa and thence to the sources of the mighty rivers which find an outlet on the western side of the continent; thus not merely benefiting the British merchant in a remarkable degree but rapidly abolishing the slave trade by giving employment to the people wealth to the native trader and a new direction to the powers of the country and the mind of its unhappy population. On the whole consideration of the subject we feel convinced that Eastern Africa is the safe and the natural point for British enterprise; that it is the most direct and effective point for the extinction of the cruel traffic in human flesh; and that it is the most promising and productive point for the establishment of that substantial connexion with the governments of the interior which alone can be regarded as worth the attention of the statesman. Insignificant stations on the coast to carry on a peddling traffic are beneath a manly and comprehensive policy. We must penetrate the mountains ascend the rivers and reach the seats of sovereignty. We must by a large and generous self-interest combine the good the knowledge and the virtue of the population with our own; and we must lay the foundation of our permanent influence over this fourth of the globe by showing that we are the fittest to communicate the benefits and establish the example of civilized society. To those who desire to go into more minute details we recommend an accompanying volume by the missionaries Isenberg and Krapf--the latter of whom acted as interpreter to the embassy. A capital geographical memoir is also given by Mr M'Queen the well-known African geographer. On the whole it is highly gratifying to our respect for British soldiership; to see works of this rank proceeding from our military men. They have great opportunities and may thus render national services in peace not less important than their enterprise in war. The East India Company offers inducements of the most important order to the accomplishment and scientific activity of its officers; and Major Harris must feel the distinction of having been selected for a mission of such interest as well as the high gratification of having conducted it to so benevolent solid and satisfactory a close. * * * * * A WORD OR TWO OF THE OPERA-TIVE CLASSES. BY LORGNON. ""Vai ch'avete gl'intelletti sani Mirate la dottrina che s'asconde Sotto queste coperte alte e profonde!""--BERNI. In the course of social transition professions like dogs have their day. A calling honourable in one century becomes infamous in the next; and vocations grow obsolete like the fashioning of our garments or figures of speech. In barbarous communities the strong man is king:-- ""Le premier roi fut un soldat heureux."" Where human statute is beginning to prize the general weal the legist is of high account and the priest paramount. Higher civilization engenders the influence of the man of letters the artist the dramatist the wit the poet and the orator. Or when with a wisdom surpassing the philosophy of the schools we tumble down to prose and assume the leathern apron of the utilitarian--the civil engineer or operative chemist starts up into a colossus. Sir Humphrey Davy and Sir Isambert Brunel are the true knights of modern chivalry; and Sir Walter--our Sir Walter--never showed himself more shrewd than in his exclamation to Moore--""Ah Tam!--it's lucky man we cam' sae soon!"" Great as was his influence equaling that of the other two great Sir Walters Manny and Raleigh in their several epochs of valour and enterprise it is likely enough that if born a century later the MSS. of the Scotch novels would have been chiefly valuable to light the furnace of some factory! So much in exposition of the fact that so long as the world possessed only three of what we choose to call quarters an executioner was an officer of state; and that now it possesses five the female of highest renown and greatest power of self-enrichment is the _danseuse_ or opera-dancer! Many intermediary callings have disappeared. The domestic chaplain of a lordly household is now nearly as superfluous as its archers or falconers; and the court calendars of former reigns record a variety of places and perquisites which did they still exist would be unpalatable to modern courtiers though compelled to earn their daily cakes however dirty. Just as the last golden pippin of the house of Crenie was preserved in wax for the edification of posterity a watchman has been deposited with his staff and lantern in the Royal Arsenal at Woolwich or the Museum of the Zoological or United Service Club or some other of your grand national collections as a specimen of the extinct Dogberry or Charley of the eighteenth century; and in process of time as much and more also will probably be done to a parish beadle a theatrical manager a lord chamberlain--and other public functionaries whom it might not be altogether safe to enumerate. Among them however there is really some satisfaction in hinting at the hangman!--For hear it ye sanguinary _manes_ of our ancestors:--""_Les bourreaux s'en vont!_"" Executioners are departing! We shall shortly have to commemorate in our obituaries and signalize by the hands of our novelists--""the last of the Jack Ketches."" In these days of ultra-philanthropy the hangman scarcely finds salt to his porridge or porridge to salt. _Exempli gratia_. In the course of last year a patient of the lower class wa

admitted into the lunatic ward of the public hospital at Marseilles whose malady seemed the result of religious depression. In that supposition the usual means of relief were resorted to and he was at length discharged as convalescent; when to attest the perfectness of his cure he went and hanged himself! A _procès verbal_ was as usual made out and the supposed fanatic proved to be the ex-executioner of Lyons! Tender-hearted people instantly ascribed his melancholy to qualms of conscience. But it appeared in evidence that since the accession of the citizen king the trade of the hangman had become a dead failure; and the disconsolate bankrupt was accordingly forced to take French leave of a world wherein _bourreaux_ can no longer turn an honest penny! Yet less than three centuries ago his predecessors were men of mark and consideration. Our own King Hal took more heed of his executioner than of half the counties over whose necks his axe was suspended; while Louis XI. a _legitimate_ sovereign of France used to dip in the dish with Tristan Hermite and Olivier le Dain. A few reigns later and the hangman of the French metropolis (who shares with its diocesan the honour of being styled ""Monsieur de Paris"") was respected as the most accomplished in Europe. The treasons of its civil wars had created so many executions that a Gascon wishing to prove that his father had been beheaded as a nobleman instead of hanged like a dog or a citizen asserted the decollation to have been so expertly executed _en Grève_ that the sufferer was unconscious of his end. ""Shake yourself "" exclaimed the executioner; and on his lordship's making the attempt his head rolled into the dust. This adroitness was the result of competition. In that day there were degrees of hangmen and promotion might be accomplished. Not only had the king his executioner and the Lorraines theirs--the court and the city--the abbot of St Germain des Près--the abbot of this and the abbot of that--but various communities and Signories having right of life and death over their vassals kept an executioner for purposes of domestic torture as they kept a seneschal to carve their meats; or as people now keep a _chef_ or a_ maître d'hôtel_. In those excellent olden times of Europe hangmen doubtless carried about written characters from lord to lord certifying their experience with rope and axe--branding-iron and thong. So long as the Inquisition afforded constant work for able hands a good hangman out of place must have been a treasure! Had there been register-offices or newspaper advertisements there probably would have appeared-- ""WANTS A SITUATION--An able-bodied middle-aged man without encumbrance who can have an undeniable character from his last situation as headsman hangman and general executioner. He is accustomed to the use of thumbikins and the most approved and fashionable modes of torture; and officiated for many years as superintendent of the wheel of a foreign prince renowned for the neatness of his rack. Drawing and quartering in all their branches. Pressing to death performed in the most economical style. Impalement in the Turkish manner; and the pile as practised by the best Smithfield hands &c. &c. &c."" Independent indeed of the high prosperity and vast perquisites of such posts as executioner of the Tower of London or the Grève of Paris there was honour and satisfaction in the office. A royal master knew when he was well served. Henry III. stood by in his chateau of Blois to see not only the heads severed from the dead bodies of the Duke and Cardinal de Guise but their _flesh cut into small pieces_ preparatory to being burned and the ashes scattered to the winds. ""His majesty "" says an eyewitness ""stood in a pool of blood to witness the hacking of the bodies."" This Italian _gusto_ for the smell of blood appears to have been introduced into the palaces of France from those of Italy by alliance with the Medici--those ennobled pawnbrokers of the middle ages whose _parvenu_ taste engendered the fantastic gilding of the _renaissance_ which they naturalized in the Tuileries and at Fontainbleau in common with the stiletto and acqua tofana of their poisoners and the fatalism of their judicial astrology. But enough of Catharine de Medicis and her sanguinary son--enough of Henry Tudor and his savage daughters--enough of the monstrous professions flourishing in their age of monstrosities. And turn we for relief to the exquisite vocation completing the antithesis--the vocation whose execution is that of _pas de zéphyrs_ and the tortures of whose infliction are the tortures of the tender heart! The calling of the _danseuse_ we repeat is among the most lucrative of modern times and nearly the most influential. The names of Taglioni and Elssler are as European nay as universal as those of Wellington and Talleyrand-Metternich or Thiers; and modern statesmanship and modern diplomacy show pale beside the Machiavelism of the _coulisses_. With what pomp of phraseology are the triumphs and movements of these _danseuses_ announced by the self-same journal which despatches with a stroke of the pen the submission of a province or revolution of a kingdom! One poor halfpenny-worth or half a line suffices for the death of a sultana; while fiery columns precede the departure and arrival of the steamer honoured by conveying across the Atlantic some ethereal being whose light fantastic toe is to give the law to the United States. Her appearance in the Ecclesiastic States on the other hand is announced in Roman capitals; and her triumphal entry into St Petersburg received with regiments of notes of admiration!!! Were Taglioni by the malediction of Providence to break her leg what corner of the civilized earth but would sympathize in the casualty? Or were Elssler epidemically carried off on the same day with the Pope the Archbishop of Dublin a chancellor of an university an historiographer or astronomer-royal--_which_ would be most cared for by society at large or to which would the public journals distribute the larger share of their dolefuls? Nor is it alone the levities of Europe which have encompassed with a gaseous atmosphere of enthusiasm these idols of the day. We appeal to our sober plodding painstaking brother Jonathan. We move for returns of the sums he has expended on his beloved Fanny and for notes of the honours conferred upon her not only on the boards of his theatres and in the publicity of his causeways but amid the august nationalities of his senate! ""Fanny Elssler in Congress"" has become as historical as the name of Washington! As if for the purpose of proving that extremes meet the democrats of the New World were demonstrating the wildest infatuation in favour of one dancer while the great autocrat of the Old was exhibiting a similar fervour in honour of another. La Gitana became all but presidentess of the Transatlantic republic; La Bayadère depolarized the tyrant of the Poles! But above all the Empress of Russia--albeit the lightest of sovereigns and coldest of women--was carried so far by her enthusiasm as to fasten a bracelet of gems on the fair arm of Taglioni; while the Queen-Dowager of England conferred a similar honour on the Neapolitan dancer Cerito! Now what queen or princess we should like to know has lavished necklace or bracelet or one poor pitiful brooch on Miss Edgeworth or Miss Aitkin Mrs Somerville or Joanna Baillie or any other of the female illustrations of the age saving these aerial machines which have achieved such enviable supremacy? Mrs Marcet who has taught the young idea of our three kingdoms how to shoot; Miss Martineau who has engrafted new ones on our oldest crab-stocks might travel from Dan to Beersheba without having a fatted calf or a fatted capon killed for them at the public expense. But let Taglioni take the road and what clapping of hands--what gratulation--what curiosity--what expansion of delight! The only wonder of all this is that we should wonder about the matter. Dancing constitutes that desideratum of the learned of all ages--an universal language. Music which many esteem much is nearly as nationalized in its rhythm as dialect in its words; whereas the organs of sight are cosmopolitan. The eye of man and the foot of the dancer include between them all nations and languages. The poetry of motion is interpreted by the lexicon of instinct; and the unimpregnable grace of a Taglioni becomes omnipotent and catholic as that of ""The statue that enchants the world!"" Who can doubt that the names of these sorceresses of our time will reach posterity as those of the Aspasias and Lauras of antiquity have reached our own--as having held philosophers by the beard and trampled on the necks of the conquerors of mankind--as being those for whom Solon legislated and to whom Pericles succumbed? Pausanius tells us of the stately tomb of the frail Pythonice in the Vica Sacra; and we know that Phryne offered to rebuild the walls of Thebes by Alexander overthrown. And surely if modern guide-books instruct us to weep in the cemetery of Père la Chaise over the grave of Fanny Bias history will say a word or two in honour of Cerito who proposed through the newspapers last season an alliance offensive and defensive with no less a man than Peter Borthwick Esq. M.P. (_Arcades ambo_!) to relieve the distress of the manufacturing classes of Great Britain! It is true such heroines can afford to be generous; for what lord chancellor or archbishop of modern times commands a revenue half as considerable? Why therefore--O Public! why we beseech thee seeing that the influence of the operative class is fairly understood and undeniably established among us--why not at once elevate choriography to the rank of one of the fine arts?--Why not concentrate define and qualify the calling by a public academy?--since all hearts and eyes are amenable to the charm of exquisite dancing why vex ourselves by the sight of what is bad when better may be achieved? Be wise O Pubic and consider! Establish a professor's chair for the improvement of pirouetters. We have hundreds of professor's chairs quite as unavailable to the advancement of the interests of humanity and wholly unavailable to its pleasures. Neither painters nor musicians acquire as much popularity as dancers or amass an equal fortune. Why should they be more highly protected by the state? To disdain this exquisite art is a proof of barbarism. The nations of the East may cause their dances to be performed by slaves; but two of the greatest kings of ancient and modern times the kings after God's own heart and man's own heart--David and Louis le Grand--were excellent dancers the one before the ark the other before his subjects. Never perhaps did the art of dancing attain such eminent honours in the eyes of mankind as during the _siècle doré_ of the latter monarch. At an epoch boasting of Molière and Racine Bossuet and Fénélon Boileau and La Fontaine Colbert and Perrault (the fairy talisman of politics and architecture ) the court of Versailles could imagine no manifestation of regality more august or more exquisite than that of getting up a royal ballet; and the father of his people Louis XIV. was in his youth its _coulon_. How amusing are the descriptions of these _entrées de ballet_ circumstantially bequeathed us by the memoirs of the regency of Anne of Austria! The cardinal himself took part in them; but the chief performers were the young King his brother Gaston d'Orleans and the maids of honour figuring as Apollo and the Muses or Hamadryads adoring some sylvan divinity. Who has not sympathized in the joy of Madame de Sevigné at seeing her fair daughter exhibit among the _coryphées_! Who has not felt interested in the _jetées_ and _pas de bourrées_ of the _ancien régime_ when accomplished at court by Condés Contis Montpensiers Montmorencys Rohans Guises! The Marquis de Dangeau first recommended himself to the favour of the royal master whose courts he was destined to journalize for posterity by the skill of his _pas de basques_; and long before the all but conjugal influence of the lovely La Vallière commenced over the heart of the _grand monarque_ his early love and more especially his passion for the beautiful niece of the Cardinal may be traced to the rehearsals and _rondes de jambes_ of Maitz and Fontainbleau. The reign of Madame de Maintenon (_la raison même_) over his affections declared itself by the sudden transfer of a ballet-opera expressly composed by Rameau and Quinault for the beauties of the court to the public theatre of the Palais Royal. No more noble figurantes at Versailles! Louis le Pirouettiste's occupation was gone; and the _maître des ballets du roi_ arrayed himself in sackcloth and ashes. But lo! the glories of his throne took wing with the loves and graces; ballets and victories being effaced on the same page from the annals of his reign. During the minority of Louis XV. the same royal dansomania was renewed. The regent Duke of Orleans entertained the same notions of kingly education on this head as his predecessor the cardinal; and Louis _le Bien-aimé_ like his great-grandfather before him was the best dancer of his realm. Such dancing as it was! such exquisite footing! In the upper story of the grand gallery at Versailles hang several pictures representing these court ballets; Cupids in coatees of pink lustring with silver lace and tinsel wings wearing full-bottomed wigs and the riband of the St Esprit; or Venuses in hoops and powder whose _minauderies_ might afford a lesson to the divinities of our own day for the benefit of the omnibus box. Some of these groups by Mignard Boucher and their imitators are charming studies as _tableaux de genre_. But in nothing by the way are they more remarkable than in their _decency_. The nudities of the present times appear to have been undreamed of in the philosophy of Versailles. That simple-hearted though strong-minded American writer Miss Sedgwick who has published an account of her consternation as she sat with Mrs Jameson in the stalls of our Italian opera might have witnessed the royal performance unabashed. On being told as she gazed upon the intrepid self-exposure of Taglioni ""_qu'il fallait être sage pour danser comme ça_ "" Miss S. observes that it requires to be more or less than woman and proposes to divide the human species into men women and OPERA-DANCERS little suspecting that half her readers translate such a classification into ""men women and ANGELS;"" or that they would see herself and her sister moralist go down in the _President_ without a pang provided Elssler and Taglioni were saved from the deep! Natural enough! we repeat it--natural enough! To create a good dancer requires the rarest combination of physical and mental endowments. Graceful as the forms transmitted to us by the pottery of Etruria and the frescoes of Herculaneum she must unite with the strength of an athlete the genius of a first-rate actress. That even moderate dancing demands immoderate abilities is attested by the exhibition of human ungainliness disfiguring all the court balls of Europe. There may be seen the representatives of the highest nobility tutored by the highest education shuffling over the polished floor with stiffened arms and bewildered legs--often out of time--always out of place--as if acting under the influence of a galvanic battery. Not one in ten of them rises even to mediocrity as a dancer. A few degrees lower in the social scale and it would be not one in twenty. Amid the shoving shouldering shuffling mob of dancers in an ordinary ball-room the absence of all grace amounts even to the ludicrous. Forty years long have people been dancing the quadrilles now in vogue which consist of six favourite country-dances fashionable in Paris at the close of the last century and then singly known by the names they still retain--""La Poule L'Eté Le Pantalon Le Trenis "" &c. &c. To avoid the monotony of dancing each in succession for hours at a time down a file of forty couple it was arranged that every eight couple should form a square and perform the favourite dances in succession with the same partner--a considerable relief to the monotony of the ball-room. Yet after all this experience if poor Monsieur le Trenis (after whom one of the figures was named and who during the consulate died dancing-mad in a public lunatic asylum) could rise sane from the dead it would be enough to drive him mad again to see how little had been acquired in the way of practice since his decease. The processes and varieties of the ball-room are just where he left then on his exit! Previous to the introduction of quadrilles and country dances or _contredanses_ the inaptitude of nine-tenths of mankind for dancing was still more eminently demonstrated in the murders of the minuet. For (as Morall the dancing-master of Marie Antoinette used passionately to exclaim)--_que de choses dans un minuet_! What worlds of modest dignity--of alternate amenity and scorn! The minuet has all the tender coquetry of the bolero divested of its licentious fervour. With the minuet and the hoop indeed disappeared that powerful circumvallation of female virtue rendering superfluous the annual publication of a dozen codes of ethics addressed to the ""wives of England"" and their daughters. All was comprehended in the _pas grave_. That noble and right Aulic dance was expressly invented in deference to the precariousness of powdered heads; and its calm sobrieties once banished from the ball-room revolutionary _boulangères_ succeeded--and chaos was come again! The stately _pavon_ had possession of the English court with ruffs and farthingales in the reign of Elizabeth. With the Stuarts came the wild courante or corante-- ""Hair loosely flowing robes as free""-- and if the House of Hanover and minuets reformed for a time the irregularities of St James's--what are we to expect now that waltzes galops and the eccentricities of the cotillon have possession of the social stage? WHAT NEXT? as the pamphlets say--""What will the lords do?""--what the ladies? Thus much in proof that the boss of pirouettiveness is strangely wanting in human conformation and that there is consequently all the excuse of ignorance for the wild enthusiasm lavished by London on the operative class. Ten guineas per night--five hundred for the season--is the price exacted for a first-rate opera-box; and as the exclusives usually arrive at the close of the opera or if earlier keep up a perpetual babble during its performance they clearly come for the dancing.--""_On voit l'opéra et l'on écoute le ballet_ "" used to be said of the Académie de Musique. But it might be asserted now with fully as much truth of the Queen's Theatre where the evolutions of Carlotta Grisi Elssler and Cerito keep the audience in a state of breathless attention denied to Shakspeare. In two out of these instances it may be advanced that they are consummate actresses as well as graceful and active dancers. Elssler's comedy is almost as piquant as that of Mademoiselle Mars. Nor is the ballet unsusceptible of a still higher order of histrionic display. We never remember to have seen a stronger _levée en masse_ of cambric handkerchiefs in honour of O'Neill's _Mrs Haller_ or Siddons's _Isabella_ than of the ballet of ""Nina;"" while the affecting death-dance in ""Masaniello"" is still fresh in the memory of the admirers of Pauline Leroux. We have heard of swoons and hysterics along the more impressionable audiences of La Scala during the performance of the ballet of ""La Vestale;"" and have witnessed with admiration the striking effect of the fascinative scene in ""Faust."" Of late years the union of Italian blood and a French education has been found indispensable to create a _danseuse_--""Sangue Napolitano in scuola Parigiana;""--and Vesuvius is the Olympus of all our recent divinities. Formerly a Spanish origin was the most successful. The first dancer who possessed herself of European notoriety was La Camargo whose portraits at the close of a century are still popular in France where she has been made the heroine of several recent dramas. To her reign succeeded that of the Gruinards and Duthés--in honour of whose bright eyes a variety of noblemen saw the inside both of Fort St Evêque and St Pelagie; the opera being at that time a fertile source of _lettres de cachet_. To obtain admittance to the private theatricals of the former dancer in her magnificent hotel in the Chaussée d'Antin the ladies of fashion and of the court had recourse to the meanest artifices; while the latter has obtained historical renown by having excited the jealousy or rather envy of Marie Antoinette. Mademoiselle Duthé appeared at the fêtes of Longchamps in the Bois de Boulogne in a gorgeous chariot drawn by six milk-white steeds with red morocco harness richly ornamented with cut steel; and thus accomplished the object of incurring the resentment of the court from the prodigality of one of whose married princes these splendours were supposed to emanate--splendours exceeding those of the Rhodopes of old. But the greatest triumph ever achieved by _danseuse_ was that of Bigottini! The Allied sovereigns after vanquishing the victor of modern Europe were by _her_ vanquished in their turn. At her feet fresh trembling from an _entre-chat_ did ""Fiery French and furious Hun"" lay down their arms! The Allied armies appeared to have entered Paris only to become the slaves of Bigottini! In our own country devotees of the _danseuse_ have done more by promoting her to the decencies of the domestic fireside. In our own country also even Punch was once purchased by an eccentric nobleman for the diversion of his private life. But as Demosthenes observed of the cost of such a pleasure ""that is buying repentance too dear!"" We are perhaps offending the gravity of certain of our readers by the extent of this notice; albeit we have striven to propitiate their prejudices by the peculiar combination and juxtaposition of professions selected for consideration. But we are not acting unadvisedly. Close its eyes as it may the public cannot but perceive that the legitimate drama is banished by want of encouragement from the national theatres and that the ballet is brandishing her cap and bells triumphantly in its room. Such changes are never the result of accident. The supply is created by the demand. It is because we prefer the Sylphide to Juliet that the Sylphide figures before us. Shakspeare was played to empty benches; the Peri and Gisele fill the houses. We repeat therefore since such is the bent of public appetite let it be gratified in the least objectionable way. Let us have a royal academy of dancing. We shall easily find some Earl of Westmoreland to compose its ballets and lady patronesses to give an annual ball for the benefit of the institution. Do not let some eighty thousand a-year be lost to the country. An idol is as easily carved out of one block of wood as another. Let us make unto ourselves goddesses out of the haberdashers' shops of Oxford Street; and qualify the youthful caprices of Whitechapel to command the homage of Congress and of the great autocrat of all the Russias. Properly instructed little Sukey Smith may still obtain an enameled brooch or bracelet from her Majesty the Queen-Dowager! Let us ""people this whole isle with sylphs!"" Let Drury-Lane and Covent-Garden flourish; but--thanks to Great Britain pirouettes!--the art of giving ten guineas for a couple of hours spent in an opera-box will then become less criminal; and we shall have no fear of the influence of some Herodias's daughter in our domestic life when we see the Cracovienne announced in the bills ""by Miss Mary Thomson."" The charm will be destroyed. The unfrequented _coulisses_ like Dodona will cease to give forth oracles. Under the influence of an ""establishment "" we shall have to record of opera-dancers as of other professions that ""the goddesses are departing!"" The _danse à roulades_ of Fanny Elssler will be voted vulgar when attempted by a Buggins. Let Mr Bunn look to himself. He may yet survive his immortality. We foresee a day in which he will be no longer styled Alfred the Great. With the aid of George Robins and other illustrious persons interested in the destinies of theatrical property we do not despond of hearing attached to ""a bill for the legalization of the Royal and National Academy of Dancing of the United Kingdom "" the satisfactory decree of ""LA REINE LE VEUT!"" * * * * * THE PIRATES OF SEGNA. A TALE OF VENICE AND THE ADRIATIC. IN TWO PARTS. PART I. CHAPTER I.--THE STUDIO. It was on a bright afternoon in spring and very near the close of the sixteenth century that a handsome youth of slender form and patrician aspect was seated and drawing before an easel in the studio of the aged cavaliere Giovanni Contarini--the last able and distinguished painter of the long-declining school of Titian. The studio was a spacious and lofty saloon commanding a cheerful view over the grand canal. Full curtains of crimson damask partially shrouded the lofty windows intercepting the superabundant light and diffusing tints resembling the ruddy soft and melancholy hues of autumnal foliage; while these hues were further deepened by a richly carved ceiling of ebony which not reflecting but absorbing light allayed the sunny radiance beneath and imparted a sombre yet brilliant effect to the pictured walls and glossy draperies of the spacious apartment. Above the rich and lofty mantelpiece hung one of the last portraits of himself painted by the venerable Titian and on the dark pannels around were suspended portraits of great men and lovely women by the gifted hands of Giorgione Paul Veronese Paris Bordone and Tintoretto. Regardless however of all around him and almost breathless with eagerness and impatience the student pursued his object and with rapid and vigorous strokes had half completed his sketch--totally unconcious the while that some one had opened the folding-doors crossed the saloon and now stood behind his chair. ""But tell me Antonello mio!"" exclaimed old Contarini after gazing awhile in mute astonishment at the sketch before him; ""tell me in the name of wonder what kind of face do you mean to draw around that lean and withered nose and that horribly wrinkled mouth?"" Antonio however was so unconcious of the ""world without "" that he started not at this sudden interruption of the previous stillness. Regardless too of the serious and indeed reproving tone of the old man's voice he hastily replied without averting his gaze from the canvass. ""Hush maestro! I beseech you. Question me not for Heaven's sake! I cannot spare a word in reply. The original "" continued he after a brief interval of close attention to his object and drawing as he spoke; ""the original is still firmly fixed in my memory. I see its sharp outlines clear within me and as you well know and oft have told me a feature lost is lost for ever. Alas! alas! those lines and angles around the mouth are already fading into shadow."" After he had thrown out these words from time to time like interjections and with Venetian rapidity of utterance nothing was audible in the saloon for some minutes but the young artist's sharp and rapid strokes upon the canvass. ""No more of this Antonio!"" at length exclaimed the old painter with energy after gazing for some time at the gradual appearance of an old woman's lean and winkled features dried up and yellow as if one of the dead and yet lighted up by a pair of dark deep-set eyes which seemed to blaze with supernatural life and lustre. At each touch of the artist this mummy-like and unearthly visage was brought out into sharper and more disgusting relief when Contarini no longer able to control his indignation dashed the charcoal from his pupil's hand. ""Apage Satanas!"" he shouted ""thy talent hath a devil in it. I see his very hoof-print in that horrible design."" Startled by this unexpected violence the young artist turned round and beheld with amazement the usually benign featutes of his venerable teacher flashing upon him with irrepressible anger which was the more impressive because the Cavaliere had just returned from a visit to the Doge and was richly attired in the imposing patrician costume of the period. Around his neck was the golden chain hung there by the imperial hands of Rodolph the Second and he wore the richly enameled barret and lofty heron's plume which the same picture-loving emperor had placed upon his head when he knighted him as a reward for the noble pictures he had painted in Germany. There was a true and fine air of nobility in his lofty form and well-marked features--a character of matured thought and intellectual power in the expansive brow and in the firm gaze of his large dark eyes as yet undimmed by age--with evidence of decision and self-respect and habitual composure in the finely formed mouth and chin. Thus splendidly arrayed and thus dignified in form features and expression this distinguished man recalled so powerfully to the memory of his imaginative pupil the high-minded doges of the heroic period of Venice and the imposing portraits of Titian's senators that with a deep sense of his own moral inferiority he obeyed in silence and with starting tears removed the offending sketch. Then placing before him a small picture of a weeping and lovely Magdalen by Contarini which he had undertaken to copy he began the sketch patiently awaiting a voluntary explanation of this unwonted vehemence in his beloved teacher who seated in his armchair leaned his head upon his hand and seemed lost in thought. And now again for some time was the deep stillness of the studio interrupted only by the strokes of Antonio's charcoal which unlike his rapid and feverish efforts when sketching the old woman were now subdued and tranquil. As he gazed into the upraised and pleading eyes of the beautiful Magdalen his excitement gradually yielded to the pacifying influence of her mute and eloquent sorrow. This salutary change escaped not the observation of Contarini whose benevolent features softened as he gazed upon these tokens of a better spirit in his pupil. ""I rejoice to see Antonio "" he began ""that you already feel how ever imperfectly the soothing and hallowed influence of the Beautiful in Art and Nature and the peril to soul and body of delighting in imaginary forms of horror. If you indulge these cravings of a distempered fancy you will sink to the base level of those Flemish artists who delight in painting witches and demons and in all fabulous and monstrous forms. You who are nobly born devoted to poetry and fine art and possess manifest power in portraiture should aim at the Heroic in painting. Make this your first and steadfast purpose. Devote to it your life and soul; and should the power to reach this elevation be wanting you may still achieve the Beautiful and paint lovely women in lovely attitudes. But tell me Antonello!"" continued he resuming his wonted kindness ""how came that horrid visage across thy path or rather across thy fancy? for surely no such original exists. Say didst thou see it living or was it the growth of those distempered dreams to which painters more than other men are subject?"" ""No padre mio! it was no dream "" eagerly answered his pupil. ""Yesterday I went in our gondola as is my wont on festivals to the beautiful church of San Moyses which I love for its oriental and singular architecture. When near the church I heard a melodious voice calling to Jacopo my gondolier the only boatman in sight and begging a conveyance across the canal. Issuing from the cabin I saw a tall figure closely veiled standing on the steps of the palace facing the church and occupied by the Archduke's ambassador. Approaching the steps Jacopo placed a plank for the stranger; but as she stepped out to reach it a sudden gust caught her large loose mantle which clinging to her shape displayed for a moment a form of such majestic and luxuriant fulness--such perfect and glorious symmetry as no man still less an artist could look on unmoved. In trembling and indescribable impatience I awaited the raising of her veil. Another gust and a slight stumble as she bounded rather than stepped into the boat befriended me; the partial shifting of her veil which she hastily replaced permitted a glimpse of her features--brief indeed but never to be forgotten. Yes father! the face which surmounted that goddess-like and splendid person was the horrid visage I have sketched lean and yellow drawn up into innumerable wrinkles and with black eyes of intolerable brightness blazing

ut of deep and faded sockets. Staggered by this unearthly contrast I fell back upon the bench of the gondola and gazed in silent horror at the stranger who answered not the blunt questions of Jacopo; and as if ashamed of her astounding ugliness sat motionless and shrouded from head to foot in her capacious mantle. I followed her into the church; but unable to hold out during the mass I left her there and hastily returned to sketch this sublime example of the hideous before any of its points had faded from my memory. Forgive me father for yielding to an impulse so strong as to overwhelm all power of resistance. Yet why should I abandon this rare opportunity of displaying any skill I may have gained from so gifted a teacher? Pictures of Madonnas and of lovely women so abound in all our palaces that a young artist can only rise above the common level by representing something extraordinary something rarely or never seen in life."" Contarini gazed with sorrowing and affectionate interest upon the flushed features of his pupil again excited as before by his own description of the mysterious stranger. One less acquainted with human nature would have mistaken the flashing eyes and animated features of the youthful artist for the sure tokens of conscious and advancing talent; but the aged painter whose practised eye was not dazzled by the soft harmony of features which gave a character of feminine beauty to Antonio saw in the excitement which failed to give a more intellectual character to his countenance sad evidence of a soul too feeble and infirm of purpose to achieve eminence in any thing and with growing alarm he inferred a predisposition to mental disease from those morbid and uncontrolled impulses which delighted in portraying objects revolting to all men of sound and healthy feelings. He arose in evident emotion and after pacing the studio some time in silence he approached Antonio who yielding to his eccentric longings had seized the sketch of the old woman's head and was gazing on it with evident delight. ""Give me the sketch Antonio!"" resumed the painter in his kindest tone ""'Tis finished and the hunter cares not for the hunted beast when stricken. What wouldst thou with it?"" ""What would I maestro?"" exclaimed the alarmed youth hastily removing his sketch from the extended hand of the painter ""Finish the subject of course and place this wonderful old head upon the magnificent form to which it belongs."" ""But saidst thou not Antonio that the poor creature in the gondola hastily concealed her features when accident revealed them as if ashamed of her unnatural ugliness? And canst thou be so heartless as to publish to the world that strange deformity she is doomed to bear through life and which she is evidently anxious to conceal? Wouldst thou add another pang to the existence of one to whom life is worse than death and whose eternal veil is but a foretaste of the winding-sheet and the grave? Thou wilt not canst not my Antonio make such unheard-of misery thy stepping-stone to fame and fortune."" This impassioned appeal to all his better feelings at length reached the heart of Antonio. For a short time he continued to withhold the drawing; but his kindly nature triumphed. Tearing his sketch into fragments he threw himself into the extended arms of his beloved teacher who with deep emotion placed his trembling hand on the curling locks of his pupil and implored the blessing of Heaven on his better feelings and purposes. With a view to improve the impression he had made the painter led Antonio round the studio and sought to fix his attention upon several portraits of lovely women which adorned it. ""Here "" said he ""are heads worthy to crown that striking figure in the gondola. Behold that all-surpassing portrait by Giorgione of such beauty as painters and poets may dream of but never find and yet not superhuman in its type. Too impassioned for an angel; too brilliant for a Madonna; and with too much of thought and character for a Venus--she is merely _woman_. Belonging to no special rank or class in society and neither classical nor ideal she personifies all that is most lovely in her sex; and whether found in a palace or a cottage would delight and astonish all beholders. This rarely gifted woman was the daughter of Palma Vecchio and the beloved of Giorgione one of the handsomest men of his time; but her sympathies were not for him and he died of grief and despair in his prime. She was the favourite model of Titian and his school and the type that more or less prevails in many celebrated pictures. ""How different and yet how beautiful of its kind is that portrait of a Doge's daughter by Paris Bordone! Less dazzling and luxuriant in her beauty than Palma's daughter she is in all respects intensely aristocratic. In complexion not rich and glowing but of a transparent and pearly lustre through which the course of each blue vein is visible. In shape and features not full and beautifully rounded but somewhat taller and of more delicate symmetry. In look and attitude not open frank and natural; but astute refined courteous and winning to a degree attainable only by aristocratic training and the habits of high society. In apparel neither national nor picturesque but attired with studied elegance. Rich rows of pearls wind through her braided hair in colour gold in texture soft as silk. A band of gold forms the girdle of her ruby-coloured velvet robe which descends to the wrist and there reveals the small white hand and tapering fingers of patrician beauty. All this may captivate the fastidious noble; but to men less artificial in their tastes and habits could such a woman be better than a statue--and could love the strongest of human passions be ever more to her than a short-lived and amusing pastime? ""From these immortal portraits my Antonio you may learn that _colour_ was the grand secret of the great Venetian painters. _Their_ pale forms are never white nor their blooming cheeks rose-colour but the true colour of life--mellow rich and glowing; both men and women strictly true to nature and looking as if they could turn pale with anger or blush with tender passion. From these great men can best be learned how much charm may be conveyed by _colour_ and what life and glow what passion grace and beauty it gives to _form_. ""But I weary thee Antonio; and after such excitement thou hast need of repose. To-morrow let me see thee early."" The exhausted youth gladly departed from a scene of so much trial; and hastening to his gondola sought refreshment in an excursion to the Lido. Returning after nightfall he landed on the Place of St Mark's and wandered through its cool arcades until they were deserted. In vain however did he strive to banish the graceful form and grisly features of the stranger. The strong impression he had received became so vivid and absorbing that at every turn he thought he saw her gazing at him as if in mockery and lighting up the deep shadows beneath the arches with her glowing orbs which seemed to his disordered fancy to emit sparks and flashes of fire. No longer able to resist the impulse forgetting alike the paternal admonitions of the old painter and the promises so sincerely given he quitted the piazza and hastened to the palace of his father the Proveditore Marcello then absent on state affairs in the Levant. Retiring to his own apartment he fixed an easel with impetuous haste and by lamp-light again began to sketch the Medusa head of the old woman. Yielding himself up to this new frenzy he succeeded beyond his hopes; a supernatural power seemed to guide his hand and soon after midnight he had drawn to the life not only the appalling head but the commanding and beautiful person of the mysterious personage in the gondola. After gazing awhile upon his work with triumphant delight he retired to bed; but slept not until long after sunrise and then the extraordinary incidents of the past day haunted his feverish dreams. A female form youthful and of surpassing beauty hovered around his couch but ever changing in appearance. At first her head was invisible and veiled in mist from which at intervals flashed features of resplendent loveliness and eyes of heavenly blue which beamed upon him with thrilling tenderness; and then the mist dispersed and the beauteous phantom stooped down to kiss his cheek when suddenly her blooming face darkened and withered into the death-like visage of that fearful stranger and her long bright hair was converted into hissing sepents. Starting with a scream of horror from his troubled and exhausting slumbers he again sought refuge in his gondola but returned alas! to make his sketch into a picture which the hues of life made still more hideous and repulsive. After several days thus occupied he sketched in various attitudes the imposing figure of the old woman and endeavoured to fit this beautiful Torso with a head not unworthy of it. But herein after many attempts he failed. His excitement so long indulged had risen into fever. His diseased fancy controlled his pencil and blended with features of the highest order of beauty so many touches of the old woman's ghastly visage that he threw down his pencil and abandoned all further efforts in despair. CHAPTER II. THE CAVERN. The shores of Austrian Dalmatia south of the port of Fiume are of so rugged and dangerous a nature that although broken into numerous creeks and bays there are but few places where vessels even of small dimensions dare to approach them or indeed where it is possible to effect a landing. A long experience of the coast and of the adjacent labyrinth of islands which block up the gulf of Carnero is necessary in order to accomplish in safety the navigation of the shallow rocky sea; and even when the mariner succeeds in setting foot on land he not unfrequently finds his progress into the interior barred by precipices steep as walls roaring torrents and yawning ravines. It was on a mild evening of early spring and a few days after the incidents recorded in the preceding chapter that a group of wild-looking figures was assembled on the Dalmatian shore opposite the island of Veglia. The sun was setting and the beach was so overshadowed by the beetling summits of the high chalky cliffs that it would have been difficult to discover much of the appearance of the persons in question but for an occasional streak of light that shot out of a narrow ravine opening among the rocks in rear of the party and lit up some dark-bearded visage or flashed on the bright barrel of a long musket. High above the ravine and standing out against the red stormy-looking sky behind it the outline of a fortress was visible and in the hollow beneath might be distinguished the small closely-built mass of houses known as the town of Segna. This castle which by natural even more than artificial defences was deemed impregnable especially on its sea face was the stronghold of a handful of hardy and desperate adventurers who although their numbers never exceeded seven hundred men had yet for many years preceding the date of this narrative made themselves a name dreaded throughout the whole Adriatic. The inhabitants of the innumerable Dalmatian islands the subjects of the Grand Turk the people of Ancona--all in short who inhabited the shores of the Adriatic and were interested in its commerce or in the countless merchant vessels that skimmed over its waters--trembled and turned pale when the name of these daring freebooters was mentioned in their hearing. In vain was it that the Sultan who in his sublimity scarcely deigned to know the names of some of the great European powers had caused his pachas to take the field with strong armaments for the extermination of this nest of pirates. These expeditions were certainly not disadvantageous to the Porte which seized the opportunity of annexing to its dominions some large slices of Hungarian and Venetian territory; but their ostensible object remained unaccomplished and the proverbial salutation of the time ""God save you from the Uzcoques!"" was still on the lips of every one. The word ""Uzcoque "" by which this dreaded people was known had grown into a sound of mourning and panic to the inhabitants of the shores and islands of the Adriatic. At the utterance of that fearful name young girls crowded together like frightened doves; the child hid its terrified face in its mother's lap; the eyes of the matron overflowed with tears as the images of murdered sons and outraged daughters passed before her mind's eye and like Banquo's ghost filled the vacant seats at the table; while the men gazed anxiously out expecting to see their granaries and store-houses in flames. Nor were the seaman's apprehensions less lively when night surprised him with some valuable cargo in the neighbourhood of the pirates' haunts. Every rock each tree and bush became an object of dread; the very ripple of the waves on the shingle a sound of alarm. To his terrified fancy a few leafless and projecting branches assumed the appearance of muskets a point of rock became the prow of one of those light sharp-built boats in which the Uzcoques were wont to dart like seabirds upon their prey; and invoking his patron saint the frightened sailor crossed himself and with a turn of the rudder brought his vessel yet nearer to the Venetian galleys that escorted the convoy. At the cry ""Uzcoque"" the slender active Albanian grasped his fire-lock with rage and hatred expressed on his bearded countenance: the phlegmatic Turk sprang in unwonted haste from his carpet; his pipe and coffee were neglected his women and treasures secured in the harem while he shouted for the Martellossi [3] and slipping them like dogs from a leash sent them to the encounter of their foes on the devastated plains of Cardavia. In the despatches from Madrid from the ministers of that monarch on whose dominions the sun never set to his ambassadors the name of these seven hundred outlaws occupied a frequent and prominent place. But by none were the Uzcoques more feared and detested than by the greyheaded doge and senators of the Ocean Queen the sea-born city before whose cathedral the colours of three kingdoms fluttered from their crimson flagstaffs; and the few young Venetians in whose breasts the remembrance of their heroic ancestors yet lived blushed for their country's degradation when they beheld her rulers braved and insulted by a band of sea-robbers. [3] The Turks finding their own troops not well adapted to the irregular and desperate kind of warfare waged by the Uzcoques and also unable to compete with them in the rapidity of their movements formed a corps expressly for the pursuit of the freebooters which was composed of men as wild and desperate as themselves. With these _Martellossi_ as they were called the Uzcoques had frequent and sanguinary conflicts. Minucci says of the Martellossi in his _Historia degli Uscochi_ that they were ""Scelerati barbari anco 'ordine de' medesime Scochi."" To this band belonged the wild figures whose appearance on the shore has been noticed and who were busily employed in rummaging a number of sacks and packages which lay scattered on the ground. They pursued their occupation in profound silence except when the discovery of some object of unusual value elicited an exclamation of delight or a disappointment brought a grumbling curse to their lips. They seemed carefully to avoid noise lest it should draw down upon them the observation of the castle that frowned above their heads and at the embrasures and windows of which they cast frequent and frightened glances although the darkness of the ravine at the entrance of which they had stationed themselves and the rapidly deepening twilight rendered it almost impossible to discover them. ""By the beard of the prophet Hassan!"" exclaimed in a suppressed tone a young Turk who lay bound hand and foot at a short distance from the pirates ""why do these mangy curs keep us lying so long on the wet grass? Why do they not seek their kennel up yonder?"" The person addressed was a little round oily-looking Turk a Levant merchant whose traffic had called him to one of the neighbouring islands and who had been laid hold of on his passage by the Uzcoques. He was sitting up being less strictly manacled than his more youthful and energetic-looking companion; and his comical countenance wore a most desponding expression as in reply to the question put to him he shook his head slowly from side to side at the same time gravely stroking his beard. ""By Allah!"" exclaimed the young man impatiently as he saw the pirates rummaging more eagerly than ever and now and then concealing something of value under their cloaks ""could not the greedy knaves wait till they got home before they shared the plunder? May their fathers' souls burn!"" ""What saith the sage Oghuz?"" quoth old Hassan slowly ""'As people grow rich their maw widens.'"" ""Silence unbelieving hound!"" exclaimed a harsh voice behind him and a thump between the shoulders warned the old Turk to keep his proverbs for a more fitting season. The pirate was about to repeat the blow when suddenly his hand fell and the curses died away upon his lips. The clouds that had hitherto veiled the setting sun had suddenly broken and a broad stream of golden light poured down the ravine flashing upon the roofs and gables of the town and making the castle appear like a huge and magnificent lantern. The ravine was lighted up as though by enchantment and the unexpected illumination caused an alarm among the group of pirates not unlike that of an owl into whose gloomy roosting-place a torch is suddenly intruded. Terror was depicted upon their countenances as they gazed up at the castle. For a moment all was still and hushed as the grave and the Uzcoques scarcely seemed to breathe as they drew their greedy hands in silent haste out of the sacks; then suddenly recovering from their stupefaction they snatched up their muskets and crowded into a dark cavern in the rock which the beams of the setting sun had now for the first time rendered visible without however lighting up its deep and dark recesses. In their haste and alarm more than one of the freebooters had his tattered mantle caught by the thorny arms of some of the bushes scattered over the shore and turned in terror thinking himself in the grasp of a foe. A few only had the presence of mind to throw their cloaks over the varied and glittering plunder that lay scattered about on the ground; and strange was the contrast of the sparkling jewellery the rich stuffs and embroidered robes strewed on the beach with the mean and filthy garments that partially concealed them and the wild and squalid figures of their present possessors. A number of the Uzcoques now threw themselves with brutal violence upon the two prisoners muffled their heads in cloaks to prevent their crying out and carried them with the speed of light into the cave in the innermost recess of which they bestowed them. They then rejoined their companions who were grouped together at the entrance of the cavern like a herd of frightened deer and gazing anxiously up at the castle. After the lapse of a very few minutes the bright glow again faded away the fortress reassumed its black and frowning aspect the roofs of Segna relapsed into their dull grey hue and shadows deeper than before covered the ravine. Reviving under the influence of the darkness so congenial to their habits and occupations the Uzcoques began to recover from their alarm and the murmur of voices was again heard as they seized the sacks and hastily filled them with the various objects lying on the beach. Every thing being collected the pirates commenced toiling their way up the steep mountain path leading to the castle with the exception of a few who still lingered at the entrance of the cavern and whom the prisoners could hear disputing about some point on which there seemed to exist much difference of opinion. ""Hell and the devil!"" at last exclaimed an impatient voice in a louder tone than had yet been employed. ""There's little chance that we have not been seen from the castle; for the warder would expect us back about this time and doubtless was on the look-out. These Turkish hounds have seen every thing and might easily betray us. Let us leave them here till to-morrow till I have spoken to the warder and arranged that they be sent on at once to Gradiska without coming to speech of the captain. I will join the escort myself to make it still surer."" After some slight opposition on the part of the others this proposal was adopted and the remaining pirates took their departure. The sound of their footsteps along the rocky path had scarcely died away on the ears of the anxiously listening captives when loud acclamations and cries of joy announced the arrival of the first detachment at the castle. The heavy gates of the fortress were opened with much din and rattle; after a short space they were again slammed to the portcullis fell and then no further sound broke the deep silence that reigned in the ravine. The collection of the plunder the discussion among the pirates and their departure had passed so rapidly that the young Turk had scarcely had time to recover from the giddy half-stunned state into which the rough usage he had received had thrown him when he found himself alone with his old fellow-captive. ""Well Hassan "" said he at last in a voice of suppressed fury ""what think you of all this?"" The old man made no verbal reply but merely stroked his beard shrugged his shoulders and opened his eyes wider than before as much as to say ""I don't think at all; what do you think?"" ""It is not the prospect of passing the night in this damp hole bound hand and foot that chafes me to madness and makes my very blood boil in my veins "" resumed the young man after a pause. ""That is a small matter but""-- ""A small matter!"" interrupted Hassan with unusual vivacity. ""That is because you have forgotten the most dreadful part of our position. Bound hand and foot as we are we can expect nothing less than to fall ere cock-crow into the power of Satan."" ""Of Satan!"" repeated the other. ""Has terror turned thy brain?"" ""Of a truth the Evil One has already tied the three fatal nooses which he hangs over the head of the sleeping believer "" replied the old Mahometan in a lachrymose tone. ""He who awakes and forthwith invokes the holy name of Allah is thereby delivered from the first noose; by performing his ablutions the second becomes loosened; and by fervent prayer he unties the third. Our bonds render it impossible for us to wash and the second noose therefore will remain suspended over our devoted heads."" ""Runs it so in the Koran old man?"" asked the youth. ""In the Koran! What Mussulman are you? It is the hundred and forty-ninth passage of the Suna."" ""The Suna!"" repeated the other in a tone of indifference. ""If that is all it will not break my slumbers."" ""Allah protect me!"" exclaimed the old man as he made an attempt to pluck out his beard which the shackles on his wrists rendered ineffectual. ""Allah protect me! Is it not enough that I have fallen into captivity? Am I also doomed to pass the night under the same roof with an unbeliever even as the Nazarenes are?"" ""May the bolt of Heaven fall on thy lying tongue!"" exclaimed the youth in great wrath. ""I an unbeliever! I Ibrahim the adopted son of Hassan pacha of Bosnia!"" In deepest humility did the old merchant bow his head and endeavour to lay hold of the hem of the young man's crimson caftan in order to carry it to his lips. ""Enough! enough!"" said Ibrahim whose good temper had returned. ""You spoke in haste and ignorance. I am well pleased when I break no commandment of the Koran; and trouble my head little about the sayings of those babbling greybeards the twelve holy Imaums."" ""But the nooses "" expostulated Hassan not a little scandalized by his companion's words. ""You have nothing to do but to sleep all night without awaking "" replied the young Turk laughing. ""Then you will have no need either to wash or pray."" The superstitious old man turned his face to the wall in consternation and anguish of spirit. ""This night have I seen with my own eyes what we have hitherto refused to believe "" resumed Ibrahim after a pause and in a tone of indignation that echoed through the cavern. ""I am now convinced that the shameless scoundrels do not rob on their own account since they are obliged to pilfer and conceal a part of their plunder in order to get a profit from their misdeeds. Marked you not Hassan how they trembled when the sun lit up the ravine lest their tricks should be espied by some sentry on the battlements; and how their panic fear made them carry every thing up to the castle?"" The old Turk bowed his head assentingly. ""Glory be to God and the Sultan!"" continued the youth. ""Before the bright countenance of the prophet's vicegerent who reigneth in Stamboul no misdeed can remain hidden that occurs in the remotest corner of his vast dominions. Nay much of what happens in the land of the Giaour is also manifest to his penetrating vision. Witness the veil of turpitude and cunning which has long been seen through by the clear eyes of our holy mollahs and of the council at the Seraglio and which has just now been torn away from before me like a mist dispersing in the sunshine of truth. Truly spoke the Christian maiden whom but a few weeks back I took captive in a fight with the Uzcoques but who was shortly after rescued by another band of those raging fiends."" ""Saw you the maiden "" exclaimed Hassan ""the good maiden that accompanies the pirates like an angel walking among demons?"" ""What know you of the Houri?"" eagerly demanded the youth in vain endeavouring to raise his head from the damp stones. ""That it was the hand of Allah that rescued her from you "" replied the other. He chastiseth his creatures with rods but even in his chastisemcnt is mercy. ""How many more had not the dogs and the ravens devoured had the Christian maiden been taken from among the Uzcoques? She belongs to them she is the daughter of their leader the terrible Dansowich beside whom she is ever to be found instilling the musk and amber of mildness into his fierce soul and pouring healing into the wounds he makes. I know her not but often have I heard the Christians with whom my traffic brought me acquainted include her in the prayers they addressed to their God."" ""Her eyes were as brilliant stars and they blinded my very soul "" exclaimed Ibrahim impetuously; ""the honey of her words dropped like balm into my heart! As the sound of bubbling fountains and the rustle of flowery groves to the parched wanderer in the desert fell her sweet voice upon my ear. So gentle and musical were its tones that I thought not of their meaning and it is only to-day that I understand them."" ""I know not "" quoth Hassan ""what you may have seen; but doubtless Satan who wished to inspire you with an unholy desire for a Nazarene woman began by blinding you. According to all I have heard the Uzcoque maiden is good and compassionate but as ugly as night."" ""Ugly!"" cried Ibrahim ""Then there must be two of them; for the one I saw was blooming as the spring her eyes like the morning star and her cheeks of velvet. Oh that I could again behold her! In that hope it was that I pressed so rashly forward in the fight and was made prisoner; but yet have I not beheld the pearl of mine eyes."" ""She cannot be amongst them "" said Hassan; ""and thence comes it that the pirates have this year committed greater cruelties than ever and done deeds that cry out to Allah for vengeance."" ""Instead of her silver tones "" continued Ibrahim ""I hear the shrieks of the tortured; instead of her words of peace and blessing the curses of the murderer."" ""But what did the maiden tell you?"" enquired Hassan who was getting impatient at the transports of the enamoured youth. ""Her words flowed like a clear stream out of the well of truth. It is not the Uzcoques alone "" said she ""who are to blame for the horrors that""-- ""Hark!"" interrupted the old Turk. A clamour of voices and splashing of oars became audible a keel grated on the beach and then hurried footsteps were heard in the ravine. ""It is another vessel with Uzcoques!"" exclaimed Ibrahim; ""but these are not laden with plunder their movements are too rapid."" As he spoke the tumult and murmur of voices and trampling of feet increased and above all a noise like distant musketry was heard. ""Holy Virgin!"" suddenly exclaimed a clear and feminine voice apparently close to the mouth of the cavern. ""They are already at the castle--the gates no doubt are shut the drawbridge raised. Before they could come down it would be too late."" The young Turk started. ""It is she Hassan!"" he exclaimed. ""It is Strasolda the Christian maiden!"" ""Oh my father!"" cried the same voice in tones of heart-rending anguish. ""How shall we deliver thee? Alas! alas! who can tell the tortures they will make thee suffer in their dreadful dungeons?"" The noise of the musketry became more and more distinct. Some of the newly arrived Uzcoques who had hurried up the winding path were soon heard clamouring furiously for admittance at the castle gates. ""They will be too late!"" exclaimed the maiden wringing her hands in despair. The next moment a sudden thought seemed to flash across her mind lending her fresh hope and energy. ""Gracious Heaven!"" she exclaimed in joyful tones. ""Have we not here the cave from which invoked by fire the storm and the hurricane the north wind and the tempest come forth and shatter the most stately vessels against our iron-bound coast.[4] Up Uzcoques and fire the cavern! Let the elements do battle for us. Perchance by their aid the bark of your leader Dansowich may yet escape its foes and reach the haven."" [4] In Minucci's History of the Uzcoques continued by Paola Sarpi we find the following:--""Segna through its position on a cragged rock was unapproachable by carts or horses and consequently by artillery. The harbour appertaining to it however was tolerably good but exceedingly difficult of access on account of the north wind (vento di Buora ) which blew almost incessantly in the channel leading to it. According to popular belief the Segnarese had the power of causing this wind to blow at will by merely kindling a fire in a certain hollow of the cliffs. The mysterious operation of this fire was to heat the veins of the earth which then through pain or fury sent out the raging hurricanes that rendered those narrow seas in the highest degree dangerous and indeed untenable."" Immediately after these words which made the two Moslems quail the pirate's daughter hastily entered the cavern with a blazing torch the flashes of which awakened from slumber into life and glow the various tints of mosses lichens and stalactites innumerable that studded the ample vault. In this flitting and singular illumination the appearance of the Uzcoque maiden was awful. Above the common stature of woman and finely formed she was attired in a white woollen garment carelessly adjusted and confined at the waist by broad red girdle from which it fell in long and graceful folds to her feet. Her face was a perfect oval; her features of regular and striking beauty; her complexion naturally of that clear rich brown which lends more lustre to the eyes than the purest red and white was now ghastly with intense alarm; and this death-like paleness imparted a more prominent and commanding character to her well-defined jet-black brows and the full dark humid eyes which gleamed like brilliants through their long lashes. Heavy tresses of raven hair escaping beneath her turban-like head-dress streamed out like a sable banner as she rushed into the cavern then fell and flowed in waving luxuriance over neck and shoulders to her girdle. The Turks in the interior of the cavern gazed in speechless wonder at this beautiful apparition standing erect in the strong red light. Waving her torch with energetic and graceful action she appeared like an antique sybil at the moment of inspiration or some Arabian enchantress preparing for an incantation. Their admiration however yielded to alarm when they beheld her dash the torch upon the ground and her attendants pile upon it straw and fagots which blazed up instantly to the cavern roof emitting volumes of smoke that made the captives invisible and by its suffocating influence deprived them erelong of all power of utterance. The evening was serene and still with scarcely a breath of wind stirring and the flames blazed upward to the cavern roof

only now and then a light breeze from the sea wafted them on one side and at the sane time dispersing the smoke gave the Turks a momentary glimpse of the maiden standing with uplifted hands expectation anxiety and grief depicted on her speaking countenance as she invoked the spirit of the storm while around her stood the few remaining Uzcoques with sorrowing and downcast faces. ""They come not!"" she exclaimed after a pause during which the fire began to burn low for lack of fuel and the noise of the musketry diminished and finally ceased. ""Uzcoques!"" she cried in a louder voice and with inspiration in her thrilling tones--""Take heed and warning for your hour is come. Your crags and caverns your rocky shores and howling storms refuse you further service!"" She paused and at that moment was heard the rush of a rapidly approaching boat. ""Speak not ye messengers of evil!"" exclaimed Strasolda in piercing accents. ""Utter not a word. You have left Dansowich in the hands of the Venetians."" There was no reply to her half frantic exclamation and the deep silence was only broken by the footsteps of the new-comers as with dejected looks they joined their companions. Just then some damp branches that had lain smouldering and smoking on the fire burned brightly up and by their light Ibrahim and Hassan beheld the maiden kneeling in the midst of the pirates her tearful face covered by her fair and slender fingers. The next moment she raised her head and gazed into the cavern. As she did so the sorrowful expression of her features changed and her countenance was lighted up with a look of rapture while a loud cry burst from her lips. Through the opening in the smoke the prisoners became visible to her as they lay motionless in the interior of the cave the light from the flames glowing on their red garments and giving them the appearance of two statues of fire. In the handsome countenance of one of the figures thus suddenly revealed to her Strasolda recognized the young Moslem whose prisoner she had been and whose noble person and bearing courteous manners and gentle treatment had more than once since the day of her captivity occupied the thoughts and fancy of the Uzcoque maiden. Unaware of Ibrahim's capture Strasolda did not for an instant suppose that she beheld him in flesh and blood before her. To her excited and superstitious imagination the figures of the Turks appeared formed out of fire itself and she doubted not that the spirits of the cave had chosen this means of presenting to her as in a prophetic mirror a shadowy fore-knowledge of future and more favourable events. While she yet gazed eagerly on what she deemed a supernatural appearance the rent in the veil of smoke suddenly closed the flame sank down and again all was gloom and darkness in the cavern. The thick stifling vapour of the damp wood augmenting as the flame diminished was now so overpowering that the Turks were in imminent danger of suffocation. In their extremity making a violent effort their pent up voices found vent in a cry of such startling wildness that the Uzcoques struck with terror sprang back from the mouth of the cave hurrying the maiden with them. The cry was not repeated for the Turks had lost all consciousness from the stifling effects of the smoke. ""Banish your fears Uzcoques!"" exclaimed Strasolda staying the fugitives. ""The voice that to you is a sound of dismay gives me hope and confidence. I see the golden crescent rising in irresistible might and shedding its rays over all the lands of the earth. Happy they on whom it casts its mild and favouring beams and truer far the safeguard it affords to those who serve it than that which is found beneath the shadow of the cross. Better the sharp cimeter and plighted word of the Moslem than the fair promises of the lying Christian who in the hour of peril abandons those by whose courage he has profited. But enough!"" cried she in an altered tone. ""Our first duty is to rescue my father from the hands of the Venetians. Go not into Segna. There are traitors there who might reveal what we most wish kept secret. The Venetians know not the person of Dansowich and that may save him if no time be lost in plotting his deliverance. Let none even of our own people hear of his captivity. Now to the castle!"" She led the way and in silence and sadness the pirates followed the daughter of their captive chief. The fire was quite out the smoke had cleared away the moon poured its silvery light into the cavern and the stillness was unbroken save by the ripple of the waves on the beach when Ibrahim recovered from the state of insensibility into which he had been thrown by the suffocating influence of the smoke and heard his companion snoring at his side. For some time the young Turk lay revolving in his mind the eventful scene he had witnessed and the strange and startling circumstances that had come to his knowledge during the few preceding hours. The capture of Dansowich was an event of much importance; nor was there less weight in the discovery Ibrahim had made of the dependence of the Uzcoques upon a higher power which in secret aided and profited by their depredations. Although Austria had been frequently accused of abetting the piracies of the Uzcoques the charge had never been clearly proved and to many appeared too improbable to obtain credence. Ibrahim had hitherto been among the incredulous; but what he had this day seen and heard removed every doubt and fully convinced him of the justice of those imputations. Turning in disgust from the contemplation of the labyrinth of crime and treachery to which he had seized the clue; the young Moslem sought and found a far pleasanter subject of reflection in the remembrance of the maiden whose transcendent beauty and touching devotion to her captive parent shone out the more brightly from their contrast with the vice and degradation by which she was surrounded. With much interest did he endeavour to solve the problem and explain what appeared almost miraculous how so fair a creature--such a masterpiece of Heaven's handiwork--could have passed her childhood and youth amongst the refuse of humanity assembled on the island and yet have retained the spotless purity which was apparent in every look and gesture. But however interesting these reflections were to the enamoured Ibrahim his recent fatigues had been too great for nature not to assert her claims and the wearied body finished by triumphing over the rebellious restlessness of the excited spirit. The graceful form of Strasolda and the wild figures of the Uzcoques swam more and more indistinctly before his closing eyes until he sank at last into a deep and refreshing slumber. CHAPTER III. THE JEWELS. The tribe of the Uzcoques or Scochi derived their name from _scoco_ a refugee or fugitive a word bearing reference to their origin. Towards the commencement of the sixteenth century a band of hardy and warlike men abandoned the the provinces of Southern Hungary Bulgaria and Servia and took refuge in Dalmatia from the tyranny and ill usage of the Turks who had overrun the first-named provinces. Accompanied by their wives and families and recruiting their numbers as they went along they at last reached the fortress of Clissa situated in the mountains a few miles from the old Roman town of Spalatro. There with the permission of its owner Pietro Crosichio they established themselves forming one of the outposts of Christendom and thence carried on a war of extermination against the Turks to whom they did a degree of injury that would appear quite incommensurate with the smallness of their numbers. The name of Uzcoque soon became known throughout the Adriatic as the synonyme of a gallant warrior till at length the Turks driven nearly frantic by the exploits of this handful of brave men fitted out a strong expedition and laid siege to Clissa with the double object of getting rid of a troublesome foe and of advancing another step into Christian Europe. The different powers who had benefited greatly although indirectly by the enterprising valour of the Uzcoques neglected to give them the smallest assistance in their hour of peril. After an heroic defence Clissa fell into the hands of the Turks and a scanty and disheartened remnant of its brave defenders fled northward to seek some new place of refuge. This they found in the fortress of Segna then belonging to a Count Frangipani who allowed them to occupy it; and at the same time Ferdinand the First of Austria bethought himself although somewhat tardily that the Uzcoques had deserved better at his hands and at those of other Christian princes than to be left to their own resources when assailed by the overwhelming power of the Porte. As a sort of atonement he took them formally into his pay to assist him in his wars against the infidel. But from this day forward the Uzcoques gradually declined in valour and in moral worth. From a race of heroes they degenerated into a horde of mercenary adventurers and finally of cruel and cowardly pirates. Their primitive customs and simple virtues were exchanged for the vices of refugees and criminals from Venice and other neighbouring states who came in crowds to fill up the frequent vacancies occurring in their ranks. At length the military value of the Uzcoques being much impaired and their services also less required Austria became irregular in her payments and at last entirely discontinued them. The barren mountains round Segna produced nothing and the unfortunate Uzcoques were in danger of dying of hunger. This they felt by no means inclined to do and erelong complaints began to be made of piracies and depredations committed by the Segnarese on the vessels and territory of Venice. For some time no application on the subject was made to Austria and when made it was found to be of little avail. At the period to which this narrative refers Austria had already formed those designs upon her southern neighbour which in more modern times she has carried out with complete success. The fertile plains of Northern Italy the convenient ports on the Adriatic the rich commerce with the Levant were tempting baits to what was then the most ambitious power in Europe; and with an undeviating steadiness did she follow up the policy which promised to place such desirable acquisitions within her grasp. Venice whose power and importance were already on the decline was the state against which her most strenuous efforts were directed; and nothing that could injure the trade or lower the dignity and importance of the republic was omitted by the Austrian Machiavels of the day. Insignificant as such a means of annoyance may appear the band of Uzcoques was one of the prime engines employed to undermine the bulwarks of Venetian independence. Through her commerce had Venice achieved her greatness and through her commerce was she to be assailed and overthrown. Whilst the Venetians for the sake of their trade had formed alliances with the Turks the Austrians professing great religious zeal and hatred of the infidels as well as a dread of further encroachments upon European territory did all in their power to ruin the traffic and break the connexion between the republic and the Porte. The Uzcoques who although asserting a sort of independence still dwelt on Austrian territory and were reckoned as Austrian subjects were secretly encouraged in the piracies which they committed indiscriminately against Turkish and Venetian vessels. These acts of piracy usually took place in the night and could rarely be brought home to their perpetrators although there could be no moral doubt as to the identity of the latter; but even when proved it was found impossible to obtain any substantial redress. At the time now referred to the evil was at its height. Nominally peace both with Venice and the Porte Austria nevertheless stimulated the Uzcoques to aggressions upon the subjects of both. The Archduke Ferdinand a well-intentioned and virtuous prince but young and inexperienced was completely led and deceived by the wily and unprincipled politicians who governed in his name. He was kept entirely in the dark as to the real character of the Segnarese and thus prevented from giving credence to the frequent complaints made against them by neighbouring states. His corrupt ministers moreover not content with making the pirates instrumental in this tortuous policy were not ashamed to squeeze from them a portion of their illicit gains; and a lion's share of the spoil found its way into the coffers of the archducal counsellors who welcomed the golden Pactolus utterly regardless of the foul channel through which it flowed. The Uzcoques on their part who were no longer the race of brave and hardy soldiers they had been some half century before clung to the protection of Austria conscious that in their degenerate state and with their diminished numbers they must soon fall a prey to their numerous foes should that protection be withdrawn. Thus although inwardly chafing at being compelled to disgorge a large part of the hard-won booty for which they frequently periled their lives they did not dare to withhold the tribute nor to omit the rich presents which they were in the habit of making to certain influential persons about the archducal court. In return the ports of Austria on the Adriatic were open to them to build and repair vessels or obtain supplies of provisions; every species of indirect assistance was afforded them and more than once when some of their number had fallen into the hands of the Venetians their release as subjects of Austria had been demanded and obtained by the authorities at Gradiska. On the other hand the claims of Venice for satisfaction when some of her richly laden merchant-ships had been captured or pillaged were slightly attended to the applicants put off from day to day and from year to year with promises and excuses until the weak and cowardly republic seeing that no satisfaction was to be obtained by peaceable means and being in no state to declare war against her powerful neighbour usually ended the matter by ceasing to advance claims the prosecution of which only tended to her further humiliation. It was Easter Sunday in the town of Gradiska. The strict religious ceremonies with which the Passion week was commemorated at the court of the youthful but pious Archduke Ferdinand were at an end; the black hangings disappeared from the church walls and the bells rang out a merry peal in joyful commemoration of the Saviour's resurrection. The nobles and ladies of the court wearied with the vigils and fasting which the religious zeal of the time rendered imperative betook themselves with lightened hearts to their apartments the elder portion to repose the younger ones to prepare for the brilliant festival and ball which the following day was to witness. In a richly furnished apartment of the castle the young and handsome wife of one of the archducal counsellors was pacing up and down her full and voluptuous form reflected on every side by the tall Venetian mirrors that covered the walls of the apartment. The lady was apparently in no gentle mood; her step was hurried and impatient her face flushed her lips peevishly compressed and her irritation seemed to increase each time that she passed before a table on which were displayed a number of jewel-boxes and caskets all open and nearly all empty. Since the Easter festival of the preceding year the caprices and necessities of this spendthrift beauty had abstracted one by one the rich kernels from these now worthless husks and the recollection of the follies or worse in which their value had been squandered now came to aggravate the vexation which the want of the jewels occasioned her. So absorbed was she in the consideration of her annoyances and perplexities that for some time she took no notice of the presence of a young and graceful female in plain attire who stood apparently in deep thought in the embrasure of one of the windows. The maiden had her back turned to the room; but the admirable contours of her fine figure and the rich luxuriance of the jet-black locks that flowed over her shoulders gave promise of a perfection that was not belied when on an exclamation of impatience from her mistress she suddenly turned round and revealed the beauteous features of Dansowich's daughter. She it was who formed the usual medium of communication between the pirates and their archducal allies; and during her frequent sojourns at Gradiska she assumed the character of attendant on the counsellor's lady. ""Holy Virgin!"" exclaimed the court dame stamping her foot violently on the polished floor. ""What can detain the knaves? Say girl! where can they be lingering?"" Strasolda made no reply to this impetuous enquiry. She was no longer the excited and impetuous Uzcoque heroine invoking the spirit of the storm amidst the precipices and caverns of her native shores. A total change had come over her. Her look was subdued her cheek pale her eyes red and swollen with weeping. She cast an humble and sorrowful glance at the lady and a tear trembled on her long dark lashes. ""Why come they not?"" repeated the angry dame in a voice half-choked with passion. ""By all the saints!"" she continued with a furious look at Strasolda ""I believe thy father Dansowich to be the cause of this delay; for well I know it is with small good-will he pays the tribute. But if the thieving knaves thus play me false if the Easter gift is wanting and for lack of jewels I am compelled to plead sickness and pass to-morrow in my apartment instead of as heretofore eclipsing every rival by the splendour of my jewels rest assured maiden that thy robber friends shall pay dearly for their neglect. A word from me and thy father brethren and kinsmen grace the gallows and their foul eyrie is leveled with dust."" Strasolda pressed her hands upon her heart and burst into a flood of tears. Then throwing herself at the lady's feet-- ""That word you will never have the cruelty to utter "" cried she. ""Bethink you noble lady of the perils to which they are exposed. The bravest cannot command success and you know not yet whether their last expedition may not have been unprosperous."" ""I!"" replied her irritated mistress. ""How should I be privy to their proceedings? But _you_ ought to be able to give some tidings: Wherefore did you not accompany your father this last voyage?"" ""I told you lady "" answered Strasolda ""that I was busied with plans for the deliverance of the Uzcoques now held captive in Venice. I have brothers amongst those unfortunate prisoners and it is the uncertainty of their fate which thus afflicts me."" The maiden gazed tearfully and imploringly at the angry lady. It was not without good reason that she concealed from her the fact of her father's captivity. The stern and inflexible Dansowich had ever viewed with an eye of disapproval the connexion between his people and the counsellors at Gradiska; and the latter aware of this would not have been likely to take much pains for the release of one who was unfavourable to their interests. It was only therefore by representing the captive Uzcoques as less nearly connected with her that Strasolda could hope for aid to rescue them from the hands of the Venetians. ""So much the more should you desire the arrival of the tribute!"" exclaimed the lady. ""Did I not at your request make interest with our ambassador at Venice that he should insist upon the surrender of the Uzcoques as Austrian subjects? Assuredly the feeble signoria will not venture to refuse compliance. A casket of jewels is but a paltry guerdon for such service and yet even that is not forthcoming. But it is not too late to alter what has been done. If I say the word the prisoners linger in the damp and fetid dungeons of the republic until they welcome death as a blessing."" ""Alas alas!"" sobbed Strasolda; ""have you the heart thus to add to my sorrow? Is it not enough to know those I love in captivity to behold my people once so noble and heroic degraded to the very refuse of humanity despised and detested of all men having their dwelling on a barren rock and earning by crime and bloodshed a precarious existence and doubtful freedom? Is it not enough""-- ""Hush!"" interrupted the lady in a quick sharp whisper raising her finger and glancing towards the door of the apartment. There was a noise as of stealthy footsteps in the corridor. Strasolda sprang from the kneeing posture which she had maintained during her conversation with her mistress and resumed her station in the recess of a window while the counsellor's lady snatched up a rich shawl from a damask covered ottoman and threw it over the caskets spread out upon the table. Scarcely were these arrangements completed when the door was partially opened and a wild sunburnt and bearded countenance showed itself at the aperture. ""Heaven and the saints be praised!"" exclaimed the lady. ""They are come at last. In with you Jurissa Caiduch: there is no one but Strasolda here."" The person thus addressed was a strongly built and active man rather under the middle size muffled in a coarse brown cloak which was drawn over the lower part of his face apparently with a view to concealment. A broad-brimmed felt hat was slouched over his small black eyes which glittered through its shadow like those of a snake never fixing themselves on an object but casting restless and suspicious glances as though apprehensive of danger or treachery. Gliding into the room and closing the door noiselessly behind him he approached the table and placed upon it a tolerably large casket which he produced from under his cloak; then retreating a step or two he removed his hat and stood in an attitude of silent respect his eyes still gleaming however with their habitual expression of mistrust and cunning. Without uttering a word the lady seized the casket and impatiently forced open its delicate silver lock. A cry of joyful surprise burst from her lips on beholding the rich contents of the jewel-case. Diamond chains golden girdles and bracelets combs and hair ornaments studded with orient pearls passed in rapid succession through the white and eager fingers of the gratified dame who seemed to lack words to express her pleasure and astonishment at the sight of such costly gems. At last she turned to the bearer. ""Of a truth Jurissa"" cried she ""you are unusually liberal this time and you must have great need of the good offices of myself and Father Cipriano to be willing to purchase our influence with the archduke at so high a price."" ""Our last expedition was a successful one noble lady "" replied the Uzcoque. ""The tender-hearted Strasolda "" added he with a spiteful glance at the maiden who still kept her station by the window ""that guardian angel who so often steps between us and our prey was absent and we had no need to stay our hands."" As he spoke the door was again hastily opened as softly as before but somewhat wider and the burly figure of a monk entered the room. This was no other than the Father Cipriano Guido Lucchese whom the lady had alluded to and who by his pleadings at the papal court in favour of the Uzcoques had earned himself the honourable cognomen of Ambassador de Ladri or the Thieves' Envoy. He had expiated his discreditable intercession by a sojourn in the prisons of the Inquisition which did not however present his being in high favour with the Archduke Ferdinand at whose court he filled the triple office of theologian confessor and privy counsellor. The sleek and unctuous physiognomy of the monk wore an expression of unusual care and anxiety. Without bestowing a salutation or a look upon the lady whose apartment he thus unceremoniously entered he addressed himself at once to the Uzcoque Jurissa. ""Away with you!"" cried he. ""Out of the palace; and quietly too as your own shadow. Thumbscrews are waiting for you if you linger."" Strasolda gazed in alarm at Father Cipriano. Jurissa thrust his right hand under his cloak and seemed to clutch some weapon. Even the counsellor's dame for a moment turned her eyes from the jewels she was admiring to the anxious countenance of the padre. ""Your last exploit will bring you into trouble "" continued the latter to Jurissa. ""You have gone beyond all bounds; and a special ambassador has arrived here from Venice."" ""Well!"" replied the Uzcoque surlily ""was not the sack of doubloons sufficient fee to keep you at your post?"" ""I have but just left it "" answered the monk ""and you may thank me if the storm is averted for the moment although it must burst erelong. Before the ambassador could obtain his audience I hurried to the archduke and chanted the old ditty; told him you were the Maccabees of the century--the bulwarks of Christendom: that without you the Turks would long since have been in Gradiska--that the Venetians through fear and lust of gain were hand and glove with the followers of Mahomet--and that it was their own fault if you had to strike through them to get at the infidel: that they cared little about religion so long as the convenience of their traffic was not interfered with--and that it would be a sin and a shame to deprive himself of such valiant defenders for the sake of obliging the republic. This and much more did I say to his highness Signor Jurissa "" concluded the fat priest wiping away the perspiration which his eagerness and volubility had caused to start out on his brow; ""and in good truth I think your paltry bag of doubloons but poor reward for the pains I took and the zeal I have shown in your defence."" ""And wherein consists the danger then "" interrupted Jurissa ""since your eloquence has sped so well on our behalf?"" ""You do not hear me out my son "" replied the priest. ""The greybeards at Venice have chosen an envoy who is right well informed of your small numbers bad equipment and cowardice in broad daylight. Nay man never grind your teeth. I do but repeat the ambassador's words; for I had stationed myself in an adjoining room and heard all that passed between him and the archduke. He said moreover that far from being of use as a bulwark against Turkish encroachments it was you who had afforded to the infidels a pretext to wrest more than one rich province from Christian potentates. All this seemed to make some impression upon the archduke and to plant suspicions in his mind which bode no good to you and your race. For the present the capture of those two Turks one of whom is a person of rank is testimony in your favour with his highness to whom the crescent is an abomination. Could he follow his own inclinations he would I fully believe start a new crusade against the followers of Mahoun. But come Jurissa this is no time for gossip. You must not be seen in Gradiska. Away with you!"" ""And the Venetian "" cried Jurissa ""what is his name?"" ""It is the Proveditore Marcello who has lately returned from a long absence in the East."" The Uzcoque started. The name seemed to have some potent and mysterious effect upon him and he stood for a few moments with his eyes fixed upon the ground apparently forgetful of the necessity for his immediate departure. The priest took him by the arm and drew him towards the door which he was about to open when Jurissa shook off his grasp and hastily approached the counsellor's wife who had thrown herself into a large gilded chair before one of the pier-glasses and was busily engaged in trying on the ornaments that had just been brought her. ""Have a care noble lady!"" cried the Uzcoque. ""You will do well to let a couple of weeks elapse before you appear in public with those pretty gauds. At any rate wear them not at to-morrow's ball lest perchance they find an owner. Beware lady of the Proveditore Marcello!"" With a look of peculiar meaning he left the room accompanied by Father Cipriano. But his warning fell faintly upon the lady's ear who though she heard the words was far too much engrossed in arranging and admiring the costly gems so lately become her own to give much heed to their import. She remained before her mirror loading her white neck and arms with chains and jewels and interweaving diamonds and pearls in her tresses regardless of the grief of Strasolda who sat in tears and sadness deploring her father's increasing peril and the cloud that menaced the future fortunes of her people. CHAPTER IV. THE BALL. The ancient burg or castle of Gradiska had been originally on a larger scale but at this period consisted only of a centre flanked at right angles by two wings ending in square towers large grey and massive and embattled with overhanging galleries for sentinels to pace along while similar galleries on a smaller scale extended along the entire front and wings of the castle. The central edifice contained on the ground-floor numerous apartments and offices for menials; above which arose a spacious saloon and other lofty apartments lighted by windows high above the flooring and terminating in the round-headed arches so commonly seen in the castellated mansions of northern Italy. In this palatial hall preparation had been busy for the ball to which the wife of the archducal counsellor so impatiently looked forward as an opportunity to eclipse all rivals by the splendour of her jewels. The hour of reception by the archduke had arrived. The exterior of the spacious edifice was illuminated from end to end by nunerous torches and the capacious staircase was lighted by a double rank of torch-bearers in splendid apparel. In the interior of the vast apartment huge waxen tapers were fixed above the _chevron_ or zig-zag moulding which ran round the walls and connected the casement of each window. Large crystal lamps pendant from the point of each inverted pinnacle on the lofty roof diffused a flood of brilliant light and imparted life and colour to the rich tapestries portraying stirring scenes from the Crusades which covered the walls from floor to window. Complete suits of armour exhibiting every known device of harness and numerous weapons fancifully arranged decorated the spaces between the windows. And now began to appear in this scene of splendour groups of knights and nobles arrayed in velvet and cloth of gold and attending upon fair dames sparkling with jewels and bearing nodding plumes upon their braided hair. Conspicuous amidst these and towering above all in stature appeared the haughty mistress of Strasolda attired in a robe of dark green velvet which well relieved the fairness of her complexion and displaying upon her finely moulded neck and arms a collar and bracelets of large and lustrous oriental pearls. Her firlgers were bedecked with costly rings and upon her head she wore an ornament of singular device which soon attracted universal attention. Above the rim of a golden comb richly chased and studded with brilliants arose a peacock with expanded tail. The body was of chased gold in imitation of feathers the arching neck was mosaic work of precious stones the eyes were sparkling diamonds of the purest water and the feathers of the tail glittered with emeralds rubies and sapphires of singular beauty and lustre. So great was the curiosity excited by the dazzling splendour of these jewels that the fair wearer was followed round the room by a train of ladies anxious to observe at leisure a display of ornaments so extraordinary and whispering to sympathizing ears conjectures not over charitable to the counsellor's wife. When at length she had seated herself upon one of the sofas which lined the walls a circle of admiring gazers was formed whose numbers were rapidly increased by the attendant cavaliers. While the lady was enjoying her triumph a bustle at the entrance of the hall turned every head in that direction when the cause appeared in the person of the young archduke who entered in full costume followed by a group of courtiers and accompanied by a Venetian cavalier of tall and commanding person with whom he appeared to be in earnest discourse. The stranger was a large-boned spare and powerful man of middle age and attired in a black vest and pantaloons of woven silk with a short cloak of the same hue. The golden hilt of his rapier and a gold chain and medallion round his neck were his only ornaments. His features were large regular and grand and the gaze of his full dark eyes serene yet firm and potent; his complexion pale and contrasting strongly with a dark beard which circled his visage like a frame. His high and massive forehead and well closed lips had a character of thought and decision while his mien and tread were those of one long accustomed to authority. He seemed a man born after his

ime and worthy to have lived and acted in the high and palmy days of Venice. After attending the archduke to the steps of the dais at the upper end of the hall he made his bow and began to pace the floor in seeming abstraction from the gay scene around him. Arrested in his progress by the numerous groups which after saluting the archduke had again collected around the counsellor's lady he paused in returning conciousness; and looking for the cause of such unwonted attraction was enabled by his lofty stature to obtain a glimpse of the jewelled lady within the circle. Her features were unknown to him; but when his careless gaze fell upon the rare ornament which crowned her redundant tresses his countenance became suddenly darkened by some strong emotion. Again he looked more earnestly and with increasing wonder and curiosity. Controlling by a sudden effort all outward evidence of feeling he watched his opportunity and at length penetrating within the crowd stood for some moments before the object of attraction and gazed as if admiringly upon her various adornments in succession; then bowing gracefully he addressed to her some words of compliment upon the splendour and value of the dazzling bird upon her head. ""Fair lady "" he continued ""I have a daughter whom I fondly love and fain would I bestow upon her youthful beauty such ornaments as yours. But say I pray you where can the cunning hand be found which fashions such glorious birds? Was it in Venice or Vienna that you bought this materpiece of art?"" Unsuspicious of evil and bridling at gratified vanity at this attention from a stranger of such distinguished mien the spoil-bedecked fair one replied to him as she had done to others. ""I bought this ornament some weeks back in Venice at the store of a Greek trader from the Levant."" ""Ha!"" exclaimed the stranger; ""and where dwelt this Greek that I may see and ask him for another such?"" The concious lady embarrassed by such close questioning and somewhat alarmed by the kindling glances of the questioner replied in haste--""Nay signor now I remember better it was not a Greek I bought these gauds but of a trading Jew who walks the Merceria with a box of jewellry."" ""Just now methinks you said a Greek fair lady; and now you say a Jew. What next? Why not a Moslem or perchance _an Uzcoque?_"" At this ominous conclusion which the stranger muttered in tones of marked significance the alarmed culprit started to her feet; and her fierce temper getting the better of her prudence she boldly faced the cavalier exclaiming in a louder key than beseemed a courtier's wife-- ""And who are you signor that dare thus question the lady of an archducal counsellor?"" ""Lady!"" he sternly answered ""here I am known to none save your husband's master; but in Venice men call me the Proveditore Marcello."" And now flashed upon the indignant signora a fearful reminiscence of Jurissa's unheeded and forgotten warning to hide her jewels for a time and to beware of the Proveditore Marcello. In utter dismay and nearly fainting with alarm she sank upon the sofa and her eyes expanded into the wide stare of terror as she gazed at the menacing visage of the Venetian noble. Unwilling to expose the conscience-striken woman before so numerous an assemblage he seated himself beside her and in tones inaudible to others thus whispered in her ear--""Lady! but eight days back the jewels that you wear were mine. That peacock was my own design and made for my daughter by a cunning artificer in Candia. Its like exists not in the world; for the mould was made by my order and broken as soon as used. 'Twas mine until the base Uzcoques plundered my baggage. How thus quickly it passed from them to you is as well known to me as to yourself. But mark me lady! if all these jewels are not delivered at my apartments in the west wing of the castle ere midnight I will denounce your husband and his colleagues as long-suspected and now-proved partakers with the Pirates of Segna. And should redress be denied me here the ambassador of Venice shall report this infamous collusion before a higher tribunal in Vienna."" Struck dumb by this terrible denunciation the fair culprit gasped for breath and her evident distress having been watched in growing wonder by the assembled ladies and cavaliers the latter began to mutter threats of vengeance. One of them now stepped forward and grasping the hilt of his rapier accused the Venetian of having insulted the wife of a nobleman high in the councils of the archduke when the Proveditore looking down upon the courtier with that riveted and intensely piercing gaze which staggers the beholder like a sudden blow and may still be noted in many of Titian's portraits answered with brief and startling emphasis-- ""Signor! you do me grievous wrong. 'Tis I and not the lady who am the injured party."" Awed by his gathering brow and the settled stern unsparing resolution which flashed from every feature and indicated a man confident in his own resources the courtiers did involuntary homage to his loftier spirit and gave way. The proud Venetian strode through the yielding circle and quitted the hall while the counsellor's wife pleading illness and fatigue in reply to the pointed and numerous questions of surrounding friends and enemies summoned her husband to attend her and retired to her apartments. Meanwhile the young Moslem and his companion in misfortune who had been brought prisoners to Gradiska were confined in one of the massive towers which flanked the castle. They had arrived not long before the comencement of the festival and when going under guard along a corridor in the east wing Ibrahim passed the open door of an apartment in which Strasolda was adjusting the rich jewels of the counsellor's lady before her appearance in the ball-room. Startled by the approaching tramp of armed men the Uzcoque maiden raised her eyes and beheld the noble and well-remembered features of the young Turk whose captive she had been and whose image had so strangely reappeared to her through the flitting cloud of smoke in the cavern. ""Mother of Heaven!"" she exclaimed covering her eyes with her hands; ""do I again behold that Moslem youth ever appearing when least expected?"" Again she gazed; but the prisoners hurried onward by their guards had proceeded to the end of the corridor where a narrow winding staircase fashioned in the immense thickness of the tower wall led to their appointed prison a large square apartment the sides of which were panneled to a considerable height and imperfectly lighted by small windows or rather embrasures perforating a wall many feet in thickness. Here they were left to their reflections and to what comfort they could derive fron a lamp and a supply of provisions. Hassan wearied with his journey hastily swallowed his supper and stretching himself upon a paillasse soon forgot his calamities in sound repose. Ibrahim more vigilant and less apprehensive of future evil as the Turks and Austrians were then at peace paced awhile along the floor of his spacious prison musing on the peerless charms of the Uzcoque maiden. From time to time he gazed upon the walls and windows as if calculating the chances of escape when gradually the peculiar and regular design of the panneling caught and fixed his attention. It was divided by prominent mouldings into oblong squares from the centres of which projected large diamond-shaped bosses of carved oak. This peculiarity at length roused into action some reminiscences of the early life and adventures of his beloved patron the pacha of Bosnia to the recital of which he had often in his boyhood listened with eager delight. These recollections at first shadowy and indistinct became gradually more vivid and accurate until finally the full conviction flashed upon him that his benefactor when taken prisoner in his youth by the Austrians had been confined in this very tower and room and by a singular discovery had been enabled to liberate himself and his fellow-prisoners. The pacha then a subordinate in rank in endeavouring to reach the level of one of the embrasures had mounted upon the shoulders of a comrade and was supporting himself by a firm grasp of the large boss in the centre of the pannel when suddenly he felt it turning round in his hand. Surprised to find it not a fixture he pulled it towards him and found that it slowly yielded to the impulse. Drawing it out of the socket he saw it followed by an iron chain which for a time resisted all his efforts but at length gave way and he heard a grating sound like the drawing of a rusty bolt. Suddenly the entire pannel shook and then the lower end started back sufficiently to betray a recess in the wall. Hastily descending on his comrade's shoulders and pushing back the pannel he discovered that it was supported by hinges and was doubtless intended to conceal a secret issue from the castle which he soon ascertained and effected his escape. These facts were all that the memory of Ibrahim could supply; but they were enough to guide him in his search and he immediately proceeded to sound the pannels in succession with his fist. Commencing with the southern or outer wall which he supposed more massive and more likely to contain a secret passage he sounded each pannel and perceiving in the corner one more reverberation than in the others he roused Hassan from his slumbers. ""Hassan! Hassan!"" he exclaimed ""Arouse thee man! and listen to good tidings."" The awakened sleeper gazed with half-opened eyes upon his excited companion and would have dropped to sleep again had not a few words of explanation and the hope of escape fully roused him. Having with some difficulty perched his rotund person upon the ample shoulders of Ibrahim he followed his directions and grasped the wooden boss which to the inexpressible delight of both yielded as it had done forty years before to the captive Turk and displayed the iron chain. Bidding Hassan replace the boss Ibrahim determined to postpone his attempt until the festival had collected all the guards and menials into the central edifice and its approaches. An hour before midnight when the young Moslem expected the revelry would be at its height Hassan again mounted upon his shoulders and after many strenuous efforts at length succeeded in drawing up the bolt. The pannel receded some inches and Ibrahim raising it still further seized the lamp and entered a small oblong recess in the wall which was not less than ten or twelve feet in thickness. Perceiving no outlet he examined the wooden flooring and soon discovered a trap which when raised by the ring attached exposed to view a steep and narrow descending staircase leading apparently to some sally-port beyond the castle ditch. After carefully trimming his lamp he was about to lead the way into this dark abyss when a sound sharp and sudden as of something falling in the adjacent prison caught his ear. Retracing his steps he re-entered the apartment where after a brief search he found beneath one of the embrasures a paper folded round a large pebble. Hastily opening it the following lines written in the _lingua Franca_ so common in the Levant were visible. ""Moslem! If thy soul belie not thy noble form and features thou wilt not withhold thine aid from a bereaved and sorrowing daughter. Before to-morrow's sunset thou wilt be free for Austria wars not with the Turk. Then straight repair to Venice and there await the Battle of the Bridge. Take thy stand beneath the portal of St Barbara and follow the man who whispers in thine ear ""STRASOLDA."" ""Mashallah!"" shouted the enraptured youth ""these lines are from the Uzcoque maiden; and by the gates of Paradise I'll do her bidding though it perils life."" For a time he was tempted to follow her guidance implicitly and await the promised release from the authorities of Gradiska; recollecting however the proverbial slowness of Austrian counsellors and too restless and ardent to endure suspense he resumed his purpose of exploring the secret passage. After he had secured the pannel and replaced the boss he bade Hassan follow him and began to descend. The staircase ended in a small passage round an angle beyond which he discovered a similar descent followed by another angle and staircase proving that this secret issue from the castle penetrated through each of the four massive walls which formed the tower. At length their further progress was stopped by a door originally strong and plated with iron but now so much decayed that although fastened by bolts without the joint strength of the two captives forced it from its hinges. They now entered a vaulted passage of hewn stone low and narrow and with no visible termination. As they advanced the long pent-up and dank unwholesome vapours made it difficult to breathe and compelled Ibrahim to pause repeatedly and trim his lamp which burned so dimly in this oppressive atmosphere as to be nearly extinguished. After a while the path began to slope upwards and erelong they distinguished moonlight faintly streaming through a tangled mass of ivy which concealed the remains of an iron grating broken probably in his patron's successful attempt to escape by this secret passage from the prison above. Gazing through the aperture they perceived not many feet below what had once been the castle ditch now dry and forming a portion of the archduke's gardens. With a joyous heart and an elastic bound Ibrahim reached the soft turf beneath. The more timid and helpless Hassan lowered himself by clinging to a remaining iron bar and with the aid of his companion was soon on his feet enjoying with many thanks to Allah the fresh air of heaven and the consciousness of escape from captivity. The gates of the palace gardens being unguarded during the festival the liberated prisoners reached the coast without an obstacle compelled a fisherman to take them in his bark across the Adriatic and land them on the Lido which forms the outward limit of the port of Venice. Then making free with an unwatched gondola they sped across the bay and were soon in safety beneath the roof of a Turkish trader and correspondent of Hassan. Before their escape was discovered on the following morning the indignant Proveditore had departed for Venice and Strasolda had disappeared. * * * * * COLONEL DAVIDSON'S TRAVELS IN INDIA.[5] [5] _Diary of Travels and Adventures in Upper India_ from Bareilly in Rohilcund to Hurdwar and Nahun in the Himalaya Mountains; with a Tour in Bundelcund a Sporting Excursion in the Kingdom of Oude and a Voyage down the Ganges. By C.J.C. DAVIDSON Esq. late Lieut.-Col. of Engineers Bengal. The appearance of this work was heralded some three months since as divers of our readers may possibly remember by a species of puff-preliminary for which even the annals of Great Marlborough Street afforded no precedent--being nothing less than the appearance of Mr Colburn _in propriâ personâ_ at the bar of the police-office adjoining his premises to answer the complaint of the gallant and irate author for what he was pleased to consider the unwarrantable detention of the MS. from which his narrative had been printed. It was alleged in extenuation that ""the gallant colonel's MS. was so nearly undecipherable that Mr Colburn had been put to considerable expense in revising the press;""--and a mysterious and curiosity-provoking hint was further thrown out that ""it was the custom of the trade that until a work was published the MS. should not be parted with by the publisher as it might turn out that some part of it was libellous and in such case the publisher must produce the MS."" In the end the gallant colonel (whom the newspaper reports described as ""very much excited "") took nothing by his motion in regard to the recovery of the MS.; but though in this respect he may have been somewhat scurvily treated we cannot equally sympathize with his complaints of the work not having been duly _advertised_; for surely all the little ""neatly turned paragraphs"" that ever proceeded from Mr Colburn's laboratory could not have been so effectual as the method struck out by the impromptu genius of the colonel himself in intimating to the public that something quite out of the common way might be expected from the forthcoming production thus brought before its notice. And verily those who have been prepared for a queer volume will not be disappointed in the diary of our choleric and corpulent colonel. If ever the assurance which seems to be regarded as indispensable in the preface to works of this class that the author ""wrote the following pages purely for his own amusement "" bore the stamp of unequivocal truth it is in the present instance; and notwithstanding the asseverations of Mr Colburn and his literary employés it is difficult to conceive that any revision whatever can have been bestowed on the rough notes of the writer since they were first hastily committed to paper amidst the scenes which they describe. The style is as rambling and unconnected as the incidents to which it refers; but wherever the author's devious footsteps lead us from the jungles of Bundelcund to the holy ghâts of Hurdwar the principal figure is always that of the colonel himself who in the portly magnificence of twenty stone minus two pounds fills up the whole foreground with himself and his accessories of servants elephant stud Nagoree cows and other component parts of the _suwarree_ or suite of a _Qui-hye_ who can afford to make himself comfortable after the fashion of the country. The quantity (sometimes not trifling) and quality of his meals the consequent state of his digestion and his endless rows on the score of accommodations and forage with thannadars darogahs kutwals and all the other designations for Hindoo and Hindoostani jacks-in-office (for to Feringhi society he appears to have been not very partial ) may doubtless have been points of peculiar interest to the colonel himself but are not likely to engage the attention of the world in general and had better have been omitted in the revision of the diary instead of being chronicled as they are on all occasions with wearisome minuteness of detail. But with all these drawbacks a man who as he says of himself ""has dwelt in India twenty-five years and traversed it from the snowy range to Bombay on the west must have seen something of the country and may be supposed to know something of the natives""--among whom by the way he seems to have mingled more familiarly than most Feringhis; and in spite of all the egotism and rigmarole with which his pages abound the rambles of this ""stout gentleman"" through Upper India and some other parts of the country not much visited by Europeans present us with a good deal of plain sense and sterling matter viewed it is true with the eccentric eye of a humorist and frequently couched in very odd phraseology; but not the less true on that account. His opinions on all men and all things are expressed with the same honesty and candour with which he narrates the various scrapes in which he was involved while pushing right a-head like an elephant through a jungle;--and though laughing at him quite as often as with him we have found the colonel on the whole far from an unpleasant travelling companion. Bareilly on the fronters of Oude and Rohilcund was the colonel's starting-point;--and thence on St Patrick's day[6] he set forward for Hurdwar at the head of a retinue the members of which both quadruped and biped he enumerates seriatim giving the _pas_ to the former--a precedence perhaps well merited by steeds up to such a welter weight under the climate of India over such a set of unredeemed and thriftless knaves as he describes his native attendants. Accordingly he gives the names and pedigrees of the whole stud from ""the buggy mare Maiden-head and my wicked little favourite Fish-Guts "" up to ""my favourite brood-mare Fair Amelia purchased at a prize sale on the frontier and bred by the king of Bokhara with his royal stamp on her near flank--stands nearly fifteen and a half hands high with magnificent action and great show of blood--had when taken four gold rings in her nostrils now removed and replaced by silver which will be stolen by her groom one by one."" His first day's march was to Futtehgunge (""the mart of victory "" being the scene of the memorable battle in 1774 in which the English as the bought allies of the Nawab Shoojah-ed-dowlah defeated and slew the gallant Rohilla chief Hafez-Rehmut;) and here he oracularly announced a discovery in gastronomy of which it would be unpardonable not to give our readers the benefit. ""I used my farourite condiment tomata sauce with my beef; and _to all who are ignorant_ of this delicious vegetable I may venture to recommend its sauce as at once both wholesome and savoury if eaten with anything but cranberry tart or apple pie!"" It is melancholy to reflect how often the best efforts of genius are anticipated and rendered of no avail. The colonel when he penned this sentence with a heart overflowing with Epicurean philanthropy was evidently unconscious that ""chops and tomata sauce"" were already familiar to the British public from the immortal researches of Mr Pickwick! [6] The year is not specified; but as the Ramazan is subsequently said to have ended March 25 it must have been in the year of the Hejra 1245 ansering to A.D. 1830. Rampore in the territory of which the colonel now found himself is still a semi-independent state the Nawab of which has a revenue of sixteen lacs of rupees (£160 000 ) while the city being without the pale of English law is ""a city of refuge a very Goshen of robbers ... the streets are crowded with a mob of very handsome idle lounging fellows having generally the fullest and finest jet-black beards and black mustaches in the world. Many of these were handsomely dressed and many (which struck me as a very curious fact) appeared clean!"" These were the Pathans and Rohillas partly descended from the original Moslem conquerors of India and partly from those who have more recently migrated from Affghanistan and the adjoining countries. The most athletic and warlike race among the Indian Mahommedans and too proud of their blood to exercise any profession but that of arms they are found in every town throughout Upper India swaggering about with sword shield and matchlock in the retinues of the native princes and ready to join any enterprise or flock to the standard of any invader through whose means any prospect is afforded of shaking off the Feringhi yoke and resuming their ancient predominance in the country which their forefathers won by their swords from the idolaters. ""They hate us with the most intense bitterness and can any one be surprised at it? We have taken their broad lands foot by foot."" Few if any of these turbulent spirits are found in our European regular native army; their dislike to the cumbrous accoutrements and awkward European saddles operating equally perhaps with the severity of the drill and discipline to deter them; but they form the strength of the various corps of irregular horse--a force which of late years has most judiciously been greatly increased in numbers and the uniform dashing bravery of which in the field strongly contrasts with the misconduct of one at least of the regular native cavalry regiments in the late Affghan war. ""I have seen "" (says the colonel ) ""a lineal descendant of Pathan Nawab's serving in the ranks of Hearsay's horse as a common trooper on twenty rupees a-month out of which he had merely to buy and feed his horse procure clothes arms and harness and sustain his hereditary dignity! By his commander and his fellow-soldiers he was always addressed by his title of Nawab Sahib!"" The small-pox was committing dreadful ravages in Rampore and its neighbourhood; and though vaccination was performed gratis at Bareilly the fatalist prejudices of the natives even of those of rank and education prevented them from availing themselves of the boon. All the instances of the colonel in behalf of a charming little girl four years old whose mother and sister had already taken the infection could get from her father nothing more than a promise ""to think of it! If it's her fate----"" said he. ""'You fool!' said I in my civil way "" (and the colonel's _brusquerie_ was here at least not misplaced ) ""'if a man throws himself into the fire or a well or in the path of a tiger is he without blame?'"" Such apathy seems almost unaccountable to English minds; but it may find a parallel in Lady Chatterton's story of the Irish parents [7] who after refusing to spend fourpence in nourishment for a dying child came in deep grief after its death to their employer to solicit an advance of thirty shillings to _wake the corpse_! Perhaps some ingenious systematists might hence deduce a fresh argument in favour of the alleged oriental origin of the Irish. [7] Rambles in the South of Ireland; ii. 143. The colonel's next stage was to Moradabad another Pathan city but under the _raj_ of the Company where in a visit to a native original named Meer Mahommed he was greatly delighted by his new friend's introduction of the English word _swap_ into a sentence of Hindoostani. And on the 25th he reached Dhampore where the welcome proclamation ""that the new moon had been seen "" terminated the fast of the Ramazan to the uncontrollable joy of the Mussulmans who would have been subjected to another day's abstinence if it had not been perceived till the succeeding evening. The colonel however slyly remarks that ""it was very odd that the _Hindoos_ could not see the new moon "" and hints that their imperfection of vision was shared by himself but it was otherwise decided by the Faithful; and he proceeded amid the noisy rejoicings of the Moslem feast of _Bukra-Eed_ (called by the Turks Bairam ) by Najeena the Birmingham of Upper India to Nujeebabad. Here resided on a pension of 60 000 rupees (£6000) a-year from the English government the Nawab Gholam-ed-deen better known by the nickname of Bumbo Khan a brother of the once famous Rohilla chief Gholam-Khadir. Though past eighty years of age and weighing upwards of twenty stone he had not lost any more than the equiponderant colonel his taste for the good things of this world; and our traveller on partaking of the Nawab's hospitality records with infinite zest the glories of a peculiar preparation of lamb called _nargus_ or the narcissus. But alas! the reminiscences of the nargus were less grateful than the fruition and the remorse of the colonel's guilty stomach (as poor Theodore Hooke or some one else used to call indigestion) continued to afflict him all the way to Hurdwar; and may probably account by the consequent irritation of his temper for various squabbles in which he was involved on the route. The great fair of Hurdwar was in full swing at the colonel's arrival with its vast concourse of Hindoo devotees from all parts of India to whom it is in itself a spot of peculiar sanctity besides lying in the way to the shrine of Gungotree (the source of the Ganges ) in the Himmalaya--its crowds of merchants and adventurers of all sorts even from Uzbek Tartary and the remote regions of Central Asia--Seiks by thousands from the Punjab with their families--Affghan and Persian horse-dealers--and numerous grandees both of the Hindoo and Moslem faith who repair hither as to a scene of gaiety and general resort. The colonel found quarters in the tent of a friend employed in the purchase of horses for government and seems to have entered with all his heart into the humours of the scene; his description of which and of the varied characteristics of the motley groups composing the half million of human beings present is one of the most graphic and picturesque sketches in his work. ""Huge heaps of assafoetida in bags from the mountains beyond Cabool--tons of raisins of various sorts--almonds pistachio nuts sheep with four or five horns--Balkh[8] cats with long silken hair; of singular beauty--faqueers begging and abusing the uncharitable with the grossest and most filthy language--long strings of elderly ladies proceeding in a chant to the priests of the Lingam to bargain for bodily issue--Ghât priests presenting their books for the presents and signatures of the European visitors--groups of Hindoos surrounding a Bramin who gives each of them a certificate of his having performed the pilgrimage""--such are a few of the component parts of the scene; but the colonel's attention seems to have been principally fixed upon the horses and the tricks of the _dulals_ or brokers to whom the purchase is generally confided it being almost hopeless for an European to make a personal bargain with a native dealer. But among the greatest curiosities in this way were some _tortoiseshell_ ponies--for we can call them nothing else--a peculiar race from Uzbek Tartary which we never remember to have heard of before. ""They were under thirteen hands high and the most curious compound of colours and marks that can be imagined. Suppose the animal pure snowy white; cover the white with large irregular light bay spots through which the white is visible; in the middle of these light bay let there be dark bay marbled spots; at every six or eight inches plant rhomboidal patches of a very dark iron-grey; then sprinkle the whole with dark flea-bites! There's a _phooldar_ ( flower-market ) as they call them;"" and we agree with the colonel that such an animal would be a fortune at Bartlemy fair. [8] In the original ""bulkh "" which we have ventured to amend as above. The Oriental words and phrases are in several instances very incorrectly printed; but whether the fault rests with the colonel's ""undecipherable"" MS. or the correctors of the press it is not for us to decide. Among the distinguished visitors to Hurdwar at this season of festivity was the noted Begum Sombre or Sumroo whose face the colonel compares to that of an old Scotch highlander and her person to a sackful of shawls and who declared ""that the Duke of Wellington _must_ be at heart a Catholic _because_ he emancipated the Catholics!"" He also renewed his gastronomic friendship with his friend Bumbo Khan with whom the recollections of past indigestion did not prevent him from feasting on _mahaseer_ a delicious fish found in this part of the Ganges; and on this occasion his Apician ecstasies are not alloyed by subsequent regrets--""even now the recollection soothes me""--and he recommends such of his readers as are yet ignorant of this luxury to start forthwith for Hurdwar and repair the omission. The fair ended April 13; and the colonel having previously succeeded in disposing of his buggy to a potentate whom he calls ""the Kheerea Thunnasir Rajah "" (we believe the ruler of one of the Seik protected states ) and buying a stout Turcomani pony for the hills started the same day on the road to Suharunpoor. He favours his readers _en passant_ with some exceedingly original speculations touching the Mosaic deluge in reference to the hills about Hurdwar which do not speak very highly for his attainments in geology though in some other branches of natural history and particularly in botany he appears to be no mean proficient. The journey was disturbed by attempts to steal the colonel's new purchase (which was not like the rest of the stud distinguished from the horses of the country by having its tail cut ) and by a quarrel at Secunderpore with a thannadar or native police magistrate whose European superior's neglect of the colonel's complaint he charitably attributes to ""some (I hope slight) derangement of the stomach."" At Suharunpore he visited the well-known botanist Dr Royle the curator of the Company's botanic garden there then engaged in those labours on the Flora of the Himmalayas which have been since given to the world; and at Boorea leaving the British territory he entered that of the protected Seik states whose petty chieftains are secured in their semi-independence by the treaty with Runjeet in 1809 which confined the ruler of Lahore to the right bank of the Sutlej. But their reception of the colonel did not appear to indicate any great degree of gratitude for these favours to the British nation as represented in his person; for not one of the five Seik chiefs ""each of whom has his own snug little fort close to the city "" would supply him with a lodging; and it was only by perseverance and ingenuity that he secured a place to lay his head after long wrangling with the subordinate functionaries. Matters improved however as he advanced further into the country; and at the little mountain-city of Nahun he was most hospitably rece

ved and entertained by the young rajah Futteh Pur Grass Sing ""who had been educated almost entirely under the kind and fatherly superintendence of Captain Murray "" the commissioner of the Seik states and whose frank and gentlemanlike manners ""so unlike those of the ghee-fed wretches of the plains "" did honour to his guardian's precepts. The town of Nahun which is 3600 feet above the level of the sea is described as clean and well paved; and the rajah whose revenue had been increased under the management of Captain Murray from 37 000 to 53 000 rupees was highly popular and by the colonel's account deservedly so with his subjects. He earnestly pressed ""the fat gentleman"" (whose caution in mounting an elephant while two men on the other side of the howdah balanced his weight vehemently excited his risibility) to return to the plains through Nahun and have a month's shooting with him in the valley; but whether the invitation was accepted or not remains untold as--""Alas for the literature of the age! when I was ordered to Bundelcund a vile thief entered my tents at night and robbed me of my second volume; and thus did I lose my carefully written account of the sub-Himmalayan range which cost me fully eight months' labour."" Thus abruptly terminates the first part of the colonel's travels and at the commencement of the second we find him crossing the Jumna to Calpee the frontier town of Bundelcund a wild and unsettled province prolific in Thugs and bad characters of all sorts and principally inhabited by a peculiar race called Bundelas who have never been perfectly reconciled to the British supremacy and who at this present writing are kept quiet only by the presence of a force of 15 000 men. Calpee is said to be the hottest place in India the thermometer in June according to the colonel standing even on a cloudy day at 145 degrees--a degree of heat almost incredible; and it is also the principal mart for the cotton which the rich black soil of Bundelcund produces of finer quality than any other part of Hindostan. But notwithstanding its commercial inportance the town was at this time left to the government of a native Darogah or chief of police the nearest European courts being at Hameerpore thirty miles distant and the state of society seems to have been somewhat singular. Among its most conspicuous members is ""Gopal the celebrated robber murderer and smuggler a tall athletic man about forty-two years of age with a most hideous muddy eye having the glare of hell itself. It is said that he has always fifteen servants in stated pay and can in a few hours command the services of three hundred armed and desperate men; and the strength and vigour of the Calpee police may be estimated by the fact that he has been known to walk into the house of a rich merchant in the centre of the town when he was surrounded by his servants and family; he has very coolly selected the gold bangles of his children and silenced the trembling remonstrances of the Mahajun by threats of vengeance; nor is this a solitary instance. When he murders he is equally above all concealment; as in the recent case of a sepahee returning home with his savings who was waylaid and murdered by our hero in open day. He very coolly gave himself up acknowledging that he had killed the sepahee who had first assaulted him. It was proved on the trial that the sepahee was wholly unarmed and he was condemned to be hung by the court of Hameerpore on his own confession but released _from want of evidence_ by the Sudder Court at Calcutta. Their objection was excellent though curious; that if his confession was taken it must be taken altogether and not that part only which could lead to his conviction. He was released and now walks about in his Sunday clothes a living evidence of British tenderness."" Gopal was not the only amiable character with whom the colonel became acquainted at Calpee as he sought and obtained an interview with a famous Thug approver who had retired from the active exercise of his profession and was travelling the country in company with a party of police denouncing his former associates to justice. We cannot help suspecting both from the traits recorded of him and from the vicinity of Calpee to his former residence at Jalone that this personage was no other than the celebrated Ameer Ali whose adventures formed the ground of Captain Meadows Taylor's well-known ""Confessions of a Thug;"" and as a pendant to the already published descriptions of him we here quote the impression he made upon the colonel. ""I expected to see a great man but at the first glance I saw that I was in the presence of a master. The Thug was tall active and slenderly formed; his head was nearly oval; his eye most strongly resembled that of a cobra di capello; its dart was perfectly wild and maniacal restless brilliant metallic and concentrated."" The colonel had a narrow escape from irretrievably affronting this eminent professor of murder by unguardedly enquiring whether he was in any way cognizant of a trifling robbery by which the colonel himself had been a sufferer. ""No sir!"" he exclaimed with a look which might have frozen a less innocent querist; ""murder not robbery is my profession ... and none but the merest novices would descend so low as to rob a tent or a dwelling-house."" The colonel however expresses a shrewd suspicion from circumstances which had come to his knowledge that his distinguished visitor's _esprit de corps_ led him to deviate from truth in this particular--a belief in which Captain Taylor's pages fully bear him out. The colonel's movements after quitting Calpee and its attractive circles appear to have been somewhat desultory. We find him successively at Murgaon or Murgong Julalpore Keitah &c. without being told what decided his route; but from some subsequent remarks it appears probable that he was engaged on engineering service by order of Government. Between Julalpore and Keitah he fell in with a gang of _nutts_[9] or gipsies whom the beauty of their women (a point to which the colonel is always alive) did not prevent him from suspecting of an intention to practise _thuggee_ on his own portly person--a belief in which he was confirmed by hearing them speak _in another tongue_ among themselves--no doubt the _Ramasee_ or cant language of the Thugs subsequently made known to the world at large by the investigations of Major Sleeman. At Goraree he purchased some small cups carved from the variegated serpentine of the rock on which the town is built; but on proposing to employ the artist in making some larger vases ""he told me that he was a very poor man and his efforts had never been directed to larger patterns; meaning to infer that it was impossible he could either try or succeed!"" Such is Hindoo nature! [9] The Indian gipsies are several times mentioned in the journal of Bishop Heber who says they are called Kunjas in Bengal. Colonel Davidson also mentions a race in Bundelcund called Kunjurs who were in the habit as he was informed by the Bramins of ""catching lizards scorpions snakes and foxes "" which if it is meant that they use them for food is analogous to the omnivorous propensities of the gipsies. Churkaree the capital of Ruttun Sing Buhadoor one of the principal of the numerous rajahs among whom Bundelcund is divided is described as ""prettily situated on the side of the hill over a lake covered with the white lotus flower and having a very fine appearance from a distance as most of the houses have their upper stories whitewashed and are seen peeping through the dark-green leafy trees of the country but the town which contains perhaps 15 000 souls of whom 1000 may be Mussulmen is very straggling irregular and dirty."" The male population were all fiercely mustached and loaded with arms; but their repulsive exterior was more than compensated by the charms of the other sex all of whom wore immense hollow ankle bangles of zinc filled with bits of gravel which tinkled as they walked. ""I have never seen so many well-formed and handsome women together as I did at the wells outside the town drawing water _à la Rebecca_. Some of their faces were strikingly intelligent and their figures eminently graceful. The population is almost purely Hindoo; and I think the Hindoo females are more delicate in their forms than the Mussulmanees."" The Rajah was however absent on a sporting excursion and the darogah refused to provide the colonel with lodgings alleging his master's orders that no Feringhis should be allowed in the town; and it was not till after a long altercation of which the colonel gives himself greatly the best that he succeeded in finding quarters in the house of a _bunneea_ or grocer. But the next day's march (for Bundelcund is almost as thickly set with sovereign princes as Saxony itself) carried him out of the realm of this inhospitable potentate into the territories of the Rajah of Jalone the once noted patron and protector of Thuggee by whose agent he was most politely received at Mahoba a once splendid but now ruined city celebrated for its artificial lakes which in long-past times were formed by a famous Rajpoot prince named Purmal by damming up the narrow gorges of the hills. ""Never had I seen in the plains of India a prospect more enchanting! Conceive a beautiful sheet of calm clear silvery water of several miles in circumference occasionally agitated by the splashing leaps of large fishes or the gradual alighting of noble swan-like aquatic birds: its margin broken as if by the most skilful artist; now running into the centre and ending in most romantic low rocky hills covered with trees and embellished with black antique Jain temples deserted probably for hundreds of years and at present the retreat of the elegant peafowl; in other places embanked with huge blocks of cut granite embrowned by the shade of magnificent trees under which small bright Hindoo temples carefully whitewashed might be seen in the shade; or bounded by abrupt rocky promontories surmounted by many-pillared temples in ruins hanging in the sky. A fine rich sunset gave an exquisite richness and classic magnificence to the scene. Many little boys with rod and line were ensnaring the sweet little _singhee_ or the golden _rohoo_ or carp--bringing back to my heart the days when stealing from school I was wont to sit on the rocks of the Dee at Craglug near Aberdeen watching the motion of a float that was not under water once in the twenty-four hours."" The colonel's laudable habit of associating freely whenever opportunity occurred with the natives gave him considerable insight into the state of the country where the caprices of the native princes were not then much interfered with and which consequently as he says ""was pretty much in the situation of the Emerald Isle;"" and verily if the tale told him by the Hindoo _gosain_ or priest at Jourâhoô of the murder of his predecessor in the temple and the impunity of the robbers were correctly related the Bundelas have not much to learn in the arts of bloodshed and depredation. ""This village being a sort of corner to the territories of several Rajahs robberies murders and all other diversions are of daily occurrence; and when enquiries are made; each territory throws the blame on its neighbour."" The maxim of government most current in Bundelcund both with rulers and ruled seems indeed to have been-- ""The good old rule the simple plan That those should take who have the power And those should keep who can;"" for while this strange confusion of _meum_ and _tuum_ prevailed among the peasantry the country was ruined by the oppressive and irregular exactions of the rajahs both zemindars and cultivators flying from their habitations to escape the levying of the rents which were often demanded more than once by different collectors. At Chundla the colonel was lodged in the house of an opulent zemindar who had absconded for the reason just given; ""and one of the thanna servants told me that by those means Bundelcund was depopulated""--a statement corroborated by the numerous ruined brick houses remaining in the towns among the miserable hovels of the present day. The rajahs of Bundelcund are almost without exception of Rajpoot lineage and thus of a different race from their Bundela subjects; but the condition of the country is much the same wherever it is left under the sway of the Hindoo princes who are exempt even from the partial restraint which the Koran imposes on the despotism of Mahommedan rulers. The only effectual cure for the evils reigning in Bundelcund will be its formal incorporation with the dominions of the Company--a consummation which from the refractory spirit shown in the province after our losses in Affghanistan is probably not far distant. The remainder of the colonel's notes on Bundelcund relate principally to his visits to the ancient hill-fortresses of Ajeegur and Kalingur both formerly occupied in force by the British but now--with the exception of a havildar's (sergeant's) party of sepoys posted at the former and a single company at the latter--garrisoned solely by the _lungoors_ or large black monkeys whom the colonel found holding solemn assembly in the Jain temples and the hall of audience built by the famous Rajah Purmal at Ajeegur. While exploring his way along the ruined and overgrown ramparts he had a narrow escape from the fangs of a large venomous serpent (""the _Katula Rekula Poda_ No. 7 of Russell "") on which he was on the point of treading and which in commendable gratitude for its forbearance; he allowed to glide off unharmed by his fowling-piece; ""but he was the first reptile that ever escaped without the chance of losing his life at my hands."" On the road to Kalingur he had an interview with a petitioner who offered him 400 rupees in cash or a large diamond for his interest in a certain case then pending before the judge at Bandah; ""but I explained to my client that I was not in that line of business and as I saw he had no intention of insulting me we parted friends."" Kalingur which was taken by the British after a long siege in 1812 stands on a rock towering ""upwards of 850 feet above the plain below and probably about 3000 feet above the level of the sea;"" but its strength as a fortress is as nothing in comparison to its sanctity which entitles every one who resides there only as long as it takes to milk a cow to especial beatitude--the object of veneration being a _lingam_ of black stone enshrined in a temple the guardianship of which is jointly vested in five resident families of Bramins. ""At this time "" says the colonel ""the place is not worth keeping the country being so thoroughly impoverished and desolate;"" and he accordingly after viewing the marvels of the locality pursued his way to Banda and thence _laid a dâk_ (or travelled by palanquin with relays of bearers) to Calpee ""there to sit from nine to four writing filthy accounts of bricks and mortar square feet cubic feet and running feet rupees annas and pie; squabbling with wrinkled unromantic villains whose cool-tempered and overwhelming patience amply deserve their unlawful gains--I mean as labourers in the vineyard of villany."" ""A sporting excursion in Oude "" in the spring of 1836 comes next in order of time; and in regular order we accordingly take it though it has pleased either Mr Colburn or the colonel to place it after the voyage down the Ganges. The colonel left Lucknow March 2; and three days later the whole party rendezvoused at Khyrabad consisting of ""Mrs Miss and Brigadier Churchill Colonel Arnold Major Cureton Lieut. Waugh Dr Ross of her Majesty's 16th Lancers and the writer of these amiable records;"" to whom was soon after added in the capacity of guide and hanger-on ""Sam Lall by birth a Chuttree or Rajpoot by profession a zemindar and by inclination a sycophant and shikarree (hunter.)"" Indian field sports with their concomitants of hogs hogdeer jungles elephants tigers and nullahs have been of late years rendered so familiar to stay-at-home travellers that we shall but concisely notice the colonel's exploits in this forest campaign which present no remarkable novelty though detailed _con amore_ and with the two-fold zest of a sportsman and an epicure. With all deference indeed to the colonel we have shrewd doubts whether the latter feeling was not the predominant one; for the death of a tiger nine of which fell during the three weeks' foray before the rifles of himself and his companions is evidently chronicled with less of heart-felt enthusiasm than characterises his encomiums on the hogdeer soup the delicate floricans and black partridges (in the preparation of bread sauce for which with his own hands he earned immortal renown ) and the other materials for good living poured forth from the cornucopia of an Indian game-bag. His gastronomic fervour during this jaunt reaches at times an ecstatic pitch which as old Weller says ""werges on the poetical."" ""For him (the gastronomist) the dark rocks and arid plains of the dry Dekkan produce their purple grapes and cunning but goodly bustard; for him burning Bundelcund its wonderful rock pigeon and ortolan inimitable; the Jumna most ancient of rivers its large rich Kala banse and tasty crabs; for him yields the low and marshy Terace her elegant florican; the mighty Gunga its melting mahaseer; the Goomtee its exquisite mullet. And shall he not eat and delight in her fruits? ... Let the ass eat its thistles and the swallow its flies _au naturel_; you and I reader know better!"" One day while wading on their elephants through a deep marsh in pursuit of a tiger the chasseurs suddenly stumbled upon a pleasant family party--""a labyrinth of huge boa-constrictors or pythons sound asleep floating on a bed of crushed _nurkool_ (a gigantic species of reed ) the least of them twenty feet long and two feet in circumference. A more beautiful natural mosaic cannot be imagined: they appeared from being wet as if recently varnished. Perhaps they were from twenty to thirty in number and occupied a spot of about twenty feet square. No sooner did the dreadful glistening reptiles hear the click of my rifle and feel its ball than they shot forth with all their vigour and diving disappeared in an instant under the matted roots of the tall nurkool and although I tried I could not get another glimpse."" One of these giant serpents seventeen feet long and eighteen inches in circumference which the colonel calls a small one was shot a few days afterwards by Colonel Arnold. The marsh and jungle swarmed with peacocks jungle-fowl and wild-fowl of all sorts affording glorious sport; and besides the smaller kinds of deer several specimens occurred of a magnificent species of stag with twelve-tyned horns called _baru-singa_--apparently allied to the _sambur_ and _rusa_ of the Dekkan. The comparatively small number of tigers killed was however a source of disappointment; since the utility of these battues in which the superior fire-arms and appliances of the English are brought into action for the destruction of these ferocious animals may be estimated from the damage done by them in the wilder parts of India ""which is beyond the belief even of Indo-European residents and must consequently appear an exaggeration to distant Englishmen. General (then Captain) Briggs when resident at Dhoolia in Candeish in 1821 where his potails or head men were obliged to keep a register of the oxen (exclusive of sheep and goats) destroyed in their villages reported that no less than 21 000 had been killed in three years! As no register is kept in Oude it is impossible to register the number."" On the banks of the Mohun-nuddee the party was joined by Rajah Ruttun Sing a chief holding a considerable tract of country under the suzerainté of Oude who favoured them with his company while they remained in his district--a compliment which he expected to be acknowledged as he distinctly intimated on taking leave by the gift of a valuable fowling-piece; but this modest request was parried by the rejoinder that none of their guns were good enough for his highness! During one of the halts an incident occurred which strongly illustrates the inhuman apathy of the Hindoos towards any one not connected with them by the ties of caste. A man was found sitting under a tree near the camp uttering strange cries and the servants were desired to order him to withdraw; ""they returned saying carelessly that he was a _nutt_ or gipsy who had been robbed."" A robbery _from_ a gipsy was such a strange contradiction of terms that the colonel went personally to enquire into the matter when he was horror-struck by finding that the man had been not only plundered of his earnings by a band of Bunjarras but frightfully mutilated and wounded a trifle which the Hindoo servants had not thought worth mentioning. The poor wretch's arm was amputated by Dr Ross; and being carried with the camp and carefully tended he was at last dismissed with a fair prospect of recovery and with a gift of sixty rupees subscribed among the party; but not even the example of the _sahibs_ could teach the Hindoos humanity and only the peremptory commands of Dr Ross could prevail upon his bearer to place a mattress under the sufferer! On their return march the party were further honoured by visits from several rajahs and zemindars all of whom were ""loud in complaint against the extortions of the aumils who constantly attempted to gather more and sometimes twice and a half as much as the stipulated rent in consequence of which the zemindars were compelled to rebel;"" a view of the political condition of Oude which naturally results from its anomalous position under a sovereign nominally independent who is at once too weak to control his own subjects and fearful of diminishing the shadow of authority left to him by calling in the only available aid. On the 29th of March the party again reached Khyrabad the appointed place of their separation as it had been of their meeting; and here the narrative as before breaks off abruptly. The concluding part in order of time of the colonel's lucubrations contains his narrative of a voyage on the Ganges from Allahabad by Dhacca to Calcutta; but the features and incidents of this navigation have been so frequently described by travellers of all sorts and kinds from Bishop Heber and Captain Bellew to our own much-esteemed Kerim Khan that we shall devote but brief space to it. He quitted Allahabad as he informs us December 5 1839 so deeply regretted by the native population that they determined to perpetuate his memory by the erection of a new ghât or landing-place every brick of which was to be stamped with the letter D--a distinction which he had no doubt deserved by the _bonhommie_ towards both Hindoo and Moslem which forms one of the most favourable traits in the jovial colonel's character. The Tribeenee Ghât immediately below Allahabad where the streams of the Jumna and the Ganges unite is one of the holiest spots in India; to which pilgrims resort from all quarters in the hope of securing paradise by dying at the junction of the sacred waters. The spirit of religious exclusiveness prevails here as well as in other places; and the colonel mentions his having been once an eyewitness of some rough treatment received by a _chumar_ or leather-dresser (one of the lowest castes ) at the hands of some high caste sepoys who were highly indignant that so mean a carcass should presume to defile the holy ground! Leaving the ghâts and devotees behind him however and floating down the stream in his capacious three-roomed budgerow he passed Mirzapoor Chunar and even the holy city of Benares (which he perversely spells Bunarus ) without halting; and reached without adventure or mishap the mouth of the Goomtee where his attention was attracted by a party of eighteen young elephants the property of the king of Oude bathing in the river. ""Of all animals saving the Bundela goat there is none that suffers more from change of climate than the elephant: of the numbers caught on the eastern frontier probably not one in four survives a journey to Delhi. Bred in the darkest and most gloomy forests they are in a great measure sheltered from heat by the eternal moisture of the cool shady bower under which they rove; and are then expected to bear all on a sudden the most intense heat acting directly on their jet-black skins when brought into the plains of Upper India. A very clever native told me he could make money by any thing but young elephants."" Another curious fact relative to the elephant mentioned in a subsequent chapter on the authority of Captain Broadfoot of the Madras commissariat is that both wild and tame elephants are extremely subject to a pulmonary disease which proved on dissection to be tubercular--in fact consumption! It was found to yield however to copious bleedings if taken in its early stages. The colonel's pages at this point are filled with digressions and dissertations on subjects somewhat miscellaneous--Aberdeen pale ale--the enormities of Warren Hastings' government--the late James Prinsep and the moral precepts of the Rajah Piyâdâsee--and a most incomprehensible rhapsody about ""a red mustached member of the Bengal civil service "" of which we profess ourselves utterly incompetent to make either head or tail and strongly recommend the colonel to expunge it if the work reaches another edition. The voyage presents no incidents but the usual ones of pelicans alligators and porpoises: and on January 15 he arrived at Dhacca ""the once famous city of muslins."" But the muslin trade has now almost wholly disappeared; and with it ""the thousands of families of muslin weavers who from the extreme delicacy of their manufacture were obliged to work in pits sheltered from the heat of the sun and changes of the weather; and even after that precaution only while the dew lay on the ground as the increasing heat destroyed the extremely delicate thread."" The jungle is in consequence advancing close upon the city which is thus rendered almost uninhabitable from malaria--the only manufacturers which continue to flourish being those of violins bracelets made from a peculiar shell resembling the _Murex tulipa_ and--idols for Hindoo worship! The colonel remained at Dhacca till February 4 awaiting ulterior orders from headquarters and had consequently abundance of leisure for making himself acquainted with the place and its people. These researches however were not always unattended with danger; for on one occasion while viewing the city from an elevated building a piece of plaster was struck from the cornice near where he stood by a matchlock ball--a delicate hint that the Mussulmans disliked being overlooked. The Nawab apparently the son of Bishop Heber's acquaintance Shumseddowlah still resides in the palace of his ancestors but is described as an extravagant uneducated youth who has mortgaged away his income from 5000 to 200 rupees per mensem--that is from L.6000 to L.240 per annum. The inhabitants were a mixture of almost all the creeds and nations of Asia--Chinese Thibetans Mugs from Arracan Burmese Malays etc.; but the great majority are Hindoos whose sanguinary goddess Kalee is adored in not less than fifty temples. The Greeks and Armenians also have each a church the services of which as described by the colonel are conducted in much the same form as at Constantinople:--""But among the (Armenian) matrons only was any appearance of devotion visible; one of them most gorgeously appareled in the Armenian fashion with a magnificent tiara of jewels on her brow and wearing a superb shawl threw herself on the ground with her head sunk between her arms towards the altar and remained in that position nearly five minutes. The others being dressed _à l'Anglaise_ with stiff stays and fashionable bonnets could not afford to indulge in such a position."" The Armenians were formerly numerous in Dhacca and are still an influential and wealthy body; the Greeks are now ""few and far between "" but in the palmy days of Dhacca they were a flourishing community. Dhacca was a place abounding in strange characters from all parts of the world; and among others whom the colonel encountered was a singular specimen of a cosmopolite a native of Fez who called himself a Moslem but whom our friend vehemently suspected of being a Jew. He had been almost as great a traveller as his countryman the famous Sheikh Ebn Batuta whose wanderings are immortalized in the pages of Maga [10] and came last from Moulmein with a cargo of black pepper and rubies. He had resided seventeen years in India and proposed to the colonel whom he claimed as a brother ""since from his own home he could reach England in ten days "" that they should jointly freight a vessel with valuables and go _home_ together! And among other scattered facts a casual encounter with some Chinese in the employ of the Assam Tea Company whom the colonel considerably astonished by addressing them in their own language introduces ""the very curious fact "" that at Tipperah a civil station not more than fifty or sixty miles from Dhacca the natives have from time immemorial used the tea which grows there abundantly and is prepared after a fashion of their own. ""And yet"" (continues the colonel--and we fear there is too much truth in his remarks) ""the existence of the tea-plant is but a recent discovery! Any other nation would have established a tea-manufactory at Tipperah immediately after the first settlement and the Yankees would have 'progressed' railroads and steam-boats for its success. India is at this moment a mine of unexplored wealth. No sooner had steam-boats appeared than coal has been discovered in every direction!"" The manufacture of native iron in Bengal which had been pressed upon Lord Hastings as the colonel seems to imply by himself and at first warmly adopted by him was objected to in the council and ultimately abandoned ""on the grounds that it would militate against the commercial interests of Great Britain--that is against the profits of those India stockholders possessing votes who followed the trade of ironmongers!"" There is many a true word spoken in jest; and this and other side-cuts of the colonel at the shortsighted proceedings of the Bahadurs at Calcutta though sometimes queerly worded contain now and then some unpalatable facts. The administration of the present Governor-General has shown at least some _promise_ of a better state of things--and if the impulse now given to the development of the resources of India be steadily followed up this reproach will erelong be taken away. The receipt of his final orders however which pointed out China as his destination put an end to the colonel's speculations; and re-embarking on the stream of the Booree Gunga he passed with little incident worth noticing through the numerous branches of the river and the picturesque jungles of the Soonderbunds and arrived safely after an absence of twenty-one years at the city of palaces--and there we leave him. [10] May 1841. The subject of the manufactures and products of India is not however the only point connected with the internal administration respecting which some inconvenient facts find their way to light in the colonel's pages--and with one or two of these revelations we shall conclude our extracts. The majority of those Anglo-Indian employés who have favoured the world with ""Reminiscences"" and ""Narratives "" are singularly free from the charge of what is familiarly termed ""telling tales out of school."" According to their account nowhere is justice so efficiently administered or its functionaries so accessible as in our Indian empire; but here whether from the native frankness of the colonel's disposition or from his having nothing more to hope or fear from the old Begum in Leadenhall Street we find this important subject placed on several occasions in rather a different light from that in which it is usually represented. It is well known that Sir David Ochterlony a short time before his death discovered by mere accident that he was enrolled as a pensioner to a large amount on the civil list of almost every native prince in Upper India from the emperor of Delhi downwards--his principal moonshee or native secretary having thrown out intelligible hints as though from his master that such douceurs would not be without their use in securing his powerful interest at Calcutta--the moonshee himself quietly pocketing the proceeds. This was certainly an outrageous instance; but it is the direct interest of every native subordinate to screen his own misdeeds and extortions by prom

ting to the utmost in his European superior that inaccessibility to which he is naturally but too much inclined--and the extent to which this system of exclusion is carried may be inferred from the following anecdote. The colonel had been requested by a native landholder of high respectability to introduce him to the house of a civilian; and on asking why he could not go by himself was told ""I dare not approach the very compound of the house he lives in! If his head man should hear that I ventured to present myself before the gentleman without his permission he would immediately harass me by some false complaint or even by instituting an enquiry into the very title-deeds of my estate which might however falsely terminate in my ruin. It is not long since I paid eleven hundred rupees to ---- to suppress false claims which if they had actually gone into court would have cost me ten times the sum."" Of the practical effects of criminal punishments the colonel does not speak more highly. ""In the real Hindoostanee view of the subject a convict in chains is nearly a native gentleman--a little roué perhaps--employed on especial duties in the Company's service for which he is well fed and has little labour. A jail-bird can easily be distinguished after the first six months by his superior bodily condition. On his head maybe seen either a kinkhâb (brocade) or embroidered cap or one of English flowered muslin enriched with a border of gold or silver lace. Gros de Naples is coming into fashion but slowly.... Was he low-spirited he could for a trifling present send to the bazar and enjoy a nautah from the hour the judge went to sleep till daybreak next morning--nay under proper management he might be gratified by the society of his wife and family.... See him at work the burkandauze (policeman) is smoking _his_ chillum while he and his friends are sound asleep _sub tegmine fagi_. All of a sudden there is an alarm--the judge is coming! up they all start and work like devils for ten or fifteen seconds and then again to repose. This is working in chains on the roads! In fact after a man is once used to the comforts of an Indian prison there's no keeping him out!"" All this no doubt is broad caricature--but ""ridentem dicere verum quid vetat?"" a motto which the colonel could not do better than adopt for any future edition of his eccentric lucubrations. And so Rookhsut! Colonel Sahib! may your favourite tomata sauce never pall upon your palate; and though perhaps you would hardly thank us for the usual oriental good wish that your shadow may continue to increase may it at least never be diminished by that worst of all fiends indigestion! * * * * * BELFRONT CASTLE. A RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW. One half of the world was surprised that Reginald Belfront married Jane Holford--and the other half was equally surprised that Jane Holford married Reginald Belfront; for considering the experience that both halves of the world must have had it is amazing how subject they still are to surprise. To us who have not the pleasure to belong to either half there is very little surprising in the matter. Reginald had been for some time on a visit at the house of a distant relation--old Sir Hugh de Mawley. He had wandered through the great woods of the estate and found them very tiresome; had strolled in the immense park and found it dull; and in the long evenings had sat in the stately hall and listened to the endless whispered anecdotes of his host and found them both intolerable. No wonder he started with joyful surprise when one day in the drawing-room he heard the rustle of a silk gown; caught the glancing of some beautiful real flowers on the top of a bright-green bonnet; and more wonderful than all the smile of the prettiest lips and the glances of the clearest eyes he had ever seen in his life. The gown the bonnet the smiles and eyes all belonged to Jane Holford; and Reginald who had up to this time made no great progress in the study of comparative physiology now made such rapid strides that he could have told you every point in which the possessor of the above-named attributes differed from the stiff and prim Miss de Mawley who had hitherto been the sole representative of the female sex in Mawley Court. The neck and shoulders--the chin--nose--arms-- ankles--feet--not to mention the hair and eyebrows--of the new specimen were minutely studied; and in spite of the usual antipathy he entertained against all scientific pursuits he felt a strong inclination to be the owner of it himself in order to pursue his investigations at full leisure. He was no genius--hated books--disliked clever people--but prided himself on his horsemanship his play at quarterstaff his personal strength and above all in his fine old castle in a somewhat inaccessible part of Yorkshire which had remained in the possession of his family ever since the Conquest. Jane on the other hand had no castle to boast of; and probably had no ancestor whatever at any period preceding the year 1750 when her grandfather had bought an estate near Mawley Court--which had gone on improving with the improvement of the times till her father found himself the possessor of a rent-roll of fifteen hundred a year four sons and six grown-up daughters. It will easily be believed that no objections to the match were raised on the part of a middle-aged gentleman with so many reasons for agreeing to the marriage settlement proposed by Reginald Belfront; consisting as it did of a jointure to the widow and the use of Belfront Castle for life without the remotest allusion to any portion or other contingent advantage on the other side; and as Jane herself was if possible still more satisfied on the subject than her father all the arrangements were rapidly made and in less than three months after the apparition of the silk gown and other etceteras in the drawing-room the indissoluble knot was tied and Miss Cecilia the second daughter was advanced to the dignity of Miss Holford vice Jane--promoted. The church was all decked out with roses and other pleasing emblems of the unfading nature of connubial bliss; wreaths of sunflowers with the same comfortable moral were hung up over the great gate of Mawley Court; while Miss de Mawley representing in her own person the evergreens omitted in the garlands received the happy couple on their return from the ceremony at the head of all the female domestics from the housekeeper down to the kitchenmaid and led the bride and bridegroom to the table in the great hall where old Sir Hugh was sitting in great state. They kneeled down before his chair; and laying his hand on their heads he began blessing; but not having practised that style of oratory so much as he ought it rapidly degenerated into a grace--and as lunch in the mean time was brought in and the Holford family and one or two of the neighbours who had been present at the ceremony had now arrived the eloquence of Sir Hugh was not altogether thrown away. There were several speeches and toasts and sundry attempts at jocularity; and Sir Hugh began the story of the French countess and the waterfall at Fountainbleau; and Reginald availed himself of the somnolency of the rest of the party to slip out with his bride without being observed just as the royal family began to suspect the secret--and long before the incensed husband sent the challenge the happy pair were careering onward as fast as the postboy could drive on the first stage of their wedding tour. A month afterwards they were in a country inn in Wales. The window at which they sat commanded a view of the beautiful vale of Cwmcwyllchly--a small river glided down in winding mazes hiding itself behind wooded knolls and brawling over rocks in the most playful and picturesque manner imaginable. The sun had begun to set and was taking a last look at the prospect with his vast chin rested on the top of Penchymcrwm presenting to the poetical mind an image of a redfaced farmer looking over a five-barred gate--every thing in short that is generally met with in Tourists' Guides as constituting a splendid view was assembled on this favoured spot; and yet Jane heaved a deep sigh and appeared to take no notice of the landscape. ""You're tired my love "" said Reginald; ""you have walked too far up these Welsh mountains."" ""I hope to get used to climbing "" answered Jane; ""there are plenty of hills at Belfront--aren't there?"" ""Yes we have plenty of hills; but why don't you call it home Jane?"" ""Because I have never lived there "" she replied; ""and a place can scarcely be called home that one has never seen."" ""But you have never said you wished to see it."" ""Oh but I have wished it all the same--may we--may we go--home?"" She said the word at last and Reginald was delighted. ""Home! to be sure--to-morrow at daybreak; for to tell you the truth I don't care sixpence for fine views--in fact I don't think there is any difference between any two landscapes--except that there may be hills in one and none in another or woods or a river--but they are all exactly the same in reality. So let us go home my love as fast as we can or I'm very much afraid Mr Peeper won't like it."" ""Mr Peeper?"" enquired Jane. ""Who is Mr Peeper?"" ""You will know him in good time "" said Reginald; ""and I hope he will like you."" ""I hope he will--I hope all your friends will like me--I will do every thing in my power to please them."" ""You're a very good girl Jane; and Mr Peeper can't help but be pleased and I am glad of it; for it ought to be our first study to make ourselves agreeable to _him_."" ""Agreeable to Mr Peeper!"" thought Jane. ""How strange that I never was told about him before this moment! Does he live in the castle Reginald?"" she asked. ""Certainly. One of his family has lived there ever since one of mine did; so there is a connexion between us of a few hundred years."" ""Have you any other friends who live in the castle?"" enquired the bride. ""I don't know whether Phil Lorimer is there just now or not; he has a room whenever he comes; and a knife and fork at table."" ""Who is he?"" ""A capital fellow--full of wit--and makes funnier faces and better songs than any man in Yorkshire. You will like Phil Lorimer."" ""And I hope he will like me!"" ""If he don't I'll break every bone in his body."" ""Oh! I beg you won't "" said the bride with a smile and looking up in Reginald's face to assure herself he spoke in joke. It was as earnest a face as if it had been of cast-iron; and she saw that Mr Lorimer's only chance of preserving a whole skin was to like her with all his might. ""Is there any one else?"" ""There's Mr Peeper's assistant Mark Lutter--a clever man and a great scholar. I hate scholars so he dines in the servants' hall or far down the table--below the salt."" ""Are you serious?"" enquired Jane. ""Do you not like scholars?"" ""What's the use of them? I never could see what they were good for--and besides Mr Peeper hates them too."" ""Then why does he keep this man as his assistant?"" ""Because if he didn't the fellow would rebel."" ""Well you could turn him off."" ""We never turn any body off at Belfront Castle. If they go of their own accord we punish them for it if we can--if they stay they are welcome. Mr Peeper must look to it or Lutter will make a disturbance."" ""What a curious place this castle must be "" thought Jane ""and what odd people they are that live in it!"" She asked no more questions but determined to restrain her curiosity till she could satisfy it on the spot; and luckily she had not long to wait. Next day they started on their homeward way. As they drew nearer their destination Jane's anxiety to gain the first glimpse of her future home increased with every mile. She had of course formed many fancy pictures of it in her own mind; and as love lent the brush and most obligingly compounded the colours there can be no doubt they made out a very captivating landscape of it between them. ""At the top of the next hill "" said Reginald ""you will see the keep."" Jane stretched her head forward and looked through the front window as if she could pierce the hill that lay between her and home. On went the horses; but the next hill seemed an incredible way off; it was now getting late and the shadows of evening like a flock of tired black sheep began to lie down and rest thenselves on the vast dreary moor they were travelling over. At last Jane felt that they were beginning an ascent; and a sickly moon that seemed to have undergone a severe operation and lost nearly all her limbs lifted up her pale face in the sky. The wind too began to whistle in long low gusts and Reginald who was not of a poetical temperament as we have already observed was nearly asleep. They reached the hill top at last and a great expanse of rugged and broken country lay before them. ""Where is it?--on which hand?"" said Jane. ""Straight before you "" replied the husband; ""it is only three miles off; the high-road turns off to the left but we go through fields right on."" Jane looked with almost feverish anxiety. At a good distance in front rose a tall black structure like the chimney of a shot manufactory--a single square gigantic tower--throwing a darker mass against the darkened sky and sicklied o'er on one of the faces with the yellow-green moonlight. There were no lights in it nor any sign of habitation; and Jane would have indulged in various enquiries and exclamations if the carriage had allowed her; but it had by this time left the main road and sank up to the axles in the ruts; it bounded against stones and wallowed in mire alternately; and all that she could do was to hold on by one of the arm rests as if she had been in the cabin of a storm-toss'd ship. ""For mercy's sake Reginald will this last long?"" she said out of breath with her exertions. ""We are about a mile from the drawbridge. I hope they have not drawn it up."" ""Could we not get into the castle if they have?"" ""We might fall into the moat if we tried the postern."" ""Oh gracious!--is there a moat?""--and instinctively she put her hand to her throat for her mother had brought her up with a salutary dread of colds and she felt a sensation of choking at the very name. At this moment the agonized carriage after several groans that would have moved the heart of a highway commissioner gave a rush downward and committed suicide in the most determined manner by dashing its axle on the ground--the wheels endeavouring in vain to fathom the profundity of the ruts and the horses totally unable to move the stranded equipage. The sudden jerk knocked Reginald's hat over his eyes against the roof of the carriage and Jane screamed when she felt the top of her bonnet squeezed as flat as a pancake by the same process but neither of them luckily was hurt. ""We must get out and walk "" said the husband; ""it isn't more than half a mile and we will send Phil Lorimer or some of them for the trunks."" He put his arm round Jane's waist and helped her over the almost impassable track. ""We must try to get the road mended "" said Jane. ""It has never been mended in our time "" was the reply; and it was said in a tone which showed that the fact so announced was an unanswerable argument against the proposition of the bride. ""A few stones well broken would do it all "" she urged. ""We never break stones at Belfront "" was the rejoinder; and in silence and with some difficulty they groped their unsteady way. At last they emerged from a thick overgrown copse in which the accident had happened and after sundry narrow escapes from sprained ankles and broken arms they reached the gate. It was an immense wooden barrier supported at each end by little round buildings--like a slice of toast laid lengthways between two half pounds of butter. It was thickly studded with iron nails and the round piers were of massive stone partly overgrown with ivy and as solid as if they had been formed of one mass. ""Does any body live in those lodges?"" enquired Jane. ""There is a warder in the inner court "" said Reginald. ""These are merely the supporters of the outer gate."" ""And how are we to get in?"" ""We must blow I suppose."" And so saying Reginald lifted up a horn that was hung by an iron chain from one of the piers and executed a flourish that made Jane put her fingers to her ears. In a short time the creaking of an iron chain--whose recollection of oil must have been of the most traditionary nature--gave intimation that its intentions were decidedly hospitable; and with many squeaks and grunts the enormous portal turned at last on its hinges and exposed to view a narrow winding road between two walls which in a short time conducted the visitors to a long wooden bridge over a piece of stagnant water--the said bridge having only that moment been let down from the lofty position in which its two halves were kept by an immense wooden erection which bore an awful resemblance to a scaffold. When they got over the bridge Reginald turned round and imprinting a kiss on the pale cheek of the astonished bride said-- ""Welcome home dear Jane. This is Belfront Castle!"" Jane looked round a spacious courtyard and saw a square of low dark-looking buildings with the enormous tower she had seen from the top of the hill rearing its thick head above all at one corner. They proceeded across the roughly-paved quadrangle and entered a low door; ascended three steps and opened another door. They then found themselves in a large and lofty hall with fitful flashes of red light flickering on the walls as the flame of the wood fire on the hearth rose or fell beneath the efforts of a half distinguishable figure extended at full length on the floor and puffing the enormous log with a pair of gigantic bellows. In the palpable obscure Jane could scarcely make out the persons of the occupants of the apartment; but when the flame burnt up a little more powerfully than usual she observed the figure of a tall man dressed in black who shook hands with Reginald and bowed very coldly and formally to her when he was introduced as Mr Peeper. He seemed about fifty or sixty years of age but very much enfeebled. He stooped and coughed and was very infirm in his motions; but when the red glare from the hearth fell upon his eyes they fixed themselves on Jane with such a piercing expression that she turned away her face almost in fear. His hair was snow-white and yet it was impossible to decide whether he was a man of the years we have stated with the premature appearance of age or a person of extraordinary longevity retaining the vigorous eyes and active spirit of youth. However it was Mr Peeper was too harsh and haughty in his approaches and exacted too much deference from the youthful bride to be very captivating at first. He said no welcome to the new-comer and was stiff and unkind even to the owner of the castle. Candles were soon brought in and Jane took the opportunity of looking round. The individual who had been busy blowing the fire now rose from his humble position and was presented to the lady as Phil Lorimer. He bowed and smiled and was proceeding with a compliment in which however he advanced no further than the summer sun bringing out the roses when Reginald pushed him out of the hall with orders to get the luggage brought in from the carriage and to be back in time for supper. Phil Lorimer seemed a man of thirty strongly built with a sweet voice and friendly smile; but what station he filled in the household--whether a servant a visitor a poor relation or what he could be Jane could not make out either from his manner or the way he was treated. ""Mr Lorimer is very good-natured--very obliging to take care of the luggage I am sure "" said Jane. ""Better that than talking nonsense about roses "" replied Reginald. ""Did you expect us this evening Mr Peeper?"" ""I did Mr Reginald and have invited a few of the neighbours to meet you."" ""Who are coming?"" ""Sir Bryan De Barreilles Hasket of Norland Maulerer of Phascald and old Dr Howlet. They will be here soon so you had better make haste."" ""I had better not appear love "" said Jane; ""no ladies are coming and among so many gentlemen my presence might be awkward."" ""By no means "" replied the husband. ""It wouldn't be right Mr Peeper for my wife to be absent from the supper-table?"" ""Certainly not. It is to see _her_ the neighbours are coming."" Is this Mr Peeper to have the control of all my actions? thought Jane. Who can he be? She took another glance at the object of her thoughts but caught his eye fixed on her with the same penetrating brightness as before; and she cast her looks on the ground; and whether from anger or fear she felt her cheeks glowing with blushes. ""You will not be long gone if you please "" he said to Jane as she retired to change her dress. ""You don't seem pleased to see us Mr Peeper "" said Reginald when Jane had gone to her room under the guidance of a very tall old woman who walked before her holding out a tremendously long candle as if it were a sword and she was at the head of a military procession. ""No sir "" replied Mr Peeper; ""I am not pleased with the person you have brought here. You have gone too far from home for a wife. None of the Belfronts have ever married out of Yorkshire and it may give rise to troubles."" ""I am very sorry my wife's relations would not allow me to send for you to perform the ceremony."" ""It is a bad omen "" said the old man; ""my predecessors have married your predecessors without a break since the conquest. It bodes no good."" ""I trust no harm will happen and that you will soon forget the disappointment."" ""None of my family forget but we will not _talk_ of it."" So saying he turned away and arranged a goodly array of bottles on the sideboard. Reginald sat down on an oak chair beside the fire and gazed attentively into the log. In the mean time Jane had followed her gigantic conductor through half a mile of passages and reached a small room at one end of the quadrangle and through the window (of which half the panes were broken as if on purpose) she caught the melodious murmur of a rapid river that chafed against the foundation walls of the castle. On looking round the prospect was not very encouraging. Tattered tapestries hung down the walls and waved in a most melancholy and ghost-like fashion in the wind; the floor was thinly littered over with some plaited rushes to supply the place of a carpet; and a few long high-backed oak chairs kept guard against the wall. The fire had died an infant in its iron cradle the grate; and the curtain of the bed waved to and fro in mournful sympathy with the tapestry round the room. Jane was so cold that she could hardly go through her toilette simple as it was; but having at last achieved a very slight alteration in her dress and left her bonnet on the head of an owl which formed the ornament of one of the high-backed chairs she endeavoured to retrace her steps; and after a few pauses and mistakes she found her way once more into the hall. The guests in the mean time were assembled and had seated themselves at table. On Jane's entrance they all rose and on being respectively named by their host bowed with cold and stately courtesy and sat down again. The four strangers seemed all of the same ages fifty or thereabouts--tall hale and dignified in their manners. Sir Bryan de Barreilles had a patch on his right eye; Hasket of Norland a deep scar on his forehead that cut his left eyebrow into two parts and gave a very extraordinary expression to his rigid countenance; Maulerer of Phascald had the general effect of very handsome features marred by the want of his nose; not that there was actually no nose but that it did not occupy the prominent position it usually holds on the human face divine but was inserted deep between the cheeks--in fact was a nose not set on after the fashion of a knocker but a fine specimen of _basso-relievo_ indented after the manner of Socrates's head on a seal and would probably have made a very fine impression. Dr Howlet was perfectly blind and from the tone in which he was addressed by the other gentlemen Jane concluded he was also very nearly deaf. Besides these there were present Mr Peeper at the foot of the table next to Reginald and on the other side of him a thick square-built man with a fine hilarious open countenance who was perhaps of too low a rank to be introduced to the lady of the castle--no other in fact than the redoubtable Mr Lutter of whom Jane had heard on her journey home. After the serving men with some difficulty had brought in the supper consisting of enormous joints of meat hot and cold and deposited on the sideboard vast tankards of strong ale and other potent beverages Mr Peeper rose and folding his hands across his breast and bending forward his head with every appearance of devotion muttered some words evidently intended to represent a grace; but so indistinct that it was utterly impossible to make the slightest guess at their meaning whereupon they all fell to with prodigious activity and cut and slashed the enormous dishes as if they had been famished for a year. Mr Lutter after making an observation that true thankfulness was as much shown by moderate enjoyment of good gifts as by long prayers said over them made a most powerful assault on the cold sirloin and of all the party was the only one who had the politeness to send a helping to Jane. She was tired and hungry and felt really obliged by the attention but could scarcely do justice to the viands from surprise at the conversation of the guests. ""Ho ho!"" said Sir Bryan de Barreilles ""I once knew a thing--such a thing it was too--ho! ho!"" And partly the vividness of the recollection and principally an enormous mouthful of beef produced a long fit of coughing--""'twill make you laugh "" he continued--""'twas a rare feat--ho! ho!--even this lady will be pleased to hear it."" Jane bowed in expectation of an amusing anecdote. ""One of my tenants was going to be married; his bride was a very young creature not more than eighteen and on the wedding-day as I always was ready for a joke in those days--ah! 'tis thirty years ago or more--I asked the bridal party to the Tower. Ho! ho! such laughing we had!--Giles Mallet and Robin Henslow fought with redhot brands out of the fire till I thought we should all have died; and Giles--the cleverest fellow and the wittiest ho! ho!--such a fellow was Giles!--he took up the poker instead of the fir-log and watched his opportunity ho! ho!--it was redhot too--a good stout poker as ever you saw--and ran it clean through his cheek--you heard the tongue fizz! as it licked the hot iron--'twas a famous play. How Robin roared to be sure and couldn't speak plain--ho! ho! Well the games went on; and nothing would please some of the young ones but we should see the Oubliette. 'Twas a dark hole where my forefathers imprisoned their refractory vassals and sad stories were told about it--how that voices were heard from the bottom of it and groans and sometimes gory heads were seen at the top of it looking up to the skylight and struggling to escape but ever tumbling back into the deep dark hole with screams and smothered cries; a rare place for a man's enemies--but it had not been used for many years. Well--nothing would do but when we were all merry with ale we should all go and see the Oubliette and a kiss of the bride was promised to the one who should go down the furthest. Now the stone steps were very narrow at best; and were all worn away--and that was the best of it--all along the passages we went and past the dungeon grating till we came to the open mouth of the Oubliette. Ho! ho! how you'll laugh. Down a step went one--no kiss from the bride for him--two steps went another--some went down six steps and one bold fellow went down so far that we lost sight of him in the darkness. Then the bridegroom a stout young yeoman--thought it shame to let anyone beat him in daring for so rich a prize as a kiss from the rosy lips of his bride and down--down--he went--step after step--till finally far down in the gloom we heard a loud scream--such a scream--ho! ho! I can't help laughing yet when I think of it--and in a minute or two whose voice should we hear but Giles Mallet's! _There_ was Giles hollowing and roaring for us to send down a rope but _how_ he had got down or _when_ he had gone down nobody knew. However a rope was got and merrily stoutly we all pulled but no Giles came up. Instead of him we drew forth the bridegroom! but such a changed man. His eyes were fixed and his face as white as silver--his mouth was wide open and his great tongue went lolling about from side to side--and he shook his head and mumbled and slavered--he was struck all of a sudden into idiocy and knew nobody; not even his bride. She was sinking before him but he never noticed her but went moaning and muttering and shaking his head. Ho! ho! 'twas the comicalest thing I ever saw. And when Giles came up he explained it all. Giles had gone down deeper than any of them and waited for the others on a ledge in the cavern; and just when the bridegroom reached it Giles seized him by the leg and said--'Your soul is mine'--ho! ho! 'Your soul is mine ' said Giles--and the bridegroom uttered only the loud long scream we had all heard and stood and shook and trembled. 'Twas a rare feat; and if you had come down last year""--he added turning to Jane--""you would have seen the bridegroom going from door to door followed by all the boys in the village--he never recovered. There he went shake shaking his head--and gape gaping with his mouth. ""Twas good sport to teaze him. I've set my dogs on him myself; but he never took the least notice. 'Twas a good trick--I never knew better."" ""And the bride?"" enquired Jane. ""Oh she died in a week or two after the adventure! A silly hussy--I wished to marry her by the left hand to my forester but she kept on moping and looking at the idiotical bridegroom and died--a poor fool."" ""Ah! we've grown dull since those merry times "" said Hasket of Norland looking round the empty hall and then towards Reginald as if reproaching him with the absence of the ancient joviality. ""There were three men killed at my marriage--in fair give and take fight--in the hall at the wedding supper. There is the mark of blood on the floor yet."" ""I lost my eye at the celebration of a christening "" said Sir Bryan de Barreilles. ""My uncle of Malmescott pushed it in with the handle of his dagger."" ""I got this wound on my forehead at a feast after a funeral "" said Hasket of Norland. ""I quarreled with Morley Poyntz and he cut my eyebrow with an axe. 'Twas a merry party in spite of that."" ""The Parson of Pynsent jumped on my face at a festival in honour of the birth of Sir Ranulph Berlingcourt's heir "" said Maulerer of Phascald. ""I had been knocked on the floor by the Archdeacon of Warleileigh and the Parson of Pynsent trode on my nose. He was the biggest man in Yorkshire and squeezed my nose out of sight--a rare jovial companion was the Parson of Pynsent and many is the joke we have had about the weight of his foot. Ah! we have no fun now--no fighting no grinning through a horse-collar no roasting before a fire no singing""-- ""Yes "" said Reginald ""we have Phil Lorimer."" ""Let him come--let us hear him "" said some of the party. ""I hate songs "" said Dr Howlet; ""and think all ballads should be burned."" ""And the writers of them too "" added Mr Peeper with a fierce glance towards the fireplace from which Phil Lorimer emerged. ""Oh no! I think songs an innocent diversion "" said Mr Lutter ""and softening to the heart. Sit near me Mr Lorimer."" ""Make a face Phil "" cried the knight; ""I would rather see a grin than hear your ballad."" ""Jump Phil "" said Hasket of Norland applying his fork to Phil's leg as he passed ""you are a better morris-dancer than a poet."" Phil who was imperturbably good-natured did as he was told. He opened his mouth to a preternatural size turned one eye to the ceiling and the other down to the floor till Sir Bryan was in ecstasies at his achievement. He then sprang to an incredible height in that air and danced once or twice through the hall throwing himself into the most grotesque attitudes imaginable and the table was nearly shaken in pieces by the thumpings with which the party showed their satisfaction. ""Now then Phil; here's a cup of sherry-wine--drink it boy and sing a sweet song to the lady "" said Reginald. ""Songs are an invention of the devil "" said Mr Peeper. ""Unless they are sung through the nose "" said Mr Lutter with a sneer. ""You approve of songs then?"" inquired Mr Peeper with a fierce

ook. ""Certainly "" said Mr Lutter ""when their subject is good and the language modest."" ""Then you are an atheist "" retorted Mr Peeper. ""What has a ballad to do with atheism?"" enquired Mr Lutter looking angry. ""You approve of wicked songs and therefore are an atheist."" ""A man is more like an atheist "" retorted Mr Lutter ""who is ungrateful to God for the gift of song and shuts up the sweetest avenue by which the spirit approaches its Creator. I admire poetry and respect poets."" ""Any one who holds such diabolic doctrines is not fit to remain in Belfront Castle."" ""Nay "" replied Mr Lutter ""Belfront Castle would be infinitely improved if such doctrines were adopted in it."" ""Gentlemen "" said Reginald ""you are both learned men; and I know nothing about the questions you discuss."" ""Your lady shall judge between us "" said Mr Lutter. ""She shall not "" said Mr Peeper; ""I am the sole judge in matters of the kind."" ""Let us hear Phil's song in the mean time "" said Reginald. ""Come Lorimer."" ""What shall it be?"" said Phil. ""Something comic "" said Sir Bryan. ""Something bloody "" said Hasket of Norland. ""Something loving "" said Maulerer of Phascald. ""Will the lady decide for us?"" said Phil with a smile. ""Will you have the 'Silver Scarf ' madam; or 'the Knight and the Soldan of Bagdad?' They are both done into my poor English from the troubadours of Almeigne."" The lady fixed at haphazard on ""the Knight and the Soldan of Bagdad:"" and Phil prepared to obey her commands. He took a small harp in his hand and sate down in the vacant chair next to Sir Bryan de Bareilles. The rest of the company composed themselves to listen; and after a short prelude Lorimer in a fine manly voice began-- ""Oh brightly bloom'd the orange flow'r And fair the roses round; And the fountain in its marble bed Leapt up with a happy sound; And stately stately was the hall And rich the feast outspread; But the Soldan of Bagdad sigh'd full sore And never a word he said. Never a word the Soldan said But many a tear let fall; He had tried all the joys that life could give And was weary of them all. The Soldan lift up his heavy eye-- And to that garden fair A stranger enter'd with harp in hand And with a winsome air; Long locks of yellow molten gold Hung over his cheek so brown And a red mantle of Venice silk Fell from his shoulders down. A weary wanderer he did seem Come from a distant land; And over the harpstrings thoughtfully He moveth his cunning hand. He opes his lips and he poureth forth Such a sweet stream of sound That the Soldan's heart leaps up in his breast And his eye he casts around. 'Was never a voice ' the Soldan said 'So sweet--nor so blest a song;-- Sing on kind minstrel ' the Soldan said 'I have been sad too long.' The minstrel sang and soft and sweet The Soldan's tears fell free; 'Oh tell me thou minstrel dear ' he said 'What boon shall I give to thee? Oh stay with me but a year and a day And sing sweet songs to me; And whatever the boon by Allah I swear I will freely give it to thee.' The minstrel stay'd a year and a day And the Soldan loved him well; 'Now what is the boon thou askest of me-- I prithee dear minstrel tell.' 'A Christian knight in thy dungeon pines And his hope is nearly o'er; His freedom is the boon I ask-- Oh open his prison door!' The minstrel went--and no more was seen; And the Christian knight set free Found a stately ship that bore him safe Home to his own countrie. And his lady met him at the gate His lady fair and young; And with a scream of pride and joy She in his bosom hung. Oh glad glad was the Christian knight And glad was his lady fair And her pale cheek flush'd as he cast aside The locks of her raven hair And kiss'd her brow and told the tale Of his dungeon deep and strong; And of the minstrel too he told And of the power of song. And they blest the minstrel and blest his song And soon the feast was dight; And prince and noble crowded in To welcome home the knight. And when the brimming cup went round Spoke out an evil tongue And blamed that lady to her lord That lady fair and young; And told with many a bitter sneer How that for many a day When he was prison'd in Paynim land That dame was far away And none knew where; but all could guess-- Up rose the knight and kept His hand close clutch'd on his dagger heft And down the hall he stept; And onwards with the dagger bared He rush'd to the lady's bower-- 'Thou hast been false and left thy home-- Thou diest this very hour!' 'Oh! it is true I left my home; But yet before I die Oh! look not on me with face so changed Nor with so fierce an eye! Oh! let me but for a minute's space Into my chamber hie; One prayer I would say for thee and me-- One prayer--before I die!' She left the bower; and as he stept To and fro in ireful mood A stranger from the chamber came And close behind him stood. Long locks of molten yellow gold Hung over his cheek so brown And a red mantle of Venice silk Fell from his shoulder down. Dark frown'd the knight--'Vile churl!' he said; But ere he utter'd more The stranger let the mantle fall Unclasp'd upon the floor -- And off he cast the yellow locks-- And lo! the lady fair Blushing and casting from her cheek Her glossy raven hair! Down fell the dagger; down the knight Sank kneeling and opprest; And the lady oped her snow white arms And wept upon his breast!"" ""A foul song!--a wanton woman!""--exclaimed Sir Bryan de Barreilles--""he should have stabbed her for living so long with a Jew villain like the Soldan of Bagdad."" ""Was the villain a Jew?"" enquired Dr Howlet who had caught the word. ""I did not know Bagdad was in Jewry. Is a heathen the same as a Jew Mr Peeper?"" The gentleman thus appealed to coughed as if to clear his throat and though he usually spoke with the utmost clearness he mumbled and muttered in the same unintelligible manner as he had done when he was saying grace; and it was a very peculiar habit of the learned individual whenever he was applied to for an explanation to betake himself to a mode of speech that would have puzzled a far wiser head than Dr Howlet's to make head or tail of it. Dr Howlett however appeared to be perfectly satisfied with the information; and by the indignant manner in which he struck his long gold-headed ebony walking-stick on the floor seemed entirely to agree with the worthy knight in his estimate of the heroine of Phil Lorimer's ballad. ""I like the ballad about the jousting of Romulus the bold Roman with Judas Maccabaeus in the Camp at Ascalon far better "" said Hasket of Norland. ""Sing it Phil."" ""No no "" cried Maulerer who was far gone in intoxication. ""Sing us the song of the Feasting at Glaston when Eneas the Trojan married Arthur's daughter.--Sing the song sirrah this moment or I'll cut your tongue in two to make your note the sweeter.--Sing."" Thus adjured Phil once more began:-- ""There was feasting high and revelry In Glaston's lofty hall; And loud was the sound as the cup went round Of joyous whoop and call; And Arthur the king in that noble ring Was the merriest of them all. No thought no care found entrance there But beauty's smiles were won; No sour Jack Priest to spoil the feast""-- ""Ha!"" cried Howlet interrupting Mr Lorimer in a tremendous passion ""what says the varlet? He is a heathen Turk and no Christian. How dares he talk so of the church?"" The old man rose as he spoke and suddenly catching hold of the enormous ebony walking-stick which generally reposed at the side of his chair he aimed a blow with all his force at the unfortunate songster; but being blind and not calculating his distance his staff fell with tremendous effect on the left eye of Sir Bryan de Barreilles. ""Is it so?"" cried the Knight stunned; but resisting the tendency to prostration produced by the stroke and flinging a large silver flagon across the table which missed Dr Howlet and made a deep indentation in the skull of Maulerer of Phascald--""Now then!"" Hasket of Norland attempted to hold Sir Bryan and prevent his following up his attack; and Mr Maulerer recovered sufficiently to fling the heavy candlestick at his assailant; the branches of which hit the cheek of Hasket while the massive bottom ejected the three front teeth of Sir Bryan. There was now no possibility of preventing the quarrel; and while the four strangers were pounding each other with whatever weapons came first to hand and Mr Peeper crept under the table for safety and Reginald essayed to talk them into reason Mr Lutter politely handed Jane to the door of the hall. ""Permit me madam to rescue you from this dreadful scene."" ""Is it thus always?"" enquired Jane nearly weeping with fright. ""There are many things that may be improved in the castle "" said Mr Lutter. ""I have seen the necessity of an alteration for a long time and if you will favour me with your assistance much may be done."" ""Oh! I will help you to the utmost of my power."" ""We must upset the influence of Mr Peeper "" said Mr Lutter. ""May I speak to you on the subject to-morrow?"" A month had passed since Jane's arrival at Belfront Castle and she had had many private and confidential conversations with Mr Lutter. The ominous eyes of Mr Peeper grew fiercer and fiercer and she many times thought of coming to an open rupture with him at once; but was deterred from doing so by not yet having ascertained whether her influence over Reginald was sufficiently established to stand a contest with the authority of his ancient friend. She could not understand how her husband could have remained hoodwinked so long; or how he had submitted to the despotic proceedings of his former tutor who persisted in assembling the same airs of authority over him as he had exercised when he was a child. Such however was evidently the case; and Reginald had never entertained a thought of rescuing himself from the thraldom in which he had grown up. A look from Mr Peeper; a solemn statement from him that such and such things had never been heard of before in Belfront; and above all the use of the muttered and unintelligible jargon to which Mr Peeper betook himself in matters of weight and difficulty were quite sufficient: Reginald immediately gave up his own judgment and felt in fact rather ashamed of himself for having hinted that he had a judgement at all. Under these circumstances Mr Lutter had a very difficult part to play; and all that Jane could do was to second him whenever she had the opportunity. One day in the lovely month of April Phil Lorimer sat on a sunny part of the enornous wall that guarded the castle and leaning his back against one of the little square towers that rose at intervals in the circuit of the fortifications sang song after song as if for the edification of a number of crows that were perched on the trees on the other side of the moat. The audience were grossly inattentive and paid no respect whatever to the performer who still continued his exertions as highly satisfied as if he were applauded by boxes pit and gallery of a crowded theatre:--Among others he sang the ballad of the ""Silver Scarf."" ""It was a King's fair daughter With eyes of deepest blue She wove a scarf of silver The whole long summer through-- ""A stately chair she sat on Before the castle door And ever in the calm moonlight She work'd it o'er and o'er. ""And many a knight and noble Went daily out and in And each one marvell'd in his heart Which the fair scarf might win. ""She took no heed of questions From her work ne'er raised her head And on the snow-white border Sew'd her name in blackest thread. ""Then came a tempest roaring From the high hills it came And bore the scarf far out to sea From forth its fragile frame: ""The maiden sate unstartled As if it _must_ be so-- She stood up from her stately chair And to her bower did go. ""She took from forth her wardrobe Her dress of mourning hue-- Whoever for a scarf before Such weight of sorrow knew? ""In robes of deepest mourning Three nights and days she sate; On the third night the warder's horn Was sounded at the gate-- ""A messenger stands at the door And sad news bringeth he; The king and all his gallant ships Are wreck'd upon the sea. ""And now the tide is rising And casts upon the shore Full many a gallant hero's corse And many a golden store. ""Then up rose the king's daughter Drew to her window near; 'What is it glitters on thine arm In the moonlight so clear?' ""'It is a scarf of silver I brought it from the strand; I took it from the closed grasp Of a strong warrior's hand.' ""That feat thou ne'er shouldst boast of If but alive were he; Go take him back thy trophy To the blue rolling sea. ""And when that knight you've buried The scarf his grave shall grace; And next to where you've laid him Oh leave a vacant place!"" ""Here you cursed old piper! leave off frightening the crows and open the gate this moment. Who the devil do you think is to burst a bloodvessel by hollowing here all day?"" Mr Lorimer though used to considerable indignities as we have already seen had still a little of the becoming poetical pride about him and looked rather angrily over the wall. ""Nobody wishes you to break bloodvessels or have their own ears disturbed by your screaming "" he said. ""What do you want?"" ""To get into your infernal house to be sure. Where did you get such unchristian roads? My bones are sore with the jolting. Send somebody to open the gate."" ""The drawbridge is up and Mr Peeper must have his twopence."" ""Who the devil is Mr Peeper?"" said the stranger. ""I sha'n't give him a fraction. Who made the drawbridge his? Is Mr Belfront at home?"" ""Yes he is in Mr Peeper's study."" ""And Mrs Belfront?""-- ""Pickling cod. It is Mr Peeper's favourite dish; so we all live on it sometimes for weeks together."" ""With such a trout-stream at your door? He'll be a cleverer fellow than I think him if he gets me to eat his salted carrion. Open the door I say or you'll have the worst of it when my stick gets near your head. Tell Mrs Belfront her uncle is here--her Uncle Samson."" Phil Lorimer saw no great resemblance to the Jewish Hercules in the little dapper bustling-mannered man in a blue coat with bright brass buttons pepper-and-salt knee-breeches and long gaiters who thus proclaimed his relationship to the lady of the castle. He hurried down from the wall to make the required announcement. ""My uncle Samson the manufacturer from Leeds! Oh let him in by all means!"" exclaimed Jane; ""he was always so kind to me when I was a child!"" ""He can't get in madam unless Mr Peeper orders the drawbridge to be lowered; and he is now busy with Mr Belfront."" ""Go for Mr Lutter; he will be glad to hear of uncle Samson's arrival."" Mr Lorimer discovered Mr Lutter comfortably regaling himself in the buttery; but on hearing in what respect his services were required he left unfinished a large tankard of ale with which he was washing down an enormous quantity of bread and cheese and proceeded to the moat. ""Don't disturb Mr Peeper "" he said ""but help me to launch the little punt."" By dint of a little labour the small vessel was got into the water and Mr Lutter taking a scull in his hand paddled over to the other side and embarked the gentleman in the blue coat. Paddling towards an undefended part of the castle he taught him how to clamber up the wall; and Mr Samson wiping the stains of his climbing from the knees of his nether habiliments looked round the castle-yard. ""Well! who'd have thought that such a monstrous strong-looking place should be stormed by a middle-aged gentleman in a punt!"" ""You've a friend in the garrison you'll remember sir and the battlements have never been repaired."" ""They ain't worth repairing. It's a regular waste of building materials to make such thick walls and pinnacles. Blowed if them stones wouldn't build a mill; and a precious water-power too "" he added as he saw the river sparkling downward at the northern side. ""Oho! I must have a talk with Jane. Will you take me to Mrs Belfront? I haven't seen her for five years. She must be much changed since then and I must prepare her for the arrival of her cousins."" Jane was sitting in the great hall feeling disconsolate enough. Often in her father's comfortable parlour she had read accounts of baronial residences of the olden time; and one of the greatest pleasures she had felt in becoming Mrs Belfront was to be the possessor of a real _bona fide_ castle that had been actually a fortress in the days of knighthood. She had studied long ago the adventures of high-born dames and stately nobles till she was nearly as far gone in romance as Don Quixote; and many questions she had asked about Belfront and donjon-towers and keeps and tiltyards and laboured very hard to acquire a correct idea of the mode of life and manners of the days of chivalry. Her imagination we have seen was too lively to be restrained by the more matter-of-fact nature of her husband; and she now felt with great bitterness the difference between presiding at a tournament or being present at the Vow of the Peacock and the slavish submission in which she with the whole household was held by Mr Pepper. Deeply she now regretted the feelings of superiority she had experienced over her own relations by her marriage into such an ancient race as the Belfronts. She felt ashamed of the contempt she had felt for the industrious founders of her own family's wealth and at that moment would have preferred the blue coat and brass buttons of her uncle Samson to all the escutcheons and shields of the Norman conquest; and at that moment luckily the identical coat and buttons made their appearance. ""Well niece here's a go!"" exclaimed the angry uncle. ""Is this a way to receive a near relation after such a journey?"" ""Oh uncle!"" ""Why did ye never hear tell of such a place as Kidderminster?--have you no carpets?"" ""Mr Belfront says there were no carpets in his ancestor's time""-- ""And no railroads nor postchaises nor books nor nothing; and is that any reason why we shouldn't have lots of every thing now? By dad before I've been here a week I'll have a reg'lar French Revolution! No Bastille! says I; let's have a Turkey carpet and a telescope dining-table good roads and no infernal punts--and above all let's get quit of the villain Peeper."" ""Oh! if Reginald would only consent!"" ""Why not? by dad I'll make his fortune. I'll give him a thousand a-year for the water-power that's now all thrown away. I'll have a nice village built down in the valley. I'll get him two guineas an acre for his land that's now lying waste. I'll dig for coal. We'll build a nice comfortable house and leave this old ruin to the crows."" ""And the neighbours uncle Samson?"" ""Why we'll build a church and the parson will be a good companion. When the roads are made you'll give a jolly dinner once a-week to every squire within ten miles. You'll have a book club. You'll help in the Sunday school. You'll go to the county balls. Your husband will join the agricultural society and act as a magistrate. He'll subscribe to the hounds. He'll attend to the registrations. He'll have shooting-parties in September. And as to any old-world wretched talks about chivalry and antiquity we'll show him that there never was a time like the present--commerce land property and intelligence all in the very best condition. We'll make Lutter superintendent of the whole estate and send old Peeper about his business. And in all this you must help; for there's nothing to be done without the help of the ladies: so give me your hand dear niece and don't cry."" ""It would make me so happy! I would never look into Amadis de Gaul again!"" ""Hang Amadis de Gall and Amadi de Spurzheim too! Where is your husband?"" ""I seldom see him now. He is always in the oratory with Mr Peeper."" ""The deuce he is!"" said the uncle. ""And how do you get on in other respects? Are you comfortable--happy--contented?"" Jane told him all she had encountered since she had come to the castle and the uncle seemed thunderstruck at the recital. ""Well! bold measures are always the best "" he said at last; ""I'll kick Peeper into the moat!"" and before his niece could interfere the uncle had rushed across the quadrangle guided we are sorry to say by Mr Lutter and grasping the venerable Peeper whom he met near the drawbridge he dragged him towards the water. Jane ran to get assistance for the unfortunate victim; and crying ""Help! help!"" as she saw the wretched man forced over the walls she looked in a state of distraction towards her husband. ""Dear Jane "" said that individual smiling blandly ""I told you you had overtired yourself with walking."" Jane gazed round; there was Reginald sitting beside her with her head reclining on his shoulder at the open window of the inn in Wales. The vale of Cwmcwyllchly was spread in a beautiful landscape below. They were still on their wedding tour. ""You have been asleep Jane "" said Reginald. ""And have had such dreadful dreams. Oh Reginald! I have had such visions of horrid things and people. I shall never be romantic again about chivalry. Such coarseness!--such slavery!--such ignorance! Ah how happy we ought to be that we are born in a civilized time with no Mr Peepers for father confessors nor fighting with firebrands for amusement!"" ""You have been reading _Hallam's Middle Ages_--a present from your uncle Samson--till you have become a right-down Utilitarian. Come let us ring for tea; and to-morrow we must start for Yorkshire! The Quarter-sessions are coming on."" * * * * * DUMAS IN HIS CURRICLE. We left M. Dumas at Marseilles: we find him again at Naples. Three volumes are the result of his visit to the last named city--volumes in which he manages to put a little of every thing and a good deal of some things. Antiquarian historian virtuoso novelist he touches upon all subjects flying from one to the other with a lightness and a facility of transition peculiarly his own and peculiarly agreeable. English travellers and Italian composers St Januarius and the opera Masaniello and the _gettatura_ Pompeii princes police spies Vesuvius all have their turn--M. Dumas with his usual tact merely glancing at those subjects which are known and written about by every tourist but giving himself full scope when he gets off the beaten track. His book is literally crammed with tales and anecdotes to such a degree indeed and most of them so good that our principal difficulty in commencing a notice of it is to know where to pick and choose our extracts; _l'embarras des richesses_ in short. The best way will probably be to begin at the beginning and go as far as our limits allow us referring our readers to the original for the many good things that want of space will compel us to exclude. M. Dumas calls his book the _Corricolo_ and devotes a short and characteristic preface to an explanation of the title. This explanation we must give in his own words. It is so highly graphic that after reading it we fancied we had seen a picture of what it describes. ""A _corricolo_ is a sort of tilbury or gig originally intended to hold one person and be drawn by one horse. At Naples they harness two horses to it; and it conveys twelve or fifteen individuals not at a walk nor at a trot but at full gallop and this notwithstanding that only one of the horses does any work. The shaft horse draws but the other which is harnessed abreast of him and called the _bilancino_ prances and curvets about animates his companion but does nothing else. ""Having said that the gig built to carry one is made to carry fifteen I am of course expected to explain how this is accomplished. There is an old French proverb according to which when there is enough for one there is enough for two; but I am not aware of any proverb in any language which says that when there is enough for one there is enough for fifteen. Nevertheless it is the case with the _corricolo_. In the present advanced state of civilization every thing is diverted from its primitive destination. As it is impossible to say at what period or in how long a time the capacity of the vehicle in question was extended in the ratio of one to fifteen I must content myself with describing the way of packing the passengers. ""In the first place there is almost invariably a fat greasy monk seated in the middle forming the centre of a sort of coil of human creatures. On one of his knees is some robust rosy-cheeked nurse from Aversa or Nettuno; on the other a handsome peasant woman from Bauci or Procida. On either side of him between the wheels and the body of the vehicle stand the husbands of these two ladies. Standing on tiptoe behind the monk is the driver holding in his left hand the reins and in his right the long whip with which he keeps his horses at an equal rate of speed. Behind _him_ are two or three lazzaroni who get up and down go away and are succeeded by others without any body taking notice of them or expecting them to pay for their ride. On the shafts are seated two boys picked up on the road from Torre del Greco or Pouzzoles probably supernumerary _ciceroni_ of the antiquities of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Finally suspended under the carriage in a sort of coarse rope network with large meshes which swings backwards and forwards at every movement of the vehicle is a shapeless and incomprehensible mass which cries laughs sings screams shouts and bellows all by turns and none for long together and the nature of which it is impossible to distinguish dimly seen as it is through the clouds of dust raised by the horses' feet. This mass consists of three or four children who belong to Heaven knows who are going Heaven knows where live Heaven knows how and are there Heaven knows wherefore. ""Now then put down one above the other monk women husbands driver lazzaroni boys and children; add them up include the infant in arms which has been forgotten and the total will be fifteen. ""It sometimes happens that the _coricolo_ passes over a big stone and upsets pitching out its occupants to a greater or less distance according to their respective gravity. But on such occasions nobody thinks of himself; the attention of every one is immediately turned to the monk. If he is hurt the journey is over for the day; they carry him to the nearest house; the horses are put into the stable and he is put to bed; the women nurse him make much of him cry and pray over him. If on the other hand the monk is safe and sound nobody has a right to complain; he resumes his seat the nurse and the peasant woman resume theirs the others climb up into their respective places--a crack of the long whip and a shout from the driver and the _corricolo_ is off again full speed."" From this we learn what a _corricolo_ is but we have not yet been told why M. Dumas should christen his book after the degenerate descendant of the Roman curriculum. Patience--we shall get to it in time. Materials crowd upon our traveller and it is only in the second chapter that the desired explanation is given. In the first we are informed of M. Dumas's installation at the Hotel Vittoria kept by M. Martin Zill who besides being an innkeeper is a man of much taste in art a distinguished antiquary an amateur of pictures a collector of autographs and curiosities. Apropos of the hotel we have an anecdote of the ex-dey of Algiers who on being dispossessed of his dominions by the French took refuge at Naples and established himself under M. Zill's hospitable roof. The third floor was entirely occupied by his suite and attendants the fourth was for himself and his treasures the fifth or the garrets he converted into his harem. The curious arms costumes and jewels which Hussein Pacha had brought with him were a godsend to the virtuoso weary of examining and admiring them; and before the African had been a week in the house he and his host were sworn friends. Unfortunately this harmony was not destined to last very long. ""One morning Hussein Pacha's cook (a Nubian as black as ink and as shining as if he had been polished with a shoe-brush) entered the kitchen of the hotel and asked for the largest knife they had. The head-cook gave him a sort of carving-knife some eighteen inches long sharp as a razor and pliant as a foil. The negro looked at it shook his head as if in doubt whether it would do but nevertheless took it up stairs with him. Presently he brought it down again and asked for a larger one. The cook opened all his drawers and at last found a sort of cutlass which he hardly ever used on account of its enormous size. With this the Nubian appeared more satisfied and again went up stairs. Five minutes afterwards he came down for the third time and returned the knife asking for a bigger one still. The cook's curiosity was excited and he enquired who wanted the knife and for what purpose. ""The African told him very coolly that the dey having left his dominions rather in a hurry had forgotten to bring an executioner with him and had consequently ordered his cook to get a large knife and cut off the head of Osmin chief of the eunuchs who was convicted of having kept such negligent watch and ward over his highness's seraglio that some presumptuous Giaour had made a hole in the wall and established a communication with Zaida the dey's favourite _odalisque_. Accordingly Osmin was to be decapitated; and as to the offending lady the next time the dey took an airing in the bay of Naples she would be put into the boat in a sack and consigned to the keeping of the kelpies. Thunderstruck at such summary proceedings the cook desired his Nubian brother to wait while he went for a larger knife; then hastening to M. Martin Zill he told him what he had just heard. ""M. Martin Zill ran to the minister of police and laid the matter before him. His excellency got into his carriage and went to call upon the dey. He found his highness reclining upon a divan his back supported by cushions smoking latakia in a chibouque while an icoglan scratched the soles of his feet and two slaves fanned him. The minister made his three salaams; the dey nodded his head. ""'Your highness ' said his excellency 'I am the minister of police.' ""'I know you are ' answered the dey. ""'Then your highness probably conjectures the motive of my visit.' ""'No. But you are welcome all the same.' ""'I come to prevent your highness from committing a crime.' ""'A crime! And what crime?' said the dey taking the pipe from his mouth and gazing at his interlocutor in the most profound astonishment. ""'I wonder your highness should ask the question ' replied the minister. 'Is it not your intention to cut off Osmin's head?' ""'That is no crime ' answered the dey. ""'Does not your highness purpose throwing Zaida into the sea?' ""'That is no crime ' repeated the dey. 'I bought Osmin for five hundred piasters and Zaida for a thousand sequins just as I bought this pipe for a hundred ducats.' ""'Well ' said the minister 'what does your highness deduce from that?' ""'That as this pipe belongs to me as I have bought it and paid for it I may break it to atoms if I choose and nobody has a right to object.' So saying the pacha broke his pipe and threw the fragments into the middle of the room. ""'All very well as far as a pipe goes ' said the minister; 'but Osmin but Zaida?' ""'Less than a pipe ' said the dey gravely. ""'How! less than a pipe! A man less than a pipe! A woman less than a pipe!' ""'Osmin is not a man and Zaida is not a woman: they are slaves. I will cut off Osmin's head and throw Zaida into the sea.' ""'No!' said the magistrate. 'Not at Naples at least.' ""'Dog of a Christian!' shouted the dey 'do you know who I am?' ""'You are the ex-dey of Algiers and I am the Neapolitan minister of police; and if your deyship is impertinent I shall send him to prison ' added the minister very coolly. ""'To prison!' repeated the dey falling back upon his divan. ""'To prison ' replied the minister. ""'Very well ' said Hussein. 'I leave Naples to-night.' ""'Your highness is as free as air to go and to come. Nevertheless I must make one condition. Before your departure you will swear by the Prophet that no harm shall be done to Osmin or Zaida.' ""'Osmin and Zaida belong to me and I shall do what I please with them.' ""'Then your highness will be pleased to deliver them over to me to be punished according to the laws of the country; and until you do so you will not be allowed to leave Naples.' ""'Who will prevent me?' ""'I will.' ""The pacha laid his hand on his dagger. The minister stepped to the window and made a sign. The next moment the tramp of heavy boots and jingle of spurs were heard upon the stairs; the door opened and a gigantic corporal of gendarmes made his appearance hi

right hand raised to his cocked hat his left upon the seam of his trouser. ""'Gennaro ' said the minister of police 'if I gave you an order to arrest this gentleman would you see any difficulty in executing it?' ""'None your excellency.' ""'You are aware that this gentleman's name is Hussein Pacha.' ""'I was not your excellency.' ""'And that he is dey of Algiers.' ""'May it please your excellency I don't know what that is.' ""'You see?' said the minister turning to the dey. ""'The devil! exclaimed Hussein. ""'Shall I?' said Gennaro taking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and advancing a pace towards the dey who on his part took a step backwards. ""'No ' replied the minister 'it will not be necessary. His highness will do as he is bid. Go and search the hotel for a man named Osmin and a woman named Zaida and take them both to the prefecture.' ""'What!' cried the dey; 'this man is to enter my harem?' ""'He is not a man ' replied the minister; 'he is a corporal of gendarmes. But if you do not wish him to go send for Osmin and Zaida yourself.' ""'Will you promise to have them punished?' enquired the dey. ""'Certainly; according to the utmost rigour of the law.' ""Hussein Pacha clapped his hands. A door concealed behind a tapestry was opened and a slave entered the room. ""'Bring down Osmin and Zaida ' said the dey. ""The slave crossed his hands on his breast bowed his head and disappeared without uttering a word. The next instant he came back with the two culprits. ""The eunuch was a little round fat fellow with beardless face and small hands and feet. Zaida was a beautiful Circassian her eyelids painted with kool her teeth blackened with betel her nails reddened with henna. On perceiving Hussein Pacha the eunuch fell upon his knees; Zaida raised her head. The dey's eyes flashed and he clutched the hilt of his kangiar. Osmin grew pale; Zaida smiled. The minister of police made a sign to the gendarme who stepped up to the two captives handcuffed them and led them out of the room. As the door closed behind them the dey uttered a sound between a sigh and a roar. ""The magistrate looked out of the window till he saw the prisoners and their escort disappear at the corner of the Strada Chiatamone. Then turning to the dey-- ""'Your highness is now at liberty to leave Naples if he wishes so to do ' said the imperturbable functionary with a low bow. ""'This very instant!' cried Hussein. 'I will not remain another moment in such a barbarous country as yours.' ""'A pleasant journey to your highness ' said the minister. ""'Go to the devil!' retorted Hussein. ""Before an hour had elapsed the dey had chartered a small vessel on board of which he embarked the same evening with his suite his wives and his treasures; and at midnight he set sail; cursing the tyranny that prevented a man from drowning his wife and cutting off the heads of his slaves. The next day the minister of police had the culprits brought before him and examined. Osmin was found guilty of having slept when he ought to have watched and Zaida of having watched when she ought to have slept. But by some strange omission the Neapolitan code allots no punishment to such offences; and consequently Osmin and Zaida to their infinite astonishment were immediately set at liberty. Osmin took to selling pastilles for a livelihood and the lady got employment as _dame de comptoir_ in a coffeehouse. As to the dey he had left Naples with the intention of going to England in which country as he had been informed a man is at liberty to sell his wife if he may not drown her. He was taken ill however on the road and obliged to stop at Leghorn where he died."" M. Dumas not being in good odour with the Neapolitan authorities on account of some supposed republican tendencies of his is at Naples under an assumed name; and as it is uncertain how long he may be able to preserve his incognito he is desirous of seeing all that is to be seen in as short a time as possible. He finds that Naples independently of its suburbs consists of three streets where every body goes and five hundred streets where nobody goes. The three streets are the Chiaja the Toledo and the Forcella; the five hundred others are nameless--a labyrinth of houses which might be compared to that of Crete deducting the Minotaur and adding the Lazzaroni. There are three ways of seeing Naples--on foot in a _corricolo_ or in a carriage. On foot one goes every where but one sees too much; in a carriage one only goes through the three principal streets and one sees too little--the _corricolo_ is the happy medium the _juste milieu_ to which M. Dumas for once determines to adhere. Having made up his mind he sends for his host and enquires where he can hire a _corricolo_ by the week or month. His host tells him he had better buy one horse and all. To this plan M. Dumas objects the expense. ""'It will cost you ' said M. Martin after a momentary calculation in his head 'it will cost you--the _corricolo_ ten ducats each horse thirty carlini the harness a pistole; in all eighty French francs.' ""'What! for ten ducats I shall have a _corricolo_?' ""'A magnificent one.' ""'New?' ""'Oh! you are asking too much. There are no such things as new _corricoli_. There is a standing order of the police forbidding coachmakers to build them.' ""'Indeed! How long has that order been in force?' ""'Fifty years perhaps.' ""'How comes it then that there is such a thing as a _corricolo_ in existence?' ""'Nothing easier. You know the story of Jeannot's knife?' ""'To be sure I do; it is one of our national chronicles. The blade had been changed fifteen times and the handle fifteen times but it was still the same knife.' ""'The case of the _corricolo_ is exactly similar. It is forbidden to build new ones but it is not forbidden to put new wheels to old bodies and new bodies on old wheels. By these means the _corricolo_ becomes immortal.' ""'I understand. An old body and new wheels for me if you please. But the horses? Do you mean to say that for thirty francs I shall have a pair of horses?' ""'A superb pair that will go like the wind.' ""'What sort of horses?' ""'Oh dead ones of course!' ""'Dead ones!' ""'Certainly. At that price you could hardly expect any thing better.' ""'My dear M. Martin be kind enough to explain. I am travelling for my improvement and information of all kinds is highly acceptable.' ""'You are acquainted with the history of the horse I suppose?' ""'The natural history? Buffon's? Certainly. The horse is after the lion the noblest of all the beasts.' ""'No no; the philosophical history. The different stages and vicissitudes in the existence of those noble quadrupeds.' ""'Oh yes! first the saddle then a carriage or gig thence to a stage-coach or omnibus hackney-coach or cab and finally--to the knacker's.' ""'And from the knacker's?' ""'To the Elysian fields I suppose.' ""'No. Not here at least. From the knacker's they go to the _corricoli_.' ""'How so?' ""'I will tell you. At the Ponte della Maddalena where horses are taken to be killed there are always persons waiting who when a horse is brought buy the hide and hoofs for thirty carlini which is the price regulated by law. Instead of killing the horse and skinning him these persons take him with the skin on and make the most of the time he yet has to live. They are sure of getting the skin sooner or later. And these are what I mean by dead horses.' ""'But what can they possibly do with the unfortunate brutes?' ""'They harness them to the _corricoli_.' ""'What! those with which I came from Salerno to Naples'-- ""'Were the ghosts of horses; spectre steeds in short.' ""'But they galloped the whole way.' ""'Why not? _Les morts vont vite._'"" _Et cetera et cetera_. For the price stated by his host M. Dumas finds himself possessor of a magnificent _corricolo_ of a bright red colour with green trees and animals painted thereon. Two most fiery and impatient steeds half concealed by harness bells and ribands are included in his purchase. After a vain attempt to drive himself the phantom coursers having apparently a supreme contempt for whipcord he gives up the reins to a professional charioteer and commences his perambulations. His first visit is to the Chiaja the favourite promenade of the aristocracy and of foreigners; his second to the Toledo the street of shops and loungers; his third to the Forcella frequented by lawyers and their clients. He makes a chapter and a long one too out of each street; but not in the way usually adopted by those pitiless tour-writers who overwhelm their readers with dry architectural details filling a page with a portico and a chapter with a chapel--not letting one off a pane of a painted window or line of worm-eaten inscription however often those things may have been described already by previous travellers. M. Dumas prefers men to things as subjects for his pen; and the three chapters above named are filled with curious illustrations of Neapolitan manners customs and character. Apropos of the Toledo we are introduced to the well-known _impresario_ Domenico Barbaja who had his palazzo in that street and who from being waiter in a coffeehouse at Milan became the manager of three theatres at one time namely San Carlo La Scala and the Vienna opera. He appears to have been a man of great energy and originality of character concealing an excellent heart under the roughest manners and most choleric of tempers. ""It would be impossible "" says M. Dumas ""to translate into any language the abuse with which Barbaja used to overwhelm the singers and musicians at his theatres when they displeased him. Yet not one of them bore him malice for it knowing that if they had the least triumph Barbaja would be the first to embrace and congratulate them: if they were unsuccessful he would console them with the utmost delicacy: if they were ill he would watch over them with the tenderness of a father or brother. The fortune which he had amassed little by little and by strenuous exertions he spent in the most generous and princely manner. His palace his villa and his table were open to all. ""His genius was of a peculiar and extraordinary kind. Education he had none: he was unable to write the commonest letter and did not know a note of music; yet he would give his composers the most valuable hints and dictate with admirable skill the plan of a libretto. His own voice was of the harshest and most inharmonious texture; but by his advice and instructions he formed some of the first singers in Italy. His language was a Milanese patois; but he found means to make himself excellently understood by the kings and emperors with whom he carried on negotiations upon a footing of perfect equality. It was a great treat to see him seated in his box at San Carlo opposite that of the King of Naples on the evening of a new opera; with grave and impartial aspect now turning his face to the actors then to the audience. If a singer went wrong Barbaja was the first to crush him with a severity worthy of Brutus. His '_Can de Dio_!' was shouted out in a voice that made the theatre shake and the poor actor tremble. If on the other hand the public disapproved without reason Barbaja would start up in his box and address the audience. '_Figli d'una racca_!' 'Will you hold your tongues? You don't deserve good singers.' If by chance the King himself omitted to applaud at the right time Barbaja would shrug his shoulders and go grumbling out of his box. ""With all his peculiarities he it was who formed and brought forward Lablache Tamburini Rubini Donzelli Colbran Pasta Fodor Donizetti Bellini and the great Rossini himself whose masterpieces were composed for Barbaja. It is impossible to form an idea of the amount of entreaties stratagems and even violence expended by the _impresario_ to make Rossini work. I will give an example of it which is highly characteristic both of the manager and of the greatest and happiest but most _insouciant_ and idle musical genius that ever drew breath under the bright sky of Italy."" We are sorry to tantalize our readers but we have not space for the story that follows. It relates to the opera of _Othello_ which was composed by Rossini in an incredibly short time whilst a prisoner in an apartment of Barbaja's house. For nearly six months had the composer been living vith the manager entertaining his friends at his well-spread table drinking his choicest wines and occupying his best rooms--all this under promise of producing a new opera within the half-year a promise which he showed little disposition to fulfil. Barbaja was in a fever of anxiety and finding remonstrance unavailing had recourse to stratagem. One morning when Rossini was about to start on a party of pleasure he found his doors secured outside; and on putting his head out of the window was informed by Barbaja that he must remain captive until his ransom was paid. The ransom of course was the opera. Rossini subsequently revenges himself on his tyrant in a very piquant manner; and finally the morning after _Othello_ has been performed with triumphant success he starts for Bologna taking with him as travelling companion the _prima donna_ of the San Carlo theatre Signora Colbran whom he had privately married. All this is related very amusingly by M. Dumas but at too great length for our limits. We have a naval combat in the second volume in which a French frigate is attacked by two English line-of-battle ships one of which she sinks and receives in return the entire point-blank broadside of the other a three-decker; which broadside we in our ignorance of nautical matters should have thought sufficient to blow her either out of the water or under it. It has not that effect however and the frigate is captured; the captain of her when he has hauled down his flag in order to save the lives of his men stepping into his cabin and blowing his brains out. All this is very pretty whatever may be said of its probability. But there are two subjects on which the majority of Frenchmen indulge in most singular delusions. These are their invincibility upon the sea and the battle of Waterloo. M. Dumas has not escaped the national monomania. Our author is very hard upon the poor English in this book. He attacks them on all sides and with all weapons. Nelson and Lady Hamilton occupy a prominent position in his pages. The execution of Admiral Carraciolo an undoubted blot on the character of our naval hero is given in all its details and with some little decorations and embellishments for which we suspect that we have to thank our imaginative historian. Nelson's weakness the ascendency exercised over him by Lady Hamilton or Emma Lyonna as M. Dumas prefers styling her her intimacy with the Queen of Naples and subservient to the wishes and interests of the Neapolitan court are all set forth in the most glowing colours. This is the heavy artillery the round-shot and shell; but M. Dumas is too skilful a general to leave any part of his forces unemployed and does not omit to bring up his sharpshooters and open a pretty little fire of ridicule upon English travellers in Italy who as it is well known go thither to make the fortunes of innkeepers and purchase antiquities manufactured in the nineteenth century. Strange as it may appear we should be heartily sorry if M. Dumas were to exchange his evident dislike of us for a more kindly feeling. We should then lose some of his best stories; for he is never more rich and amusing than when he shows up the sons and daughters of _le perfide Albion_. In support of our assertion take the following sketch:-- ""During my stay at Naples an Englishman arrived there and took up his quarters at the hotel at which I was stopping. He was one of those phlegmatic overbearing obstinate Britons who consider money the engine with which every thing is to be moved and all things accomplished the argument in short which nothing can resist. Money was every thing in his estimation of mankind; talent fame titles mere feathers that kicked the beam the moment a long rent-roll or inscription of three per cents were placed in the opposite scale. In proportion as men were rich or poor did he esteem them much or little. Being very rich himself he esteemed himself much. ""He had come direct to Naples by steam and during the voyage had made this calculation: With money I shall say every thing do every thing and have every thing I please. He had not long to wait to find out his mistake. The steamer cast anchor in the port of Naples just half an hour too late for the passengers to land. The Englishman who had been very sea-sick and was particularly anxious to get on shore sent to offer the captain of the port a hundred guineas if he would let him land directly. The quarantine laws of Naples are very strict; the captain of the port thought the Englishman was mad and only laughed at his offer. He was therefore obliged to sleep on board in an excessively bad humour cursing alike those who made the regulations and those who enforced them. ""The first thing he did when he got on shore was to set off to visit the ruins of Pompeii. There happened to be no regular guide at hand so he took a lazzarone instead. He had not forgotten his disappointment of the night before and all the way to Pompeii he relieved his mind by abusing King Ferdinand in the best Italian he could muster. The lazzarone whom he had taken into his carriage took no notice of all this so long as they were on the high-road. Lazzaroni in general meddle very little in politics and do not care how much you abuse king or kaiser so long as nothing disrespectful is said of the Virgin Mary St Januarius or Mount Vesuvius. On arriving however at the _Via dei Sepolchri_ the ragged guide put his finger on his lips as a signal to be silent. But his employer either did not understand the gesture or considered it beneath his dignity to take notice of it for he continued his invectives against Ferdinand the Well-beloved. ""'Pardon me Eccellenza ' said the lazzarone at last placing his hand upon the side of the barouche and jumping out as lightly as a harlequin. 'Pardon me Eccellenza but I must return to Naples.' ""'And why so?' inquired the other in his broken Italian. ""'Because I do not wish to be hung.' ""'And who would dare to hang you?' ""'The king.' ""'Why?' ""'Because you are speaking ill of him.' ""'An Englishman has a right to say whatever he likes.' ""'It may be so but a lazzarone has not.' ""'But you have said nothing.' ""'But I hear everything.' ""'Who will tell what you hear?' ""'The invalid soldier who accompanies us to visit Pompeii.' ""'I do not want an invalid soldier.' ""'Then you cannot visit Pompeii.' ""'Not by paying?' ""'No.' ""'But I will pay double treble four times whatever they ask.' ""'No no no.' ""'Oh!' said the Englishman and he fell into a brown study during which the lazzarone amused himself by trying to jump over his own shadow. ""'I will take the invalid ' said the Englishman after a little reflection. ""'Very good ' replied the lazzarone 'we will take him.' ""'But I shall say just what I please before him.' ""'In that case I wish you a good morning.' ""'No no; you must remain.' ""'Allow me to give you a piece of advice then. If you want to say what you please before the invalid take a deaf one.' ""'Ooh!' cried the Englishman delighted with the advice 'by all means a deaf one. Here is a piaster for you for having thought of it.' The lazzarone ran to the guard-house and soon returned with an old soldier who was as deaf as a post. ""They began the usual round of the curiosities during which the Englishman continued calling King Ferdinand any thing but a gentleman of all which the invalid heard nothing and the lazzarone took no notice. They visited the Via dei Sepolchri the houses of Diomedes and Cicero. At last they came to Sallust's house in one of the rooms of which was a fresco that hit the Englishman's fancy exceedingly. He immediately sat down took a pencil and a blank book from his pocket and began copying it. He had scarcely made a stroke however when the soldier and the lazzarone approached him. The former was going to speak but the latter took the words out of his mouth. ""'Eccellenza ' said he 'it is forbidden to copy the fresco.' ""'Oh!' said the Englishman 'I must make this copy. I will pay for it.' ""'It is not allowed even if you pay.' ""'But I will pay ten times its value if necessary; I must copy it it is so funny.' ""'If you do the invalid will put you in the guard-room.' ""'Pshaw! An Englishman has a right to draw any thing he likes.' And he went on with his sketch. The invalid approached him with an inexorable countenance. ""'Pardon me Eccellenza ' said the lazzarone; 'but would you like to copy not only this fresco but as many more as you please?' ""'Certainly I should and I will too.' ""'Then let me give you a word of advice. Take a blind invalid.' ""'Ooh!' cried the Englishman still more enchanted with this second hint than with the first. 'By all means a blind invalid. Here are two piasters for the idea.' ""They left Sallust's house the deaf man was paid and discharged and the lazzarone went to the guard-room and brought back an invalid who was stone-blind and led by a black poodle. ""The Englishman wished to return immediately to continue his drawing but the lazzarone persuaded him to delay it in order to avoid exciting suspicion. They continued their rambles therefore guided by the invalid or rather by his dog who displayed a knowledge of Pompeii that might have qualified him to become a member of the antiquarian society. After visiting the blacksmith's shop Fortunata's house and the public oven they returned to the abode of Sallust where the Englishman finished his sketch while the lazzarone chatted with the blind man and kept him amused. Continuing their lounge he made a number of other drawings and in a couple of hours his book was half full. ""At last they arrived at a place where men were digging. There had been discovered a number of small busts and statues bronzes and curiosities of all kinds which as soon as they were dug up were carried into a neighbouring house and had his attention speedily attracted by a little statue of a satyr about six inches high. 'Oh!' cried he 'I shall buy this figure.' ""'The king of Naples does not wish to sell it ' replied the lazzarone. ""'I will give its weight in sovereigns--double its weight even.' ""'I tell you it is not to be sold ' persisted the lazzarone; 'but ' added he changing his tone 'I have already given your excellence two pieces of advice which you liked I will now give you a third: Do not buy the statue--steal it.' ""'Oh--oh! that will be very original and we have a blind invalid too. Capital!' ""'Yes but the invalid has a dog who has two good eyes and sixteen good teeth and who will fly at you if you so much as touch any thing with your little finger.' ""'I'll buy the dog and hang him.' ""'Do better still; take a lame invalid. Then as you have seen nearly every thing here put the figure in your pocket and run away. He may call out as much as he likes he will not be able to run after you.' ""'Ooh!' cried the Englishman in convulsions of delight 'here are three piasters for you. Fetch me a lame invalid.' ""And in order not to excite the suspicions of the blind man and his dog he left the house and pretended to be examining a fountain made of shell-work while the lazzarone went for a third guide. In a quarter of an hour he returned accompanied by an invalid with two wooden legs. They gave the blind man three carlini two for him and one for his dog and sent him away. ""The theatre and the temple of Isis were all that now remained to be seen. After visiting them the Englishman in the most careless tone he could assume said he should like to return to the house in which were deposited the produce of the researches then making. The invalid without the slightest suspicion conducted them thither and they entered the apartment in which the curiosities were arranged on shelves nailed against the wall. ""While the Englishman lounged about pretending to be examining every thing with the greatest interest the lazzarone busied himself in fastening a stout string across the doorway at the height of a couple of feet from the ground. When he had done this he made a sign to the Englishman who seized the little statue that he coveted from under the very nose of the astounded invalid put it into his pocket and jumping over the string ran off as hard as he could accompanied by the lazzarone. Darting through the Stabian gate they found themselves on the Salerno road--an empty hackney-coach was passing the Englishman jumped in and had soon rejoined his carriage which was waiting for him in Via dei Sepolchri. Two hours after he had left Pompeii he was at Torre del Greco and in another hour at Naples. ""As to the invalid he at first tried to step over the cord fastened across the door but the height at which the lazzarone had fixed it was too great for wooden legs to accomplish. He then endeavoured to untie it but with no better success; for the lazzarone had fastened it in a knot compared to which the one of Gordian celebrity would have appeared a mere slip-knot. Finally the old soldier who had perhaps read of Alexander the Great determined to cut what he could not untie and accordingly drew his sword. But the sword in its best days had never had much edge and now it had none at all; so that the Englishman was halfway to Naples whilst the invalid was still sawing away at his cord. ""The same evening the Englishman left Naples on board a steamboat and the lazzarone was lost in the crowd of his comrades; the six plasters he had got from his employer enabling him to live in what a lazzarone considers luxury for nearly as many months. ""The Englishman had been twelve hours at Naples and had done the three things that are most expressly forbidden to be done there. He had abused the king copied frescoes and stolen a statue and all owing not to his money but to the ingenuity of a lazzarone."" The lazzarone is a godsend for M. Dumas an admirable peg upon which to hang his quaint conceit and sly satire; and he is accordingly frequently introduced in the course of the three volumes. We must make room for one more extract in which he figures in conjunction with his friend the sbirro or gendarme who before being invested with a uniform and armed with carbine pistols and sabre has frequently been a lazzarone himself and usually preserves the instincts and tastes of his former station. The result of this is a coalition between the lazzarone and the sbirro--law-breaker and law-preserver uniting in a systematic attack upon the pockets of the public. ""I was one day passing down the Toledo when I saw a sbirro arrested. Like La Fontaine's huntsman he had been insatiable and his greediness brought its own punishment. This is what had happened. ""A sbirro had caught a lazzarone in the fact. ""'What did you steal from that gentleman in black who just went by?' he demanded he. ""'Nothing your excellency ' replied the lazzarone. A lazzarone always addresses a sbirro as _eccellenza_. ""'I saw your hand in his pocket.' ""'His pocket was empty.' ""'What! Not a purse a snuff-box a handkerchief?' ""'Nothing please your excellency. It was an author.' ""'Why do you go to those sort of people?' ""'I found out my mistake too late.' ""'Come along with me to the police-office.' ""'But your excellency--since I have stolen nothing?' ""'Idiot that's the very reason. If you _had_ stolen something we might have arranged matters.' ""'Only wait till next time. I shall not always be so unfortunate. I promise you the contents of the pocket of the next person who passes.' ""'Very good; but I will select the individual or else you will be making a bad choice again.' ""'As your excellency pleases.' ""The sbirro folded his arms in a most dignified manner and leaned his back against a post; the lazzarone stretched himself on the pavement at his feet. A priest came by then a lawyer then a poet; but the sbirro made no sign. At last there appeared a young officer dressed in brilliant uniform who passed gaily along humming between his teeth a tune out of the last opera. The sbirro gave the signal. Up sprang the lazzarone and followed the officer. Both disappeared round a corner. Presently the lazzarone returned with his ransom in his hand. ""'What have you got there?' said the sbirro. ""'A handkerchief ' replied the other. ""'Is that all?' ""'That all! It is of the finest cambric.' ""'Had he only one?'[11] [11] At Naples it is customary to carry two handkerchiefs one of silk and the other of cambric; the latter being used to wipe the forehead. ""'Only one in that pocket.' ""'And in the other?' ""'In the other he had a silk handkerchief.' ""'Why didn't you bring it?' ""'I keep that for myself excellency. It is fair that we should divide the profits. One pocket for you the other for me.' ""'I have a right to both and I must have the silk handkerchief.' ""'But your excelleilcy'---- ""'I must have the silk handkerchief.' ""'It is an injustice.' ""'Ha! Do you dare speak ill of his majesty's sbirri? Come along to prison.' ""'You shall have the silk handkerchief your excellency.' ""'How will you find the officer again?' ""'He is gone to pay a visit in the Strada de Foria. I will go and wait for him at the door.' ""The lazzarone walked away turned the corner of the street and established himself in the recess of a doorway. Presently the young officer came out of a house opposite and before he had gone ten paces put his hand in his pocket and found he was minus a handkerchief. ""'Pardon me excellency ' said the lazzarone stepping up to him; 'you have lost something I think?' ""'I have lost a cambric handkerchief.' ""'Your excellency has not lost it; it has been stolen from him.' ""'And who stole it?' ""'What will your excellency give me if I find him the thief?' ""'I will give you a piastre.' ""'I must have two.' ""'You shall. Hallo! What are you doing?' ""'I am stealing your silk handkerchief.' ""'In order to find my cambric one?' ""'Yes.' ""'And where will both of them be?' ""'In the same pocket. The person to whom I shall give this handkerchief is the same to whom I have already given the other. Follow me and observe what I do.' ""The officer followed the lazzarone who gave the handkerchief to the sbirro and walked away. The latter had hardly put his prize in his pocket when the officer came up and seized him by the collar. The sbirro fell on his knees but the officer was inexorable and he was sent to prison. As the sbirro had himself been a lazzarone he saw at once the trick that had been played him. He wanted to cheat his confederate and his confederate had cheated him; but far from bearing him malice for having done so the sbirro views the conduct of the lazzarone in the light of an exploit and feels an additional respect for him in consequence. When he is released from prison he will seek him out and they will be hand and glove together. When that time comes look to your pockets."" We are introduced to Ferdinand IV. of Naples King Nasone as the lazzaroni nicknamed him; also to Padre Rocco a popular preacher and the idol of the lower classes of Neapolitans; and to Cardinal Perelli remarkable for his simplicity which quality as may be supposed loses nothing in passing through the hands of his present biographer. With his usual skill M. Dumas glides from a ticklish story of which the cardinal is the hero (a story that he does _not_ tell for which forbearance we give him due credit since he is evidently sorely tempted thereto ) to an account of the Vardarelli a band of outlaws which for some time infested Calabria and the Capitanato. ""Gaetano Vardarelli was a native of Calabria and one of the earliest members of the revolutionary society of the Carbonari. When Murat after for some time favouring that society began to persecute it Vardarelli fled to Sicily and took service under King Ferdinand. He was then twenty-six years of age possessing the muscles and courage of a lion the agility of a chamois the eye of an eagle. Such a recruit was not to be despised and he was made sergeant in the Sicilian guards. On Ferdinand's restoration in 1815 he followed him to Naples; but finding that he was not likely ever to rise above a very subordinate grade he became disgusted with the service deserted and took refuge in the mountains of Calabria. There two of his brothers and some thirty brigands and outlaws assembled around him and elected him their chief with right of life and death over them. He had been a slave in the town; he found himself a king in the mountains. ""Proceeding acc

rding to the old formula observed by banditti chiefs both in Calabria and in melodramas Vardarelli proclaimed himself redresser general of wrongs and grievances and acted up to his profession by robbing the rich and assisting the poor. The consequence was that he soon became exceedingly dreaded by the former and exceedingly popular among the latter class; and at last his exploits reached the ears of King Ferdinand himself who was highly indignant at such goings on and gave orders that the bandit should immediately be hung. But there are three things necessary to hang a man--a rope a gallows and the man himself. In this instance the first two were easily found but the third was unfortunately wanting. Gendarmes and soldiers were sent after Vardarelli but the latter was too cunning for them all and slipped through their fingers at every turn. His success in eluding pursuit increased his reputation and recruits flocked to his standard. His band soon doubled its numbers and its leader became a formidable and important person which of course was an additional reason for the authorities to wish to capture him. A price was set on his head large bodies of troops sent in search of him but all in vain. One day the Prince of Leperano Colonel Calcedonio Major Delponte with a dozen other officers and a score of attendants were hunting in a forest a few leagues from Bari when the cry of '_Vardarelli_!' was suddenly heard. The party took to flight with the utmost precipitation and all escaped except Major Delponte who was one of the bravest but at the same time one of the poorest officers of the whole army. When he was told that he must pay a thousand ducats for his ransom he only laughed and asked where he was to get such a sum. Vardarelli then threatened to shoot him if it was not forthcoming by a certain day. The major replied that it was losing time to wait; and that if he had a piece of advice to give his captor it was to shoot him at once. The bandit at first felt half inclined to do so; but he reflected that the less Delponte cared about his life the more ought Ferdinand to value it. He was right in his calculation; for no sooner did the king learn that his brave major was in the hands of the banditti than he ordered the ransom to be paid out of his privy purse and the major recovered his freedom. ""But Ferdinand had sworn the extermination of the banditti with whom he was thus obliged to treat as from one potentate to another. A certain colonel whose name I forget and who had heard this vow pledged himself if a battalion were put under his command to bring in Vardarelli his two brothers and the sixty men composing his troop bound hand and foot and to place them in the dungeons of the Vicaria. The offer was too good to be refused; the minister of war put five hundred men at the disposal of the colonel who started with them at once in pursuit of the outlaw. The latter was soon informed by his spies of this fresh expedition and _he_ also made a vow to the effect that he would cure his pursuer once and for all of any disposition to interfere with the Vardarelli. ""He began by leading the poor colonel such a dance over hill and dale that the unfortunate officer and his men were worn out with fatigue; then when he saw them in the state that he wished he caused some false intelligence to be conveyed to them at two o'clock one morning. The colonel fell into the snare and started immediately to surprise Vardarelli whom he was assured was in a little village at the further extremity of a narrow pass through which only four men could pass abreast. He made such haste that he marched four leagues in two hours and at daybreak found himself at the entrance of the pass which however seemed so peculiarly well adapted for an ambuscade that he halted his battalion and sent on twenty men to reconnoitre. In a quarter of an hour the twenty men returned. They had not met a single living thing. The colonel hesitated no longer and entered the defile; but on reaching a spot about halfway through it where the road widened out into a sort of platform surrounded by high rocks and steep precipices a shout was suddenly heard proceeding apparently from the clouds and the poor colonel looking up saw the summits of the rocks covered with brigands who levelled their rifles at him and his soldiers. Nevertheless he began forming up his men as well as the nature of the ground would permit when Vardarelli himself appeared upon a projecting crag. 'Down with your arms or you are dead men!' he shouted in a voice of thunder. The bandits repeated his summons and the echoes repeated their voices so that the troops who had not made the same vow as their colonel and who thought themselves surrounded by greatly superior numbers cried out for quarter in spite of the entreaties and menaces of their unfortunate commander. Then Vardarelli without leaving his position ordered them to pile their arms and march to two different places which he pointed out to them. They obeyed; and Vardarelli leaving twenty of his men in their ambush came down with the remainder who immediately proceeded to render the Neapolitan muskets useless (for the moment at least) by the same process which Gulliver employed to extinguish the conflagration of the palace at Lilliput. ""The news of this affair put the king in very bad humour for the first twenty-four hours; after which time however the love of a joke overcoming his anger he laughed heartily and told the story to every one he saw; and as there are always lots of listeners when a king narrates three years elapsed before the poor colonel ventured to show his face at Naples and encounter the ridicule of the court."" The general commanding in Calabria takes the matter rather more seriously and vows the destruction of the banditti. By offers of large pay and privileges they are induced to enter the Neapolitan service and prove highly efficient as a troop of gendarmes. But the general cannot forget his old grudge against them; although for lack of an opportunity and on account of the desperate character of the men he is obliged to defer his revenge for some time. At last he succeeds in having their leaders assassinated and by pretending great indignation and imprisoning the perpetrators of the deed he lulls the suspicions of the remaining bandits who elect new officers and on an appointed day proceed to the town of Foggia to have their election confirmed. Only eight of them apprehensive of treachery refuse to accompany their comrades. The remaining thirty-one and a woman who would not leave her husband obey the general's summons. ""It was a Sunday the review had been publicly announced and the square was thronged with spectators. The Vardarelli entered the town in perfect order armed to the very teeth but giving no sign of hostility or mistrust. On reaching the square they raised their sabres and with one voice exclaimed--'_Viva il Re_!' The general appeared on his balcony to acknowledge their salute. The aide-de-camp on duty came down to receive them and after complimenting them on the beauty of their horses and good state of their arms desired them to file past under the general's window which they did with a precision worthy of regular troops. They then formed up again in the middle of the square and dismounted. ""The aide-de-camp went into the house again with the list of the three new officers; the Vardarelli were standing by their horses when suddenly there was a great confusion and movement in the crowd which opened in various places and down every street leading to the square a column of Neapolitan troops was seen advancing. The Vardarelli were surrounded on all sides. Perceiving at once that they were betrayed they sprang upon their horses and drew their sabres; but at the same moment the general took off his hat which was the signal agreed upon; the command '_Faccia in terra_ ' was heard and the spectators throwing themselves on their faces the soldiers fired over them and nine of the brigands fell to the ground dead or mortally wounded. Those who were unhurt seeing that they had no quarter to expect dismounted and forming a compact body fought their way to an old castle in which they took refuge. Two only trusting to the speed of their horses charged the group of soldiers that appeared the least numerous shot down two of them and succeeded in breaking through the others and escaping. The woman owed her life to a similar piece of daring effected however on another point of the enemy's line. She broke through and galloped off after having discharged both her pistols with fatal effect. ""The attention of all was now turned to the remaining twenty Vardarelli who had taken refuge in the ruined castle. The soldiers advanced against them encouraging one another and expecting to encounter an obstinate resistance; but to their surprise they reached the gate of the castle without a shot being fired at them. The gate was soon beaten in and the soldiers spread themselves through the halls and galleries of the old building. But all was silence and solitude; the bandits had disappeared. ""After an hour passed in rummaging every corner of the place the assailants were going away in despair convinced that their prey had escaped them; when a soldier who was stooping down to look through the air-hole of a cellar fell shot through the body. ""The Vardarelli were discovered; but still it was no easy matter to get at them. Instead of losing men by a direct attack the soldiers blocked up the air-hole with stones set a guard over it and then going round to the door of the cellar which was barricadoed on the inner side they heaped lighted fagots and combustibles against it so that the staircase was soon one immense furnace. After a time the door gave way and the fire poured like a torrent into the retreat of the unfortunate bandits. Still a profound silence reigned in the vault. Presently two carbine shots were fired; two brothers determined not to fall alive into the hands of their enemies had shot each other to death. A moment afterwards an explosion was heard; a bandit had thrown himself into the flames and his cartridge box had blown up. At last the remainder of the unfortunate men being nearly suffocated and seeing that escape was impossible surrendered at discretion were dragged through the air-hole and immediately bound hand and foot and conveyed to prison. ""As to the eight who had refused to come to Foggia and the two who had escaped they were hunted down like wild beasts tracked from cavern to cavern and from forest to forest. Some were shot others betrayed by the peasantry some gave themselves up so that before the year was out all the Vardarelli were dead or prisoners. The woman who had displayed such masculine courage was the only one who finally escaped. She was never heard of afterwards."" M. Dumas finds that the climate of Naples delightful as it is has nevertheless its little drawbacks and disadvantages. He returns one night from an excursion in the environs and has scarcely got into bed when he is almost blown out of it again by a tornado of tropical violence. ""At midnight when we returned to Naples the weather was perfect the sky cloudless the sea without a ripple. At three in the morning I was awakened by the windows of my room bursting open their eighteen panes of glass falling upon the floor with a frightful clatter. I jumped out of bed and felt that the house was shaking. I thought of Pliny the Elder and having no desire for a similar fate I hastily pulled on my clothes and hurried out into the corridor. My first impulse had apparently been that of all the inmates of the hotel who were all standing more or less dressed at the doors of their apartments; amongst others Jadin who made his appearance with a phosphorus box in his hand and his dog Milord at his heels. 'What a terrible draught in the house!' said he to me. This same draught as he called it had just carried off the roof of the Prince of San Feodoro's palace including the garrets and several servants who were sleeping in them. ""My first thought had been of an eruption of Vesuvius but there was no such luck for us; it was merely a hurricane. A hurricane at Naples however is rather different from the same thing in any other European country. ""Out of the seventy windows of the hotel three only had escaped damage. The ceilings of seven or eight rooms were rent across. There was a crack extending from top to bottom of the house. Eight shutters had been carried away and the servants were running down the street after them just as one runs after one's hat on a windy day. The broken glass was swept away; as for sending for glaziers to mend the windows it was out of the question. At Naples nobody thinks of disturbing himself at three in the morning. Besides even had new panes been put in they would soon have shared the fate of the old ones. We were obliged therefore to manage as well as we could with the shutters. I was tolerably lucky for I had only lost one of mine. I went to bed again and tried to sleep; but a storm of thunder and lightning soon rendered that impossible and I took refuge on the ground-floor where the wind had done less damage. Then began one of those storms of which we have no idea in the more northern parts of Europe. It was accompanied by a deluge such as I had never witnessed except perhaps in Calabria. In an instant the Villa Reale appeared to be a part of the sea; the water came up to the windows of the ground-floor and flooded the parlours. A minute afterwards the servants came to tell M. Zill that his cellars were full and his casks of wine floating about and staving one another. Presently we saw a jackass laden with vegetables come swimming down the street carried along by the current. He was swept away into a large open drain and disappeared. The peasant who owned him and who had also been carried away only saved himself from a like fate by clinging to a lamp-post. In one hour there fell more water than there falls in Paris during the two wettest months in the year. ""Two hours after the cessation of the rain the water had disappeared and I then perceived the use of this kind of deluge. The streets were clean; which they never are in Naples except after a flood of this sort."" One short anecdote and we have done. After a long account of St Januarius including the well-known miracle of the liquefaction of his blood and some amusing illustrations of his immense popularity with the Neapolitans M. Dumas in two pithy lines gives us the length breadth and thickness of a lazzarone's religion. ""I was one day in a church at Naples "" he says ""and I heard a lazzarone praying aloud. He entreated God to intercede with St Januarius to make him win in the lottery."" On the whole we think this one of the most amusing of M. Dumas's works very light and sketchy as is evident from our extracts; but at the same time giving a great deal of information concerning Naples its environs inhabitants and customs of much interest and calculated to be highly useful to the traveller. It is also very free from a fault with which we taxed its author in a former paper and we can scarcely call to mind a single line which it would be necessary to expunge in order to render it fit reading for the most fastidious. As far as we ourselves are concerned we heartily wish M. Dumas would travel over all the kingdoms of the earth and write a book about each of them; and if he is as good company in a post-chaise as his books are at the chimney-corner there are few things we should like better than to accompany him on his pilgrimage. * * * * * MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART IX. ""Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea puft up with wind Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in the pitched battle heard Loud 'larums neighing steeds and trumpets clang?"" SHAKSPEARE. The market-place was lighted up and filled with dragoons. Leaving my hulans under cover of a dark street and riding forward to reconnoitre I saw with astonishment the utter carelessness with which they abandoned themselves to their indulgences in the midst of an irritated population. Some were drinking on horseback; some had thrown themselves on the benches of the market and were evidently intoxicated. The people stood at the corners of the streets looking on palpably in terror yet as palpably indignant at the outrage of the military. From the excessive blaze in some of the windows and the shrieks of females I could perceive that plunder was going on and that the intention was after having ransacked the place to set it on fire. Yet a strong body of cavalry mounted in the middle of the square and keeping guard round a waggon on which a guillotine had been already erected still made me feel that an attack would be hopeless. I soon saw a rush of the people from one of the side streets; a couple of dragoon helmets were visible above the crowd; and three or four carts followed filled with young females in white robes and flowers as if dressed for a ball. I gazed intently to ascertain the meaning of this strange and melancholy spectacle. At this moment I felt my horse's bridle pulled and saw the old noble at his head. ""Now or never!"" he cried in a voice almost choked with emotion. ""Those are destined for the guillotine. Barbarians! brigands!--they will murder my Amalia."" He sank before me. ""What! is this an execution?"" I exclaimed. His answer was scarcely above a whisper for he seemed fainting. ""The villains have been sent "" said he ""to burn the town; they have seized those children of our best families compelled them to dress as they were dressed for the Prussian ball and are now about to murder them by their accursed guillotine."" Pointing to one lovely girl who pale as death stood in the foremost of those vehicles of death he exclaimed ""Amalia! O my Amalia!"" The cart was already within a few feet of the scaffold when I gave the word to my troopers. The brave fellows answered my ""Forward!"" with a shout charged sabre in hand and in an instant had thrown themselves between the victims and the scaffold. Their escort taken completely by surprise was broken at the first shock; we dashed without loss of time on the squadrons scattered round the market and swept it clear of them. Surprised intoxicated and unacquainted with our force--which they probably thought to be the advance of the whole Prussian cavalry--after having lost many men for the peasantry showed no mercy on the dismounted the regiment turned at full gallop to the open country. The townspeople now performed their part. The victims were hurried away by their families among a storm of lamentations and rejoicings tears and kisses. The old noble's daughter half dead was carried off in her father's arms with a thousand benedictions on me. The guillotine was hewn down with a hundred axes and I saw the fragments burning in the square. Its waggon was made to serve its country as a portion of a barricade; and with every vehicle wheeled or unwheeled which could be rolled out the entrance to the streets was fortified with the national rapidity in any deed good or ill under the stars. After having appeased our hunger and that of our famishing horses and being offered all the purses which the French dragoons however had lightened nearly to the last coin we finished the exploit by a general chant in honour of the ladies and marched on our route followed by the prayers of the whole community. This ended the only productive skirmish of the retreat. It fed us broke the monotony of the march and gave us something to talk of--and the soldier asks but little more. A gallant action had certainly been done; not the less gallant for its being a humane one; and even my bold hulans gave me credit for being a ""smart officer "" a title of no slight value in their dashing service. Yet what as the poet Saadi says is fortune but a peacock ""a showy tail on a frightful pair of legs?"" Our triumph was to be followed by a reverse. The burgundy and champagne of the old count's cellar had made us festive and our voices were heard along the road with a gaiety imprudent in a hostile land. The sound of a trumpet in our front brought us to our senses and a dead stand. But we were in a vein of heroism and instead of taking to our old hussar habits and slipping round the enemy's flanks we determined to cut our way through them if they had the whole cavalry of France as their _appui_. The word was given and the spur carried us through a strong line of cavalry posted across the road. The moon had just risen enough to show that there was a still stronger line a few hundred yards beyond which it would be folly to touch. There was now no resource but to return as we went which we did at full speed and again broke up our antagonists. But again we saw squadron after squadron blocking up the road. All was now desperate. But Frederick's law of arms was well known--""the officer of cavalry who _waits to be charged_ must be broke."" We made a plunge at our living circumvallation; but the French dragoons had now learned common sense--they opened for us--and when we were once fairly in enveloped us completely; it was then a troop to a brigade; fifty jaded men and horses to fifteen hundred fresh from camp. What happened further I know not. I saw for a minute or two a great deal of pistol firing and a great deal of sabre clashing; I felt my horse stagger under me at the moment when I aimed a blow at a gigantic fellow covered all over with helmet and mustache; a pistol exploded close at my ear as I was going down and I heard no more. On opening my eyes again I found the scene strangely altered. I was lying in a little chamber hung round with Parisian ornament--a sufficient contrast to a sky dark as pitch or only illumined by carbines and the sparkles of sabres delving at each other. I was lying on an embroidered sofa--an equally strong contrast to my position under the bodies of fallen men and the heels of kicking horses. A showy Turkish cloak or _robe de chambre_ had superseded my laced jacket purple pantaloons and hussar boots. I was completely altered as a warrior; and from a glimpse which I cast on a mirror surrounded with gilt nymphs and swains enough to have furnished a ballet I saw in my haggard countenance and a wound which a riband but half concealed across my forehead that I was not less altered as a man. All round me looked so perfectly like the scenes with which I had been familiar in my romance-reading days that bruised and feeble as I was I almost expected to find my pillow attended by some of those slight figures in long white drapery with blue eyes which of old ministered to so many ill-used knights and exhausted pilgrims. But my reveries were broken up by a rough voice in the outer chamber insisting on an entrance into mine and replied to by a weak and garrulous female one refusing the admission. The dialogue was something of this order-- ""Strong or weak well or ill able or not able I must send him before twelve o'clock this night to Paris."" ""But the poor gentleman's wounds are still unhealed."" ""Still he must set out. The '_malle poste_' will be at the door; and if he had fifty wounds on him he must go. The marquis is halfway to Paris by this time; perhaps more than halfway to the guillotine."" This was followed by a burst of sobs and broken exclamtions from the female whom I discovered by her sorrowing confessions to have been a nurse in the family. ""Well "" was the ruffian's reply; ""women of all ages are fools: what is it to you whether this young fellow is shot or hanged? He was taken in arms against the Republic--one and indivisible. All the enemies of France must perish!"" The old woman now partially opened the door to see whether I slept; and I closed my eyes for the purpose of hearing all that was to be heard without interruption. The speaker whom I alternately took for the _gendarme_ of the district and the executioner gave went to his swelling soul in the national style. ""What! leave _me_! leave Jean Jacques Louis Gilet in charge of this wretched aristocrat while I should be marching with my battalion and at its head too if merit meets its reward to sweep the foes of the Republic from the face of the earth. No; I shall not remain in this paltry place solicitor of a village when I ought to be on the highest seat of justice--or playing the part of arresting aristocrats when I might be commandant of a brigade marching over the bodies of the crowned tyrants of the earth to glory!"" As his harangue glowed his pace quickened and his voice grew more vehement; at length probably impatient of the time which lay between him and the first offices of the Republic he overpowered the resistance of the nurse and rushed into the chamber. Throwng himself into a theatrical attitude before a mirror--for what Frenchman ever passes one without a glance of happy recognition?--""Rise aristocrat!"" he cried in the tone of Talma calling up the shade of Caesar. ""Rise and account to the world for your crimes against the liberty of man!"" I looked with such surprise on this champion of the sons of Adam--a little meagre creature who seemed to be shaped on the model of one of his own pens stripped withered and ink-dried--that I actually burst into laughter. His indignation rose and pulling out a pistol with one hand and a roll of paper from his bosom with the other he presented them together. I perceived as I lay on my pillow that the pistol was without a lock and thus was comforted; but the paper was of a more formidable description. It was the famous decree of ""Fraternization "" by which France pronounced the fall of her own monarchy declared ""that she would grant succour to every people who wished to recover their liberty "" and commanded her generals ""to aid all such and to defend all citizens who might be troubled in the cause of freedom."" This paper indeed startled me; it was the consummation which I had dreaded so long. I saw at once that France in those wild words had declared war against every throne in Europe and that we were now beginning the era of struggle and suffering which Mordecai's strong sense had predicted and of which no human sagacity could foresee the end. My countenance probably showed the impression which this European anathema had made upon me; for Monsieur Gilet became more heroic than ever tore his grizzled curls throwing aside his pistol which he had at length discovered to be _hors de combat_ and drawing the falchion which clattered at his heels and was nearly as long as himself flourished it in quick march backward and forward before the mirror--that mirror never forgotten!--in all the whirlwind of his rage and panted for the conquest of ""perfidious Albion "" the ""traitor"" Pitt and the whole brood of hoary power. I was too feeble to turn him out of the room and too contemptuous to reply. But his overthrow was not the further off. The old nurse who old as she was still retained some of the sinews and all the irritability of a stout Champenoise peasant roused by his insults to the aristocracy one of whom she probably regarded herself from having lived so long under their roof watched her opportunity made a spring at him like a wild-cat wrested the sabre from his hand and grasping the struggling and screaming little functionary in her strong arms carried him like a child out of the room. She then returned and having locked the door to prevent his second inroad sat down by the side of my couch and with the usual passion of women after strong excitement burst into exclamations and tears. What I could collect from her broken narrative was little more than the commonplace of national misery in that fearful time. She had been a servant in the family of the nobleman whose daughter I had saved from death. She had been the nurse of the young countess; and all the blessings that sorrow and gratitude ever gathered together could not be exceeded by the praises which she poured upon my head. It had been rumoured in the town that I was attacked and killed by a body of cavalry sent to revenge the rout of their comrades. And the Marquis Lanfranc--I now first learned the name of my noble entertainer--had gone forth to look for my remains in the field. I was found still breathing and to avoid further danger was carried to this dwelling a hunting-lodge in the heart of the forest; there I had been attended by the family physician only and after a week of insensibility had given signs of recovery. The marquis's humanity had brought evil on himself. His visits to the lodge had been remarked and on this very morning he had been arrested and conveyed with his daughter in a carriage escorted by _gendarmes_ to the capital. My detection followed of course; papers found on my person had proved that I was an agent of England; and the officious M. Gilet had spent the morning in exhibiting to the peasantry of the neighbourhood the order of the ""Committee of Public Safety "" a name which froze the blood to take me under his charge and conduct me forthwith to their tribunal. I tell all this in my own way; for the dame's sighs sobs and vehement indignation would have defied all record. My prospect was now black enough for justice was a word unheard of in the present condition of things; and my plea of being an Englishman and in the civil service of my country would have been a death-warrant. I must acknowledge too that I had fairly thrown it away by my adoption of the Prussian sabre. I might well be now in low spirits; for the guillotine was crushing out life at that moment in every province of France and the thirst of public curiosity was to be fed by nothing but blood. Yet even in that moment let me give myself credit for the recollection my first enquiry was for the fate of my squadron. The old woman could tell me but little on the subject; but that little was consolatory. The French troopers who had come back triumphing into the town had not brought any Prussian prisoners: two or three foreigners who had lost their horses were sheltered in her master's stables until they could make their escape; and of them she had heard no more. The truth is that nothing is more difficult in war than to catch a hussar who understands his business; and the probability was that the chief part of them had slipped away leaving the French to sabre each other in the dark. The fall of my horse had brought me down otherwise I might have escaped the shot which stunned me and been at that hour galloping to Berlin. Monsieur Gilet with some of the civic authorities paid me a second visit in the evening to prepare me for my journey. To me it was become indifferent whether I died in the carriage or by the edge of the guillotine; the journey was short in either case and the shorter and sooner the better. I answered none of their interrogatories; told them I was at their disposal; directed the old woman to pack up whatever travelling matters remained to me and to remember me to her master and mistress if she ever should see them in this world; shook her strong old hand and bade God bless her. In return she kissed me on both cheeks whispered a thousand benedictions and left the room violently sobbing; yet with a parting glance at Monsieur Gilet and his _collaborateurs_ so mingled of wrath and ridicule that it was beyond all my deciphering. ""Time and the hour run through the longest day "" says the great poet; and with the coming of midnight a _chaise de poste_ drew up at the door. As I was a prisoner of importance M. Gilet was not suffered to take all the honour of my introduction to the axe on himself; and the mayor and deputy-mayor of the district insisted on this opportunity of making themselves known to the supreme Republic. They mounted the box in front a couple of gendarmes sat behind M. Gilet took his seat at my side and with an infinite cracking of whips we rushed out upon the causeway. I soon discovered that my companion was by no means satisfied with existing circumstances. The officiousness of the pair of mayors prodigiously displeased him. He broke forth-- ""See these two beggars "" he exclaimed ""pretending to patriotism! They have no energy no courage no civism. Why _you_ might have remained for a twelvemonth under their very nostrils before they would have found you out. Gilet is the man for the service of his country."" Merely to stop the torrent of his complainings I asked him some vague questions relative to the nobleman whom I was now following to Paris. But the patriot was not to be moved from hi

topic. ""Hah! Citizen Lanfranc. All is over with him. He once held his head high enough but it will soon be as low as ever it was high. Yet I could have forgiven his aristocracy if he had not put these two 'chiens' above me."" The position in which the mayor and his deputy sat on the box of the chaise continually presenting them to the eye of my companion kept his choler peculiarly active. ""One of these fellows "" he exclaimed ""was the Marquis's cook another his perruquier! _I_ was his tailor. Every man of taste and talent knows the superiority of _my_ profession; for what is the first of noblemen without elegance of costume or what indeed would man himself be without my art the noblest and the earliest art of mankind? And yet he made these two 'brigands' mayor and deputy--_peste_! I did my duty. I denounced him on the spot. I did more. The aristocrat had a faction in the town. It was filled with his dependents. In fact it had been built on his grounds and tenanted by the old hangers-on of the family. So to make a clear stage I denounced the town."" He clapped his hands with exultation at this civic triumph. My recollection of the miseries which his malice had caused roused me into wrath and rash as the act was I grasped him by the collar with the full intent of throwing the little writhing wretch out of the window; but while I was lifting him from the seat to which he clung screaming for help and had already forced him halfway outside a shot whistled close by the head of the postilion which brought him to a full stop. ""Mon Dieu!--Brigands!"" exclaimed Monsieur Gilet; and dropping back into the carriage attempted to make a screen of my body by slipping his adroitly behind me. Two or three more discharges rattled through the trees followed by a rush of peasants who unceremoniously knocked down the two officials in front and began a general scuffle with the gendarmes. The night was so dark that I could discover nothing of the _mêlée_ but by the blaze of the fusils. All however was quiet in a few moments by the disappearance of the gendarmes and the complete capture of the convoy--M. Gilet mayors and all. Whether we had fallen into the hands of highwaymen or of stragglers from the French army was doubtful for a while as not a syllable was spoken nor a sound uttered except by the unhappy functionaries who grumbled prodigiously as they were dragged along through ""rough and smooth moss and mire "" and whose pace was evidently quickened by many a kick and blow of the fusil. This was a rude march for me too with my unhealed wound and my week's sojourn in bed; but I was treated if not with tenderness without incivility while my _compagnons de voyage_ were insulted with every contemptuous phrase in a vocabulary at least as rich in those matters as any other in Europe. At length after about an hour's rapid movement we reached an open ground and the door of one of the wide old staring yet not uncomfortable farmhouses which are to be found in the northern provinces of France. Signs of comfort within were visible even at a distance and the light of a huge wood fire had been seen for the last quarter of an hour gleaming through the woods and leaving us in doubt whether we were approaching a horde of gipsies or about to realize the classic scenes of Gil Blas. But it was only a farm-house after all. The good dame of the house with an enormous cap enormous petticoats enormous earrings and all the glaring good-humour of a countenance of domestic plenty and power came to meet us on the threshold; and her reception of me was ardent to the very verge of stranglulation. Nothing could exceed her rapture at the sight of me or the fierceness of her embraces except her indignation at the sight of my traveling companions. Her disgust at the mayor and his deputy--and certainly after their night trip they were not figures to charm the eye--was pitched in the highest key of scorn so as to be surpassed only by the torrent of contempt which her well-practised elocution poured upon the ""_traître tailleur._"" I really believe that if she could have boiled him in the huge soup-kettle which bubbled upon the fire without spoiling our supper she would have flung him in upon the spot. The peasants who had captured us--bold tall fellows well dressed and well armed with cutlass and fusil in the style of the _gardes-de-chasse_--could scarcely be kept from taking them out to the next tree to make marks of them; and it was probably by my intercession alone that they were consigned to an outer house for the night. How the scene was to end with me I knew not; though the jovial visage of my protectress showed me that I was secure. But the prisoners had no sooner been flung out of the door than I was ushered into an inner room prepared with somewhat more of attention; where to my great surprise and delight the Marquis Lanfranc came forward to shake my hand and with a thousand expressions of gratitude made me known to his daughter. The adventure was of the simplest order. The arrest of the Marquis was of course known in an instant and a party of his foresters had immediately determined to take the law into their own hands--had posted themselves on the road by which his carriage was to pass and had released him without difficulty. My release was merely a sequel to the drama. I had been left in the hunting-lodge by its owner under the impression that an individual who could not be moved without hazard to life would escape the vengeance of village patriotism. But the nurse whom he had placed in charge of me had no sooner ascertained that I was arrested than she sent an express to the farm-house. The consequence naturally followed in my liberty; and the night which I expected to have spent freezing on my way to the dungeon presented me with the pleasant exchange of hospitable shelter the society of a most accomplished man and his graceful handsome daughter; and last not least a couple of kisses from my late nurse according to the custom of the country as glowing and remorseless as those of my portly landlady herself. We sat for some hours and scarcely felt them pass in the anxious topics which engrossed us; the perils of France the prospects of the Allies and the captivity of the unhappy Bourbons. Now and then the conversation turned on their own hair-breadth escapes and those of their relatives and friends. Among the rest the hazards of the De Tourville family were mentioned and I heard the name of Clotilde pronounced with a sensation indescribable. The name was connected with such displays of fortitude nobleness of spirit and deep devotion to the royal cause that if I had loved before I now honoured her. She had saved the lives of her household; she had by an act of extraordinary but most perilous affection saved the life of her mother at the moment when the first insurgency broke out; and young as she was she had exhibited so noble a union of generosity and strength of mind that the Marquis's eyes filled with tears as he told it and Amalia buried her forehead in her hands to conceal her convulsive emotions: what must have been mine! Our conversation was not unfrequently interrupted by bursts of merriment from the outer room where the peasants were at supper provided by the Marquis for his bold rescuers--an indulgence which they seemed to enjoy with the highest zest imaginable. Songs were sung with very various kinds of merit in the performer but all well received. Healths were proposed in which the existing Government was certainly not much honoured; and if the good wishes of the party could have sent the ""Committee of Public Safety "" the butcher cabinet of France to the darkest spot on earth or under it its time would have been brief. But even this died away; the laugh subsided the mirth grew silent and at length the _gardes-de-chasse_ went away making the forest ring with their professional whoops and holloas the remnants of their honest revel. At length the Marquis and his daughter who were to be on the wing at daybreak for the German frontier and who had generously offered to take charge of my invalid frame in the same direction retired; and wrapping myself up in a dark cloak furnished by my mistress and formed to her showy proportions I threw myself on the sofa and was in the land of dreams. But though I slept I did not rest. My fever or my lassitude or probably some presentiment of the troubled career into which I was to be plunged made ""tired nature's sweet restorer"" a stepmother to me. I can never endure hearing the dreams of others and thus I cannot suffer myself to inflict them on my hearers; but on that night Queen Mab like Jehu drove her horses furiously. Every possible kind of disappointment vexation and difficulty; every conceivable shape of things past and present rushed through my brain; and all pale fierce disastrous and melancholy. I was beckoned along dim shades by shapeless phantoms; I was trampled in battle; I was brought before a tribunal; I was on board a ship which blew up and was flung strangling down an infinite depth in a midnight ocean. But this exceeded the privilege even of dreams. I made one desperate effort to rise and awoke with a bound on the floor. There I found a real obstacle--a ruffian in a red cap. One strong hand was on my throat; and by the glimmer of the dying lantern which hung from the roof I saw the glitter of a pistol-barrel in the other. ""Surrender in the name of the Republic!"" were the words which told me my fate. Four or five wearers of the same ominous emblem with sabres and pistols were round me at the moment and after a brief struggle I was secured. Cries were now heard outside the door and a wounded gendarme was carried in borne in the arms of his comrades. From their confused clamour I could merely ascertain that the gendarmes who had escaped in the original _mêlée_ had obtained assistance and returned on their steps. The farm-house had been surrounded and the Marquis was indebted only to the vigilance of his peasantry for a second escape with his daughter. The _gardes-de-chasse_ had kept the gendarmes at bay until their retreat was secure; and the post-chaise which had brought M. Gilet and his coadjutors was by this time some leagues off at full speed beyond the fangs of Republicanism. This at least was comfort though I was left behind. But it was clear that the gallant old noble was blameless in the matter and that nothing was to be blamed but my habitual ill luck. ""_En route_ for Paris "" was the last order which I heard; and with a gendarme in the strange kind of post-waggon which was rolled out from the farmer's stable I was dispatched before daybreak on my startling journey. I found my gendarme a facetious fellow; though his merriment might not be well adapted to cheer his prisoner. He whistled he sang he screamed he stamped to get rid of the ennui of travelling with so silent a companion. He told stories of his own prowess; libeled M. Gilet who had got him beaten on this service in the first instance and who seemed to be in the worst possible odour with man and woman; and abused all mayors deputy-mayors and authorities with the tongue of a leveler. But my facetious friend had his especial _chagrins_. ""I have all my life "" said he ""been longing to see Paris and have never been able to stir a step beyond this stupid province. Yet I have had my chances too. I was once valet to a German count and we were on the way to Paris together when the post-chaise was stopped the baron was arrested as a swindler and I was charged as his accomplice. He was sent to the galleys; I got off. I then had a second chance. I enlisted in a regiment of dragoons which was to be quartered in Versailles. But such was my fate I had no sooner passed the first drill when we were ordered off to Lorraine to watch old King Stanislaus the Pole who lived there like one of his own bears frozen and fat. Still I was determined to see Paris. I asked leave of absence; the adjutant laughed at me the colonel turned on his heel and the provost-marshal gave me a week of the black-hole. But a week is but seven days after all and on my seeing the parade again--I--"" ""You deserted?"" ""Not quite that "" was the reply. ""I took leave and as I had seen enough of the black hole already I took good care to give the provost-marshal no notice on the subject. A fortnight's march brought me within sight of the towers of Notre-Dame. But as I was resting myself on the roadside our adjutant as ill luck would have it came by in the _coupe_ of the diligence. He jumped out. I was seized given up to the next guard-house and after fitting me with a pair of fetters by way of boots I was ordered to take my passage with a condemned regiment for the West Indies. There I served ten years; I saw the regiment reduced to a skeleton by short rations and new rum; and returned the tenth representative of fifteen hundred felons. At last I have a chance; the gendarme of the village was so desperately mauled by the foresters in the attempt to carry you prisoner that he has been forced to take to his bed and let me take his place. The thing is certain now. _You_ will be guillotined but I shall see Paris."" Yet what is certain in this most changeful of possible worlds? ""Fate granted half the prayer The rest the gods dispersed in empty air."" We had toiled through our long journey rendered doubly long by the dreariest and deepest roads on earth and were winding round the spur of Montmartre when a troop of citizen heroes coming forth to sweep the country of the retreating Prussians and whose courage had risen to the boiling point by the news of the retreat surrounded the carriage. My Prussian uniform was proof enough for the brains of the patriots; and the quick discovery of Parisian ears that I had not learned my French in their capital settled the question of my being a traitor. The gendarme joined in the charge with his natural volubility; but rather insisted rashly on his right to take his prisoner into Paris on his own behalf. I saw a cloud gathering on the brow of the _chef_ a short stout and grim-looking fellow with the true Faubourg St Antoine physiognomy. The prize was evidently too valuable not to be turned to good account with the authorities; and he resolved on returning at the head of his brother patriots to present me as the first-fruits of his martial career. The dispute grew hot; my escort was foolish enough to clap his hand on the hilt of his sabre--an affront intolerable to a citizen at the head of fifty or sixty _braves_ from the counter or the shambles; the result was a succession of blows from the whole troop which closed in my seeing him stripped of every thing and flung into the _cachot_ of the _corps de garde_ from which his only view of his beloved Paris must have been through an iron _grille_. My captor determined to enter the capital for once with eclat seated himself beside me in the _chaise de poste_ and surrounded by his pike-bearers we began our march down the descent of the hill. My new friend was communicative. He gave his history in a breath. He had been a clerk in the office of one of the small tribunals in the south; inflamed with patriotism and indignant at the idea of selling his talents at the rate of ten sous a-day ""in a rat-hole called a bureau "" he had resolved on being known in the world and to Paris he came. Paris was the true place for talent. His _civisme_ had become conspicuous; he had ""assisted"" at the birth of liberty. He had carried a musket on the 10th of August and had ""been appointed by the Republic to the command of the civic force "" which now moved before and behind me. He was a ""_grand homme_"" already. Danton had told him so within the last fortnight and France and Europe would no sooner read his last pamphlet on the ""Crimes of Kings "" than his fame would be fixed with posterity. I believe that few men have passed through life without experiencing times when it would cost them little to lay it down. At least such times have occurred to me and this was among them. Yet this feeling whether it is to be called nonchalance or despair has its advantages for the moment; it renders the individual considerably careless of the worst that man can do to him; and I began to question my oratorical judge's clerk on the events in the ""city of cities."" No man could take fuller advantage of having a listener at his command. ""We have cut down the throne "" said he clapping his hands with exultation ""and now you may buy it for firewood. But you are an aristocrat and of course a slave; while we have got liberty equality and a triumvirate that shears off the heads of traitors at a sign. Suspicion of being suspected is quite sufficient. Away goes the culprit; a true patriot is ordered to take possession of his house until the national pleasure is known; and thus every thing goes on well. Of course you have heard of the clearance of the prisons. A magnificent work. Five thousand aristocrats rich noble and enemies to their country sent headless to the shades of tyrants. _Vive la Republique_! But a grand idea strikes me. You shall see Danton himself the genius of liberty the hero of human nature the terror of kings."" The thought was new and a new thought is enough to turn the brain of the Gaul at any time. He thrust his head out of the window ordered a general halt; and instead of taking me to the quarters of the National resolved to have the merit of delivering up an ""agent of Pitt and English guineas"" to the master of the Republic alone. ""_A l'Abbaye_!"" was his cry. But a new obstacle now arose in his troop; they had reckoned on a civic supper with their comrades of the guard; and the notion of bivouacking in front of the Abbaye under the chilling wind and fierce showers which now swept down the dismal streets was too much for their sense of discipline. The dispute grew angry. At length one of them a huge and savage-looking fellow who by way of illustration thrust his pike close to the little commandant's shrinking visage bellowed out-- ""The people are not to be insulted. The people order and all must obey!"" Nothing could be more unanswerable and no attempt was made to answer. The captain dropped back into the chaise the troop took their own way and my next glance showed the street empty. But the Frenchman finds comfort under all calamities. After venting his wrath in no measured terms on ""rabble insolence "" and declaring that laws were of no use when ""_gueux_"" like these could take them into their hands he consoled himself by observing that stripped as he was of his honours the loss might be compensated by his profits; that the ""vagabonds"" might have expected to share the reward which the ""grand Danton would infallibly be rejoiced to give for my capture and that both the purse and the praise would be his own."" ""_A l'Abbaye_!"" was the cry once more. We now were in motion again; and after threading a labyrinth of streets so dreary and so dilapidated as almost to give me the conception that I had never been in Paris before we drove up to the grim entrance of the Abbaye. My companion left me in charge of the sentinel and rushed in. ""And is this "" thought I as I looked round the narrow space of the four walls ""the spot where so many hundreds were butchered; this the scene of the first desperate triumph of massacre; this miserable court the last field of so many gallant lives; these stones the last resting-place of so many whose tread had been on cloth of gold; these old and crumbling walls giving the last echo to the voices of statesmen and nobles the splendid courtiers the brilliant orators and the hoary ecclesiastics of the most superb kingdom of Europe!"" Even by the feeble lamp-light that rather showed the darkness than the forms of the surrounding buildings it seemed to me that I could discover the colour of the slaughter on the ground; and there were still heaps in corners which looked to me like clay suddenly flung over the remnants of the murdered. But my reveries were suddenly broken up by the return of the little captain more angry than ever. He had missed the opportunity of seeing the ""great man "" who had gone to the Salpetrière. And some of the small men who performed as his jackals having discovered that the captain was looking for a share in their plunder had thought proper to treat him his commission and even his civism with extreme contempt. In short as he avowed to me the very first use which he was determined to make of that supreme power to which his ascent was inevitable would be to clear the _bureaux_ of France beginning with Paris of all those insolent and idle hangers-on who lived only to purloin the profits and libel the services of ""good citizens."" ""_A la Salpetrière_."" There again disappointment met us. The great man had been there ""but a few minutes before "" and we dragged our slow way through mire and ruts that would have been formidable to an artillery waggon with all its team. My heart buoyant as it had been sank within me as I looked up at the frowning battlements the huge towers more resembling those of a fortress than of even a prison the gloomy gates and the general grim aspect of the whole vast circumference giving so emphatic a resemblance of the dreariness and the despair within. ""_Aux Carmes_!"" was now the direction; for my conductor's resolve to earn his reward before daybreak was rendered more pungent by this interview with the _gens de bureau_ at the Abbaye. He was sure that they would be instantly on the scent; and if they once took me out of his hands adieu to dreams of which Alnaschar the glassman's were only a type. He grew nervous with the thought and poured out his whole vision of hopes and fears with a volubility which I should have set down for frenzy if in any man but a wretch in the fever of a time when gold and blood were the universal and combined idolatries of the land. ""You may think yourself fortunate "" he exclaimed ""in having been in my charge! That brute of a country gendarme could have shown you nothing. Now _I_ know every jail in Paris. I have studied them. They form the true knowledge of a citizen. To crush tyrants to extinguish nobles to avenge the cause of reason on priests and to raise the people to a knowledge of their rights--these are the triumphs of a patriot. Yet what teacher is equal to the jail for them all? _Mais voilà les Carmes_!"" I saw a low range of blank wall beyond which rose an ancient tower. ""Here "" said he ""liberty had a splendid triumph. A hundred and fifty tonsured apostles of incivism here fell in one day beneath the two-handed sword of freedom. A cardinal two archbishops dignitaries monks hoary with prejudices antiquated with abuses extinguishers of the new light of liberty here were offered on the national shrine! _Chantons la Carmagnole_."" But he was destined to be disappointed once more. Danton had been there but was suddenly called away by a messenger from the Jacobins. Our direction was now changed again. ""Now we shall be disappointed no longer. Once engaged in debate he will be fixed for the night. _Allons_ you shall see the 'grand patriote ' 'the regenerator ' 'the first man in the world.' _Aux Jacobins_!"" Our unfortunate postilion falling with fatigue on his horses' neck attempted to propose going to an inn and renewing our search in the morning; but the captain had made up his mind for the night and drawing a pistol from his breast exhibited this significant sign pointed at his head. The horses as tired as their driver were lashed on. I had for some time been considering as we passed through the deserted streets whether it was altogether consistent with the feelings of my country to suffer myself to be dragged round the capital at the mercy of this lover of lucre; but an apathy had come over my whole frame which made me contemptuous of life. The sight of his pistol rather excited me to make the attempt from the very insolence of his carrying it. But we still rolled on. At length in one of the streets which seemed darker and more miserable than all the rest we were brought to a full stop by the march of a strong body of the National Guard which halted in front of an enormous old building furnished with battlement and bartizan. ""_Le Temple_!"" exclaimed my companion with almost a shriek of exultation. I glanced upward and saw a light with the pale glimmer which in my boyish days I had heard always attributed to spectres passing along the dim casements of a gallery. I cannot express how deeply this image sank upon me. I saw there only a huge tomb--the tomb of living royalty of a line of monarchs of all the feelings that still bound the heart of man to the cause of France. All now spectral. But whatever might be the work of my imagination there was terrible truth; enough before me to depress and sting and wring the mind. Within a step of the spot where I sat were the noblest and the most unhappy beings in existence--the whole family of the throne caught in the snare of treason. Father mother sister children! Not one rescued not one safe to relieve the wretchedness of their ruin by the hope that there was an individual of their circle beyond their prison bars--all consigned to the grave together--all alike conscious that every day which sent its light through their melancholy casements only brought them nearer to a death of misery! But I must say no more of this. My heart withered within me as I looked at the towers of the Temple. It almost withers within me at this moment when I think of them. They are leveled long since; but while I write I see them before me again a sepulchre; I see the mustering of that crowd of more than savages before the grim gate; and I see the pale glimmer of that floating lamp which was then perhaps lighting the steps of Marie Antoinette to her solitary cell. Of all the sights of that melancholy traverse this the most disheartened me whatever had been my carelessness of life before. It was now almost scorn. The thoughts fell heavy on my mind. What was I when such victims were prepared for sacrifice? What was the crush of my obscure hopes when the sitters on thrones were thus leveled with the earth? If I perished in the next moment no chasm would be left in society; perhaps but one or two human beings if even they would give a recollection to my grave. But here the objects of national homage and gallant loyalty beings whose rising radiance had filled the eye of nations and whose sudden fall was felt as an eclipse of European light were exposed to the deepest sufferings of the captive. What then was I that I should murmur; or still more that I should resist; or most of all that I should desire to protract an existence which to this hour had been one of a vexed spirit and which to the last hour of my career looked but cloud on cloud? Some of this depression may have been the physical result of fatigue for I had been now four-and-twenty hours without rest; and the dismal streets the dashing rain and the utter absence of human movement as we dragged our dreary way along would have made even the floor of a dungeon welcome. I was as cold as its stone. At length our postilion after nearly relieving us of all the troubles of this world by running on the verge of the moat which once surrounded the Bastile and where nothing but the screams of my companion prevented him from plunging in wholly lost his way. The few lamps in this intricate and miserable quarter of the city had been blown out by the tempest and our only resource appeared to be patience until the tardy break of winter's morn should guide us through the labyrinth of the Faubourg St Antoine. However this my companion's patriotism would not suffer. ""The Club would be adjourned! Danton would be gone!"" In short he should not hear the Jacobin lion roar nor have the reward on which he reckoned for flinging me into his jaws. The postilion was again ordered to move and the turn of a street showing a light at a distance he lashed his unfortunate horses towards it. Utterly indifferent as to where I was to be deposited I saw and heard nothing until I was roused by the postilion's cry of ""Place de Grève."" A large fire was burning in the midst of the gloomy square round which a party of the National Guard were standing with their muskets piled and wrapped in their cloaks against the inclemency of the night. Further off and in the centre feebly seen by the low blaze was a wooden structure on whose corners torches were flaring in the wind. ""_Voilà la guillotine_!"" exclaimed my captor with the sort of ecstasy which might issue from the lips of a worshipper. As I raised my eyes an accidental flash of the fire showed the whole outline of the horrid machine. I saw the glitter of the very axe that was to drop upon my head. My first sensation was that of deadly faintless. Ghastly as was the purpose of that axe my imagination saw even new ghastliness in the shape of its huge awkward scythe-like steel; it seemed made for massacre. The faintness went off in the next moment and I was another man. In the whole course of a life of excitement I have never experienced so total a change. All my apathy was gone. The horrors of public execution stood in a visible shape before me at once. I might have fallen in the field with fortitude; I might have submitted to the deathbed as the course of nature; I might have even died with exultation in some great public cause. But to perish by the frightful thing which shot up its spectral height before me; to be dragged as a spectacle to scoffing and scorning crowds--dragged perhaps in the feebleness and squalid helplessness of a confinement which might have exhibited me to the world in imbecility or cowardice; to be grasped by the ruffian executioner and flung stigmatized as a felon into the common grave of felons--the thought darted through my mind like a jet of fire; but it gave me the strength of fire. I determined to die by the bayonets of the guard or by any other death than this. My captor perceived my agitation and my eye glanced on his withered and malignant visage as with a smile he was cocking his pistol. I sprang on him like a tiger. In our struggle the pistol went off and a gush of blood from his cheek showed that it had inflicted a severe wound. I was now his master and grasping him by the throat with one hand with the other I threw open the door and leaped upon the pavement. For the moment I looked round bewildered; but the report of the pistol had caught the ears of the guard whom I saw hurrying to unpile their muskets. But this was a work of confusion and before they could snatch up their arms I had made my choice of the darkest and narrowest of the wretched lanes which issue into the square. A shot or two fired after me sent me at my full speed and I darted forward leaving them as they might to follow. How long I scrambled or how often I felt sinking from mere weariness in that flight I knew not. In the fever of my mind I only knew that I twined my way through numberless streets most of which have been since swept away; but on turning the corner of a street which led into the Boulevard and when I had some hope of taking refuge in my old hotel I found that I had plunged into the heart of a considerable crowd of persons hurrying along apparently on some business which strongly excited them. Some carried lanterns some pikes and there was a general appearance of more than republican enthusiasm even savage ferocity among them that gave sufficient evidence of my having fallen into no good company. I attempted to draw back but this would not be permitted; the words ""Spy traitor slave of the Monarchiques!"" and apparently as the blackest charge of all ""Cordelier!"" were heaped upon me and I ran the closest possible chance of being put to death on the spot. It may naturally be supposed that I made all kinds of protestations to escape being piked or pistoled. But they had no time to wait for apologies. The cry of ""Death to the traitor!"" was followed by the brandishing of half a dozen knives in the circle round me. At that moment when I must have fallen helplessly a figure stepped forward and opening the slide of his dark lantern directly on his own face whispered the word Mordecai. I recognised I shall not say with what feelings the police agent who had formerly conveyed me out of the city. He was dressed like the majority of the crowd in the republican costume; and certainly there never was a more extraordinary costume. He wore a red cap like the cap of the butchers of the Faubourgs; an enormous beard covered his breast a short Spanish mantle hung from his shoulders a short leathern doublet wit

a belt like an armoury stuck with knives and pistols a sabre and huge trousers striped with red in imitation of streams of gore completed the patriot uniform. Some wore broad bands of linen round their waists inscribed ""2d 3d and 4th September ""--the days of massacre. These were its heros. I was in the midst of the _élite_ of murder. ""Citizens "" exclaimed the Jew in a voice of thunder driving back the foremost ""hold your hands up; are you about to destroy a friend of freedom? Your knives have drunk the blood of aristocrats; but they are the defence of liberty. This citizen against whom they are now unsheathed is one of ourselves. He has returned from the frontier to join the brave men of Paris in their march to the downfall of tyrants. But out friends await us in the glorious club of the Jacobins. This is the hour of victory. Advance regenerated sons of freedom! Forward Frenchmen!"" His speech had the effect. The rapid executors of public vengeance fell back; and the Jew whispering to me ""You must follow us or be killed ""--I chose the easier alternative at once and stepped forward like a good citizen. As my protector pushed the crowd before him in which he seemed to be a leader he said to me from time to time ""Show no resistance. A word from you would be the signal for your death--we are going to the hall of the Jacobins. This is a great night among them and the heads of the party will either be ruined to-night or by morning will be masters of every thing. I pledge myself if not for your safety at least for doing all that I can to save you."" I remained silent as I was ordered; and we hurried on until there was a halt in front of a huge old building. ""The hall of the Jacobins "" whispered the Jew and again cautioned me against saying or doing any thing in the shape of reluctance. We now plunged into the darkness of a vast pile evidently once a convent and where the chill of the massive walls struck to the marrow. I felt as if walking through a charnel-house. We hurried on; a trembling light towards the end of an immense and lofty aisle was our guide; and the crowd long familiar with the way rushed through the intricacies where so many feet of monks had trod before them and where perhaps many a deed that shunned the day had been perpetrated. At length a spiral stair brought us to a large gallery where our entrance was marked with a shout of congratulation; and tumbling over the benches and each other we at length took our seats in the highest part which in both the club and the National Assembly was called from its height the Mountain and from the characters which generally held it was a mountain of flame. In the area below once the nave of the church sat the Jacobin club. I now for the first time saw that memorable and terrible assemblage. And nothing could be more suited than its aspect to its deeds. The hall was of such extent that a large portion of it was scarcely visible and few lights which hung from the walls scarcely displayed even the remainder. The French love of decoration had no place here; neither statues nor pictures neither gilding nor sculpture relieved the heaviness of the building. Nothing of the arts was visible but their rudest specimens; the grim effigies of monks and martyrs or the coarse and blackened carvings of a barbarous age. The hall was full; for the club contained nearly two thousand members and on this night all were present. Yet except for the occasional cries of approval or anger when any speaker had concluded and the habitual murmur of every huge assembly they might have been taken for a host of spectres; the area had so entirely the aspect of a huge vault the air felt so thick and the gloom was so feebly dispersed by the chandeliers. All was sepulchral. The chair of the president even stood on a tomb an antique structure of black marble. The elevated stand from which the speakers generally addressed the assembly had the strongest resemblance to a scaffold and behind it covering the wall were suspended chains and instruments of torture of every horrid kind used in the dungeons of old times; and though placed there for the sake of contrast with the mercies of a more enlightened age yet enhancing the general idea of a scene of death. It required no addition to render the hall of the Jacobins fearful; but the meetings were always held at night often prolonged through the whole night. Always stormy and often sanguinary daggers were drawn and pistols fired--assassination in the streets sometimes followed bitter attacks on the benches; and at this period the mutual wrath and terror of the factions had risen to such height that every meeting might be only a prelude to exile or the axe; and the deliberation of this especial night must settle the question whether the Monarchy or the Jacobin club was to ascend the scaffold. It was the debate on the execution of the unhappy Louis XVI. The arrival of the crowd among whom I had taken my unwilling seat evidently gave new spirits to the regicides; the moment was critical. Even in Jacobinism all were not equally black and the fear of the national revulsion at so desperate a deed startled many who might not have been withheld by feelings of humanity. The leaders had held a secret consultation while the debate was drawing on its slow length and Danton's old expedient of ""terror"" was resolved on. His emissaries had been sent round Paris to summon all his banditti; and the low _cafés_ the Faubourg taverns and every haunt of violence and the very drunkenness of crime had poured forth. The remnant of the Marseillois--a gang of actual galley-slaves who had led the late massacres--the paid assassins of the Marais and the _sabreurs_ of the Royal Guard who after treason to their king had found profitable trade in living on the robbery and blood of the nobles and priests formed this reinforcement; and their entrance into the gallery was recognised by a clapping of hands from below which they answered by a roar accompanied with the significant sign of clashing their knives and sabres. Danton immediately rushed into the Tribune. I had seen him before on the fearful night which prepared the attack on the palace; but he was then in the haste and affected savageness of the rabble. He now played the part of leader of a political sect; and the commencement of his address adopted something of the decorum of public council. In this there was an artifice; for resistless as the club was it still retained a jealousy of the superior legislative rank of the assembly of national representatives the Convention. The forms of the Convention were strictly imitated; and even those Jacobins who usually led the debate scrupulously wore the dress of the better orders. Robespierre was elaborately dressed whenever he appeared in the Tribune and even Danton abandoned the _canaille_ costume for the time. I was struck with his showy stature his bold forehead and his commanding attitude as he stood waving his hand over the multitude below as if he waved a sceptre. His appearance was received with a general shout from the gallery which he returned by one profound bow and then stood erect till all sounds had sunk. His powerful voice then rang through the extent of the hall. He began with congratulating the people on their having relieved the Republic from its external dangers. His language at first was moderate and his recapitulation of the perils which must have befallen a conquered country was sufficiently true and even touching; but his tone soon changed and I saw the true democrat. ""What!"" he cried ""are those perils to the horrors of domestic perfidy? What are the ravages on the frontier to poison and the dagger at our firesides? What is the gallant death in the field to assassination in cold blood? Listen fellow-citizens there is at this hour a plot deeper laid for your destruction than ever existed in the shallow heads of or could ever be executed by the coward hearts of their soldiery. Where is that plot? In the streets? No. The courage of our brave patriots is as proof against corruption as against fear."" This was followed by a shout from the gallery. ""Is it in the Tuileries? No; there the national sabre has cut down the tree which cast its deadly fruits among the nation. Where then is the focus of the plot--where the gathering of the storm that is to shake the battlements of the Republic--where that terrible deposit of combustibles which the noble has gathered the priest has piled and the king has prepared to kindle? Brave citizens that spot is ---- "" he paused looking mysteriously round while a silence deep as death pervaded the multitude; then as if suddenly recovering himself he thundered out--""The Temple!"" No language can describe the shout or the scene that followed. The daring word was now spoken which all anticipated; but which Danton alone had the desperate audacity to utter. The gallery screamed howled roared embraced each other danced flourished their weapons and sang the Marseillaise and the Carmagnole. The club below were scarcely less violent in their demonstrations of furious joy. Danton had now accomplished his task; but his vanity thirsted for additional applause and he entered into a catalogue of his services to Republicanism. In the midst of the detail a low but singularly clear voice was heard from the extremity of the hall. ""Descend man of massacre!"" I saw Danton start back as if he had been shot. At length recovering his breath he said feebly-- ""Citizens of what am I accused?"" ""Of the three days of September "" uttered the voice again in a tone so strongly sepulchral that it palpably awed the whole assemblage. ""Who is it that insults me? who dares to malign me? What spy of the Girondists what traitor of the Bourbons what hireling of the gold of Pitt is among us?"" exclaimed the bold ruffian yet with a visage which even at the distance I could observe had lost its usual fiery hue and turned clay-colour. ""Who accuses me?"" ""I!"" replied the voice and I saw a thin tall figure stalk up the length of the hall and stand at the foot of the tribune. ""Descend!"" was the only word which he spoke; and Danton as if under a spell to my astonishment obeyed without a word and came down. The stranger took his place none knew his name; and the rapidity and boldness of his assault suspended all in wonder like my own. I can give but a most incomplete conception of the extraordinary eloquence of this mysterious intruder. He openly charged Danton with having constructed the whole conspiracy against the unfortunate prisoners of September; with having deceived the people by imaginary alarms of the approach of the enemy; with having plundered the national treasury to pay the assassins; and last and most deadly charge of all with having formed a plan for a National Dictatorship of which he himself was to be the first possessor. The charge was sufficiently probable and was not now heard for the first time. But the keenness and fiery promptitude with which the speaker poured the charge upon him gave it a new aspect; and I could see in the changing physiognomies round me that the great democrat was already in danger. He obviously felt this himself; for starting up from the bench to which he had returned he cried out or rather yelled-- ""Citizens this man thirsts for my blood. Am I to be sacrificed? Am I to be exposed to the daggers of assassins!"" But no answering shout now arose; a dead silence reigned: all eyes were still turned on the tribune. I saw Danton after a gaze of total helplessness on all sides throw up his hands like a drowning man and stagger back to his seat. Nothing could be more unfortunate than his interruption; for the speaker now poured the renewed invective like a stream of molten iron full on his personal character and career. ""Born a beggar your only hope of bread was crime. Adopting the profession of an advocate your only conception of law was chicanery. Coming to Paris you took up patriotism as a trade and turned the trade into an imposture. Trained to dependence you always hung on some one till he spurned you. You licked the dust before Mirabeau; you betrayed him and he trampled on you; you took refuge in the cavern of Marat until he found you too base even for his base companionship and he too spurned you; you then clung to the skirts of Robespierre and clung only to ruin. Viper! known only by your coils and your poison; like the original serpent degraded even from the brute into the reptile you already feel your sentence. I pronounce it before all. The man to whom you now cling will crush you. Maximilien Robespierre is not your heel already lifted up to tread out the life of this traitor? Maximilien Robespierre "" he repeated with a still more piercing sound ""do I not speak the truth?"" ""Have I not stripped the veil from your thoughts? Am I not looking on your heart?"" He then addressed each of the Jacobin leaders in a brief appeal. ""Billaud Varennes stand forth--do you not long to drive your dagger into the bosom of this new tyrant? Collot d'Herbois are you not sworn to destroy him? Couthon have you not pronounced him perjured perfidious and unfit to live? St Just have you not in your bosom the list of those who have pledged themselves that Danton shall never be Dictator; that his grave shall be dug before he shall tread on the first step of the throne; that his ashes shall be scattered to the four winds of heaven; that he shall never gorge on France?"" A hollow murmur like an echo of the vaults beneath repeated the concluding words. The murmur had scarcely subsided when this extraordinary apparition flinging round him a long white cloak which he had hitherto carried on his arm and which in the dim light gave him the look of one covered with a shroud cried out in a voice of still deeper solemnity ""George Jacques Danton you have this night pronounced the death of your king--I now pronounce your own. By the victims of the 20th of June--by the victims of the 10th of August--by the victims of the 2d of September--by the thousands whom your thirst of blood has slain--by the tens of thousands whom your treachery has sent to perish in a foreign grave--by the millions whom the war which you have kindled will lay in the field of slaughter--I cite you to appear before a tribunal where sits a judge whom none can elude and none can defy. Within a year and a month I cite you to meet the spirits of your victims before the throne of the Eternal."" He stopped; not a voice was heard. He descended the steps of the Tribune and stalked slowly through the hall; not a hand was raised against him. He pursued his way with as much calmness and security as if he had been a supernatural visitant until he vanished in the darkness. This singular occurrence threw a complete damp on the regicidal ardour; and as no one seemed inclined to mount the Tribune the club would probably have broken up for the night when a loud knocking at one of the gates and the beating of drums aroused the drowsy sitters on the benches. The gallery was as much awake as ever; but seemed occupied with evident expectation of either a new revolt or a spectacle; pistols were taken out to be new primed and the points and edges of knives duly examined. The doors at length were thrown open and a crowd one half of whom appeared to be in the last stage of intoxication and the other half not far from insanity came dancing and chorusing into the body of the building. In the midst of their troop they carried two busts covered with laurels--the busts of the regicides Ravaillac and Clement with flags before them inscribed ""They were glorious; for they slew kings!"" The busts were presented to the president and their bearers a pair of _poissardes_ insisted on giving him the republican embrace in sign of fraternization. The president in return invited them to the ""honours of a sitting;"" and thus reinforced the discussion on the death of the unhappy monarch commenced once more and the vote was carried by acclamation. The National Convention was still to be applied to for the completion of the sentence; but the decree of the Jacobins was the law of the land. I had often looked towards the gallery door during the night for the means of escape; but my police friend had forbade my moving before his return. I therefore remained until the club were breaking up and the gallery began to clear. Cautious as I had been I could not help exhibiting from time to time some disturbance at the atrocities of the night and especially at the condemnation of the helpless king. In all this I had found a sympathizing neighbour who had exhibited marked civility in explaining the peculiarities of the place and giving me brief sketches of the speakers as they rose in succession. He had especially agreed with me in deprecating the cruelty of the regicidal sentence. I now rose to bid my gentlemanlike _cicerone_ good-night; but to my surprise I saw him make a sign to two loiterers near the door who instantly pinioned me. ""We cannot part quite so soon Monsieur l'Aristocrat "" said he; ""and though I much regret that I cannot have the honour of accommodating you in the Temple near your friend Monsieur Louis Capet yet you may rely on my services in procuring a lodging for you in one of the most agreeable prisons in Paris."" I had been entrapped in the most established style and I had nothing to thank for it but fortune. Resistance was in vain for they pointed to the pistols within their coats; and with a vexed heart and making many an angry remark on the treachery of the villain who had ensnared me--matters which fell on his ear probably with about the same effect as water on the pavement at my feet--I was put into a close carriage and with ny captors carried off to the nearest barrier and consigned to the governor of the well-known and hideous St Lazare. * * * * * The Olympic Jupiter. Calm the Olympian God sat in his marble fane High and complete in beauty too pure and vast to wane; Full in his ample form Nature appear'd to spread; Thought and sovran Rule beam'd in his earnest head; From the lofty foliaged brow and the mightily bearded chin Down over all his frame was the strength of a life within. Lovely a maid in twilight before the vision knelt Looking with upturn'd gaze the awe that her spirit felt. Hung like the skies above her was bow'd the monarch mild Hearing the whisper'd words of the fair and panting child. --Could she be dear to him as dews to ocean are Be in his wreath a leaf on his robes a golden star! Could she as incense float around his eternal throne Sound as the note of a hymn to his deep ear alone! Lo! while her heart adoring still to the God exhales Speech from his glimmering lips on the silent air prevails: --""Child of this earth bewilder'd in thine aërial dream Turn thee to Powers that are and not to those that seem. All of fairest and noblest filling my graven form First in a human spirit was breathing alive and warm. Seek thou in him all else that he can evoke from nought Seek the creative master the king of beautiful thought."" --Down the eyes of the maiden sank from the Thunderer's look Pale in her shame and terror and yet with delight she shook Swift on her brow she felt a crown by the God bestow'd Shading her face that now with a hope too lively glow'd. Bending the Sculptor stood who wrought the work divine Godlike in voice he spake--Ever oh maid be mine! J.S. * * * * * A ROMAN IDYL. Oh! blame not friend with scoff unfeeling The gentle tale of grief and wrong Which all the pain of life revealing Yet teaches peace by thoughtful song. The landscape round us wide expanded As ere was heard the name of Rome; And Rome though fallen our souls commanded In this her empire's earliest home. Her brightness beam'd on each far mountain Her life made green the grass we trode Her memory haunted still the fountain And spread her shadows o'er the sod. Her ruins told their tale of glory Decreed to that eternal sky; And through that ancient grove her story With sibyl whisper seem'd to sigh. The pile her wealthiest mourner builded In glimpse we caught through ilex gloom-- Metella's Tower by sunshine gilded That beams alike on feast or tomb. And on this plain not yet benighted 'Mid awful ages mouldering there Young hands in new-bloom flowers delighted Young eyes look'd bright in sunniest air. Till we Viterbo's wine-cup quaffing Which fairer lips refused to grace Could win by jest those lips to laughing And veil'd in folly wisdom's face. But say my friend thou sage mysterious What Nymph what Muse disown'd the strain Which bade our heedless mirth be serious And woke our ears to nobler pain? That region grave of plain and highland With Rome's grey ruin strewn around Is not a soft Calypso's island Nor fades at Truth's evoking sound. High thoughts in words of quiet beauty Accord with visions grand as these And song's imperishable duty Has holier aims than but to please. By word and image deeply wedded By cadence apt and varied rhyme To rouse the soul in sloth imbedded And tune its powers to life sublime. By loftier shows of man's large being Than man's dim actual hour displays To clear our eyes for purer seeing And nerve the flagging spirit's gaze. By strains of bold heroic pleasure And action strong as thought conceives By many a doom-resounding measure That best our selfish woes relieves; By these to stir by these to brighten By these to lift the soul from earth The Poet dares our joys to frighten And thrills the dirge of lazy mirth. Ye Ruins dust of empires vanish'd Ye mountains clad with countless years From your great presence ne'er be banish'd Sad songs that live in earnest ears: Sad songs the music of all sorrow Profound and calm as night's blue deep: Accurst the dreams of any morrow When man will feel he cannot weep. J.S. * * * * * GOETHE Alas! on earth his marvels done The noble German bosom lies His fatherland's Athenian son Amid the sage must largely rise! Amid the sage the generous race Of soaring thought and steadfast glow He breathes no more who gave a grace To all our daily lot below. He gave to man's encumber'd hours The tuneful joys of truth serene And twined our life's neglected flowers With nature's holiest evergreen. Alas! for him the soul of fire For him of fancy's golden rays For him whose aims ascended higher Than all that won a nation's praise! We pause and ask--Why gloom'd the grave For one of light so broadly mild? And wonder beauty could not save From death's deep night her eager child. But could the lyre be heard again Its widow'd notes would seem to cry-- In all was he a man of men For them to live like them to die. What life inspires 'twas his to feel With ampler soul than all beside; What earth's bright shows to few reveal His art for all expanded wide. With earnest heed from hour to hour Through all his years of striving hope He fed his lamp its light to shower On paths where myriads dimly grope. He taught nankind by toil by love To cheer the world that must be theirs; And ne'er to look for peace above By scorning earthly joys and cares. Ah! pages full of grief and fear But all attuned to melody Vesuvio's flame reflected clear In glassy seas of Napoli. And on that sea we seem to float In amber light and catch from far 'Mid ocean's boundless Voice the note Of girl who hymns the evening-star. The sweetest word the melting tone The pictured wisdom bright as day And Faust's remorse and Tasso's groan And Dorothea's morning lay Glad Egmont light of Clara's eyes Free Goetz the warmth of manhood's noon And Mignon all a tune of sighs And lorn Ottilia crush'd so soon. Ah! tale that tells the life of all To lovelier truth by fancy wrought And songs that e'en to us recall The bliss a poet's vision caught! All these are ours yes all--but he. And who that lives can find a strain Of worth like his the soul to free From bonds of sublunary pain? A strain like his we vainly seek To sound above the singer's grave A voice empower'd like his to speak The word our aching bosoms crave. That word is not--Oh! not farewell! To thee whom all thy lays restore; But deeply longs the heart to tell A love thy smile accepts no more. J.S. * * * * * HYMN OF A HERMIT. Long the day the task is longer; Earth the strong by heaven the stronger. Still is call'd to rise and brighten But alas! how weak the soul; While its inbred phantoms frighten While the past obscures the whole. Shadows of the wise departed Be the brave the loving-hearted; Deathless dead resounding rushing From the morning-land of hope Come with viewless footsteps crushing Dreams that make the wing'd ones grope. Socrates the keen the truthful In thy hoary wisdom youthful; Smiling fear-defying spirit From beside thy Grecian waves Teach us Norsemen to inherit Thoughts whose dawn is life to graves. Rome's Aurelius thou the holy King of earth in goodness lowly From thy ruins by the Tiber Look with tearless aspect mild Till each agonizing fibre Like thine own is reconciled. Augustinus bright and torrid Isles of green in deserts horrid Once thy home thy likeness ever! We with sword no less divine Would the good and evil sever In a larger world than thine. Soft Petrarca sweet and subtle Weaving still with silver shuttle Moony veils for human feeling-- Thine the radiance from above Half-transfiguring half-concealing Wounds and tears of earthly love. Saxon rude of thundering stammer Iron heart by sin's dread hammer Ground to better dust than golden May thy prophecy be true. Melt the stern the weak embolden; Teach what Luther never knew. Pale Spinosa nursed in fable Painted hopes and portent sable Then an opener wisdom finding Let thy round and wintry sun Chase the lurid vapour blinding Souls that seek the Holy One. Thou from green Helvetia roaming Meteor pale in misty gloaming With a breast too fiercely burning; Generous tuneful frail Rousseau! Would that all to truth returning Gave like thee a tear to woe! Eye of clear and diamond sparkle Where the Baltic waters darkle Lonely German seer of Reason Great and calm as Atlas old; Through our formless foggy season Short thine adamantine cold. Shelley born of faith and passion Nobler far than gain and fashion; Daring eaglet arm'd with lightning Firing soon thy native nest Still the eternal blaze is brightening Ocean where thy pinions rest. Heroes prophets bards and sages Gods and men of climes and ages Conquerors of lifelong sorrow Torment that ye made your throne Help Oh! help in us the morrow Full of triumph like your own. J.S. * * * * * THE LUCKLESS LOVER ""If aught on earth assault may bide Of ceaseless time and shifting tide Beloved! I swear to thee It is the truth of hearts that love United in a world above The moment's misty sea. ""Oh! sweeter than the light of dawn Than music in the woods withdrawn From clamours of the crowd A new creation all our own Unvisited by scoff or groan Is faith in silence vow'd. ""Two hearts by reason nobly sad Nor rashly blind nor lightly glad Possess they not a bliss In their communion felt and full Beyond all custom's deadly rule? For life is only this. ""In sighs we met in sighs and sobs Such grief as from the wretched robs The hope to heaven allied: Great calm was ours a strength severe Though wet with many a scalding tear When soul to soul replied. ""Of thy dark eyes and gentle speech The memory has a power to teach What know not many wise. New stars may rise the ancient fade But not for us my own pale maid Be lost that pure surprise-- ""The pure delight the awful change Chief miracle in wonder's range That binds the twain in one; While fear foes friends and angry Fate And all that wreck our mortal state Shall pass like motes i' the sun. ""In his fine frame the throstle feels The music that his note reveals; And spite of shafts and nets How better is the dying bird Than some dumb stone that ne'er was heard That arrow never threats? ""Disdaining man the mountains rise; Is love less kindred with the skies Or less their Maker's will? The strains without a human cause Flow on unheeding lies and laws-- Will hearts for words be still? ""What cliffs oppose what oceans roll What frowns o'ershade the weeping soul Alas! were long to tell. But something is there more than these Than frowns and coldness rocks and seas: Until its hour--farewell!"" So sang the vassal bard by night Beneath his high-born lady's light That from her turret shone. Next morning in the forest glade His corpse was found. Her brother's blade Had cut his bosom's bone. What reap'd Lord Wilfrid by the stroke? Before another morning broke She too was with the blest: And 'twas her last and only prayer That her sweet limbs might slumber where The minstrel had his rest. J.S. * * * * * FREE TRADE AND PROTECTION THE CORN LAWS. It is remarkable that while we hear so much of the advantages of free trade the reciprocity of them is always in _prospect_ only. By throwing open our harbours to foreign nations indeed we give _them_ an immediate and obvious advantage over ourselves; but as to any corresponding advantages we are to gain in our intercourse with them we are still waiting in patient expectation of the anticipated benefit. Our patience is truly exemplary; it might furnish a model to Job himself. We resent nothing. No sooner do we receive a blow on one cheek than we turn up the other to some new smiter. No sooner are we excluded in return for our concessions from the harbours of one state than we begin making concessions to another. We are constantly in expectation of seeing the stream of human envy and jealousy run out:-- ""Rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis: at ille Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum."" We are imitating the man who made the experiment of constantly reducing the food on which his horse is to live. Let us take care that just as he is learning to live on nothing we do not find him dead in his stall. This however is no joking matter. The total failure of the free trade system to procure any _even the smallest return_ coupled with the very serious injury it has inflicted on many of the staple branches of our industry has now been completely demonstrated by experience and is matter of universal notoriety. If any proof on the subject were required it would be furnished by _Porter's Parliamentary Tables_ to which we earnestly request the attention of our readers. The first exhibits the effect of the reciprocity system introduced by Mr Huskisson in Feb. 1823 in destroying our shipping with the Baltic powers and quadrupling theirs with us. The second shows the trifling amount of our exports to these countries during the five last years and thereby demonstrates the entire failure of the attempt to extend our traffic with them by this gratuitous destruction of our shipping. The third shows the progress of our whole exports to Europe during the six years from 1814 to 1820 before the free trade began and from 1833 to 1839 after it had been fifteen years in operation and proves that it had _declined_ in the latter period as compared with the former despite all our gratuitous sacrifices by free trade to augment our commerce.[12] [12] See No. CCCXL _Blackwood's Magazine_ p. 261. The free traders fully admit and deeply deplore as we have shown on a former occasion these unfavourable results; but they say that it is to be hoped they will not continue: that foreign nations must in the end come to see that they are as much interested as we are in enlightened system of free trade; and that meantime it is for our interest to continue the system; or even though it totally fails in producing any augmentation in our exports it is obviously for our advantage to continue it as it brings in the immediate benefit of purchasing articles imported at a cheaper rate. Supposing say they we obtain no corresponding advantage from other states there is an immense benefit accrues to ourselves from admitting foreign goods at a nominal duty from the low price at which they may be purchased by the British consumer. To that point we shall advert in the sequel; in the mean time it may be considered as demonstrated that the free trade system has entirely failed in procuring for us the slightest extension of our foreign exports or abating in the slightest degree the jealousy of foreign nations at our maritime and manufacturing superiority. Nor is there any difficulty in discovering to what this failure has been owing. It arises from laws inherent in the nature of things and which will remain unabated as long as we continue a great and prosperous nation. It is related of the Lacedemonians that while all the other citizens of Greece were careful to surround their towns with walls they alone left a part open on all sides. Thus superiority in the field rend

red them indifferent to the adventitious protection of ramparts. It is for a similar reason that England is now willing to throw down the barriers of tariffs and the impediments of custom-houses; and that all other nations are fain to raise them up. It is a secret sense of superiority on the one side and of inferiority on the other which is the cause of the difference. We advocate freedom of trade because we are conscious that in a fair unrestricted competition we should succeed in beating them out of their own market. They resist it and loudly clamour for protection because they are aware that such a result would speedily take place and that the superiority of the old commercial state is such that on an open trial of strength it must at once prove fatal to its younger rivals. As this effect is thus the result of permanent causes affecting both sides it may fairly be presumed that it will be lasting; and that the more anxiously the old manufacturing state advocates or acts upon freedom of commercial intercourse the more strenuously will the younger and rising ones advocate protection. Reciprocity therefore is out of the question between them: for it never could exist without the destruction of the manufactures of the younger state; and if that state has begun to enter on the path of manufacturing industry it never will be permitted by its government. But this is not all. If free trade must of necessity prove fatal to the manufactures of the younger state it as certainly leads to the destruction _of the agriculture of the older;_ and it is this double effect this RECIPROCITY OF EVIL which renders it so disastrous and impracticable an experiment for both the older and the younger community. The reason of this has not hitherto been generally attended to; but when once it is stated its force becomes obvious and it furnishes the true answer on principle to the delusive doctrines of free trade. Nature has established and as it will immediately be shown for very wise and important purposes a permanent and indelible distinction between the effect of civilization and opulence on the production of food and on the preparation of manufactures. In the latter the discoveries of science the exertions of skill the application of capital the introduction of machinery are all-powerful and give the older and more advanced state an immediate and decisive advantage over the younger and the ruder. In the former the very reverse takes place: the additions made to productive power are comparatively inconsiderable even by the most important discoveries; and as this capital and industry have in the end a powerful effect and always enable the power of raising food for the human race to keep far a-head of the wants of mankind; yet this effect takes place very slowly and the annual addition that can be made to the produce of the earth by such means is by no means considerable. The introduction of thorough draining will probably increase the productive power of the soil in Great Britain a third: scientific discovery may perhaps add another third; but at least ten years must elapse in the most favourable view before these effects generally take place--ere the judicious and well-directed labours of our husbandmen have formed rivulets for the superfluous wet of our fields or overspread the soil with the now wasted animal remains of our cities. But our manufactures can in a few years quadruple their produce. So vast is the power which the steam-engine has made to the powers of production in commercial industry that it is susceptible to almost indefinite and immediate extension; and the great difficulty always felt is not to get hands to keep pace with the demand of the consumers but to get a demand to keep pace with the hands employed in the production. Manchester and Glasgow could in a few years furnish muslin and cotton goods for the whole world. Nor is the difference less important and conspicuous in the _price_ at which manufacturing and agricultural produce can be raised in the old and the young state. This is the decisive circumstance which renders reciprocity between them impossible. The rich old state is as superior to the young one in the production of manufactures as the poor young state is to the rich old one in that of subsistence. The steam-engine capital and machinery have so enormously increased the power of manufacturing production that they have rendered the old commercial state omnipotent in the foreign market in the supply of its articles. Nothing but fiscal regulations and heavy duties can protect the young state from ruin in those branches of industry. Heavy taxes high wages costly rents dear rude produce all are at once compensated and more than compensated by the gigantic powers of the steam-engine. Cotton goods are raised now in Great Britain at a fifth of the price which they were during the war. A gown which formerly was cheap at £2 10s. is now sold for ten shillings. Silks muslins and all other articles of female apparel have been reduced in price in the same proportion. Colossal fortunes have been made by the master manufacturers unbounded wealth diffused through the operative workmen in Lancashire and Lanarkshire even at these extremely reduced prices. This is the real reason of the universal effort made by all nations which have the least pretensions to commercial industry of late years to exclude by fixed duties our staple manufactures; of which the President of the Board of Trade so feelingly complains and which the advocates of free trade consider as so inexplicable. A very clear principle has led to it and will lead to it. It is the instinct of SELF-PRESERVATION. But there is no steam-engine in agriculture. The old state has no superiority over the young one in the price of producing food; on the contrary it is decidedly its inferior. There as in love the apprentice is the master. The proof of this is decisive. Poland can raise wheat with ease at fifteen or twenty shillings a quarter while England requires fifty. The serf of the Ukraine would make a fortune on the price at which the farmer of Kent or East Lothian would be rendered bankrupt. The Polish cultivators have no objection whatever to a free competition with the British; but the British anticipate and with reason total destruction from the free admission of Polish grain. These facts are so notorious that they require no illustration; but nevertheless the conclusion to which they point is of the highest importance and bears with overwhelming force on the theory of free trade as between an old and a young community. They demonstrate that that theory is not only practically pernicious but on principle erroneous. It involves an oblivion of the fundamental law of nature as to the difference between the effect of wealth and civilization on the production of food and the raising of manufactures. It proceeds on insensibility to the difference in the age and advancement of nations and the impossibility of a reciprocity being established between them without the ruin of an important branch of industry in each. It supposes nations to be of the same genus and age like the trees in the larch plantation not of all varieties and ages as in the natural forest. If established in complete operation it would only lead to the ruin of the manufactures of the younger state and of the agriculture of the old one. The only reciprocity which it can ever introduce between such states is the reciprocity of evil. Illustrations from everyday life occur on all sides to elucidate the utter absurdity and in fact total impracticapability of the system of free trade as applied to nations who are or are becoming rivals of each other in manufacturing industry. Those who have the advantage will always advocate free competition; those who are labouring under impediments will always exclaim against them. In some cases the young have the advantage in others the old; but in all the free system is applauded by those in the sunshine and execrated by those in the shade. The fair _debutante_ of eighteen basking in the bright light of youth beauty birth and connections has no sort of objection to the freedom of choice in the ball-room. If the mature spinster of forty would divulge her real opinion what would it be on the same scene of competition? Experience proves that she is glad to retire in the general case from the unequal struggle and finds the system of established precedence and fixed rank at dinner parties much more rational. The leaders on the North Circuit--Sir James Scarlett or Lord Brongham--have no objections to the free choice by solicitors and attorneys for professional talent; but their younger brethren of the gown are fain to take shelter from such formidable rivals in the exclusive employment of the Crown the East India Company the Bank of England or some of the numerous chartered companies in the country. England is the old lawyer on the Cirucuit in manufactures--but Poland is the young beauty of the ball-room in agriculture. We should like to see what sort of reciprocity could be established between them. Possibly the young belle may exchange her beauty for the old lawyer's guineas but it will prove a bad reciprocity for both. It is usual for both philosophers and practical men to ascribe the superior cheapness with which subsistence can be raised in the young state to the old one to the weight of taxes and of debt public and private with which the latter is burdened from which the former is in general relieved. But without disputing that these circumstances enter with considerable weight into the general result it may safely be affirmed that the main cause of it is to be found in two laws of nature of universal and permanent application. These are the low value of money in the rich state in consequence of its plenty compared with its high value in the poor one in consequence of its poverty and the experienced inapplicability of machinery or the division of labour to agricultural operations. Labour is cheap in the poor state such as Poland Prussia and the Ukraine becuase guineas are few.--""It is not "" as Johnson said of the Highlands ""that eggs are many but that pence are few."" Commercial transactions being scanty and the want of a circulating medium inconsiderable it exists to a very limited extent in the country. People do not need a large circulating medium therefore they do not buy it; they are poor therefore they cannot. In the opulent and highly advanced community on the other hand the reverse of all this takes place. Transactions are so frequent the necessities of commerce so extensive that a large circulating medium is soon felt to be indispensable. In addition to a considerable amount of specie the aid of bank-notes public and private of Government securities and exchequer bills and of private bills to an immense ammount bcomes necessary. McCulloch calculates the circulating medium of Great Britain including paper and gold at L.72 000 000. The bills in circulation are probably in amount nearly as much more. A hundred and forty or a hundred and fifty millions between specie bank-notes exchequer bills Government securities on which advances are made and private bills constitute the ordinary circulating medium of twenty-seven millions in the British empire. The total circulation of Russia with sixty millions of inhabitants is not forty millions sterling. The effect of this difference is prodigions. It is no wonder whten it is taken into account that wages are 5-1/2d. or 6d. a-day in Poland or the Ukraine and 2s. or 2s. 6d. a-day in England. The clearest proof that this is the great cause of the superior cost of raising subsistence in the old than the young state is afforded by the different value which money bears in different parts of the _same_ community. Ask any housekeeper what is the difference between the expense of living in London Edinburgh and Aberdeen and he will answer that L.1500 a-year in Edingburgh or L.750 in Aberdeen. Yet these different places are all situated in the same community and their inhabitants pay the same public taxes and very nearly the same of local ones. It is the vast results arising from the concentration of wealth and expediture in one place compared with its abstraction from others which occasions the difference. But if this effect is conspicuous and matter of daily observation in different parts of the same compact and moderately sized country how much more must it obtain in regard to different countries situated in different latitudes and politcal circumstances and in different stages of wealth civilization and commercial opulence? Between England for example and Poland or the Ukraine? The difference is there important and durable. Wheat can be raised with as good a profit to the cultivator for sixteen shillings per quarter in Poland as for forty-eight shillings in England or Scotland. This superior weight of wages rent and all the elements of cost in the old when compared with the young community affects the manufacturer as well as the farmer; and in some branches of manufactures it does so with an overwhelming effect. But generally speaking the advantages of capital machinery and the division of labour render the old state altogether predominant over the young one in these particulars. It would seem to be a fixed law of nature that the progress of society adds almost nothing to the application of machinery to agriculture but indefinitely to its importance in manufactures. Observe an old man digging his garden with a spade--that is the most productive species of cultivation; it is the last stage of agricultural progress to return to it. No steam engines or steam ploughs will ever rival it. But what is the old weaver toiling with his hands to the large steam-power mill turning at once ten thousand spindles? As dust in the balance. Man by a beneficent law of his Maker is permanently secured in his first and best pursuit. It is in those which demoralize and degrade that machinery progressively encroaches on the labour of his hands. England can undersell India in muslins and printed goods manufactured in Lancashire or Lanarkshire out of cotton which grew on the banks of the Ganges; for England though younger in years compared to India is old in civilization wealth and power. We should like to see what profit would be made by exporting wheat from England raised on land paying thirty shillings an acre of rent by labourers paid at two shillings a-day to Hindostan where rice is raised twice a-year on land paying five shillings an acre rent by labourers receiving twopence a-day each. It is the constant operation of this law of nature which ensures the equalization of empires the happiness of society and the dispersion of mankind. To be convinced of this we have only to reflect on the results which would ensue if this were not the case; if no unvarying law gave man in remote situations an advantage in raising subsistence over what they enjoy in the centres of opulence; and agriculture in the aged and wealthy community was able to acquire the same decisive superiority over distant and comparatively poor ones which we see daily examplified in the production of manufactures. Suppose for example that in consequence of the application of the steam-engine capital and machinery to the raising of subsistence Great Britian could undersell the cultivatiors of Poland and the Ukraine as effectually as she does their manufacturers in the production of cotton goods; that she could sell in the Polish market wheat at five shillings a quarter when they require fifteen shillings to remunerate the cost of production. Would not the result be that commerce between them would be entirely destroyed; that subsistence would be exclusively raised in the old opulent community; that mankind would congregate in fearful multitudes round the great commercial emporium of the world; and that the industry and progress of the more distant nations would be irrevocably blighted? Whereas by the operation of the present law of nature that the rich state can always undersell the poor one in maufactures and the poor one always undersell the rich one in subsistence those dangers are removed a check is provided to the undue multiplication of the species in particular situations and the dispersion of mankind over the globe--a vital object in the system of nature--is secured from the very necessities and difficulties in which in the progress of society the old and wealthy community becomes involved. These considerations point out an important limitation to which on principle the doctrines of free trade must be subjected. Perfectly just in reference to a single community or a compact empire of reasonable extent they wholly fail when applied to separate nations in different degrees of civilization or even to different provinces of the same empire when it is of such an extent as to bring such different nations in various degrees of progress under one common dominion. They were suggested in the first instance to philosophers by the absurd restrictions on the commerce of grain which existed in France under the old monarchy and which Turgot and the Economists laboured so assiduously to abolish. There can be no doubt that they were perfectly right in doing so; for France is a compact homogeneous country in which the cost of producing subsistence is not materially different in one part from another and the interests of the whole community are closely identified. The same holds with the interchange of grain between the different provinces of Spain or for the various parts of the British islands. But the case is widely different with an empire so extensive as like the British in modern or the Roman in ancient times to embrace separate kingdoms in wholly different circumstances of climate progress and social condition. Free trade in such circumstances must lead to a destruction of important interests and a total subversion of the balance of society in both the kingdoms subjected to it. To be conviced of this we have only to look at the present condition of the British or the past fate of the Roman empire. It is the boast of our manufacturers--and such a marvel may well afford a subject for exultation--that with cotton which grew on the banks of the Ganges they can by the aid of British capital machinery and enterprise undersell in the production of muslin and cotton goods the native Indian manufacturers who work up their fabrics in the close vicinity of the original cotton-fields. The constant and increasing export of Britsh goods to India two-thirds of which are cotton demonstrates that this superiority really exists; and that the muslin manufacturers in Hindostan who work for 3d. a-day on their own cotton cannot stand the competition of the British operatives who receive 3s. 6d. a-day aided as they are by the almost miraculous powers of the steam-engine. Free trade therefore is ruinous to the manufacturing interests of India; and accordingly the Parliamentary proceedings are filled with evidence of the extreme misery which has been brought on the native manufacturers of Hindostan by that free importation of British goods in which our political economists so much and so fully exult. The great distance of India from the British islands the vast expense of transporting bulky articles eight thousand miles accross the ocean have prevented the counterpart of this effect taking place; and the British farmers feeling the depressing influence of the Indian plough in like manner as the Indian manufacturers have the ruinous competition of the British steam-engine. But it is clear that if India had been nearer the former effect would have taken place as well as the latter. If the shores of Hindostan were within a few days sail of London and Liverpool and the Indian cultivators labouring at 2d. or 3d. a-day had been brought into direct competition with the British farmers employing labourers who received two or three shillings can there be a doubt that the British farmers would have been totally destroyed in the struggle? The English farmers would have been prostrated by the same cause which has ruined the Indian muslin manufacturers. Cheap grain the fruit of free trade would have demolished British agriculture as completely as cheap cotton goods the fruits of unlimited importation has ruined Indian manufacturing industry. Is then commercial intercourse impossible on terms of mutual benefit between states in widely different circumstatnces of commercial or agricultural advancement; and is the only reciprocity which can exist between them and reciprocity of evil? It is by no means necessary to rest in so unsatisfatory a conclusion. A most advantageous commercial intercourse to both parties may be carried on but it must not be on the footing of free trade. The foundation of such an intercourse should be that each should take on the most favourable terms the articles which _it wants and does not produce_ and impose restrictions on those which _it wants and does produce_. On this priciple trade would be conducted so as to benefit both countries and injure neither. Thus England may take from India to the utmost extent and with perfect safety sugar indigo cotton tea spices cinnamon and the more costly species of shawls; while India might take from England some species of cotton manufacture in which they have no fabrics of their own cutlery hardware and all of the various luxuries of European manufacture. But a paternal and just government equally alive to the interests of all its provinces how far removed soever from the seat of power would impose restrictions to prevent India being deluged with British cottons to the ruin of its native manufactures and to prevent Britian--if the distance did not operate which it certainly would as a sufficient protection--from being flooded with Indian grain. The varieties of climate productions and wants in different countries are such that commerce regulated on these principles might be carried to the greatest extent consistent with the paramount duty of providing in each state for the preservation of its staple articles of industry. The Roman empire in ancient times afforded the clearest demonstration of the truth of these principles; and the fate of their vast dominion shows in the most decisive manner what is the inevitable consequence to which the free trade principles now so strongly contended for by a party in this country must lead. Alison is the first modern author with whom we are acquainted who has traced the decline of the Roman empire in great part to this source. In the tenth volume of his ""History of Europe "" p. 752 we find the following passage:-- ""No nation can pretend to independence which rests for any sensible protion of its subsistence in ordinary seasons on foreign who may become hostile nations. And if we would see a memorable example of the manner in which the greatest and most powerful nation may in the course of ages come to be paralysed by this cause we have only to cast our eyes on imperial Rome when the vast extent of the empire had practically established a free trade in grain with the whole civilized world; and the result was that cultivation disappeared from the Italian plains that the race of Roman agriculturists the strength of the empire became extinct that the fields were laboured only by slaves and cattle. The legions could no longer be recruited but from foreign bands vast tracts of pasturage overspread even the fields of Lombardy and the Compagna of Naples and it was the plaintive confession of the Roman annalist that the mistress of the world had come to depend for her subsistence on the floods of the Nile."" This observation has excited as well it might the vehement indignation of the free trade journals. The example of the greates and most powerful nation that ever existed being weakened and at length ruined by a free trade in corn afforded too cogent an argument and was too striking a warning not to excite the wrath of those who would precipitate Great Britain into a similar course of policy. They have attacked the author accordingly with unwonted asperity; and while they admint the ruin of Italian agriculture in the later stages of the Roman empire endeavour to ascribe it to the gratuitous distribution of grain to the Roman populace not the effect of a free importation of grain from its Egyptian and African provinces. The vast importance of the subject has induced us to look into the original authorities to whom Alison refers in support of his observation and from among them we select three--Tacitus Gibbon and Michelet. Tacitus says ""At Hercule _olim ex Itaila_ legionibus longinquas in provincias commeatus portabantur _nec nunc infecunditate laboratur_; sed Africam _potius et Egyptum exercemus_ navibusque et casibus vita populi Romani permissa est.""--TACITUS _Annal_. xii. 43. Antiquity does not contain a more pregnant and important passage or one more directly bearing on the present policy of the Britsh emprire than this. It demonstrates: 1 That in former times Italy had been an exporting country: ""_olim_ ex Italia commeatus in longinquas provincias portabantur."" 2 That at the time when Tacitus wrote in the days of the Emperor Trajan it had ceased to be so and had come to import largely from Africa and Lybia ""sed _nunc_ Africam potius et Egyptum exercemus."" 3 That this was not the result of any supervening sterility or unfruitfulness ""nec nunc infecunditate laboratur "" but was from causes which made it more profitable to purchase grain in the Egyptian or Lybian markets ""sed Africam POTIUS et Egyptum exercemus."" Of the extent to which this decay of agriculture in the central provinces of the Roman empire went in the latter stages of its history we have the following striking account in the authentic pages of Gibbon:-- ""Since the age of Tiberius _the decay of agriculture had been felt in Italy_; and it was a just subject of complaint that the life of the Roman people depended on the accidents of the winds and the waves. In the division and decline of the empire _the tributary harvests of Egypt and Africa_ were withdrawn; the numbers of the inhabitants continually diminished with the means of subsistence; and the country was exhausted by the irretrievable losses of war pestilence and famine. Pope Gelasius was a subject of Odoacer and he affirms with strong exaggeration that in Emilia Tuscany and the adjacent provinces the human species was almost extirpated.""--GIBBON vol. vi. c. xxxvi. p. 235. Of the progress and extent of this decay Gibbon gives the following account in another part of his great work:-- ""The agriculture of the Roman provinces _was insensibly ruined_; and in the progress of despotism which tends to disappoint its own purpose the emperors were obliged to derive some merit from the forgiveness of debts or the remission of tributes which their subjects were utterly incapable of paying. According to the new division of Italy the fertile and happy province of Campania the scene of the early victories and of the delicious retirements of the citizens of Rome extended between the sea and the Apennines from the Tiber to the Silarius. Within sixty years after the death of Constantine and on the evidence of an actual survey an exemption was granted in favour of 330 000 English acres _of desert and uncultivated land which amounted to one-eighth of the whole surface of the province_. As the footsteps of the barbarians had not yet been seen in Italy the cause of this amazing desolation which is recorded in the laws (Cod. Theod. lxi. t. 38 l. 2 ) can be ascribed only to the administration of the Roman emperors.""--GIBBON vol. iii. c. xviii. p. 87. Edition in 12 volumes. Michelet observes in his late profound and able History of France-- ""The Christian emperors could not remedy the growing depopulation of the country any more than their heathen predecessors. All their efforts only showed the impotence of government to arrest that dreadful evil. Sometimes alarmed at the depopulation they tried to mitigate the lot of the farmer to shield him against the landlord; upon this the proprietor exclaimed he could no longer pay the taxes. At other times they abandoned the farmer surrendered him to the landlord and strove to chain him to the soil; but the unhappy cultivators perished or fled _and the land became deserted_. Even in the time of Augustus efforts were made to arrest the depopulation at the expense of morals by encouraging concubinage. Pertinax granted an immunity from taxes to those who could occupy the desert lands of Italy _to the cultivators of the distant provinces and the allied kings_. Aurelian did the same. Probus was obliged to transport from Germany men and oxen to cultivate Gaul.[13] Maximian and Constantius transported the Franks and Germans from Picardy and Hainault into Italy: but the depopulation in the towns and the country alike continued. The people surrendered themselves in the fields to despair as a beast of burden lies down beneath his load and refuses to rise. In vain the emperor strove by offers of immunities and exemptions to recall the cultivator to his deserted fields. Nothing could do so. The desert extended daily. At the commencement of the fifth century there was in the _happy_ Campania the most fertile province of the empire 520 000 _jugera_ in a state of nature.""--MICHELET _Histoire de France_ i. 104-108. [13] ""Arantur Gallicana rura _barbaris bobus_ et juga Germanica captiva praebent colla nostris cultoribus.""--_Probi Epist. ad Senatum in Vopesio_. Pursued to its very grave by the same deep-rooted cause of evil the strength of Italy even in the last stages of its decay was still prostrated by the importation of grain from Egypt and Lybia. ""The Campagna of Rome "" says Gibbon ""about the close of the sixth century was reduced to the state of _a dreary wilderness_ in which the land was barren the waters impure and the air infectious. Yet the number of citizens _still exceeded the measure of subsistence; their precarious food was supplied from the harvests of Egypt and Lybia_; and the frequent repetitions of famine betray the inattention of the emperors to a distant provice.""--GIBBON vil. viii. c. xlv. 162. Nor was this desolating scourge of foreign importation confined to Italy; it obtained also in Greece equally with the Ausonian fields the abode of early riches opulence and prosperity. ""In the later stages of the empire "" says Michelet ""Greece was almost entirely _supported by corn raised in the fields of Podolia_ "" (Poland.)--MICHELET i. 277. Now let it be recollected that this continual and astonishing decline of agriculture and disappearance of the rural cultivators in the latter stages of the Roman empire took place in an empire which contained as Gibbon tells us 120 000 000 of inhabitants and 1600 great cities was 3000 miles long and 2000 miles broad contained 1 600 000 square miles chiefly fertile and well cultivated land which embraced the fairest and most fertile portions of the earth and which had been governed for eighty yers under the successive sway of Nerva Adrian Trajan and the two Antonines with consummate wisdon and the most paternal spirit.[14] The scourge of foreign war the devastation of foreign armies were alike unknown; profound tranquillity pervaded every part of the empire; and a vast inland lake spreading its ample waters through the heart of the dominion afforded to all its provinces the most perfect facility of intercourse with the metropolis and the central parts of the empire. Yet this period--the period which Mr Hume has told us the philosophers would select as the happiest the human race had ever known--was precisely that during which agriculture so rapidly declined in the Italian and Grecian fields during which the sturdy race of free cultivators disappeared and the plains of Italy were entirely absorbed by pasturage and maintained only vast herds of cattle tended by slaves. [14] ""Quingena viginti octo millia quadringinta duo jugera quae Campania provincia juxta inspectorum relationem in desertis et squalidis locis habero dignoscitur iisdem provincialibus concessum.""--_Cod. Theod_. lxi. i. 2382. What was it then which in an empire containing so immense a population and such boundless resources drawn forth and developed under so wise and beneficent a race of emperors occasioned this constant and uninterrupted decay of agriculture and at length the total destruction of the rural population in the heart of the empire? How did it happen that Italian cultivation receded as Tacitus and Gibbon tell us it did _from the time of Tiberius_; and equally under the wisd

m of the Antonines as the tyranny of Nero or the civil wars of Vitellius? Some general and durable cause must have been in operation during all this period which at firest depressed and at length totally destroyed the numerous body of free Italian cultivators who so long had constituted the strength of the legions and had borne the Roman eagles conquering and to conquer to the very extremities of the habitable earth. The cause is apparent. It was the free importation of Egyptian and Lybian grain consequent on the extension of the Roman dominion over their fertile fields which effected the result. Were England to extend its conquering arms over Poland and the Ukraine and as a necessary consequence expose the British farmer to the unrestrained competition of Polish and Russian wheat precisely the same result would ensue. If the shores of Hindostan were within three or four days' sail of the Tiber this result would long ago have taken place. Let Polish and Russian grain be admitted without a protecting duty into the British harbours as Lybian and Egyptian were into those of Italy and we shall soon see the race of cultivators disappear from the fields of England as they did from those of old Rome and the words of Tacitus will by a mere change of proper names become a picture of our condition; three hundred thousand acres will soon be reduced to a state of nature in Kent and Norfolk as they were in the Campania Felix. ""Nec nunc infecunditate laboramur _Podoliam_ potius et _Scythiam_ exercemus navibusque et casibus vita populi _Anglici_ permissa est."" The free traders allege that the decay of agriculture in the central provinces of the Roman empire to which by the concurring testimony of all historians the ruin of the dominion of the Caesars was chiefly owing is to be ascribed not to the free importation of grain from Egypt Podolia and Lybia but to the tyranny of the emperors the gratuitous distribution of grain to the Roman populace and the dreadful evils of domestic slavery. A very slight consideration however must be sufficient to show that these causes how powerful soever in producing _general_ evils over the empire could not have been instrumental in occasioning those _peculiar_ and separate causes of depression which so early began to check and at length totally destroyed the agriculture of its central provinces. The tyranny of the Caesars the oppression of the Proconsuls the avarice of the Patricians were general evils affecting alike every part of the empire; or rather they were felt with more severity in the remote provinces than the districts nearer home in consequence of the superior opportunities of escape which distance from the central government afforded to iniquity and the lesser chance of success which the insurrection of a remote province held forth to the ""wild revenge"" of rebellion. Muscovite oppression accordingly is more severely felt at Odessa or Taganrog than St Petersburg; and British rule is far from being restrained by the same considerations of justice on the banks of the Ganges or the Indus as on those of the Thames. The gratuitous distribution of grain by the emperors to the populace of Rome could never have occasioned the ruin of the Italian _cultivators_. Supposing that the two or three hundred thousand lazy and turbulent plebeians who were nourished by the bounty or fed by the terrors of the Caesars were the most useless worthless and dangerous set of men that ever existed (which they probably were ) that circumstance could never have uprooted the race of cultivators from the plains of Lombardy Umbria or the Campania Felix. The greatest possible good to a nation according to the free trader is cheap grain and never more so than when it is purchased or imported from foreign growers. If this be true the importation of the harvests of Egypt and Africa into the Italian harbours either by the voluntary purchase of the Roman emperors or the forced tribute in grain which they exacted from those provinces must have been the greatest possible benefit to the Italian people. How then if there be no mischief in such foreign importations is it possible to ascribe the ruin of Italian cultivation and with it of the Roman empire to these forced contributions? If the free traders have recourse to such an argument they concede the very point in dispute and admit that the introduction of foreign grain is injurious and may in the end prove fatal to the agriculture and existence of a state. Slavery though a great evil will as little explain the peculiar and extraordinary decline of Italian and Grecian cultivation in the later stages of the Roman empire. The greater part of the labour of the ancient world as every one knows was conducted by means of slaves. They were slaves who held the plough and tilled the land and tended the flocks equally in Lybia in Campania in Egypt as in Umbria. Nay the number of freemen at least in the days of the Roman Republic and the earlier periods of the empire was incomparably _greater_ in Italy and Greece the abode of celebrated powerful and immortal republics than in Lybia and Egypt which from the earliest times had been subject to the despotic sway of satraps kings and tyrants. So numerous were the free citizens of Rome in the early days of the empire that by the census of Claudius we are told by Gibbon they amounted to 6 945 000 men [15] the greater proportion of whom of course were residents in Italy the seat of government and the centre of wealth power and enjoyment. While so great was the multitude of free citizens which the Republic bequeathed to the empire resident and exercising unfettered industry in Italy the cultivators of Africa and Egypt were all serfs and slaves toiling like the West Indian negroes beneath the lash of a master. How then did it happen that the labour of the Italian freeman was disused and at length extinguished while that of the African and Egyptian slaves continued to furnish grain for Italy down to the very latest period of the empire? We are told that the labour of freemen is cheaper than that of slaves; and the free traders will probably not dispute that proposition. It could not therefore have been the slavery of antiquity which ruined Italian agriculture carried on in part at least by freemen; since African agriculture the fruits entirely of slavery continued to flourish down to the very last days of the Roman world. [15] GIBBON chap. i. 68. The severe taxation of the emperors is justly stated by Gibbon and Sismondi as well as Michelet as a principal cause of the decline of Italian agriculture: but very little consideration is required to show that this cause is inadequate to explain this ruin of cultivation in the Italian plains when it continued to flourish and maintain the chief cities of the empire with food in Egypt and Lybia. Heavy as it was and oppressive as it ultimately became _it was equal_; it was the same every where; it might therefore satisfactorily explain the _general_ decline of rural industry through the empire and doubtless had a large share in contributing to its downfall; but it cannot explain the _particular_ ruin of it in the central provinces of this vast dominion while it continued down to the very last moment to flourish in its remote dependencies. But the taxation of the empire _when coupled with the free importation of grain_ from these distant dependencies does afford a most satisfactory and in truth the true explanation of the ruin of Italian and Grecian cultivation. It was a fixed principle of Roman taxation that the duties allotted on a particular district should remain fixed how much lower the inhabitants or industry of the province might decline. When therefore by the constant importation of Egyptian and African grain raised at half the cost at which they could produce it the Italian cultivators were deprived of a remunerating return and the taxes exacted from each district underwent no diminution it is not surprising that the small farmers and proprietors were ruined; that they took refuge in the industry and crowds of cities and that the race of freemen disappeared from the country. A similar process is now going on in the Turkish provinces. But without undervaluing--on the contrary attaching full weight to this circumstance--nothing can be clearer than that it was the ruinous competition of foreign grain raised cheaper than they could produce it which rendered the same taxation crushing on the Italian farmers which was borne with comparative facility in the remoter provinces where land was more fertile and labour less expensive. An example _à fortiori_ applied to the British empire where the free traders wish us to admit a free importation of grain from Poland and the Ukraine where not only is labour cheap but taxation trifling into the British islands where not only is labour dear but taxation is five times more burdensome. And for a decisive proof that it was the superior advantages which Egypt and Lybia enjoyed in the production of grain and not any other causes which occasioned the ruin of Italian agriculture and with it the fall of the Roman empire we have only to look to the condition of the Italian fields in the last stages of the government of the Caesars. Already in the time of the elder Pliny it had become a subject of complaint that the _great properties_ were ruining Italy[16]--a sure proof when the great division of estates in the days of the Republic--when literally speaking ""every rood had its man""--that some general and irresistible cause affecting the remuneration of their industry was exterminating the small proprietors. Erelong cultivators ceased entirely in the country and the huge estates of the nobles were cultivated exclusively in pasturage and by means of slaves. ""La classe "" says Michelet ""_des petits cultivateurs peu à pee a disparu_; les grands proprietaires qui leur succedèrent y suppleèrent par des esclaves.""[17] It is recorded by Ammianus Marcellinus that when Rome was taken by the Goths it contained 1 200 000 inhabitants and was mainly supported by 1780 great families who cultivated their ample estates in Italy in pasturage by means of slaves.[18] For centuries before the threat of blockading the Tiber had been found to be the most effectual way of coercing the Roman populace; and whenever it took place famine ensued not only in Rome but the Italian provinces. The diminution of its agricultural produce had long before been stated by Columella at _nine-tenths_ and by Varro at _three-fourths_ of what at one period had been raised. Yet such was the wealth of the Roman nobles derived from pasturage that some of them had L.160 000 a-year.[19] Agriculture therefore was destroyed; grain was no longer raised in Italy; Rome was wholly dependent on foreign supplies--but pasturage was undecayed; and colossal fortunes were enjoyed by a wealthy race of great proprietors who managed their vast estates by means of slaves and had bought up and absorbed the properties of the whole free cultivators in the country. Such was the effect--such was the result--of a free trade in grain in ancient times. [16] ""Verumque confitentibus _latifundia perdidere Italiam_.""--PLINY _Hist. Nat_.xviii. 7. [17] MICHELET i. 96. [18] AMMIANUS MARCELLINUS c. xvi.--See also GIBBON vi. 264. [19] GIBBON vi. 262. The free traders seem not insensible to these inevitable results of their favourite principles; but they meet them by describing such consequences as rather advantageous than injurious. If England say they can raise iron and cotton goods cheaper than Poland and Poland and Russia grain cheaper than England then the interest of each require that they should follow out these branches of industry and it is impolitic to strive against it. Let then England admit foreign grain on a nominal duty and this will in the end induce Russia and Prussia to admit English manufactured goods on equally favourable terms; and thus the real interests of both countries will in the end be promoted. There are two objections to this system. In the first place it is impracticable if it were expedient. In the second it is inexpedient if it were practicable. It is impracticable if it were expedient. Theoretical writers may coolly discuss in their closets the total destruction of various important branches of industry the ""absorption"" of the persons engaged in them in other pursuits and the transference of national capital and industry from agriculture to manufactures and _vice versà_; but it is impossible to effect such changes by the voluntary act of government even in the most despotic country. We say by the voluntary act of government; because there is no doubt that it may be effected though at an enormous sacrifice of life wealth and happiness by the silent and unobserved operation of the laws of nature which are irresistible; as was the case with the transference of industry from agriculture to pasturage under the effect of free trade in grain in the countries bordering on the Mediterranean in the later stages of the Roman empire; or from manufactures to agriculture from the consequences of the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope in the Italian republics in modern times. But no government not even that of the Czar Peter or Sultaun Mahmoud could succeed in destroying or nipping in the bud brances of national industry by simple acts of the legislature or sovereign authority not imposed by external and irresistible authority. The Emperor Paul tried it and got a sash twisted about his neck according to the established fashion of that country for his pains. The Whigs tried it and were turned out of office in consequence. All the governments of Europe despotic constitutional and democratic meet our concessions in favour of free trade by increased protection to their manufacturers. They dare not destroy their rising commercial wealth any more than we dare destroy our old colossal agricultural investments. The republicans of America even exceed them in the race of tariffs and protection. Sixty-two per cent has lately been laid on our British iron goods in return for Sir Robert Peel's tariff; a similar duty on iron and cotton goods it is well known is contemplated in the Prussian leagues in Germany. The British government has at length through its prime minister spoken out firmly in support of the existing corn-laws. The feeling of the agricultural counties as evinced at the late meetings left them no alternative. All nations under all varieties of government situation race and political circumstances concur in rising up to resist the doctrines of free trade. Necessity has enlightened experience has taught them: a very clear motive urges them on which is not likely to decline in strength with the progress of time--it is the instinct of self-preservation. Such a system as the free traders advocate if practicable would be to the last degree inexpedient. What would be the result? Why that one country would become wholly or in great part agricultural and the other wholly or in great part manufacturing. Is this a result desirable to either? Admitting that a city or small state which has no territory which can furnish any considerable proportion of the subsistence which it requires like Holland may do well to attend exclusively to manufactures and commerce; or a country which by the rigour of nature or the remoteness of its situation cannot attain to commercial or manufacturing greatness would do well to attend exclusively to the cultivation or productions of the earth; the question which here occurs--Is such a system advisable or expedient for a nation which has received from the bounty of nature the means of rising to greatness in _both_--such as Great Britain Russia or Prussia? The free traders would have England sacrifice its agriculture to its manufactures and Russia sacrifice its manufactures to its agriculture. Would such a system benefit either? Would England be happier or richer more stable or more moral if the already colossal amount of its manufactures were trebled; or Russia if its rising iron and woolen fabrics were destroyed and its industry confined exclusively to the slow return of agricultural labour? Is it desirable that the zone of tall chimneys sickly faces brick houses and crowded jails which at present spans across the whole of England and part of Scotland should be doubled and trebled in breadth; and the fertile fields of Kent Norfolk and East Lothian be reduced to vast unenclosed pastures such as overspread Italy in the later stages of the Roman empire? Or is it desirable to Russia and Prussia that they should be for ever chained to the labour of boors serfs and shepherds and all the vivifying and unimportant effects of commercial wealth be denied to their exertions? Nature has designed experience recommends a very different system. History tells us in all parts of the world that it is in the _intermixture_ of commerce and agriculture that the best security is to be found for social happiness and advancement and the most effectual antidote provided to the evils with which either when existing alone is so prone. Mr McCulloch has told us that the commerce and manufactures of Great Britain have now risen to such a prodigious height that any further extension of them is undesirable and that no real patriot would have desired them to have become so extensive as they already are. Is it desirable in such a state of matters to go on increasing the same splendid but perilous system and to do so at the expense of the great pillar of national wealth security and independence--the land of the state? Further the proposed system is pernicious even with reference to the national wealth and interests of the manufacturers themselves as tending to undermine the main branches of our national resources and substitute encouragement to an inferior to upholding of the superior market for our manufacturing industry. Although in the meetings where they address the agricultural constituencies the free traders hold out that their measures would benefit the manufacturers and _not injure the agriculturists_; yet nothing can be clearer than that this is a mere shallow pretext put forth to conceal their real objects and the effect of their measures and that the result they _really_ anticipate is as different from that as the poles are asunder. What is the benefit they hold out to the community as an inducement to go into their measures? Cheap grain. What is the motive which stimulates all their efforts and which among themselves and in private conversation with all men of sense they at once admit is their ruling object? _Reduced wages_; the hope of extending our export in foreign countries by taking an additional quantity of their rude produce; and diminishing the cost of production to our manufacturers by lowering the price of food and with it the wages of labour. The whole strength of their case rests in these propositions. Their influence over the urban multitudes arises solely from the continual reiteration of these alluring hopes. If these effects are not to follow free trade and the efforts of the League in the name of Heaven what good are they to do and why do they agitate the country and subscribe to the League fund? Sensible men do not throw away £100 000 for nothing for no benefit to themselves or others. But these prospects are as fallacious as they are alluring and so a very few observations will demonstrate. Considered in a _national_ point of view if the matter is brought to this issue the great question is--Whether agriculture or manufactures are the superior interests in the production of national wealth. Admitting that the true policy for government is to protect _all_ the branches of national industry and stoutly contending as we do and ever shall do that the real and ultimate interests of all is the same and cannot be separated--the question comes to be if one fiercely demands the sacrifice of the other and insists that its interests are so weighty and momentous that all others must be sacrificed to them which of the two thus placed in jeopardy is the most momentous? which brings in most to the national treasury? Now on this point the facts are as adverse to the arguments of the League as on all other branches of their case. Take the sum total of manufactures in Great Britain and Ireland accompanied with the sum total of agricultural production in order to discover which of the two is the more valuable interest--in order that it may be discovered if matters are brought to that issue that one or other must be abandoned which is to be sacrificed. The choice of a wise government could not be doubtful if it were necessary to make the selection. The agricultural productions of the British islands amount to L.300 000 000 a-year while the sum total of manufactures of every description is only L.180 000 000. Nor can it be said with any degree of truth that the agriculture of the country is dependent for its existence on its manufactures and would decline if they were materially injured; for the example of modern Italy and Flanders proves that three centuries _after_ a country has ceased to be the chief in manufacturing or commercial industry it may advance with undiminished vigour and success in the production of agricultural riches. But this is not all. The statistical documents which have now been prepared with so much care by Parliament and published by the accurate and indefatigable Mr Porter himself a decided free trader demonstrate that of the manufacturing productions nearly three-fourths are taken off by the home market and _four-fifths_ by the home and colonial market taken together leaving only ONE-FIFTH for _the whole foreign markets of the world put together_-- ""The total amount of British manufactures annually produced is about £180 000 000 worth of which only £47 000 000 is taken off by the whole external trade of the world put together while no less than £133 000 000 is consumed in the home market; and of the foreign consumption fully a third is absorbed by the British Colonies in different parts of the world. So that the home and colonial trade is to the whole foreign put together as 5 to 1. And whle the total produce of manufactures is £180 000 000 annually and of mines and minerals £13 776 000 the amount of agricultural produce annually extracted from the soil is not less than £300 000 000; or a half more than the whole manufactures and mines put together."" Further if we compare the proportion purchased of our manufactures which is taken off by foreign nations for the export to whom we are required to make the sacrifice of our domestic agriculture with what is consumed by our own native population whether in the British islands or in our colonies of British descent the difference is prodigious and such as might well even for their own sake make the Anti-corn-law League pause in their career of violence. From the tables compiled from Porter's _Parliamentary Tables_ and the population of the different states to whom we export taken from Malte Brun and Balbi it appears that while the British population whether at home or abroad consume from £3 to £5 a-head worth of our manufactures the foreign nations to whom we are willing to sacrifice the British agriculturists take off per head ONLY AS MANY PENCE. In preferring the one to the other therefore we are literally speaking penny wise and pound foolish. We have shown how agriculture was ruined in the Roman empire in Italy by the free importation of grain from the Lybian and Egyptian provinces of the empire. As a contrast to that woful progress the main cause of the destruction of the empire of the Caesars we request the attention of our readers to the progress of British exports in official value which indicates their amount from 1790 to 1840 premising that the _whole_ of that period was one of protection to the British agriculturist; during the first twenty years of the period by the effects of the war--during the last twenty-five by the operation of the corn law and sliding scale introduced in 1814. We recommend the advocates of free trade to search the annals of the world for a similar instance of progress and prosperity flowing from or co-existent with the practical adoption of their principles. These facts which in truth are altogether decisive of the present question point to the great source from which the errors of the free trade party are derived and which appears in an especial manner their favourite position that cheap prices is an unmitigated blessing and that the great thing to attend to is to increase our imports. Cheap prices of grain are like the Amreeta cap in Kehama; the greatest of all blessings is the greatest of all curses _according as they arise from magnitude of domestic production or magnitude of foreign importation_. Of the first we had an example during the five fine years in succession from 1830 to 1835 during which the foreign importation was practically abolished by the abundant harvests and consequent high duty on grain under the sliding scale. This was a period as all the world knows of universal and unexampled commercial prosperity. Of the second we had a memorable example during the five bad years in succession which elapsed fiom 1836 to 1840 in the course of which the corn laws from the effect of the same sliding scale and the continued low prices were practically abolished; and importations at the close of the period amounted to 2 500 000 quarters and on an average of the whole was little short of 2 000 000 of quarters. And what was the result? The exportation of 6 000 000 of sovereigns in a single year to buy grain; an unexampled pressure on the money market; commercial embarrassments long-continued and severe beyond all former precedent; the contraction of ten millions of additional debt in four years and the creation of a deficit which at length rose to the formidable amount in 1842 of L.4 000 000 sterling! And what first dispelled this distress and arrested this downward and disastrous progress? The fine harvests of 1842--the blessed sun of its long summer followed by the more checkered but also fine summer of 1843 which again gave us plenty derived from domestic production and consequent general and increasing manufacturing as well as rural prosperity. It is in vain therefore to say cheap prices are a blessing in themselves and the consumers at least are ever benefited by a fall in the cost of grain. Cheap prices are a real blessing if that effect consists with prosperity to the producer as by improved methods of cultivation or manufacture or the benignity of nature in giving fine seasons. But cheap prices are the greatest of all evils and to none more shall the consumers if they are the result not of the magnitude of domestic production but of the magnitude of foreign importation. It was that sort of cheap prices which ruined the Roman empire from the destruction of the agriculture of Italy; it is that sort of cheap prices which has ruined the Indian weavers from the disastrous competition of the British steam-engine; it is that sort of low prices which has so grievously depressed British shipping from the disastrous competition of the Baltic vessels under the reciprocity system. It is in vain for the consumers to say we will separate our case from that of the producers and care not so as we get low prices what comes of them. Where will the consumers be and that erelong if the producers are destroyed? What will be the condition of the landlords if their farmers are ruined? or of bondholders if their debtors are bankrupt? or of railway proprietors if traffic ceases? or of owners of bank stock if bills are no longer presented for discount? or of the 3 per cents if Government by the failure of the productive industry of the country is rendered bankrupt? The consumers all rest on the producers and must sink or swim with them. * * * * * _Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne and Hughes Paul's Work._ "

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Proofreading Team and The Internet Library of Early Journals BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. No. CCCXLII. APRIL 1844. VOL. LV. TABLE OF CONTENTS THE PIRATES OF SEGNA. --A TALE OF VENICE AND THE ADRIATIC. IN TWO PARTS.--PART II. THE SLAVE-TRADE. MOSLEM HISTORIES OF SPAIN. --THE ARABS OF CORDOVA. TWO NIGHTS IN SOUTHERN MEXICO. --A FRAGMENT FROM THE JOURNAL OF AN AMERICAN TRAVELLER. THE BRITISH FLEET. MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. --PART X. THE CHILD'S WARNING. THE TWO PATRONS. IRELAND. THE PIRATES OF SEGNA. A TALE OF VENICE AND THE ADRIATIC. IN TWO PARTS. PART II. CHAPTER I.--THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE. The time occupied by the events detailed in the three preceding chapters had been passed by Antonio in a state of self-exile from his master's studio. Conscious of having disobeyed the earnest injunctions of Contarini the weakness of his character withheld him alike from confessing his fault and from encountering the penetrating gaze of the old painter. Neglecting thus his usual occupation he passed his days in his gondola wandering about the canals in the hope of again meeting with the mysterious being who had made such an impression on his excitable fancy. Hitherto all his researches had been fruitless; but although day after day passed without his finding the smallest trace of her he sought his repeated disappointments seemed only to increase the obstinacy with which he continued the search. The incognita not only engrossed all his waking thoughts but she still haunted him in his dreams. Scarcely a night passed that her wrinkled countenance did not hover round his pillow now partially shrouded by the ample veil then again fully exposed and apparently exulting in its unearthly ugliness; or else peering at him from behind the drapery that covered the walls of his apartment. In vain did he attempt to address the vision or to follow it as it gradually receded and finally melted away into distance. It was from a dream of this description that he was one morning awakened by his faithful gondolier Jacopo. The sun was shining brightly through his chamber windows and he heard an unusual degree of noise and bustle upon the canal without. "Up Signor mio!" cried the gondolier joyously and with a mixture of respect and affectionate familiarity in his tone and manner. "Up Signor Antonio! You were not wont to oversleep yourself on the day of the Bridge Fight. All Venice is hastening thither. Quick quick! or we shall never be able to make our way through the press of gondolas." The words of the gondolier reminded Antonio that this was the day appointed for the celebration of a festival which for weeks past had been looked forward to with the greatest impatience and interest by Venetians of all ranks ages and sexes; a festival which he himself was in the habit of regularly attending though on this occasion his preoccupied thoughts and feelings had made him utterly unconscious that it was so near at hand. Although the ancient and bitter hatred of the Guelphs and Ghibellines had died away and the factions which divided northern Italy had sunk into insignificance nearly a century before this period the memory of their feuds was still kept up by their great grandchildren and Venice was still severed into two parties or communities separated from each other by the grand canal. Those who dwelt on the western or land side of this boundary were styled the Nicolotti after the parish of San Nicolo; while those on the eastern or sea side took the appellation of Castellani from the district of Castello. Not only the inhabitants of the city itself but those of the suburbs and neighbouring country were included in these two denominations; the people from Mestre and the continent ranging themselves under the banners of the Nicolotti while those from the islands were strenuous Castellani. The frequent and sanguinary conflicts of the Guelphs and Ghibellines were now replaced and commemorated by a popular festival occurring sometimes once sometimes oftener in the year; usually in the autumn or spring. "In order that " says an old chronicler of the time "the heat being less great at those seasons the blood of the combatants should not become too heated and the fight too dangerous." "Also on cloudy days " says the same authority "that the spectators might not be molested by the sun; and on Sundays or Saints' days that the people thereby might not be hindered from their occupations." On these occasions one of the numerous bridges was selected as the scene of the mock combat that constituted the chief amusement of the day. The quays afforded good standing-room to the spectators; and here under the inspection of ædiles appointed by the people the two parties met and disputed for supremacy in a battle in which however no more dangerous weapons than fists were allowed to be brought into play. It was not the populace alone that divided itself into these two factions. Accordingly as the palaces of the nobles stood on the one or the other side of the canal were their owners Castellani or Nicolotti although their partizanship existed but in jest and only showed itself in the form of encouragement to their respective parties; whereas with the lower orders the strife begun in good-humour not unfrequently turned to bitter earnest and had dangerous and even fatal results. In the wish however to keep up a warlike spirit in the people and perhaps still more with a view to make them forget in a temporary and boundless license the strict subjection in which they were habitually held the senate was induced to permit the continuance of a diversion which from the local arrangements of Venice the narrowness of the streets and bridges and the depth of the larger canals was unavoidably dangerous and almost invariably attended with loss of life. Hastily dressing himself Antonio hurried into his gondola in order to proceed to the bridge of San Barnaba opposite to the church of the same name and to the Foscarini palace that being the spot appointed for the combat. The canal of the Giudecca was one black mass of gondolas which rendered even a casual glimpse of the water scarcely obtainable; and it was amidst the cries of the gondoliers and the noise of boats knocking against each other that the young painter passed the Dogana and reached the grand canal. There the crowd became so dense that Jacopo seeing the impossibility of passing turned aside in time and making a circuit entered the Rio de San Trovaso whence through innumerable narrow canals he succeeded in reaching the scene of the approaching conflict. The combatants were attending mass and had not yet made their appearance. Wonderfully great however was the concourse of spectators already assembled. Since sunrise they had been thronging thither from all sides eager to secure places which might afford them a good view of the fight. Every roof gable and chimney had its occupants; not a projection however small not a wall however lofty and perilous but was covered with people for the most part provided with baskets of provisions and evidently determined to sit or stand out the whole of the spectacle. In the anxiety to obtain good places the most extraordinary risks were run and feats of activity displayed. Here might be seen individuals clambering up perpendicular buildings by the aid of ledges and projections which appeared far too narrow to afford either grasp or foot-hold; further on some herculean gondolier or peasant served as base to a sort of human column composed of five or six men who scrambling over each other's shoulders attained in this manner some seemingly inaccessible position. The seafaring habits of the Venetian populace who were accustomed from boyhood to climb the masts and rigging of vessels now stood them in good stead; and notwithstanding all the noise confusion and apparent peril it was very rarely that an accident occurred. Under the red awnings covering the balconies and flat roofs of the palaces were seated groups of ladies whose rich dresses glittering with the costliest jewels and embroideries appeared the more magnificent from being contrasted with the black attire of the grave patricians who accompanied them. But perhaps the most striking feature of this striking scene was to be found in the custom of masking then almost universal in Venice and the origin of which may be traced in great part to dread of the Inquisition and of its prying enquiries into the actions and affairs of individuals. Amidst the sea of faces that thronged roofs windows balconies streets and quays the minority only were uncovered and the immense collection of masks of every form and colour had something in it peculiarly fantastic and unnatural conveying an impression that the wearers mimicked human nature rather than belonged to it. Venice whose trade and mercantile importance were at this period greatly on the decline saw nevertheless on occasions like the present strangers from the most opposite nations of Europe and even Asia mingling peaceably on her canals. Here were Turks in their bright red caftans and turbans; there Armenians in long black robes; and Jews whose habitually greedy and crafty countenances had for the nonce assumed an expression of eager curiosity and expectation. The mercantile spirit of the Venetians prevented them from extending to individuals the quarrels of states; and although the republic was then at war with Spain more than one superb hidalgo might be seen wrapped in his national gravity as in a mantle and affecting a total disregard of the blunt or hostile observations made within his hearing by sailors of the Venetian navy or by individuals smarting under the loss of ships and cargoes captured by Spanish galleys. Scattered here and there amongst the crowd Antonio's searching eye soon remarked a number of men to whom accustomed as he was to analyse the heterogeneous composition of a Venetian mob he was yet at a loss to assign any distinct class or country. Their sunburnt and strongly marked features were partially hidden by the folds of ample cloaks in which they kept themselves closely muffled; and it appeared to Antonio that in their selection of places they were more anxious to escape observation than to obtain a good view of the approaching fight. In the dark patches of shadow thrown by the overhanging balconies in the recesses of deep and gloomy portals or peering out from the entrance of some narrow and tortuous alley these men were grouped silent scowling and alone and apparently known to none of the surrounding crowd. But suspicious as were the appearance and deportment of the persons in question Antonio's thoughts were too much engrossed by another and far more interesting subject to accord them much attention. He nourished the hope of discovering amongst the multitude assembled around him the mysterious being who had taken so strong a hold on his imagination. Vainly however did he scan every balcony and window and strain his eyes to distinguish the faces of the more distant of the assembled dames. More than once the flutter of a white robe or a momentarily fancied resemblance of figure made his heart beat high with expectation until a second glance destroyed his hopes; and the turning of a head or drawing aside of a veil disclosed the blooming features of some youthful beauty to which in his then state of mind the wrinkled and unearthly visage of the incognita would have been infinitely preferable. While the young painter was thus fluctuating between hope and disappointment several lads with naked arms or but slightly encumbered with clothing were giving the spectators a foretaste of the approaching conflict; and encouraged by the applause which was liberally vouchsafed them making violent efforts to drive one another off the bridge. At times the spirit of partizanship would induce some of the bystanders to come to the aid of those who seemed likely to be defeated--an interference that was repressed by the ædiles stationed at either end of the bridge who did their utmost to enforce the laws of this popular tournament. Notwithstanding their efforts however the _mostra_ or duello between two persons by which the combat should begin was often converted into the _frotta_ or mêlée in which all pressed forward without order. The first advantage was held to be--for one of the combatants to draw blood if it were only a single drop from the nose or mouth of his opponent. Loud applause rewarded the skill and vigour of him who succeeded in throwing his adversary into the canal; but the clamour became deafening when a champion was found who maintained his station in the centre of the bridge without any of the opposite party venturing to attack him. This feat won the highest honour that could be obtained; and he who achieved it retired from his post amid the waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs and the enthusiastic cheers of the gratified spectators. At length the bell of the Campanile announced that mass was over and presently out of two opposite streets that had been purposely kept clear the combatants emerged pressing forward in eager haste towards the bridge; their arms naked to the shoulders their breasts protected by leathern doublets and their heads by closely fitting caps--their dress altogether as light as possible and well adapted to the struggle in which they were about to engage. The loud hum of the multitude was hushed on their appearance and the deepest silence reigned while the ædiles marshaled them to their respective places on which they planted themselves in threatening attitudes their broad and muscular chests expanded their fists clenched their feet seeming to grasp the ground on which they stood. A loud flourish of trumpets gave the signal of the onset and with inconceivable impetuosity the two parties threw themselves on each other. In spite however of the fury and violence of the shock neither side yielded an inch of ground. The bridge was completely filled with men from end to end and from side to side; there was no parapet or barrier of any kind to prevent the combatants from pushing one another into the canal; yet so equally balanced was the strength of the two parties that after nearly half an hour's struggle very few men had been thrown from the bridge and not the smallest advantage had been obtained either by Castellani or Nicolotti. Those in the rear who had as yet done nothing but push the others forward now came to the front and the combat was renewed with fresh vigour but for a long time without any result. Again and again were the combatants changed; but it was past noon before Antonio whose thoughts had been gradually diverted from the incognita by the struggle that was going on perceived symptoms of weariness amongst those indefatigable athletes. Here and there a knee was seen to bend or a muscular form to sink under some well-directed blow or before a sudden rush of the opposite party. First one then another of the combatants was hurled from the bridge into the canal an immersion that dripping with perspiration as they were not unfrequently caused death or severe illness. Nevertheless the fury of the fight seemed rather to increase than diminish. So long as only a man here and there fell into the water they were dragged out by their friends; and the spectators even seemed to feel pity and sympathy for the unfortunates as they saw them carried along some covered with blood others paralysed by the sudden cold with faces pale as death and limbs stiff and rigid. But as the fury and violence of the combatants augmented the bystanders forgot every other feeling in the excitement of the fight about the result of which they seemed as anxious as those who were actively engaged in it. Even women might be seen encouraging those who were driven back and urging them once more to the charge; applauding and cheering them on when they advanced and assailing those who hung back with vehement reproaches. The uproar and shouting shrieks and yells exceeded any thing that could be imagined. The partizans had got completely mixed together; and instead of the struggle being confined to the foremost ranks of the contending parties the whole bridge was now one coil of raging combatants. Men fell into the canal by scores but no one thought of rendering them any assistance. Their places were immediately filled up and the fight lost none of its fury from their absence. Evening was now approaching and the combat was more violent than it had yet been or than it had for years been known to be when Antonio saw the cloaked and mysterious individuals who had already attracted his attention emerge from their lurking-places and disappear in different directions. Presently he thought he observed some of them on the bridge mingling with the combatants whose blind rage prevented them from noticing the intrusion. Wherever they passed there did the fight augment in obstinacy and fury. Suddenly there was a violent rush upon the bridge a frightful outcry and a clash of steel. At the same moment the blades of several swords and daggers were seen crossed and glittering upon the bridge without its being possible for any one to divine whence the weapons came. The spectators seized with a panic fear fled in every direction and sprang in crowds from the quays to seek shelter under the awnings of the gondolas covering the canal. In vain did the gondoliers resist the intrusion of the fugitives: all considerations of rank and property were lost sight of in the terror of the moment and some of the boats sank under the weight of the multitudes that poured into them. In their haste to get away the gondolas impeded each other and became wedged together in the canal; and amidst the screams of the ladies and angry exclamations of the men the gondoliers laid down their oars and began to dispute the precedence with blows. Meanwhile the people on the roofs of the houses believing themselves in safety espoused different sides and threw stones and bricks at each other and at those standing below. In an incredibly short time houses were entirely unroofed and a perfect storm of tiles rained upon the quays and streets. Those who had first fled when they attained what appeared a safe distance halted to look on and thus prevented others from getting away. Antonio was amongst the number whose escape was thus impeded. His gondolier lay at the bottom of the boat stunned by a blow from a stone; he himself was bruised and wounded by the missiles that fell in all directions. The tumult was at its height when suddenly a sound was heard that had a truly magical effect upon the rioters for such they might now be termed. The alarm-bell of St Mark's rang out its awful peal. In an instant the yells of defiance were hushed; the arm that was already drawn back to deal a blow fell harmless by its owner's side the storm of missiles ceased the contending factions parted and left the combat undecided. The habit of obedience and the intimation of some danger to the city stilled in an instant the rage of party feeling and combatants and spectators alike hurried away in the direction of St Mark's place the usual point of rendezvous on such occasions. Jacopo had now recovered his senses and Antonio's gondola was one of the first which reached the square in front of the cathedral. Thence the young painter at once discovered the cause of the alarm. Smoke and flame were issuing from some buildings on the opposite island of San Giorgio Maggiore where the greater part of the merchants' warehouses were situated. Thither the crowd of gondolas now steered and Antonio found himself carried along with the stream. But although the fire was already beginning to subside before the prompt measures taken to subdue it the alarm-bell kept clanging on; and Antonio soon perceived that there must be some other point of danger to which it was intended to turn the attention of the people. Gazing about for some indication of its source he saw several gondolas hurrying towards the grand canal on which most of the palaces of the nobles were situated and he ordered Jacopo to steer in the same direction. On reaching the palazzo of the Malipieri family a strange scene presented itself to him. The open space between the side of the palace and the adjacent church of San Samuele was crowded with men engaged in a furious and sanguinary conflict. At one of the windows of the palace a tall man in a flowing white robe with a naked sabre in one hand and a musquetoon in the other which from the smoke still issuing from its muzzle had apparently just been discharged stood defending himself desperately against a band of fierce and bearded ruffians who swarmed up a rope ladder fixed below the window. The person making so gallant a defence was the Senator Malipiero; the assailants were Uzcoques from the fortress of Segna. The arrival of the Proveditore Marcello at Gradiska and his subsequent recognition of his jewels at the ball having destroyed Strasolda's hopes of obtaining her father's liberation through the intervention of the archducal counsellors the high-spirited maiden resolved to execute a plan she had herself devised and which although in the highest degree rash and hazardous might still succeed if favoured by circumstances and conducted with skill and decision. This was to seize upon the person of a Venetian of note in order to exchange him for the Uzcoques then languishing in the dungeons of the republic. The Venetians were not yet aware that the much-dreaded woivode Dansowich was among their prisoners. The time chosen by the Uzcoques for their expeditions and surprises was usually the night; and this added to the custom of mask-wearing was the cause that the features of Dansowich were unknown to his captors. Nevertheless the striking countenance and lofty bearing of the chieftain and of one or two of those who were taken prisoners with him raised suspicions that they were persons of mark--suspicions which were not dissipated by their reiterated denial of being any thing more than common Uzcoques. It was this doubt which saved their lives; for their captors instead of hanging them at once at the yard-arm of the galleys which was the usual manner of disposing of Segnarese prisoners took them to Venice and placed them at the disposal of the senate. All subsequent threats and promises proved ineffectual to extort from the pirates an acknowledgment of superior rank; and the Venetian authorities would perhaps have ended in believing the account they gave of themselves had not the urgent applications made by the Austrian Envoy and the Capitano of Fiume for the release of the Uzcoques given their suspicions new strength. The object of the Venetians was if they could ascertain that there was a chief among the prisoners to obtain from him by torture or otherwise confessions which might enable them to prove to the Archduke the encouragement afforded by his counsellors to the piracies of the Segnarese. They accordingly delayed by every possible pretext giving an answer to the archducal ambassador doing their utmost meanwhile to find out the real quality of the prisoners. This Strasolda was most anxious that they should not discover; and her anxiety was scarcely less to prevent the captivity of their leader from becoming known among the pirates themselves. His daughter's entreaties and his own better nature had frequently caused Dansowich to check his followers in the atrocities they were too apt to commit. In consequence of this interference Strasolda suspected her father to be more feared than liked by Jurissa Caiduch and some others of the inferior woivodes or officers; and she apprehended that if she confided her plan to them they would be more likely to thwart than to aid her in it. The crews of the two boats which had been engaged in the skirmish with the Venetian galleys when Dansowich was captured and the men composing the garrison of the castle on the evening of that fatal occurrence were therefore all whose assistance she could reckon upon. Some of those were her relatives and the others tried and trusty adherents. They alone knew of their leader's captivity his absence having been accounted for to the mass of Uzcoques dwelling in the town of Segna by a pretended journey to Gradiska; and being too few in number to attack a Venetian galley the sole plan that seemed to offer a chance of success to this handful of faithful followers was the hazardous one devised by Strasolda. Of this they did not hesitate to attempt the execution. With the utmost cunning and audacity did the Uzcoques enter Venice on the day appointed for the Battle of the Bridge singly and by twos and threes variously disguised and mingled with the country people and inhabitants of the islands who were hastening to the festival. Watching their opportunity when the fight was at the fiercest one party mixed with the combatants exciting and urging them on and doing all in their power to increase the confusion; others set fire to the warehouses on the island of San Giorgio in order to draw the public attention in that direction; while the third and most numerous division favoured by the deepening twilight and the deserted state of that part of the city succeeded in fixing a rope ladder to the window of the Malipieri palace the chief of which noble house was as they had previously ascertained lying sick in bed in a side-chamber attended only by a few domestics. But there were two things which Strasolda and the Uzcoques had forgotten to include in their calculations. These were first the slavish obedience of the Venetian populace to the call of their superiors--an obedience to which they were accustomed to sacrifice every feeling and passion; secondly the Argus eyes and omnipresent vigilance of the Secret Tribunal. Scarcely was the ladder applied when the first gush of flame from the warehouses brought a deafening peal from the alarm-bell; and at the same moment the masked and armed familiars of the Venetian police rising as it seemed out of the very earth surrounded the ladder and a fierce conflict began. Even the watchfulness and precautions of the Inquisition however were to a certain extent overmatched by Uzcoque cunning and foresight. Had it not been necessary to ring the alarm bell on account of the fire the police who were far the most numerous and who each moment received an accession to their numbers could scarcely have failed to capture some of their opponents and thus have ascertained to a certainty what the promoters and the object of this audacious attempt really were. But before they could accomplish this the small piazza where the conflict was going on was thronged with the populace half intoxicated with the excitement of the scarcely less serious fight they had been witnessing and sharing in. In the crush and confusion that ensued familiars and Uzcoques were separated; and the latter mingling with the crowd and no longer distinguishable from the cloaked and masked figures that surrounded them easily succeeded in effecting their escape. When Antonio who was pushed hither and thither by the mob was able to extricate himself sufficiently to get another view of the window the invalid nobleman delivered from his assailants had retired into his apartment while the ladder now deserted by the Uzcoques had been cut and thrown down. Desirous of escaping from this scene of confusion the young painter was making his way towards the quay close to which his gondola was waiting when his heart suddenly leaped within him at the sight of a muffled figure that passed near him and in which he thought he recognized the mysterious old woman who had of late occupied so much of his thoughts. She was followed by a number of the rabble who pressed upon her with oaths and curses asserting that she was one of the party which had attacked the palace of the Malipieri. "I saw her holding the ladder " exclaimed one fellow. "Nay she was climbing up it herself " cried a second. "Strike the foul witch dead!" shouted a score of voices. The old woman's life was in the greatest peril when a strange and unaccountable but at the same time irresistible impulse moved Antonio to go to her rescue. He was forcing his way through the crowd with this intention when the object of the popular fury turned her head towards him. Her veil was for a moment partially drawn aside affording a glimpse of her features in profile; and Antonio still the slave of his diseased imagination fancied that her yellow shriveled features had been metamorphosed into a countenance of regular beauty; such a countenance in short as befitted the graceful and symmetrical form to which it belonged. Confused and bewildered the naturally weak and undecided youth stood deliberating and uncertain whether he should attempt the rescue which would have been by no means difficult to accomplish by the display of a little boldness and promptitude. Whilst he was thus hesitating there suddenly broke through the crowd a young man attired like himself in a black dress and holding a naked rapier in his hand. The new comer had probably lost his mask in the tumult and confusion for his features were uncovered and Antonio saw to his inexpressible consternation and astonishment that they were the exact counterpart of his own. Before he could recover from this new shock the stranger by the aid of his fierce and determined demeanour and the rapid play of his weapon had made his way to the mysterious old woman whose back was turned towards him and seizing her round the waist he again forced a passage through the throng to the nearest gondola which happened to be that of the young painter. The crowd pressed after him and Antonio was hurried along with it to the edge of the quay. But at the very moment that to avoid being pushed into the water by the throng he sprang into one end of his gondola he saw the stranger who had just entered it at the other gaze with a look of disgust and dismay on the features of her he had rescued and then with a cry of horror leap into another boat which immediately rowed rapidly away. At the same instant Jacopo by a strong sweep of the oar spun the gondola round and shot into a narrow canal which soon led them out of sight and sound of the scene of confusion they had just left. These various events had succeeded each other so rapidly that Antonio could hardly credit his senses when he found himself in this strange manner the deliverer of the mysterious being who now sat under the awning of his gondola her frightful countenance unveiled in the struggle and no longer seen through the beautifying prism of the young artist's imagination again displaying the yellow and wrinkled skin and the deep-set glittering eyes which now seemed fixed upon him with an expression of love and gratitude that froze his blood. With a shuddering sensation he retreated to the stern of the boat where Jacopo stood pale and trembling crossing himself without a moment's intermission. "Are you mad Signore " whispered the gondolier "to risk your life in behalf of such a frightful witch? Never did I see you so ready with your rapier flashing it in people's eyes as though it had been one of your painting brushes." "By Heaven Jacopo " answered Antonio "that was not I"-- "The saints protect us!" interrupted the gondolier. "You are assuredly bewitched or have lost your senses Signore. To think of your thus denying your own noble daring! Do for the blessed virgin's sake let us jump out upon the next landing-place and leave the gondola to the sorceress who has bewitched you. Holy mother! she is coming this way!" A prey to the strangest and most contradictory emotions Antonio hastily advanced to meet the mysterious being whom he could not help regarding with superstitious awe though he at the same time felt himself drawn towards her by a fascination against which he found it was in vain to contend. The features of the unknown were again shrouded carefully in her veil but her black and brilliant eyes glittered through it like nebulous stars. "To the house of the Capitano of Fiume " whispered she to Antonio and then retreated as if anxious to avoid further conversation into the interior of the gondola. In the district of Castello through which Antonio and his strange companion were now passing the canals and quays were deserted and not a sound was heard except the distant hum of the multitude assembled in the quarter of St Mark's. Without exciting suspicion or attracting observation they reached the Rialto and the grand canal and the gondola stopped at a landing-place opposite the church of San Moyses. As the young painter assisted his mysterious charge out of the boat a gentle pressure from the warm soft hand w

ich for a moment rested upon his quickened every pulse in his frame; and long after the enigmatical being had disappeared behind the angle of a palace he stood gazing like one entranced at the spot where he had last seen her imposing and graceful figure. The approach of Jacopo still crossing himself and calling upon all the saints for protection against the snares of the evil one roused the perplexed youth from his reverie; and stepping into the gondola he was soon gliding rapidly over the canals in the direction of his father's palace. CHAPTER II. THE PICTURE. The gondola of the young painter gliding rapidly and silently over the still waters of the canals was passing a turn leading to the Giudecca when it suddenly occurred to Antonio that he would seek his old master and after confessing his disobedience relate to him the events of the day and make him the confidant of his troubles and perplexities. A word to Jacopo changed the direction of the gondola and they entered the grand canal on which Contarini's dwelling was situated. The brief twilight of Italy had passed and it was now completely night dark and starless which made more startling the sudden appearance of several blazing torches borne by masked and hooded figures attired in black who struck loud and repeated blows on the gates of the Palazzo Contarini. ""Antonio Marcello! We seek Antonio Marcello!"" exclaimed a deep and hollow voice. It would be necessary to be a Venetian and to have lived in those days fully to comprehend the feeling of horror which caused Antonio's blood to run cold and the sweat to stand in beads upon his forehead when he heard his name uttered by the familiars of the state Inquisition. Frightful dungeons masked judges halls hung with black the block and the gleaming axe the rack and its blood-stained attendants the whole grim paraphernalia of the Secret Tribunal passed like the scenes of a phantasmagoria before the mental vision of the young painter. He at once conjectured the cause for which they were seeking him. He had doubtless been taken for the youth who by his energy and promptitude had rescued the mysterious old woman from the mob and who bore so striking and unaccountable resemblance to himself; and it must be on suspicion of his being connected with the attack on the Malipieri palace that the ministers of justice were hunting him out. Nor did he see how he should he able to convince his judges of his innocence. The tale he had to tell although the truth was still too marvellous and improbable to obtain credence and would be more likely to draw upon him severe punishment or perhaps the torture with the view of inducing him to confess its falsehood. Bewildered by his terror Antonio sat trembling and utterly incapable of deciding as to the course he should adopt when the trusty gondolier again came to his rescue. ""Cospetto! Signor!"" he exclaimed ""have you lost your senses that you run thus into the very jaws of those devil's messengers? To one like myself flight would certainly avail little; but with a Proveditore for your father you may arrange matters if you only take time before you become their prisoner. Quick then to the palazzo! Don't you see old Contarini's head stuck out of his window? He is telling them you are not there. They have doubtless been to your father's palace and will not be likely to return thither at present."" While the faithful fellow's tongue was thus wagging his arms were not idle. Intimately acquainted as became his calling with the numerous windings and intricacies of the Venetian canals he threaded them with unhesitating confidence; and favoured by the darkness of the night succeeded in getting Antonio unobserved through a back entrance of his father's palace. The first impulse of the terrified youth on finding himself thus in at least temporary security was to destroy the picture of the mysterious old woman which if found by the agents of the Inquisition might bear false but fatal witness against him. With pallid cheek and still trembling with alarm he was hurrying to his chamber to execute his intention when he encountered his father who advanced to meet him and grasping his arm fixed upon him for some moments his stern and searching gaze. ""The picture father!"" exclaimed the terror-stricken Antonio. ""For the love of Heaven stay me not! Let me destroy that fatal picture!"" Regardless of his son's agitation and terror the Proveditore half led half forced him to a seat in a part of the room when the red blaze from the larch logs that were crackling on the hearth lit up the young man's features. ""What means this Antonio?"" he said; ""what has befallen during my absence at Gradiska? The familiars of the Inquisition have been seeking you here--you the last person whose name I should expect to hear in such mouths. Alarm me it did not; for well I know that you are too scant of energy and settled purpose to be mixed up in conspiracies against the state."" Antonio was still too much preoccupied by his terror to understand or at any rate to heed the severity of his father's remark. Collecting his scattered thoughts he proceeded to narrate all that had occurred to him not only on that day but since his first meeting with the incognita near the church of San Moyses on the very same spot whither he had conveyed her in his gondola but a short hour ago. ""Let me destroy the painting father!"" he concluded; ""it may be found and used as testimony against me."" The Proveditore had listened with a smile that was at once contemptuous and sorrowful to his son's narrative and to the confession of his weakness and disobedience to the injunctions of his aged teacher. When he had finished speaking there was a minute's silence broken at last by the elder Marcello. ""I have long been convinced "" he said ""that Contarini would never succeed in making of you a painter fit to rank with those old and illustrious masters of whom Venice is so justly proud. But I had not thought so poorly of you Antonio as to believe that you would want courage to defend an object for the attainment of which you scrupled not to disobey your venerable instructor. What the kind entreaties and remonstrances of Contarini could not induce you to abandon you are ready to annihilate on the very first symptom of danger. Oh Venice!"" exclaimed the Proveditore his fine countenance assuming an expression of extreme bitterness as he gazed mournfully at the portraits of his ancestors including more than one Doge which were suspended round the walls of the apartment--""Venice! thou art indeed degenerate when peril so remote can blanch the cheek of thy patrician youth."" He strode twice up and down the hall then returning to his son bade him fetch the picture which he was so desirous of destroying. Antonio downcast and abashed by these reproaches which however were insufficient to awaken nobler aspirations in his weak and irresolute nature hurried to his chamber and presently returned with a roll of canvass in his hand which he unfolded and spread before the Proveditore--then dreading to encounter his father's ridicule he shrunk back out of the firelight. But the effect produced upon Marcello by the portrait of the old woman was very different from that anticipated by his son. Scarcely had he cast his eyes upon the unearthly visage when he started back with an exclamation of horror and astonishment. ""By all the saints Antonio "" cried he in an altered voice ""that is a fearful portrait! Alas poor wretch! thou art long since in thy grave "" continued he addressing the picture and with looks and tones strangely at variance with his usually stern and imperturbable deportment. ""The worms have preyed on thee and thou art as dust and ashes. Why then dost thou rise from the dead to fright me with that ghastly visage?"" ""Is the face known to you father?"" the astonished Antonio ventured to exclaim. ""Known to me! Ay too well! That wrinkled skin that unearthly complexion those deep-set eyes glowing like burning coals. Just so did she glare upon me as she swung from the tree the blood driven into her features by the agonizing pressure of the halter. 'Tis the very look that has haunted me for years and caused me many bitter moments of remorse; though God knows the deed was lawful and justifiable done in the execution of my duty to the republic. And yet she lives "" he continued musingly. ""How could she have been saved? True she had not been hanging long when we left the place. Some of her people doubtless were concealed hard by and cut her down ere life had entirely fled. But ha! 'tis a clue this to the perpetrators of to-day's outrage for she was with them. Uzcoques then they must have been! Said you not Antonio that she came from the house of the Capitano when first you saw her and that to-day you left her there?"" ""At her own special desire father "" replied Antonio. ""Then is the chain of evidence almost complete "" continued the Proveditore. ""It must have been herself. And now--this attack on the Malipieri palace. What was its object? A hostage?--Ay I see it all and our prisoner is none other than Dansowich himself. But we must have proof of that from his own confession; and this portrait may help to extort it."" Whilst uttering these broken sentences which were totally incomprehensible to the bewildered Antonio the Proveditore had donned his mantle and placed his plumed cap upon his head. ""No Antonio "" said he ""we will not destroy this picture hideous though it be. It may prove the means of rendering weighty service to the republic."" And with these words inexplicable to his son the Proveditore left the apartment; and taking with him the mysterious portrait hastened to the prison were the Uzcoque leader was immured. The pirate chief was a man of large and athletic frame of strong feelings and great intellectual capabilities. His brow was large open and commanding; his countenance bronzed with long exposure to the elements and scarred with wounds was repulsive but by no means ignoble; his hair and beard had long been silvered over by time and calamity; but his vast bodily strength was unimpaired and when roused into furious resentment his manly chest emitted a volume of sound that awed every listener. Upon a larger stage and under circumstances more favourable to the fair development of his natural powers and dispositions the pirate Dansowich would have become one of the most distinguished and admirable men of his time. Placed by the accident of birth upon the frontiers of Christian Europe and cherishing from early youth a belief that the highest interests of the human race were involved in the struggle between the Crescent and the Cross he had embraced the glorious cause with that enthusiastic and fiery zeal which raises men into heroes and martyrs. Too soon however were these lofty aspirations checked and blighted by the anti-Christian policy of trading Venice the bad faith of Austria towards the Uzcoque race and the extortions of her counsellors. Cursing in the bitterness of his heart not only Turks Austrians and Venetians but all mankind he no longer opposed the piratical tendencies of his neglected people and eventually headed many of their marauding expeditions. It was nearly midnight when Dansowich was awakened from a deep but troubled slumber by a grating noise at the door of his dungeon. Anxiety of mind and still more the effect of confinement in an impure and stifling atmosphere upon one accustomed to the breezes of the Adriatic and the free air of the mountains had impaired his health and his sleep was broken by harassing and painful dreams. In that from which he now awoke with the sweat of anguish on his brow he had fancied himself before the tribunal of the Inquisition. The rack was shown to him and they bade him choose between confession and torture. He then thought he heard his name repeated several times in tones deep and sepulchral. Starting up in alarm he saw the door of his prison open and give admittance to a man muffled in a black cloak who walked up to the foot of his bed of damp straw and threw the rays of a dark lantern full into his dazzled eyes. The traces of recent and strong emotion visible at that moment on the pirate's countenance did not escape the Proveditore who attributed them and rightly to an artifice he had practised. Previously to entering the dungeon he had caused the name of Nicolo Dansowich to be repeated several times in a deep hollow voice. Aware of the superstitious credulity of the Uzcoques the wily Venetian had devised this stratagem as one likely to produce a startling effect upon the prisoner and to forward the end he proposed to obtain by his visit. He now seated himself upon a wooden bench the only piece of furniture in the dungeon and addressed the captive in a mild and conciliating tone. ""You should keep better watch over your dreams "" said he ""if you wish our tribunals to remain in ignorance of your secrets."" ""My dreams!"" repeated the Uzcoque somewhat startled by the ominous coincidence between Marcello's words and the visions that had broken his slumber. ""Ay friend your dreams! The jailers are watchful and little passes in these prisons without coming to their knowledge. More than once have they heard you revealing in your sleep that which during your waking hours you so strenuously deny.--'Enough! Enough!' you cried. 'I will confess all. I am Nicolo Dansowich.'"" While Marcello was speaking the old Uzcoque had had time to collect his thoughts and call to mind the numerous snares and devices by which the Venetian tribunals obtained confessions from their prisoners. With an intuitive keenness of perception he in a moment saw through the Proveditore's stratagem and resolved to defeat it. A contemptuous smile played over his features and shaking his head incredulously he answered the Venetian-- ""The watchful jailers you speak of have doubtless been cheering their vigils with the wine flask "" said he. ""Their draughts must have been deep to make them hear that which was never spoken."" ""Subterfuge will avail you nothing "" replied Marcello. ""Your sleeping confessions although you may now wish to retract them are yet sufficient grounds for the tribunal to go upon and the most excruciating tortures will be used if needful to procure their waking confirmation. Reflect Dansowich "" continued the Proveditore in a persuasive and gentle tone ""on the position in which you now find yourself. Your life is forfeited; and if you persist in your denials you will never leave this dungeon but for the rack or scaffold. On the other hand the senate respects you as a brave and honourable although misguided man and would gladly see you turn from the error of your ways. Now is the time to ensure yourself a tranquil and respected old age. Hearken to the proposals I am empowered to make you. The Signoria offers you life freedom and a captainship in the island of Candia on the sole condition on your part of disclosing the intrigues and perfidy of the council at Gradiska and furnishing us as you are assuredly able to do with documents by which we may prove to the Archduke the treachery of his ministers. Again I say--Reflect! or rather hesitate not but decide at once between a prosperous and honourable life and a death of degradation and anguish."" Neither the threats nor the temptations held out by the Proveditore seemed to have the smallest effect upon the Uzcoque. ""You are mistaken "" replied he calmly. ""I am not Dansowich nor have I any knowledge of the intrigues at Gradiska. I could not therefore if I wished it buy my life by the treachery demanded of me; and if the woivodes of Segna think as I do they will let themselves be hewn in pieces before they do the bidding of your senators or concede aught to the wishes of false and crafty Venice."" ""You are a brave man Dansowich!"" resumed the Proveditore who saw the necessity of changing his tactics. ""You care little for the dangers and sufferings of this world. But yet--pause and reflect. Your hair is silvered by time and even should you escape your present peril you will still ere many years are past have to render an account to a higher tribunal than ours. By an upright course you might atone for the crimes of your youth and manhood and become the chosen instrument of Heaven to deliver your fellow-Christians from a cruel scourge and sore infliction."" ""And who has brought the scourge upon you?"" demanded the old man in a raised voice measuring the Proveditore with a stern and contemptuous look. ""Is it our fault that whilst we were striving to keep the Turk from the door of Christendom you sought every means of thwarting our efforts by forming treaties with the infidel? You do well to remind me that my head is grey. I was still a youth when the name of Uzcoque was a title of honour as it is now a term of reproach--when my people were looked upon as heroes by whose valour the Cross was exalted and the Crescent bowed down to the dust. Those were the days when on the ruins of Spalatro we swore to live like eagles amidst barren cliffs and naked rocks the better to harass the heathen--the days when the power of the Moslem quailed and fled before us. And had not your sordid Venetian traders stepped in courting the infidel for love of gain the Cross would still be worshipped on all the shores of the Adriatic and the Uzcoques would still combat for honour and victory instead of revenge and plunder. But your hand has ever been against us. Your long galleys were ever ready to sink our barks or blockade our coast; and the fate of robbers and murderers awaited our people if they had the mishap to fall into your hands. You reduced us at last to despair. Each valiant deed performed against the Turk was recompensed by you with new persecutions till at last you converted into deadly enemies those who would willingly have been your friends and fast allies. Thank yourselves then for the foe you have raised up. Your own cowardice and greed have engendered the hydra which now preys upon your heart's blood."" The Proveditore remarked with satisfaction not unmingled with surprise that the old pirate who had hitherto replied to all interrogatories with a degree of cold reserve and cunning which had baffled his examiners was becoming visibly excited and losing his power of self-control. This was favourable to the meditated stratagem of the Venetian who now in pursuance of the scheme he had combined gave the conversation another direction. ""I an willing to acknowledge "" said he ""that the republic has at times dealt somewhat hardly with your people. But which is in fact the worst foe he who openly attacks you or he who makes you his tool to sow discord amongst Christians and to excite the Turks against Venice while under pretence of protection he squeezes from you the booty obtained at the price of your blood?"" ""And who does that?"" demanded the Uzcoque. ""Who! Need you ask the question? What do you give for the shelter you receive from Austria? At what price do you inhabit the town and castle of Segna?"" ""At none that I am aware of "" replied Dansowich fiercely. ""We dwell there in virtue of our compact with the Emperor as soldiers of the Archduke bound to defend the post confided to us against the aggressions of the infidel. As soldiers we have our pay as mariners we have our lawful booty."" ""Pay and booty!"" repeated the Proveditore scornfully. ""Whence comes then your manifest misery and poverty? Whence comes it that you turn robbers if in the pay of Austria? No Dansowich you will not deceive us by such flimsy pretexts! Your gains lawful and unlawful are wrested from you by the archducal counsellors in whose hands you are mere puppets. 'Twas they who prompted you to tell the Turks that you were in league with Venice; that the republic encouraged your misdeeds and shared the profits of your aggressions on the subjects of the Porte. They it was who caused the documents to be prepared with forged seals and signatures of the illustrious Signoria which were to serve as proofs of your lying assertions. Deny this if you can."" The beard and mustache of the old Uzcoque appeared to curl and bristle with fury at the insulting imputations of the Proveditore. For a moment he seemed about to fly at his interlocutor; his fingers clutched and tore the straw upon which he was sitting; and his fetters clanked as his whole frame shook with rage. After a brief pause and by a strong effort he restrained himself and replied calmly to the taunting accusation of the Venetian. ""Why go so far "" said he ""to seek for motives that may be found nearer home? You seem to have forgotten how many times the Archduke has compelled us to make restitution of booty wrested from Venetian subjects. You forget too that it was in consequence of your complaints he sent to the cruel Rabbata to control us--Rabbata whom we slew in our wrath for we are freemen and brook no tyranny. If we are poor individually it is because we yield up our booty into the hands of our woivodes to be used for the common good of seven hundred families. No Signor! if the republic has to complain of us let her remember the provocations received at her hands the persecutions which converted a band of heroes into a pirate horde and which changed our holy zeal against the enemies of the Cross into remorseless hatred of all mankind. As to the forged seals and signatures you talk of and the deceptions practised on the Turks if such there were they were the self-willed act of our woivodes and in no way instigated by Austria."" ""Thou liest Dansowich!"" said the Proveditore sternly. ""Did you not proclaim and swear in the public market-place of the Austrian town of Segna that you were the friends and allies of Venice? This you would never have dared to do but with the approval and connivance of the archducal government."" The eyes of the pirate sparkled with a strange and significant gleam as the Proveditore recalled the circumstance to his recollection. ""Know ye not "" said he with a grim smile ""whom ye have to thank for that good office? 'Twas Dansowich himself who thereby but half fulfilled his vow of vengeance against the republic. And when did it occur?"" he continued with rising fury. ""Was it not shortly after the day in which that heartless villain the Proveditore Marcello captured the woivode's wife and hung her unoffending and defenceless unshriven and unabsolved upon a tree on the Dalmatian shore?"" The Uzcoque paused overcome by the bitter memories he was calling up and by the fury and hatred they revived in his breast. His eyes were bloodshot and the foam stood upon his lips as he concluded. The Proveditore smiled. The favourable moment he had been waiting had arrived the moment when he doubted not that Dansowich would betray himself. Taking Antonio's drawing from under his cloak he suddenly unrolled and held it before the Uzcoque in such a manner that the light of the lantern fell full upon the ghastly countenance of the old woman. ""Behold!"" said he. ""Does that resemble her you speak of?"" The object of the Proveditore was gained but he had not well calculated all the consequences of his stratagem. ""Fiend of hell!"" shouted Dansowich in a voice of thunder while a sudden light seemed to burst upon him. ""'Tis thou who are her murderer!"" And bounding forward with a violence that at once freed him from his fetters which fell clattering on the dungeon floor he clutched the senator by the throat and hurled him to the ground before the astonished Venetian had time to make the slightest resistance. ""Art thou still in being?"" he muttered while his teeth gnashed and ground together. ""I thought thee long since dead. But no! 'twas written thou shouldst die by my hand. Be it done to thee as thou didst to the wife of my bosom "" continued he while kneeling on the breast of the Proveditore and compressing his throat in an iron gripe that threatened to prove as efficacious and nearly as speedy in its operation as the bow-string of the Turk. In vain did Marcello struggle violently to free himself from the crushing pressure of the pirate's fingers. Although a very powerful man and in the full vigour of his strength the disadvantage at which he had been taken prevented his being a match for the old Uzcoque whose sinews were braced by a long life of hardship. Fortunately however for the Venetian the furious shout of Dansowich had been overheard by the guards and jailers who now rushed into the dungeon and rescued the half strangled Proveditore from the grasp of his fierce antagonist. ""Do him no hurt!"" exclaimed Marcello so soon as he was able to speak seeing that the guards were disposed to handle the Uzcoque somewhat roughly; ""the secret I have won is well worth the risk. The prisoner is Dansowich woivode of Segna."" The fetters which the pirate had snapped with such facility were upon examination found to be filed more than half through. The instrument by which this had been effected was sought for and discovered and the prisoner having been doubly manacled was again left to the solitude of his cell. After directing all imaginable vigilance to be used for the safe custody of so important a captive the Proveditore re-entered his gondola and was conveyed back to his palace. CHAPTER III. THE PIRATES. The desperate attempt on the life of the Proveditore and the evidence given by him as to the identity of the prisoner had the result that may be supposed and the old Uzcoque was put to the torture. But the ingenuity of Venetian tormentors was vainly exhausted upon him; the most unheard of sufferings failed to extort a syllable of confession from his lips. At last despairing of obtaining the desired information by these means the senate commissioned Marcello as one well acquainted with the localities to make a descent on the Dalmatian coast and profiting by the consternation of the Uzcoqes at the loss of their leader to endeavour to surprise a small fort situated at some distance from Segna and which was the abode of Dansowich. In the absence of the old pirate it would probably be carelessly guarded and easily surprised; and it was hoped that documents would be found there proving that which the Venetians were so anxious to establish. Another object of the expedition was to capture if possible the mysterious female who had been lately seen more than once in Venice and who had taken so prominent a part in the attack on the palace of the Malipieri. Accompanied by his son whom for various reasons he had resolved to take with him Marcello went on board an armed galley and with a favouring breeze steered for the Dalmatian coast. He had little doubt of accomplishing the object of his expedition with ease and safety; for a Venetian Fleet was already blockading the channel of Segna and the archducal city of Fiume where several of the Uzcoque barks were undergoing repairs. The blockade had been instituted in consequence of the outrageous piracies committed by the Uzcoques during the Easter festival and was a measure frequently adopted by the republic; which although carefully avoiding a war neglected no other means of enforcing their applications to the court at Gradiska for an energetic interference in the proceedings of the pirates. The inconvenience and interruption to the trade of Fiume occasioned by these blockades usually induced the archducal government to institute a pretended investigation into the conduct of the Uzcoques or at least to promise the Venetians some reparation--a mockery of satisfaction with which the latter in their then state of decline and weakness were fain to content themselves. Reckoning upon the terror inspired by the presence of the squadron now employed in the blockade as well as upon its support should he require it the Proveditore made sure of success. He was doomed however to be cruelly disappointed in his sanguine anticipations. When the attempt to get possession of the person of a Venetian nobleman had failed Strasolda found it impossible to keep her father's captivity any longer a secret and was compelled to appeal to the whole of the Uzcoques to assist her in his deliverance. Information of the woivode's recognition and of the tortures he had suffered soon reached the ears of the pirates who were not slow to perceive that the safety and even the existence of their tribe were now at stake. Although well acquainted with the inflexible character of Dansowich they trembled lest the agonies he was made to suffer should force from him a confession which would enable the Venetians to convince the archduke of the criminal collusion between his counsellors and the Uzcoques. This would be the signal for the withdrawal of the archducal protection from the pirates who then exposed to the vengeance of all whom they had plundered must inevitably succumb in the unequal conflict that would ensue. The imminence of the peril inspired the Uzcoques with unwonted courage and energy. Jurissa Caiduch himself forgetting any cause of dislike he might have to Dansowich joined heart and hand in the plans formed by the pirates for the deliverance of their leader. Every man in Segna whether young or old all who could wield a cimeter or clutch a knife hastily armed themselves and crowded into the fleet of long light skiffs in which they were wont to make their predatory excursions. Then breaking furiously through the line of Venetian ships stationed between Veglia and the mainland and which were totally unprepared for this sudden and daring manoeuvre they disappeared amidst the shoals and in the small creeks and inlets of the Dalmatian islands belonging to the republic where the ponderous Venetian galleys would vainly attempt to follow them. Their object was the same which they had already attempted to carry out in Venice on the day of the Bridge Fight; namely to seize upon some Venetian magistrate or person of importance whom they might exchange for Dansowich. Under the guidance of Jurissa Caiduch they waylaid and boarded every vessel that passed up or down the Adriatic especially those coming from the Ionian islands in hope of meeting with a Venetian of rank. Nor did they pursue their researches upon the water alone. Not a night passed that one or other of the islands was not lighted up by the blaze of villages hamlets and villas. In the absence of Dansowich there was no restraint upon their fury; and urged on by the bloodthirsty Jurissa the cruelties they committed were unprecedented even in their sanguinary annals. Nor were they without hope that the barbarities they were perpetrating might induce the Venetians to restore their leader to liberty in order that he might as was well known to be his wont check the excesses of his followers. The outbreak of the pirates had been so sudden and unexpected that the Proveditore who sailed from Venice on the same day on which it occurred had received no intelligence of it and unconscious of his peril steered straight for the islands. One circumstance alone appeared strange to him which was that during the last part of his voyage he did not meet a single vessel although the quarter of the Adriatic through which he was passing was usually crowded with shipping. But he was far from attributing this extraordinary change to its real cause. It was afternoon when Marcello's galley cane in sight of the white cliffs of Cherso and shortly afterwards entered the channel running between that island and Veglia. The masses of dark clouds in the western horizon were becoming momentarily more threatening and various signs of an approaching storm made the captain of the galley especially anxious to get before nightfall into the nearest harbour which was that of Pesca at the southern extremity of the island of Veglia. All sail was made upon the galley and they were running rapidly down the channel when a red light suddenly flashed over the waves in the quarter of the horizon they were approaching and was reflected back upon the sky now darkened with clouds and by the approach of night. Attracted by this unusual appearance Antonio hurried to the high quarterdeck of the galley; and scarcely had he ascended it when the fiery glow fell in a flood of rosy light upon the distant chalk cliffs. Entranced by the picturesque beauty of the scene the young painter forgot to enquire the cause of this singular illumination when suddenly his attention was caught by a shout from the man at the helm. ""By Heavens 'tis a fire!"" ejaculated the sailor who had been watching the unusual appearance. ""All Pesca must be in flames."" He had scarcely uttered the words when the galley rounded a projecting point of land and the correctness of the s

aman's conjecture was apparent. A thick cloud of smoke hung like a pall over the unfortunate town of Pesca. Tongues of flame darted upwards from the dense black vapour lighting up sea and land to an immense distance. Scarcely had Antonio's startled glance been able to take in this imposing spectacle when the storm which had long been impending burst forth with tremendous violence; the wind howled furiously amongst the rigging and the galley was tossed like a nutshell from crest to crest of the foaming waves; each moment bringing it into more dangerous proximity to the rocky shoals of that iron-bound shore. The light from the burning town showed the Venetians all the dangers of their situation; and their peril was the more imminent because the signal usually made for boats to tow large vessels through the rocks and breakers was at such a moment not likely to be observed or attended to by the people of Pesca. Nevertheless the signal was hoisted; but instead of bringing the assistance so much needed by the Venetians it drew upon them an enemy far more formidable than the elements with which they were already contending. Boats were soon seen approaching the galley; but as they drew near it was evident they were not manned by the peaceful fishermen who usually came out to render assistance to vessels. They were crowded with wild fierce-looking figures who on arriving within a short distance of the ship set up a savage yell of defiance and sent a deadly volley of musket-balls amongst the astounded Venetians. Before the latter had recovered from their astonishment the light skiffs of the Uzcoques were within a few yards of the galley. Another fatally effective volley of musketry; and then throwing down their fire-arms the pirates grasped their sabres and made violent efforts to board. But each time that they succeeded in closing the plunging of the ponderous galley into the trough of the sea or the rising of some huge wave severed them from their prey and prevented them from setting foot on the decks of the Venetian vessel. This delay was made the most of by the officers of the latter in making arrangements for defence. The Proveditore himself a man of tried and chivalrous courage and great experience both in land and sea warfare lent his personal aid to the preparations and in a few pithy and emphatic words strove to encourage the crew to a gallant resistance. But the soldiers and mariners who manned the galley had already sustained a heavy loss by the fire of the Uzcoques and were moreover alarmed by their near approach to that perilous shore as well as disheartened by the prospect of a contest with greatly superior numbers. Although some few took to their arms and occupied the posts assigned them by their officers the majority seemed more disposed to tell beads and mutter prayers than to display the energy and decision which alone could rescue them from the double peril by which they were menaced. The pirates meanwhile were constantly foiled in their attempts to board by the fury of the elements till at last becoming maddened by repeated disappointments they threw off their upper garments and fixing their long knives firmly between their teeth dashed in crowds into the water. Familiar with that element from childhood they skimmed over its surface with the lightness and rapidity of sea-mews and swarmed up the sides of the galley. A vigorous defence might yet have saved the vessel; but the heroic days of Venice were long past--the race of men who had so long maintained the supremacy of the republic in all the Italian seas was now extinct. After a feeble and irresolute resistance the Venetians threw down their arms and begged for quarter; while the Proveditore disgusted at the cowardice of his countrymen indignantly broke his sword and retreating to the quarterdeck there seated himself beside his son and calmly awaited his fate. Foremost among the assailants was Jurissa Caiduch who sprang upon the deck of the galley foaming with rage and slaughtering all he met on his passage. The blazing town lighted up the scene and showed him and his followers where to strike. In vain did the unfortunate crew implore quarter. None was given and the decks of the ship soon streamed with blood while each moment the cries of the victims became fewer and fainter. Totally forgetting in his blind fury the object of the expedition Jurissa stayed not his hand in quest of hostages but rushed with uplifted knife on Marcello and his son. The latter shrieked for mercy; while the Proveditore unmoved by the imminence of the peril preserved his dignity of mien and fixed his deep stern gaze upon the pirate. Jurissa paused for an instant staggered by the look and awed by the commanding aspect of the Venetian. Soon however as though indignant at his own momentary hesitation he rushed forward with a furious shout and uplifted blade. The knife was descending the next instant it would have entered the heart of Marcello; when an Uzcoque recognizing by the light of the conflagration the patrician garb of the Proveditore uttered a cry of surprise and seized the arm of his bloodthirsty leader. ""Caiduch!"" exclaimed the pirate ""would you again blast our purpose? This man is a Venetian noble. His life may buy that of Dansowich."" ""It is the Proveditore Marcello!"" cried Antonio eager to profit by the momentary respite. The words of the young painter passed from mouth to mouth and in a few seconds the whole of the Uzcoques were acquainted with the important capture that had been made. For a moment astonishment kept them tongue-tied and then a wild shout of exultation conveyed to their companions on shore the intelligence of some joyful event. Ropes were now thrown out to the pirate skiffs the galley was safely towed into the harbour and the Proveditore his son and the few Venetian sailors who had escaped the general slaughter were conducted to the burning town amidst the jeers and ill-treatment of their captors. Exposed to great danger from the falling roofs and timbers of the blazing houses they were led through the streets of Pesca and on their way had ample opportunity of witnessing the incredible cruelties exercised by the pirates upon the inhabitants of that ill-fated town. What made these cruelties appear still more horrible was the part taken in them by the Uzcoque women who as was the case at that period with most of the Sclavonian races were all trained to the use of arms [1] and who on this occasion swelled the ranks of the freebooters. Their ferocity exceeded if possible that of the men. Neither age sex nor station afforded any protection against these furies who perpetrated barbarities the details of which would exceed belief. [1] The reader of German literature will call to mind the anecdote in Jean Paul's _Levana_ of a Moldavian woman who in one day slew seven men with her own hand and the same evening was delivered of a child. The violence of the flames rendering it impossible to remain in the town the Uzcoques betook themselves to the castle of a nobleman situated on a rising ground a short distance from Pesca. On first landing the pirates had broken into this castle and made it their headquarters. After pillaging every thing of value they had gratified their savage love of destruction by breaking and destroying what they could not well carry away. In the court-yard were collected piles of furniture pictures of price and fragments of rich tapestry rent by those ruthless spoilers from the walls of the apartments. With this costly fuel had the Uzcoques lit fires at which quarters of oxen and whole sheep were now roasting. A shout of triumph burst forth when the news of the Proveditore's capture was announced to the pirates who had remained at the castle and they crowded round the unfortunate prisoners overwhelming them with threats and curses. Something like silence being at length obtained Jurissa commanded instant preparations to be made for the banquet appointed to celebrate the success of their expedition. Tables were arranged in a spacious hall of the castle and upon them soon smoked the huge joints of meat that had been roasting at the fires placed on the bare boards without dish or plate. Casks of wine that had been rescued from the flames of the town or extracted from the castle cellars were broached or the heads knocked in and the contents poured into jugs and flagons of every shape and size. Although the light of the conflagration glaring red through the tall Gothic windows lit up the hall and rendered any further illumination unnecessary a number of torches had been fixed round the apartment the resinous smoke of which floated in clouds over the heads of the revelers. Seating themselves upon benches chairs and empty casks the Uzcoques commenced a ravenous attack upon the coarse but abundant viands set before them. The scene was a strange one. The brutal demeanour of the men their bearded and savage aspect; the disheveled bloodstained women mingling their shrill voices with the hoarse tones of their male companions; the disordered but often picturesque garb and various weapons of the pirates; the whole seen by the light of the burning houses--more resembled an orgie of demons than an assemblage of human beings; and even the cool and resolute Proveditore felt himself shudder and turn pale as he contemplated this carnival of horrors celebrated by wretches on whose hands the blood of their fellow-men was as yet hardly dry. Antonio sat supporting himself against the table seeming scarcely conscious of what passed around him. Both father and son had been compelled to take their places at the board amidst the jeers and insults of the Uzcoques. The revel was at its height when Jurissa suddenly started from his seat and struck the table violently with his drinking-cup. ""Hold Uzcoques!"" he exclaimed; ""we have forgotten the crowning ornament of our banquet."" He whispered something to an Uzcoque seated beside him who left the room. While the pirates were still asking one another the meaning of Jurissa's words the man returned bearing before him a trencher covered with a cloth which he placed at the upper end of the table. ""Behold the last and best dish we can offer to our noble guests!"" said Jurissa; ""'twill suit I doubt not their dainty palates."" And tearing off the cloth he exposed to view the grizzly and distorted features of a human head. The shout of savage exultation that burst from the pirates at this ghastly spectacle drowned the groan of rage and grief uttered by the Proveditore as he recognised in the pale and rigid countenance the well-known features of his friend Christophoro Veniero. That unfortunate nobleman on his return from a voyage to the Levant had fallen into the hands of Jurissa who before he was aware of the rank of his prisoner had barbarously slain him. This had occurred not many hours before the capture of Marcello; and it was to the murder of Veniero that the Uzcoque made allusion when he seized Jurissa's arm at the moment he was about to stab the Proveditore. One of the pirates a man of gigantic stature and hideous aspect now rose from his seat staggering with drunkenness and forcing open the jaws of the dead placed a piece of meat between the teeth. The wildest laughter and applause greeted this frightful pantomime which made the blood of the Proveditore run cold. ""Infernal and bloody villains!"" shouted he unable to restrain his indignation and starting to his feet as he spoke. There was a momentary pause during which the pirates gazed at the noble Venetian seemingly struck dumb with surprise at his temerity. Then however a dozen sinewy arms were extended to seize him and a dozen daggers menaced his life. Dignified and immovable the high-souled senator offered no resistance but inwardly ejaculating a short prayer awaited the death-stroke. It came not however. Although some of the Uzcoques in their fury and intoxication would have immolated their valuable hostage others who had drunk less deeply protested against the madness of such an act and rushed forward to protect him. Their interference was resented and a violent quarrel ensued. Knives were drawn benches overturned chairs broken up and converted into weapons; on all sides bare steel was flashing deep oaths resounding and missiles of various kinds flying across the tables. It would be impossible to say how long this scene of drunken violence would have lasted or how long the Proveditore and his son would have remained unscathed amidst the storm had not the advent of a fresh actor upon the scene stilled the tumult in a manner so sudden as to appear almost miraculous. The new comer was no other than the ghastly old woman who has been seen to play such an important part in this history and who now entered the banqueting hall with hasty step and impatient gesture. ""Uzcoques!"" she exclaimed in a shrill clear and emphatic voice that rose above the clamour of the brawl; ""Uzcoques! what means this savage uproar? Are you not yet sated with rapine and slaughter that you thus fall upon and tear each other? Are ye men or wolves and tigers? Is this the way to obtain your leader's deliverance; and will the news of this day's havoc think you better the position of Dansowich?"" The pirates hung their heads in silent confusion at this reproof. None dared to reply; Jurissa alone grumbled something inaudible. ""Follow me!"" continued the singular woman whose words had so extraordinary an effect on this brutal band. ""Follow every man! and stop as far as may be the ruin you have begun."" Obedient to her voice the Uzcoques left the hall some of them sullenly and slowly enough but none venturing to dispute the injunction laid upon them. The old woman waited till the scene of tumult and revel was abandoned by all but Marcello and his son and then hurrying after the pirates led the way to the burning town. In a few minutes the two Venetians beheld from the castle windows the dark forms of the freebooters moving about in the firelight as they busied themselves to extinguish the conflagration. Here and there the white robe of the mysterious old woman was discernible as she flitted from one group to another directing their efforts and urging them to greater exertions. ""Strange!"" said the Proveditore musingly ""that so hideous and repulsive an old creature should exercise such commanding influence over these bandits."" He looked round to his son as he spoke; but Antonio worn out by the fatigues and agitation of the day had stretched himself upon a bench and was already in a deep sleep. The Proveditore gazed at him for a brief space with an expression of mingled pity regret and paternal affection upon his countenance. ""As weak of body as infirm of purpose "" he murmured. ""Alas! that a name derived from old Roman ancestors should be borne by one so little qualified to do it honour! Had it pleased Heaven to preserve to me the child stolen in his infancy by the Moslem how different would have been my position! That masculine and noble boy so full of life and promise would have proved a prop to my old age and an ornament to his country. But now alas!""-- He continued for a while to indulge in vain regrets that the course of events had not been otherwise; then turning to the window he watched the efforts made by the pirates to extinguish the flames until a dense cloud of smoke that overhung the town was the only sign remaining of the conflagration. For some time the Proveditore paced up and down the hall in anxious thought upon his critical position and the strange circumstances that had led to it. In vain did he endeavour to reconcile with what now seemed more than ever inexplicable the vindictive rage of Dansowich in the dungeon and the evidence before him that the pirate's wife was still in existence. It was a riddle which he was unable to solve; and at last despairing of success he abandoned the attempt and sought in slumber a temporary oblivion of the perils that surrounded him. CHAPTER IV. THE RECOGNITION. Upon a divan in the splendid armoury of the pacha's palace at Bosnia-Serai the young Turk Ibrahim was seated in deep thought the day after his return home. On the walls around him were displayed weapons and military accoutrements of every kind. Damascus sabres richly inlaid and many with jeweled hilts embroidered banners golden stirrups casques of embossed silver burnished armour and coats-of-mail were arranged in picturesque and fanciful devices. As the young Moslem gazed around him and beheld these trophies of victories won by Turkish viziers and pachas in their wars against Austria and Venice his martial and fearless spirit rose high and he reproached himself with weakness and pusillanimity for having abandoned the pursuit of her he loved. Bitterly did he now regret his precipitation in leaving Venice the morning after the Battle of the Bridge and while under the influence of the shock he had received in beholding the hideous features of an old woman where he had expected to find the blooming countenance of Strasolda. His love for the Uzcoque maiden as he had seen her when his captive and again in the cavern on the coast by Segna returned in full force. He was already planning a journey to Venice when he was interrupted in his meditations by the noise of a horse's hoofs dashing full speed into the court of the palace. In another minute an attendant summoned him to the presence of the pacha and there he heard the news just received of the wild outbreak of the Uzcoques. The Martellossi and other troops were ordered to proceed immediately to the frontier in order to protect Turkish Dalmatia from the pirates; and Ibrahim at his urgent request was appointed to a command in the expedition. With joyful alacrity did the young Turk arm and hurry to horse; and then putting himself at the head of a troop of light cavalry sped onwards in the direction of the country where he hoped to gain tidings of Strasolda. Having received strict orders to content himself with protecting the Turkish frontier and above all not to infringe on Archducal territory Ibrahim on arriving at the boundary of the pachalic left his troop in charge of the second in command and with a handful of men entered Venetian Dalmatia with the intention of obtaining information concerning the Uzcoques and more especially concerning her he loved. He was assisted in his enquiries by the good understanding existing between Venice and the Porte; and he soon learned that after the burning of Pesca the pirates had suddenly ceased their excesses and returned to Segna taking the Proveditore with them. They had not gone however either to the castle or the town; but fearful lest the Archduke should interfere and make them give up their illustrious prisoners had betaken themselves to the mountains in the numerous caverns and lurking-places of which they were able to conceal their captives. From every mouth did the eager enquirer hear praises of the female who accompanied the Uzcoques. None spoke of her but in terms of love and gratitude. As regarded her appearance accounts were at variance some representing her as young and beautiful while others compassionated her frightful ugliness; and more than ever perplexed by this conflicting testimony Ibrahim pursued his march and his enquiries still hoping by perseverance to arrive at a solution of the enigma. While the young Turk was thus employed the Proveditore and his son were conveyed by their captors from one place of security to another passing one night in the depths of some ravine the next amongst the crags and clefts of the mountains but always moving about in the daytime and never sleeping twice in the same place. Since the evening of the revel at Pesca they had not again beheld the mysterious old woman although they had more than once heard her clear and silvery voice near the place allotted to them for confinement and repose. In certain attentions and comforts intended as alleviations of their unpleasant position female care and thought were also visible; but all their efforts were vain to obtain a sight of the friendly being who thus hovered around them. It was on a beautiful evening some fourteen days after their capture that the Proveditore and his son lay upon the bank of the only river that waters the rocky vicinity of Segna wearied by a long and rapid march. There was an unusual degree of bustle observable amongst the Uzcoques and numerous messengers had been passing to and from the castle of Segna which was at no great distance from the spot where they had now halted. From the various indications of some extraordinary occurrence the two Venetians began to hope that the crisis of their fate was approaching and that they should at last know in what manner their captors meant to dispose of them. Nor were they wrong in their expectations. Suddenly the mysterious old woman stood before them her partially veiled features bearing their wonted hideous aspect and her eyes usually so brilliant dimmed with tears. ""You are free "" said she in an agitated voice to the Proveditore and his son. ""Our people will escort you to Fiume in all safety and there you will find galleys of the republic to convey you back to Venice."" At the sight of the old woman's unearthly countenance Antonio covered his face with his hands; the Proveditore rose from the ground deeply moved. ""Singular being!"" he exclaimed ""by this mildness and mercy you punish me more effectually than by the bloodiest revenge you could have taken for my cruel treatment of you."" ""You owe me no thanks "" was the reply; ""thank rather the holy Virgin who sent the youth beside you to be your guardian angel and who delivered you into the hands of the Uzcoques at a time when they had need of a hostage. Surely it was by the special intervention of Heaven that the murderer of the wife was sent to serve as ransom for the captive husband. But the atonement has come too late the noble Dansowich was basely ensnared into an act of violence and his life paid the forfeit of his wrath--he died upon the rack. And now the wily counsellors at Gradiska compel us to release you."" She paused interrupted by a flood of tears. After a short silence broken only by her sobs she became more composed and the Proveditore again addressed her. ""But what "" said he ""could have driven Dansowich to an act of violence which he must have known would entail a severe punishment? Surely his wife's safety and the lapse of years might have enabled him to forgive if not to forget the unsuccessful attempt upon her life."" ""His wife's safety!"" exclaimed the old woman. ""Have the trials and fatigues of the last few days turned your brain? Alas! too surely was the rope fixed round her neck; and had you not carried off her remains how could you have possessed her portrait and by the devilish stratagem of showing it to the bereaved husband have driven him to the act which cost him his life?"" ""Gracious Heaven! what hideous jest is this?"" exclaimed Marcello. ""Do I not see you living and standing before me; and think you I could ever forget your features or the look you gave me when hanging from the tree? You were cut down and saved after our departure; and but a few weeks have elapsed since my son painted your likeness after conveying you across the canal in his gondola."" The old woman stood for a few moments as though petrified by what she had just heard. At last she passed her hand slowly across her face as if to convince herself of her identity. ""And she you murdered resembled _me_?"" she exclaimed in a trembling voice. ""It was of _me_ that the portrait was taken and by _him_!"" she continued pointing to Antonio with a gesture of horror and contempt. ""_My_ picture was it that was held before Dansowich and by _you_ the murderer of his wife? Holy Virgin!"" she exclaimed as the truth seemed to flash upon her ""how has my faith in thee misled me! I beheld in this youth one sent by Heaven to aid me; but now I see that he was prompted by the powers of darkness to steal my portrait and thus become the instrument of destruction to the best and noblest of our race."" ""Forgive and spare us!"" exclaimed Antonio conscience-stricken as he remembered the admonitions of Contarini. ""'Tis true I was the instrument but most unwittingly. How could I know so sad an end would follow?"" ""'Tis not my wont to seek revenge "" replied the old woman; ""nor do I forget that you saved my life from the fury of the Venetians."" Antonio essayed to speak but had not courage to correct the error into which she had been led by his strong resemblance to the gallant stranger. ""But "" she continued ""'tis time you should have full proof that the features you painted were not those of the wife of Dansowich."" With these words she threw back her veil unfastened some small hooks concealed in her abundant tresses and took off a mask of thin and untanned lambskin wrinkled and stained with yellow and purple streaks by exposure to sun and storm. This mask closely fitted to features regular and prominent and strongly resembling those of her unfortunate mother whose large dark and very brilliant eyes she had also inherited will explain the misconception of the Proveditore as well as that of Dansowich who had never seen his daughter in a disguise worn only at Venice or other places of peril and while away from her father and his protection. While the beautiful but still tearful Uzcoque maid stood thus revealed before the astonished senator and his enraptured and speechless son the approaching footfall of a horse at full speed was heard and in an instant there darted round the angle of a cliff the martial figure of a Turk mounted upon a large and powerful steed of that noble race bred in the deserts eastward of the Caspian. The tall and graceful person of the stranger was attired in a close riding-dress of scarlet cloth from the open breast of which gleamed a light coat-of-mail. A twisted turban bound with chains of glittering steel defended and adorned his head. A crooked cimeter suspended from his belt was his only weapon. His countenance bore a striking resemblance to that of Antonio and had the same sweet and graceful expression about the mouth and chin; but the more ample and commanding forehead the well opened flashing eyes the more prominent and masculine nose the clear rich olive complexion and soldierly bearing proclaimed him to be of a widely different and higher nature. Riding close up to the side of Strasolda he reined in his steed with a force and suddenness that threw him on his haunches; but speedily recovering his balance the noble animal stood pawing the earth and lashing his sides with his long tail like some untamed and kingly creature of the desert; his veins starting out in sharp relief his broad chest and beautiful limbs spotted with foam and his long mane that would have swept the ground streaming like a banner in the sea-breeze. For a moment the startled Strasolda gazed alternately and in wild and mute amazement at Antonio and the stranger; but all doubt and hesitation were dispersed in an instant by the well-remembered and impassioned tones the martial bearing and Moslem garb of Ibrahim whose captive she had been before she saw him in the cavern. Leaping from his saddle and circling her slender waist with his arm he addressed her in those accents of truth and passion which go at once to the heart-- ""Heroic daughter of Dansowich! thou art the bright star of my destiny the light of my soul! Thou must be mine! Come then to my heart and home! Gladden with thy love the life of Ibrahim and he will give thee truth unfailing and love without end."" Strasolda did not long hesitate. Already prepossessed in favour of the young and noble-minded Moslem; her allegiance to the Christian powers and faith weakened by the treachery of Austria; her people degraded into robbers; a soldier's daughter and keenly alive to the splendours of martial gallantry and glory; an orphan too and desolate--can it be wondered at if she surrendered at once and for ever to this generous and impassioned lover all the sympathies of her affectionate nature? She spoke not; but as she leaned half-fainting on his arm her eloquent looks said that which made Ibrahim's pulses thrill with grateful rapture. Pressing her fondly to his bosom he placed her on the back of his faithful steed and vaulted into the saddle. Snorting as the vapour flew from his red nostrils and neighing with mad delight the impatient animal threw out his iron hoofs into the air flew round the angle of the cliff and joined erelong a dozen mounted spearmen. Then bending their headlong course towards the far east in a few seconds all had disappeared. During this scene which passed almost with the speed of thought the Proveditore who was seated on a ledge of the cliff had gazed anxiously and wildly at the youthful stranger. He knew him in an instant and would have singled him out amidst thousands; but was so overwhelmed by a rushing tide of strong and heartrending emotions that he could neither rise nor speak and remained long after the Turk had disappeared with out-stretched arms and straining eye-balls. ""Gracious Heaven!"" exclaimed the bewildered Antonio half suspecting the truth ""who was that daring youth?"" After a pause and in tones broken and inarticulate his father answered--""Thy twin brother Antonio! When a child he was stolen from me by some Turks in Candia; and those who stole have given him their own daring and heroic nature for they are great and rising while Venice and her sons are falling and degenerate. Oh Ercole! my dear and long-lost son--seen but a moment and then lost for ever!"" ejaculated the bereaved father as refusing all comfort he folded his cloak over his face and wept bitterly. * * * * * NOTE.--Shortly after these events Venice urged at last beyond all endurance took up arms against Austria on account of the protection afforded by the latter power to the Uzcoques. The pirate vessels were burned Segna besieged and taken the Uzcoques slain or dispersed. The quarrel between Austria and the republic was put an end to by the mediation of Spain shortly before the breaking out of the Thirty Years' War. ""Ces misérables "" says a distinguished French writer speaking of the Uzcoques ""fûrent bien plus criminels par la faute des puissances que par l'instinct de leur propre nature. Les Vénétiens les aigrirent; l'église Romaine préféra de les persécuter au devoir de les éclaircir; la maison d'Autriche en fit les instruments de sa politique et quand le philosophe examine leur histoire il ne voit pas que les Uscoques soient les seuls criminels."" * * * * * THE SLAVE-TRADE.[2] [2] Fifty Days on board a Slave vessel in 1843. By the Rev. PASCOE GRENFELL HILL Chaplain of H.M.S. Cleopatra. The extraordinary change which took place in the public mind in the beginning of the century on the subject of the slave-trade unquestionably justified the determination of Government to abolish a traffic contradictory to every principle of Christianity. It had taken twenty years to obtain this victory of justice. But we must exonerate the mind of England from the charge of abetting this guilty traffic in human misery. The nation had been almost wholly ignorant of its nature. Of course that Africans were shipped for the West Indies was known; that as slaves they were liable to the severities of labour or the temper of masters was also known; but in a country like England where every man is occupied with the concerns of public or private life and where the struggle for competence if not for existence is often of the most trying order great evils may occur in the distant dependencies of the crown without receiving general notice from the nation. It seems to have been one of the singular results of the war with America that the calamities of the slave-trade should have been originally brought to the knowledge of the people. The loss of our colonies on the mainland naturally directed public attention to the increased importance of the West Indian colonies. A large proportion of our supplies for the war had been drawn from those islands; they had become the station of powerful fleets during the latter portion of the war; large garrisons were placed in them; the intercourse became enlarged from a merely commercial connexion with our ports to a governmental connection with the empire; and the whole machinery of the West Indian social system was brought before the eye of England. The result was the exposure of the cruelties which slavery entails and the growing resolution to clear the country of the stigma and the benevolent desire to relieve a race of beings

ho however differing in colour and clime from ourselves were sons of the same common blood and objects of the same Divine mercy. The exertions of Wilberforce and the intelligent and benevolent men whom he associated with himself in this great cause were at last successful; and he gained for the British the noblest triumph ever gained for a nation over its own habits its selfishness its pride and its popular opinion. But the manner in which this great redemption of national character was effected did less honour to the wisdom of the cabinet than to the benevolence of the people. Fox probably sincere but certainly headlong rushed into emancipation as he had rushed into every measure that bore the name of popularity. Impatient of the delay which might take the honour of this crowning act out of the hands of his party--and unquestionably in any shape it was an honour to any party--he hurried it forward without securing the concert or compelling the acquiescence of any one of the European kingdoms engaged in the slave-trade. It is true that England was then at war with them all; but there was thus only the stronger opportunity of pronouncing the national resolve never to tolerate the commerce in slaves and never to receive any country into our protection by which that most infamous of all trades was tolerated. The opportunity was amply given for establishing the principle in the necessity which every kingdom in succession felt for the aid of England and the abolition ought to have been the first article of the treaty. But the occasion was thrown away. The parliamentary regulations which had largely provided for the comfort of the slaves on the passage from Africa and their protection in the British colonies could not be extended to the new and tremendous traffic which was engaged in by all the commercial states of Europe and the West. The closing of the British mart of slavery flooded the African shore with desperate dealers in the flesh and blood of man; whose only object was profit and who regarded the miseries of the African only as they affected his sale. The ships which by the British regulations had been suffered to carry only a number limited to their accommodation were now crowded with wretches stowed in spaces that scarcely allowed them to breathe. The cheapness of the living cargo produced by the withdrawal of the British from the slave coast excited the activity almost the fury of the trade; and probably 100 000 miserable beings were thus annually dragged from their own country to undergo the labour of brutes and die the death of brutes in the Western World. Another source of evil was added to the original crime. The colonial possessions of Spain had been broken up into republics and those were all slave-dealers. The great colony of Portugal Brazil had rushed into this frightful commerce with the feverish avidity of avarice set free from all its old restrictions. North America coquetting with philanthropy and nominally abjuring the principle of slavery suffered herself to undergo the corruption of the practice for the temptation of the lucre and the Atlantic was covered with slave-ships. But rash ill considered and unfortunate as was the precipitate measure of Fox we shall never but rejoice at the abolition of the slave-trade by our country. If England had stood alone for ever in that abolition it would be a national glory. To have cast that commerce from her at all apparent loss was the noblest of national gains; and it may be only when higher knowledge shall be given to man of the causes which have protected the empire through the struggles of war and the trials of peace that we may know the full virtue of that most national and magnanimous achievement of charity to man. It is only in the spirit of this principle that the legislature has followed up those early exertions by the purchase of the final freedom of the slave by the astonishing donative of twenty millions sterling the largest sum ever given for the purposes of humanity. It is only in the same spirit that our cabinet continues to press upon the commercial states the right of search a right which we solicit on the simple ground of humanity; and which though it cannot be our duty to enforce at the hazard of hostility must never be abandoned where we can succeed by the representations of reason justice and religion. The curious and succinct narrative to which we now advert gives the experience of a short voyage on board of one of those slave ships. And the miseries witnessed by its writer whose detail seems as accurate as it is simple more than justify the zeal of our foreign secretary in labouring to effect the total extinction of this death-dealing trade. H.M.S. the Cleopatra of twenty-six guns commanded by Captain Wyvill arriving at Rio Janeiro in September 1842 the reverend writer took the opportunity of being transferred from the Malabar as chaplain. In the beginning of September the Cleopatra left the Mauritius to proceed to the Mozambique Channel off Madagascar her appointed station to watch the slave-traders. After various cruises along the coast and as far as Algoa Bay they at last captured a slaver. _April 12._--At daybreak the look-out at the topmast-head perceived a vessel on the lee quarter at such a distance as to be scarcely visible; but her locality being pronounced ""very suspicious "" the order was given to bear up for her. The breeze falling the boats were ordered out and in a few minutes the barge and the first gig were pulling away in the direction of the stranger. So variable however is the weather at this season that before the boats had rowed a mile from the ship a thick haze surrounded the ship and the chase was lost sight of. The rain fell in torrents and the ship was going seven knots through the water. On the clearing up of the fog the chase was again visible. The sun broke forth and the rakish-looking brigantine appeared to have carried on all sail during the squall. They could see under her sails the low black hull pitching up and down; and approaching within range one of the forecastle guns was cleared away for a bow-chaser. The British ensign had been for some time flying at the peak. It was at length answered by the green and yellow Brazilian flag. At length after a variety of dexterous manoeuvres to escape and from fifteen to twenty shots fired after her she shortened sail and lay to. Dark naked forms passing across the deck removed any remaining doubt as to her character and showed that she had her slave cargo on board. An officer was sent to take possession and the British ensign displaced the Brazilian. The scene on board was a sufficiently strange one; the deck was crowded with negroes to the number of 450 in almost riotous confusion having risen but a little while before against the crew. The meagre famished-looking throng having broken through all control had seized every thing for which they had a fancy in the vessel; some with handfuls of the powdered roots of the cassava others with large pieces of pork and beef having broken open the casks and others with fowls which they had torn from the coops. Many were busily dipping rags fastened with bits of string into the water-casks to act as sponges and had got at the contents of a cask of Brazilian rum which they greatly enjoyed. However they exhibited the wildest joy mingled with the clank of the iron as they were knocking off their fetters on every side. From the moment the first ball had been fired they had been actively employed in thus freeing themselves. The crew found but thirty thus shackled in pairs but many more pairs of shackles were found below. There could not be a moment's doubt as to the light in which they viewed their captors now become their liberators. They rushed towards them in crowds and rubbed their feet and hands caressingly even rolling themselves on the deck before them; and when they saw the crew of the vessel rather unceremoniously sent over the side into the boat which was to take them prisoners to the frigate they set up a long universal shout of triumph and delight. The actual number of the negroes now on board amounted to 447. Of those 180 were men few however exceeding twenty years of age; 45 women; 213 boys. The name of the prize was the Progresso last from Brazil and bound to Rio Janeiro. The crew were seventeen; three Spaniards and the rest Brazilians. The vessel was of about 140 tons; the length of the slave-deck 37 feet; its mean breadth 21½ feet; its height 3½ feet--a horrible space to contain between four and five hundred human beings. How they could even breathe is scarcely conceivable. The captain and one of the crew were said to have been drowned in the surf at the embarkation of the negroes. Two Spaniards and a Portuguese cook were sent back into the prize. As the writer understood Spanish and as some one was wanting to interpret between the English crew and those managers of the negroes he proposed to go on board with them to their place of destination the Cape of Good Hope. The English crew were a lieutenant three petty officers and nine seamen. It had been the captain's first intention to take a hundred of the negroes on board the frigate which would probably have prevented the fearful calamities that followed; but an unfortunate impression prevailed that some of them were infected with the small-pox. In the same evening the Progresso set sail. For the first few hours all went on well--the breeze was light the weather warm and the negroes were sleeping on the deck; their slender supple limbs entwined in a surprisingly small compass resembling in the moonlight confused piles of arms and legs rather than distinct human forms. But about an hour after midnight the sky began to gather clouds a haze overspread the horizon to windward and a squall approached. The hands having to shorten sail suddenly found the negroes in the way and the order was given to send them all below. There seems to have been some dreadful mismanagement to cause the horrid scene that followed. Why _all_ the negroes should have been driven down together; or why when the vessel was put to rights they should not have been allowed to return to the deck; or why when driven down the hatches should have been forced upon them--are matters which we cannot comprehend; but nothing could be more unfortunate than the consequence of those rash measures. We state the event in the words of the narrative:-- ""The night being intensely hot and close 400 wretched beings crammed into a hold twelve yards in length seven in breadth and only three and a half feet in height speedily began to make an effort to re-issue to the open air; being thrust back and striving the more to get out the _after hatch_ was forced down upon them. Over the other hatchway in the fore part of the vessel a wooden grating was fastened. A scene of agony followed those most unfortunate measures unequaled by any thing that we have heard of since the Black Hole of Calcutta. To this _sole inlet_ for the air the suffocating heat of the hold and perhaps panic from the strangeness of their situation made them press. They crowded to the grating and clinging to it for air completely barred its entrance. They strove to force their way through apertures in length fourteen inches and barely six inches in breadth and in some instances succeeded. The cries the heat I may say without exaggeration 'the smoke of their torment ' which ascended can be compared to nothing earthly. One of the Spaniards gave warning that the consequence would be many deaths--_manana habra muchos muertos_."" If this statement with its consequences be true we cannot conceive how the conduct of those persons by whom it was brought about can be passed over without enquiry. There seems to have been nothing in the shape of _necessity_ for its palliation. There was no storm the vessel was in no danger of foundering unless the hatches were fastened down. That the negroes might have lumbered the deck for the first few minutes of preparing to meet the squall is probable; but why when they were palpably suffocating they should still have been kept down is one of the most unaccountable circumstances we ever remember. We must hope that while we are nationally incurring an enormous expenditure to extinguish this most guilty and detestable traffic such scenes will be guarded against for ever by the strictest orders to the captors of the slave-traders. It would have been infinitely better for the wretched cargo if they had been carried to their original destination and sent to toil in the fields of Brazil. The Spaniard's prediction was true. Next morning no less than fifty-four crushed and mangled corpses were lifted up from the slave deck and thrown overboard. We shall avoid disgusting our readers with mentioning the state in which their struggles had left those trampled and strangled beings. On the survivors being released from their torrid dungeon they drank their allowance of water somewhat more than half a pint to each with inconceivable eagerness. A heavy shower having freshened the air in the evening most of the negroes went below of their own accord the hatchways having been left open to allow them air. But a short time however had elapsed when they began tumultuously to reascend; and some of the persons on deck fearful of their crowding it too much repelled them and they were trampled back screaming and writhing in a confused mass. The hatch was about to be forced down upon them; and had not the lieutenant in charge left positive orders to the contrary the catastrophe of last night would have been re-enacted. On explaining to the Spaniard that it was desired he should dispose those who came on deck in proper places he set himself to the task with great alacrity; and he showed with much satisfaction how soon and how quietly they might be arranged out of the way of the ropes covered with long rugs provided for the purpose. ""To-morrow "" said he ""there will be no deaths except perhaps among some of those who are sick already."" On the next day there was but one dead but three were reported dying from the sufferings of the first night. They now saw the Cleopatra once more and the alarm of small-pox having been found groundless the captain took on board fifty of the boys. To our surprise the provisions on board the slaver were ample for the negroes consisting of Monte Video dried beef small beans rice and cassava flour. The cabin stores were profuse; lockers filled with ale and porter barrels of wine liqueurs of various sorts cases of English pickles raisins &c. &c.; and its list of medicines amounted to almost the whole _Materia Medica_. On questioning the Spaniards as to the probability of extinguishing the slave-trade their reply was that though in the creeks of Brazil it might be difficult yet it had grown a desperate adventure. Four vessels had been already taken on the east coast of Africa this year; but the venture is so lucrative that the profits of a fifth which escaped would probably more than compensate the loss of the four. On the east coast negroes are paid for in money or coarse cottons at the rate of eighteen dollars for men and twelve for boys. At Rio Janeiro their value may be estimated at £52 for men £41 10s. for women and £31 for boys. Thus on a cargo of 500 at the mean price the profit will exceed £19 000-- Cost price of 500 average fifteen dollars or £3 5s. each £1 625 Selling price at Rio Janeiro average £41 10s. £20 730 While these enormous profits continue it must be a matter of extreme difficulty to suppress the trade especially while the principals captains and crews have perfect impunity. At present all that they suffer is the loss of their cargo. But if enactments were made by which heavy fines and imprisonment were to be inflicted on the merchants to whom the expedition could be traced and corporal punishment and transportation for life for the crews and for the captains service as common sailors on board our frigates we should soon find the ardour for the traffic diminished. The voyage was slow from the frequent calms. By the 20th of April they had advanced only to the tropic 350 miles. From day to day the sick among the negroes were dropping off. A large shark followed the ship which they conceived might have gorged some of the corpses. He was caught but the stomach was empty. When brought on the deck he exhibited the usual and remarkable tenacity of life. Though his tail was chopped and even his entrails taken out in neither of which operations it exhibited any sign of sensation yet no sooner was a bucket of salt water poured on it to wash the deck than it began to flounder about and bite on all sides. Symptoms of fever now began to appear on board and the Portuguese cook died. _April 29_.--A storm the lightning intolerably vivid flash succeeding flash with scarcely a sensible intermission; blue red and of a still more dazzling white which made the eye shrink lighting up every object on deck as clearly as at mid-day. All the winds of heaven seemed let loose as it blew alternately from every point of the compass. The screams of distress from the sick and weak in the hold were heard through the roar of the tempest. From the rolling and creaking one might fancy every thing going asunder. The woman's shed on deck had been washed down and the planks which formed its roof falling in a heap a woman was found dead under the ruin. _May 1_.--In this hemisphere marking the approach of the cold weather the naked negroes began to shiver and their teeth to chatter. _May 3_.--Another storm with severe cold. Seven negroes were found dead this morning. The wretched beings had begun now to steal water and brandy from the hold. ""None can tell "" says the writer ""save he who has tried the pangs of thirst which may excite them in that heated hold many of them fevered by mortal disease. Their daily allowance of water is about a half pint in the morning and the same quantity in the evening."" This passage now became all storms. A heavy squall came on _May 8_ which continued next day a strong gale. The first object which met the eye in the morning was three negroes dead on the deck. _May 11_.--Another storm heavier than any of the preceding ones. Towards evening the report of the helmsman was the gratifying one that the heart of the gale was broke; yet a yellow haze overspread the setting sun and it continued to blow as wildly as ever. Squalls rapidly succeeding each other mingled sea and air in one sheet of spray blinding the eyes of the helmsman; waves towering high above us tossing up the foam from their crests towards the sky threatened to engulf the vessel at every moment. When the squalls breaking heavily on the vessel caused her to heel over and the negroes to tumble one against each other in the hold the shrieks of the sufferers through the darkness of the night rising above the noise of the winds and waves seemed of all horrors in this unhappy vessel the saddest. Dysentery now attacked the crew and the boatswain's mate died. We pass over the melancholy details of this miserable voyage in which disgusts and distresses of every kind seemed to threaten all on board with death every day bringing its mortality. At last on Sunday May 28th the welcome sight of Cape Agulhas cheered them at the distance of ten miles. The weather was now fine but the mortality continued the fatal cases averaging four a-day. On the 1st of June eight were found dead in the morning; and when the morning mist had cleared away they found themselves within three miles of Simon's Bay. As soon as the Progresso anchored the superintendent of the naval hospital came on board and the writer descended with him for the last time to the slave hold. Accustomed as he had been to scenes of suffering he was unable to endure a sight surpassing all he could have conceived he said of human misery and made a hasty retreat. The numbers who had died within the fifty days were 163. Even this was not all; for on returning to the vessel next day six corpses were added to the eight of the preceding day and the fourteen were piled on deck for interment on the shore. A hundred of the healthiest negroes were landed at the pier to proceed in waggons to Cape Town; but though rescued from a state of extreme misery the change seemed to excite anxiety and apprehension. Each of the men had received on landing a new warm jacket and trousers and the women had each a new white blanket in addition to an under dress and they were placed snugly in waggons; yet their countenances resembled those of condemned victims. Of the whole of the original cargo not far short of one half had died. To what causes this horrible mortality must be imputed it is not our purpose to decide; but that it did not arise from the original tendency of the negroes to sickness seems evident--the fact being that of the fifty who were taken on board the frigate but one had died at sea and one on shore. Within a few days the liberated negroes had acquired a more cheerful look their first conception having been that they were to be devoured by the people of the country and they were reluctant to eat fearing that it was intended to fatten them for the purpose. However the negroes in the colonies soon freed them from this apprehension. We shall be rejoiced if the publicity given to this little but intelligent pamphlet by our means may assist in drawing the attention of the influential classes to the subject. We fully believe that if we were to look for the deepest misery that was ever inflicted in this world and the greatest mass of it we should find it in the slave-trade. It is the misery not as in civilized life of scattered individuals but of multitudes and a misery comprehending every other; sudden separation from every tie of the human heart parent child spouse and country; the misery of bodily affliction disease famine storms shipwreck and ultimately slavery with all its wretchedness of toil and tyranny for life. We certainly do not think it our duty to go to war for the object of teaching humanity to other nations. We must no attempt to heal the calamity of the African by the greatest of all calamities and crimes--an unnecessary war. But England has only to persevere sincerely and steadily however calmly and she will by the blessing of that supreme Disposer of the ways of men who desires the happiness of all his creatures succeed in the extinction of a traffic which has brought a curse and brings it at this hour and will bring it deeper still upon every nation which insults the laws of humanity and the dictates of religion by dealing in the flesh and blood of man. * * * * * MOSLEM HISTORIES OF SPAIN.[3]--THE ARABS OF CORDOVA. [3] The History of the Mohammedan Dynasties in Spain. By AHMED IBN MOHAMMED AL-MAKKARI of Telemsan. Translated and illustrated with Critical Notes by Pascual de Gayangos late Professor of Arabic in the Athenæum of Madrid.--Printed for the Oriental Translation Fund. 2 vols. 4to. 1840-43. ""The second day was that when Martel broke The Mussulmen delivering France opprest And in one mighty conflict from the yoke Of unbelieving Mecca saved the West."" SOUTHEY. The Arab domination in Spain is the grand romance of European history. The splendid but mysterious fabric of Asiatic power and science is seen for age after age like the fairy castle of St John exalted far above the rugged plain of Frank semi-barbarism--till the spell is at last broken by the iron prowess of Christian chivalry; and the glittering edifice vanishes from the land as though it had never been leaving like the fabled structure of the poet only a wreath of laurel to bind the brows of the victor. Yet though replete with gorgeous materials both for history and fiction and stored not only with the recondite lore of Asia and Egypt but with the borrowed treasures of ancient Greece (long known to Christendom only by versions through an Arabic medium ) the language and literature of this marvellous people and even their history except so far as it related to their never-ceasing warfare with their Christian foes remained up to the middle of the last century a sealed book to their Spanish successors. Coming into possession like the Israelites of old ""of a land for which they did not labour of cities which they built not of vineyards and olive-yards which they planted not "" the Spaniards not merely contemned but persecuted with the fiercest bigotry all that was left in the peninsula of the genius and learning of their predecessors. Eighty thousand volumes were publicly burned in one fatal _auto-da-fé_ at Granada by order of Cardinal Ximenes in whom the literature of his own language yet found a munificent patron; and so meritorious did the deed appear in the eyes of his contemporaries that the number has been magnified to an incredible amount by his biographers in their zeal for the renown of their hero! So complete was the destruction or deportation[4] of the seventy public libraries which a century and a half before the subjugation of the Moors were open in different cities of Spain that the valuable collection now in the Escurial owes its origin to the accidental capture early in the seventeenth century of three ships laden with books belonging to Muley Zidan emperor of Morocco--and even of this casual prize so little was the value appreciated that it was not till more than a hundred years later and after three-fourths of the books had been consumed by fire in 1671 that the learned and diligent Casiri was commissioned to make a catalogue of the remainder. The result was the well-known _Bibliotheca Arabico-Hispana Escurialensis_ which appeared in 1760-70; and which in the words of the present learned translator ""though hasty and superficial and containing frequent unaccountable blunders must with all its imperfections ever be valuable as affording palpable proof of the literary cultivation of the Spanish Arabs and as containing the first glimpses of historical truth."" Up to this time the only authority on Spanish history purporting to be drawn from Mohammedan sources was the work of a Morisco named Miguel de Luna written by command of the Inquisition; which was first printed at Granada in 1592 and has passed through many editions. Its value may be estimated from its placing the Mohammedan conquest of Spain in the time of Yakub Al-mansor the actual date of whose reign was from A.D. 1184 to 1199; insomuch that Señor de Gayangos suggests as a possible explanation of its glaring inaccuracies that it was the writer's intention to hoax his employers. Casiri had however opened the door for further researches; and he was followed in the same path by Don Faustino de Borbon whose works valuable rather from the erudition which they display than from their judgment or critical acumen have now become extremely scarce--and next by Don Antonio José Condé one of the most zealous and laborious if not the most accurate of Spanish orientalists. His ""History of the Domination of the Arabs and Moors in Spain "" has been generally regarded as of high authority and is in truth the first work on the subject drawn wholly from Arab sources; but it receives summary condemnation from Señor de Gayangos for ""the uncouth arrangement of the materials the entire want of critical or explanatory notes the unaccountable neglect to cite authorities the numerous repetitions blunders and contradictions."" These charges are certainly not without foundation; but they are in some measure accounted for by the trouble and penury in which the author's last years were spent and the unfinished state in which the work was left at his death in 1820. [4] The Almoravide and Almohade princes who ruled both in Spain and Africa often inserted a clause in their treaties with the Christians for the restoration of the libraries captured in the towns taken from the Moslems; and Ibn Khaldun mentions that Yakob Al-mansor destined a college at Fez for the reception of the books thus recovered. An authentic and comprehensive view of the Arab period as described by their own writers was therefore still a desideratum in European literature which the publication before us may be considered as the first step towards supplying. The work of Al-Makkari which has been taken as a text-book is not so much an original history as a collection of extracts sometimes abridged and sometimes transcribed in full from more ancient historians; and frequently giving two or three versions of the same event from different authorities--so that though it can claim but little merit as a composition it is of extreme value as a repository of fragments of authors in many cases now lost; and further as the only ""uninterrupted narrative of the conquests wars and settlements of the Spanish Moslems from their first invasion of the Peninsula to their final expulsion."" In the arrangement of his materials the translator has departed considerably and with advantage from the original; giving the historical books in the form of a continuous narrative and omitting several sections relating to matters of little interest--while the deficiencies and omissions of the author are supplied by an appendix containing in addition to a valuable body of original notes copious extracts from numerous unpublished Arabic MSS. relating to Spain which afford ample proof of the extent and diligence of his researches among the Oriental treasures of Paris and London. To those in the Escurial however he was denied access during his labours--an almost incredible measure of illiberality which if he be correct in ascribing it to his known intention of publishing in England ""ill suits a country"" (as he justly remarks in the preface) ""which has lately seen its archives and monastic libraries reduced to cinders and scattered or sold in foreign markets without the least struggle to rescue or secure them."" Ahmed Al-Makkari the author or compiler of the present work derived his surname from a village near Telemsan called Makkarah where his family had been established since the conquest of Africa by the Arabs. He was born at Telemsan some time in the latter half of the sixteenth century and educated by his uncle who held the office of Mufti in that city; but having quitted his native country in 1618 on a pilgrimage to Mekka he married and settled in Cairo. During a visit to Damascus in 1628 he was received with high distinction by Ahmed Ibn Shahin Effendi the director of the college of Jakmak in that city and a distinguished patron of literature; at whose suggestion (he tells us) he undertook this work. His original purpose had been only to write the life of Abu Abdullah Lisanuddin a celebrated historian and minister in Granada better known to Oriental scholars as Ibnu'l-Khattib; but having completed this the thought struck him of adding as a second part an historical account of the Moslems of Spain. He had formerly written an extensive and elaborate work on this subject composed (to use his own words) ""in such an elevated and pleasing style that had it been publicly delivered by the common crier it would have made even the stones deaf:--but alas! the whole of this we had left in Maghreb (Morocco) with the rest of our library.... However we have done our best to make the present work as useful and complete as possible."" It was probably the last literary undertaking of his life; since he was on the point of quitting Cairo to fix his residence in Damascus when he died of a fever in the second Jomada of A.H. 1041 (Jan. 1632 ) leaving a high reputation as a traditionist and doctor of the Moslem law. The introductory chapter gives a sketch of the various nations which inhabited _Andalus_ or Spain before the Arab conquest prefaced by extracts from numerous writers eulogistic of a country ""whose excellences"" (as Al-Makkari himself declares) ""are such and so many that they cannot easily be contained in a book ... so that one of their wise men who knew that the country had been called the bird's tail owing to the supposed resemblance of the earth to a bird with extended wings remarked that that bird was the peacock the principal beauty of which was in the tail."" These panegyrics are not in all cases exactly consistent; for while the famous geographer Obeydullah Al-Bekri ""compares his native country to Syria for purity of air and water to China for mines and precious stones &c. &c. and to Al-Ahwaz (a district in Persia) _for the magnitude of its snakes_""--the Sheikh Ahmed Al-Razi (better known as the historian Razis) praises its comparative freedom from wild beasts and reptiles. The name _Andalus_ is derived by some authors from a great grandson of Noah so

amed who settled there soon after the deluge; but Al-Makkari rather inclines with Ibn Khaldun and other writers to deduce it from the _Andalosh _ (Vandals ) ""a tribe of barbarians "" who appear to be considered as the earliest inhabitants; but who having incurred the divine wrath by their wickedness and idolatry were all cut off by a terrible drought which left the land for a hundred years an uninhabited desert. A colony then arrived from Africa under a chief named Batrikus eleven generations of whose descendants reigned for one hundred and fifty-seven years; after which they were all annihilated by the ""barbarians of Rome who invaded and conquered the country; and it was after their king Ishban son of Titus that Andalus was called Ishbaniah "" (Hispania.) As Ishban is just after said to have ""plundered and demolished Ilia which is the same as Al-Kods the illustrious "" (Jerusalem ) it is obvious that the name must be a corruption of Vespasian who is thus made the son instead of the father of Titus. We are told that authors differ whether it was on this occasion or at the former capture of Jerusalem by Bokht-Nasser (Nebuchadnezzar ) at which a king of Spain named Berian was also present that the table constructed by the genii for Solomon and which Tarik afterwards found at Toledo was transported to Spain--and Al-Makkari professes himself as well he may unable to reconcile the different accounts. Fifty-five kings descended from Ishban whose race was dispossessed (""about the time of the Messiah on whom be peace!"") by a people called Bishtilikat (Visigoths?) under a king called Talubush (Ataulphus?) whom Al-Makkari holds to have been the same people as the ""barbarians of Rome "" though ""there are not wanting authors who make the Goths and the Bishtilikat only one nation."" After holding possession during the reigns of twenty-seven monarchs they were in turn subdued by the Goths whose royal residence was ""Toleyalah (Toledo ) though Isbiliah (Seville) continued to be the abode of the sciences."" The Gothic kings are said to have been thirty-six;--but the only one particularized by name is ""Khoshandinus (Constantine ) who not only embraced Christianity himself but called on his subjects to do the same and is held by the Christians as the greatest king they ever had.... Several kings of his posterity reigned after him till Andalus was finally subdued by the Arabs by whose means God was pleased to make manifest the superiority of Islam over every other religion."" With the Arab conquest the authentic history commences; and the accounts given from the Moslem writers of this memorable event which first gave the followers of the Prophet a footing in Europe differ in no material point from the eloquent narrative of Gibbon. Al-Makkari however does not fail to inform us that predictions had been rife from long past ages which foretold the invasion and conquest of the country by a fierce people from Africa; and potent were the spells and talismans constructed to ward off the danger ""by the _Greek_ kings who reigned in old times."" Several of these are described with due solemnity; and among them we find the tale of the visit paid by Roderic[5] to the magic tower at Toledo which has been rendered familiar by the pages of Scott and Southey. We shall not here recapitulate the well-known incidents of the wrongs and revenge of Count Yllan or Julian the first landing of Tarif at Tarifa the second expedition sent by Musa under Tarik Ibn Zeyad and the death or disappearance of the Gothic king on the fatal day of Guadalete.[6] So complete was the discomfiture of the Christians that the kingdom fell without a second blow before the victors of a single field; and was overrun with such rapidity that from the inability of the conquerors to garrison the cities which surrendered they were entrusted for the time to the guard of the Jews!--a singular circumstance which when coupled with the statement that many of the Berbers (of whom the invading army was almost wholly composed) were recent converts from Judaism [7] would apparently imply that the conquest was facilitated by a previous correspondence. The subjugation of the country was completed by the arrival of Musa himself who reduced Seville and the other towns which still held out and is even said to have crossed the Pyrenees and sacked Narbonne;[8] but this is not mentioned by any Christian writer and is referred by the translator to his invasion of Catalonia which the Arabs considered as part of ""the land of the Franks."" After the first fury of conquest had subsided the Christians who remained in their homes were permitted to live unmolested on payment of the capitation-tax; but peculiar privileges were accorded to the Jews and the hold of the Moslems on the country was strengthened by the vast influx of settlers not only from Africa but from Syria and Arabia who were attracted by the reports of the riches and fertility of the new province. Nearly all the tribes of Arabia are enumerated by Al-Makkari as represented in Spain; and the feuds of the two great divisions the Beni-Modhar[9] or race of Adnan and the Beni-Kahttan or Arabs of Yemen gave rise to most of the civil wars which subsequently desolated Andalus. [5] He is called by the Arabic writers Ludherik--a name afterwards applied as a general designation to the kings of Castile. [6] The translator adduces strong grounds for believing that the battle was fought not as usually held in the plain of Xeres on the south bank of the Guadalete but ""nearer the sea-shore and not far from the town of Medina-Sidonia."" [7] This is not mentioned by the authors from whom Al-Makkari has drawn his materials but is stated by Professor de Gayangos on the authority of Ibn Khaldun. [8] A story is here told of Musa's reaching some colossal ruins and a monument inscribed with Arabic characters pointing out that place as the term of his conquests--a legend which perhaps gave the hint for one of the tales in the Thousand and One Nights in which he is sent on an expedition to the city of Brass on the shores of the Western Ocean.--See Lane's translation chap. 21. [9] Condé and the writers who have followed him constantly speak of the Beni-Modhar as Egyptian--an error owing to the neglect or omission of the point which in Arabic orthography distinguishes _Modhar_ from _Missr_ (Egypt.) The spoil of the vanquished kingdom was immense--the accumulation of long years of luxury and freedom from foreign invasion in a country which both from the fertility of the soil and the abundance of the precious metals was then probably the richest in Europe. Whatever degree of credit we may attach to the famous table of Solomon ""said by some to be of pure gold and by others green emerald "" and the gems and ornaments of which are described with full Oriental luxuriance every account referring to the booty acquired in the principal cities gives ample evidence of the riches and splendour of the Visigoths. ""The plunder found at Toledo[10] was beyond calculation. It was common for the lowest men in the army to find magnificent gold chains and long strings of pearls and rubies. Among other precious objects were found 170 diadems of the purest red gold set with every sort of precious stone; several measures full of emeralds rubies and other gems; and an immense number of gold and silver vases. Such was the eagerness for plunder and the ignorance of some especially the Berbers that when two or more of this nation fell upon an article which they could not conveniently divide they would cut it in pieces whatever the material might be and share it among them."" Some of the victorious army seized some ships in the eastern ports and set sail for their homes with their plunder; but they were speedily overtaken by a tremendous storm and all perished in the waves--a manifest token we are given to understand of the Divine vengeance for the abandonment of the _holy_ warfare under the banners of Islam. [10] Burkhardt (Travels in Arabia i. 303) says that all the golden ornaments which the Khalif Walid gave to the mosque at Mekka ""were sent from Toledo in Spain and carried upon mules through Africa and Arabia."" Musa was on his march into Galicia to crush the last embers of national resistance when his progress was checked by a peremptory summons from the Khalif to answer at Damascus the charges forwarded against him by Tarik whom he had unjustly disgraced and punished. Being convicted of falsehood on the production by Tarik of the missing foot of the table of Solomon the merit of finding which had been claimed by Musa he was tortured and deprived of his riches; and the head of his gallant son Abdulaziz whom he had left in command in Spain was shown to him in public by the Khalif Soliman the successor of Walid with the cruel demand if he knew whose it was. ""I do "" was the father's reply: ""it is the head of one who fasted and prayed; may the curse of Allah fall on it if he who slew him is a better man than he!"" But though Musa was thus arrested in the last stage of his conquering career so complete was the prostration of the Christians that the viceroys who succeeded Abdulaziz overlooking or disregarding this yet unsubdued corner of Spain at once poured their forces across the Pyrenees seeking new fields of conquest and glory in the countries of the Franks. But the antagonists whom they here encountered unlike the luxurious Goths of Spain still preserved the barbarian valour which they had brought from their German forests. And As-Samh (the Zama of the Christian writers ) the first Saracen general who obtained a footing in France ""fell a martyr to the faith "" with nearly his whole army in a battle with Eudo Duke of Aquitaine before Toulouse May 10 A.D. 721. But the fiery zeal of the Moslems was only stimulated by this reverse. In the course of the ten following years their dominion was established as far as the Rhone and Garonne; till in 732 the torrent of invasion headed by the _Wali_ Abdurrahman burst into the heart of the country; and the battle decisive of the destinies of France and perhaps of Europe was fought between Tours and Poitiers in October of that year (Ramadhan A.H. 114.) Few details are given by the Arab writers of the seven days' conflict in which the ranks of the Moslems were shattered by the iron arm of Charles Martel; ""and the army of Abdurrahman was cut to pieces at a spot called _Balatt-ush-Shohadá_ (the Pavement of the Martyrs ) he himself being in the number of the slain."" Some confusion here appears as the same epithet had been applied to the former battle near Toulouse; but this ""disastrous day"" of Tours virtually extinguished the schemes of Arab conquest in France though it was not till many years later that they were completely dislodged from Narbonne and their other acquisitions between the Garrone and the Pyrenees. Meanwhile the Christian remnant left unmolested in the Asturian and Galician mountains gradually recovered courage: and in 717-18 ""a despicable barbarian "" (as he is termed by Ibn Hayyan a writer often cited by Al-Makkari ) ""named Belay (Pelayo or Pelagius ) rose in Galicia; and from that moment the Christians began to resist the Moslems and to defend their wives and daughters; for till then they had not shown the least inclination to do so."" ""Would to God "" piously subjoins Al-Makkari ""that the Moslems had then extinguished at once the sparkles of a fire destined to consume their whole dominion in those parts! But they said--'What are thirty barbarians perched on a rock? they must inevitably die!'"" The spark which contained the germ of the future independence of Spain was thus suffered to remain and spread while the swords of the Moslems were occupied in France; and its growth was further favoured by the anarchy and civil dissensions which broke out among the conquerors. While the leaders of the different Arab factions contested sword in hand the viceroyalty of Spain the Berbers (whose conversion to Islam was apparently yet but imperfect) rose in furious revolt both in Spain and Africa and were only overpowered by a fresh army sent by the Khalif Hisham from Syria. But the arrival of these reinforcements added new fuel to the old feuds of the Beni-Modhar and the Yemenis or Beni-Kahttan; and a desperate civil war raged till 746 when the Khalif's lieutenant the Emir Abu'l-Khattar who supported the Yemenis was killed in a pitched battle fought near Cordova. The leader of the victorious tribe Yusuf Al-Fehri [11] now assumed supreme power which he exercised nearly ten years as an independent ruler without reference to the court of Damascus. The state of affairs in the East indeed left little leisure to the Umeyyan khalifs to attend to the regulation of a remote province. Their throne was already tottering before the arms and intrigues of the Abbasides whose black banners under the guidance of the formidable Abu-Moslem were even now bearing down from Khorassan upon Syria. The unpopular cause of the Beni-Umeyyah who were detested for the murder of the grandsons of the Prophet under the second of their line was lost in a single battle; and the death of Merwan the last khalif of the race was followed by the unsparing proscription of the whole family. ""Every where they were seized and put to death without mercy; and few escaped the search made by the emissaries of As-Seffah (_the bloodshedder_ the surname of the first Abbaside khalif ) in every province of the empire."" [11] The tribe of Fehr hold a conspicuous place in the Spanish annals and one of them was the leader of the last attempt to shake off the yoke of Castile after the capture of Granada. Among the few survivors of the general doom was a youth named Abdurrahman Ibn Muawiyah a grandson of the Khalif Hisham. In his infancy his granduncle Moslemah the leader of the first Saracen host sent against Constantinople had indicated him from certain marks as the destined restorer of the fallen fortunes of his race; and he was preserved by a timely warning from a client of his house from the fatal banquet in which ninety of the Beni-Umeyyah were treacherously massacred. Yet so hot was the pursuit that his younger brother was taken and slain before his eyes while swimming the Euphrates with him in their flight. But Abdurrahman after numberless perils and adventures at length reached Africa which was ruled by the _wali_ or viceroy Abdurrahman Ibn Habib the father of Yusuf Al-Fehri who had been a personal retainer of his family. But he soon found that he had erred in trusting to the faith of Ibn Habib; and after narrowly escaping the search made for him by the emissaries of the governor lay concealed for several years a fugitive and outlaw among the tribes of Northern Africa. In this extremity he at length cast his eyes on Spain where the Abbasides had never been recognized and where his own clansmen of the Koreysh with their _maulis_ (freedmen or clients ) were numerous and powerful. The overtures of the royal adventurer were eagerly listened to by the Yemenis who burned to revenge their late defeat on the Beni-Modhar; and Abdurrahman landing at Al-muñecar in the autumn of 755 found himself instantly at the head of 700 horse and was speedily joined by the chieftain of the Yemenis who admitted him into Seville. During the march the want of a banner was remarked ""and a long spear was produced on the point of which a turban was to be placed; but as it would have been necessary to incline the head of the spear which was supposed to be of extremely bad omen it was held erect between two olive trees and a man ascending one of them was enabled to fasten the turban to the spear without lowering it.... With this same banner did Abdurrahman and his son Hisham vanquish their enemies whenever they met them; and in such veneration was it held that whenever the turban by long use decayed it was not removed but a new one placed over it. In this manner it was preserved till the days of Abdurrahman II.; some say till the days of his son Mohammed when the turban on the spear being decayed the vizirs of that monarch seeing nothing under it but a few rags twisted round the spear gave orders for their removal and the whole was thrown away.... 'From that time ' remarks the judicious historian Ibn Hayyan 'the empire of the Beni-Umeyyah began visibly to decline.'"" Under the auspices of this novel _oriflamme_ the Umeyyan prince and his followers advanced upon Cordova whither Yusuf Al-Fehri who had been engaged in suppressing an insurrection in the _Thagher_ (Aragon ) had hastened to oppose them at the head of the Beni-Modhar. Exchanging for a mule the fiery courser which the jealous whispers of his adherents had remarked as designed to secure his escape in case of defeat Abdurrahman led his troops to the attack; and his victory established on the throne of Spain a new dynasty of the Beni-Umeyyah ""who thus regained in the west the supremacy which they had lost in the east."" Those of the fallen family who had escaped the general massacre flocked to the court of their fortunate kinsman ""to all of whom he gave pensions commands and governments by which means his empire was strengthened;""--and the robes and turbans of the monarch and the princes were always white the colour assumed by the house of Umeyyah in opposition to the black livery of their rivals. Though Abdurrahman never assumed the title of commander of the faithful he suppressed the _khotbah_ or public prayers in the name of the Abbasides; and when Al-Ala the _wali_ of Africa invaded Spain in order to re-establish the supremacy of the eastern khalif the head of his unsuccessful general thrown before the tent of Al-mansor at Mekka conveyed to him the first tidings of the destruction of the armament by the ""hawk of the Koreysh "" as he was wont to term Abdurrahman. In the elation of triumph from this success he is even said to have contemplated marching through Africa to attack Al-mansor in the east; but this design was frustrated by the continual rebellions of the Arab tribes whom all his address and prudence was unable to keep in order; and ""while the Moslems were revolting against their sovereign the Christians of Galicia gathered strength took possession of the towns and fortresses on the frontier and expelled their inhabitants."" We find him at length obliged in order to maintain his authority to have recourse to the system which in the next century became universal in the east of entrusting the defence of his throne and person not to the native levies of his kingdom but to a standing army of purchased slaves or _Mamlukes_. ""He began to cease all communication with the chiefs of the Arabian tribes whom he found animated with a strong hatred against him and to surround himself with slaves and people entirely devoted to him; for which end he engaged followers and took clients from every province of his empire and sent over to Africa to enlist Berbers. 'Thus ' says Ibn Hayyan 'Abdurrahman collected an army of slaves and Berbers amounting to upwards of 40 000 men by means of whom he always remained victorious in every contest with the Arabian tribes of Andalus.'"" The sciences and fine arts which had been almost banished from Spain since the conquest returned in the train of the new dynasty; and literature was encouraged by the example of Abdurrahman who was himself a poet of no mean merit. His affectionate remembrance of his Syrian home led him to introduce into his new kingdom the flowers and fruits of the east;--and the palm-tree which was the parent of all those of its kind in Spain and to which he addressed the well-known lines lamenting their common fate as exiles from their fatherland was planted by himself in the gardens of the Rissáfah a country palace built on the model of one near Damascus in which the first years of his life had been spent. In architectural magnificence he rivaled or surpassed the former princes of his race the monuments of whose grandeur still exist in the mosque of the Beni-Umeyyah at Damascus and other edifices adorning the cities of Syria. The palaces and aqueducts which he constructed in Cordova testified his zeal for the splendour as well as his care for the salubrity of his capital;--and after expending the sum of 80 000 golden _dinars_ (the produce of the royal fifth of all spoil taken in war) in the erection of the stately mosque which bears his name he bequeathed the completion of the structure at his death A.D. 788 to his younger son Hisham whom he nominated as his successor to the exclusion of the elder brother Soliman. Al-Makkari devotes an entire chapter to the wonders of this celebrated temple which was finished A.D. 794 nine years after its commencement and received additions from almost every successive sovereign of the house of Umeyyah. In its present state as the cathedral of Cordova it still covers more ground than any church in Christendom; but the inner roof with its elaborate carving the _mihrab_ or shrine of minute inlaid work of ivory gems and precious woods and containing a copy of the Koran which had belonged to the Khalif Othman--the embossed plates of gold and silver which encrusted the doors and the apples of the same metals which surmounted the dome--have long since disappeared; and the thousand (or as some say thirteen hundred) columns of polished marble which it once boasted have been grievously reduced in number to make room for the shrines and chapels of Christian saints. The unequal length and proportions of those which remain their irregular grouping and the want of height in the roof which they support indicate a far lower grade of architectural taste than that which we find in the aerial palaces of Granada; but all the Arabic writers who have described it concur in considering it one of the wonders of the world; and it ranked in the estimation of the Spanish Moslems as inferior in point of sanctity to none but the Kaaba and the mosque of Omar at Jerusalem. The mood of the Beni-Umeyyah who appear in their eastern reign only as gloomy and execrated tyrants had been chastened by their misfortunes; and the virtues of Abdurrahman _Ad-dakhel_ (_the enterer or conqueror_ as he is generally termed by historians) were emulated by his descendants. As an illustration of the character of his son Hisham it is related by Al-Makkari that on hearing that the people of Cordova said that his only motive in restoring the great bridge over the Guadalquivir was to pass over it himself when he went out hunting he bound himself by a solemn vow never to cross it again as long as he lived; but the reign of this beneficent prince lasted only eight years. His immediate successors Al-hakem I. and Abdurrahman II. were almost constantly engaged in warfare either against their own rebellious relatives and revolted subjects [12] or against the Christians of Galicia who by the middle of the ninth century had advanced their frontier to the Douro and repeatedly repulsed the armies sent against them from Cordova; but we find no mention in the writers cited by Al-Makkari either of the annual tribute of a hundred virgins popularly said to have been exacted by the Moslems or of the great victory in 846 by which King Ramiro redeemed his country from this degrading badge of vassalage.[13] So widely extended was the martial renown of the Umeyyan sovereigns that in 839 a suppliant embassy was received by Abdurrahman II. from the Greek Emperor _Tufilus_ (Theophilus ) then hard pressed by the arms of the Abbaside khalif Al-mutassem to solicit his aid against their common enemy; and though Abdurrahman declined to embark in this distant and hazardous enterprise a friendly intercourse long continued to be kept up between the courts of Cordova and Constantinople. The military establishment was fully organized and placed on a formidable footing. Besides the troops quartered in the provinces and receiving regular pay the _haras_ or royal guard of Mamlukes whose commander was one of the principal officers of the court was augmented to 5000 horse and 1000 foot all Christians or foreigners by birth who occupied barracks close to the royal palace and constantly mounted guard at the gates. The coast was also defended by a powerful fleet of armed vessels of which each of the seaports fitted out its proportion against the hostile attacks of the Abbaside lieutenauts of Africa and the predatory descents of the _Majus_[14] or Northmen; who after laying waste with fire and sword the French and English coasts had extended their ravages into the southern seas even to the Straits of Gibraltar. Lisbon and Seville were sacked by them in 844; and their piratical fleets continued for many years to carry pillage and bloodshed along the shores of the Peninsula. [12] It was by a body of exiles under Abu Hafss Omar the Apochapsus of the Greeks (incorrectly called Abu _Caab_ by Gibbon ) driven from Cordova after one of these insurrections that Crete was conquered in 823. [13] In this battle according to the veracious Spanish chroniclers Santiago first appeared on his white horse in the mêlée fighting for the Christians.--See the ""Maiden Tribute "" in Lockhart's _Spanish Ballads_. [14] _Majus_--Magians or fire worshippers is the term invariably applied to these fierce Pagans by the Arabic historians apparently by a negative induction from their being neither Moslems Jews nor Christians. The simplicity which the first Abdurrahman had uniformly preserved in his dress and habits of life was soon exchanged by his successors for royal magnificence rivaling that of the Abbaside court at Bagdad. It was Abdurrahman II. who in a love quarrel with a beautiful inmate of his harem caused the door of her chamber to be blocked up with bags of silver coin to be removed on her relenting--""and she threw herself on her knees and kissed his feet; but "" naïvely adds the Arab historian ""the money she kept and no portion of it ever returned to the treasury."" The same prince testified his esteem for the fine arts by riding forth in state from his capital to welcome the arrival of Zaryab a far-famed musician whom the jealousy of a rival had driven from Bagdad and who founded in Spain a famous school of music; and in his convivial habits and the freedom which he allowed to the companions of his festive hours his character accords with that assigned in the _Thousand and One Nights_ though not in the page of history to Haroon-Al-Rasheed. He died in 852 leaving the crown to his son Mohammed whose reign as well as those of his two sons Almundhir and Abdullah who filled the throne in succession is but briefly noticed by Al-Makkari though Señor de Gayangos has supplied some valuable additional matter in his notes. The never-ceasing contest with the Christians was waged year by year; and the Princes of Oviedo though often defeated in the plain and driven back into their mountains when the forces of Andalus were gathered against them; yet surely though slowly gained ground against the provincial _walis_ or viceroys. At the death of ""Ordhun Ibn Adefunsh "" (Ordoño I.) in 866 their territory extended from the Atlantic and the Bay of Biscay to Salamanca; and the Moslem power was diverted by the rising strength of Navarre where the Basques had shaken off the divided allegiance paid alternately to the court of Cordova and the Carlovingian rulers of France and conferred on Garcia-Ramirez in 857 an independent regal title. But these distant hostilities as yet little affected the tranquillity of the seat of government which was more nearly interested in the frequent revolts of the provinces under its rule [15] and particularly by the rebellion of the _Muwallads_ (or descendants of Christian converts to Islam;) which though the information extant respecting it is somewhat scanty would appear to have been little less than a struggle between the two races for the dominion of Spain. One of the Muwallad chiefs named Omar Ibn Hafssun [16] maintained for years a sort of semi-independence in the Alpuxarras. Al-mundhir fell in a skirmish against him in 888 only two years after his accession; and the insurrection after continuing through the whole reign of Abdullah was only finally suppressed under Abdurrahman III. [15] No fewer than twenty-seven insurgent leaders in the reign of Abdullah alone are enumerated in the translator's notes from Ibn Hayyan. [16] The epithet of _kelb_ ""dog "" frequently applied to this leader has led Condé into the strange error of creating for him a son whom he calls _Kalib_ Ibun Hafssun. The term _Muwallad_ is said to be the origin of _mulatto_. The system of government under these princes appears to have remained in nearly the same form as it had been fixed by Abdurrahman I. The monarch nominated during his lifetime one of his sons as his successor; and the _wali-al-ahd_ or crown-prince thus selected received the oaths of allegiance of the dignitaries of the state and was admitted to a share in the administration--a wise regulation which prevented the recurrence of the civil wars arising from the ambition of princes of the blood which had distracted the reigns of Al-hakem I. and Abdurrahman II. The council of the sovereign was composed of the _vizirs_ or ministers of the different departments the _katibs_ or secretaries and the chiefs of the law; the _walis_ of the six great provinces into which Abdurrahman I. divided his empire [17] as well as the municipal chiefs of the principal cities were also summoned on emergencies:--while the prime minister or highest officer of the state in whom as in the Turkish _Vizir-Azem_ [18] the supreme direction of both civil and military affairs was vested was designated the _Hajib_ or chamberlain. Of the four orthodox[19] sects of the Soonis the one which predominated in Spain as it does to the present day in Barbary and Africa was that of Malik Ibn Ans whose doctrines were introduced in the reign of Al-hakem I. by doctors who had received instruction from the lips of the Imam Malik himself at Mekka; and was formally established by that prince throughout his dominions. The judicial offices were filled as in other Moslem countries by Kadis whose decisions were regulated by the precepts of the Koran: but we find no mention (even before the assumption of the titles of Imam and Khalif by Abdurrahman III.) of any supreme ecclesiastical chief like the Sheikh-al-Islam or Mufti of the Ottomans;--though there were chief justices analogous to the Turkish Kadileskers who bore the title of _Kadi-'l-jamah_. [17] We do not find this division mentioned by the authors cited by Al-Makkari; but it is stated by Condé and appears to have prevailed as long as the kingdom retained its unity. The six provincial capitals were Saragossa Toledo Merida Valencia Murcia and Granada. Shortly before the arrival of Abdurrahman Yusuf Al-Fehri had organized _five_ great governments one of which comprised Narbonne and the Trans-Pyrenean conquests. [18] Under the Arab dynasties of the east the _vizir_ was exclusively an officer _of the pen_: and Makrizi expressly mentions that Bedr-al-Jemali who became vizir to the Fatimite khalif Al-Mostanssor in 1074 was the first in whom _the sword and the pen_ were united. [19] See Sale's Koran. Preliminary Discourse. Sect. 8. The royal revenue was derived from a variety of sources. The principal were a land-tax amounting to one-tenth of the produce of the soil and the mines the capitation-tax paid by the Jews and Christians and the fifth of the spoil taken from the enemy--an enormously productive item in a time of constant warfare--besides a duty of two and a half per cent on all exports and imports. These were the legitimate dues of the crown sanctioned by the Koran; but the splendid court maintained by the later sovereigns of Cordova their lavish expenditure in building and their large military and naval establishments often compelled them to have recourse to irregular methods of raising money by forced loans and by duties laid on different articles of food in direct violation of the Moslem law. The amount raised by all these means varied greatly at different periods. Under Abdurrahman II. the whole direct revenue is said not to have exceeded 1 000 000 of gold _din[=a]rs_:--but the royal fifths and other extraordinary sources of income appear not to have been included in this estimate:--and a century later under the third and greatest prince of that name we are told on the authority of the biographer Ibn Khallekan that ""the revenues of Andalus amounted to 5 480 000 gold _din[=a]rs_ collected from taxes "" (it is elsewhere said from the _land_-tax:) besides 765 000 derived from markets--exclusive also of the royal fifth of t

e spoil and the capitation-tax levied on Christians and Jews living in the Moslem dominions the amount of which is said to have equaled all the rest. An annual sum of equal amount reckoning the _din[=a]r_ at ten shillings had never in the history of the world been raised in a territory of the same extent and probably equaled the united incomes of all the Christian princes in Europe--if we except the revenue of the Greek Emperor it certainly far exceeded them. ""Of this vast income "" Ibn Khallekan continues ""one-third was appropriated to the payment of the army another third was deposited in the royal coffers to cover the expenses of the household and the remainder was spent yearly in the construction of Az-zahra and such other buildings as were erected under his reign."" This tripartite allotment of the revenue is alluded to under several reigns: the expenses of administration and the salaries of the civil functionaries were included under the second head; and the third portion was in ordinary case reserved ""to repel invasions and meet emergencies."" The prince under whom the vast revenue thus stated is said to have been collected ascended the throne on the death of his grandfather Abdullah in the 300th year of the Hejra and the 912th of the Christian era:--and his reign of more than fifty lunar years saw the power and splendour of the Umeyyan dynasty attain its zenith. For some years after his accession he headed his armies in person against the Christians and the partizans of Ibn Hafssun who still continued in arms: but the severe defeat which he received in 939 at Simaneas near Zamora (called by Moslem writers the battle of Al-handik ) from Ramiro II. of Leon disgusted him with active warfare; and he deputed the command of his armies to his generals and the princes of the blood who in annual campaigns so effectually kept the Christians within their limits that little territorial acquisition was made by them during his reign; while the voluntary adhesion of the Berber tribes after the overthrow of the Edrisite dynasty in 941 by the arms of the Fatimite khalifs gave him almost unresisted possession of great part of Fez and Morocco. The defeat of Al-handik and the treason and execution in 950 of his elder son Abdullah (whom disappointment at being postponed to his younger brother in the succession had led to conspire against his father's life ) were almost the only clouds which dimmed the continual sunshine of his prosperity--and his grandeur was enhanced in the eyes of his subjects by the assumption of the highest prerogatives of Islam. Hitherto the princes of his line had contented themselves with the style of _Amirs of the Moslems _ and _Beni-Kholaifah_ or ""sons of the Khalifs;"" but in 929 ""seeing the state of weakness and degradation to which the khalifate of the Beni-Abbas at Bagdad had been reduced "" he no longer hesitated to adopt the titles of Imam and Khalif with the appellation of An-nasir Ledinillah (defender of the religion of God ) under which he is generally mentioned by historians. The writers from whom Al-Makkari has drawn his materials exhaust their powers of language in panegyrics on the unrivaled magnificence of the court of Abdurrahman; which was thronged both by men of letters whom the distracted state of the East had driven thither for refuge and by ambassadors not only from the princes of Islam but from ""Hoto the king of the Alaman "" (Otho the Great of Germany ) the king of France and numerous other Christian potentates. The reception of these missions was usually signalized by a gorgeous display of the pomp of the court--and the ceremonial on the arrival in 949 of the envoys of Constantine VII. of Constantinople is described at length from Ibn Hayyan. ""The vaulted hall in his palace of Az-zahra which he had fixed upon as the place where he would receive their credentials was beautifully decorated and a throne glittering with gold and sparkling with gems raised in the midst. To the right of the throne stood five of the khalif's sons to the left three others one being absent from illness. Next to them were the vizirs each at his post on the right or left of the throne. Then came the hajibs or chamberlains the sons of the vizirs the freed slaves of the khalif and the wakils or officers of his household. The court of the palace had been strewn with the richest carpets; and silken awnings of the most gorgeous description had every where been thrown over the doors and arches. Presently the ambassadors entered the hall and were struck with awe at the magnificence displayed and the power of the Sultan before whom they stood. They advanced a few steps and presented the letter of their master Constantine son of Leo Lord of Constantinah the Great (Constantinople.) It was written on sky-blue paper and the characters were of gold. Within the letter was an enclosure the ground of which was also sky-blue like the first but the characters were of silver: it was likewise written in Greek and contained a list of the presents which the Lord of Constantinah sent to the Khalif. On the letter was a seal of gold of the weight of four mithkals on one side of which was a likeness of the Messiah and on the other those of the King Constantine and his son. The letter was enclosed in a bag of silver cloth over which was a case of gold with a portrait of King Constantine admirably executed on stained glass. All this was enclosed in a case covered with cloth of silk and gold tissue. On the first line of the _Inwan_ or introduction was written 'Constantine and Romanin (Romanus ) believers in the Messiah kings of the Greeks;' and in the next 'To the great and exalted in dignity and power as he most deserves the noble in descent Abdurrahman the khalif who rules over the Arabs of Andalus: may God preserve his life!'"" The conclusion of this splendid ceremony was however less imposing than the commencement; for a learned _Faquih_ who had been appointed to harangue the envoys in a set speech was so overawed by the grandeur around him that ""his tongue clove to his mouth he could not aticulate a single word and fell senseless to the ground"" Nor did his successor ""who was reputed to be a prince in rhetoric and an ocean of language "" fare much better; for though he began fluently ""all of a sudden he stopped for want of a word which did not occur to him and thus put an end to his peroration."" In this awkward dilemma the reputation of the Andalusian rhetoricians was saved by Mundhir Ibn Said who not only poured forth a torrent of impromptu eloquence but delivered a long ex-tempore poem ""which to this day stands unequalled; and Abdurrahman was so pleased that he appointed him preacher and Imam to the great mosque; and some time after the office of Kadi-'l-jamah or supreme judge being vacant he named him to that high post and made him besides reader of the Khoran to the mosque of Az-zahra."" The palace of Az-zahra where the eyes of the Greeks were dazzled by this costly pageant is one of the familiar names of the romance of Spanish history:--it is known to all the world how Abdurrahman to gratify the capricious fancy of a beautiful and beloved mistress expended millions and tasked the labour of thousands in erecting on the plain beyond Cordova a fairy palace and city which might bear her name and be her own. And like a fairy fabric did Az-zahra vanish; for so utterly was it destroyed during the wars and civil tumults attending the fall of the race which raised it that at the present day not a stone can be found not a vestige even of the foundations traced to show where it once stood; and all that we know of this ""wondrous freak of magnificence"" is drawn from the glowing accounts of contemporary writers who saw it during the brief period of its glory. It is principally from Ibn Hayyan that Al-Makkari has copied the details of this marvellous structure with its ""15 000 doors counting each flap or fold as one "" all covered either with plates of iron or sheets of polished brass; and its 4000 columns great and small 140 of which were presented by the Emperor of Constantinople and 1013 mostly of green and rose-coloured marble were brought from various parts of Africa. Among the principal ornaments were two fountains brought from Constantinople ""the larger of gilt bronze beautifully carved with basso-relieve representing human figures ""--the smaller surrounded by twelve figures made of red gold in the arsenal of Cordova: they were all ornamented with jewels and the water poured out of their mouths. The famous fountain of quicksilver which could be set in motion at pleasure was placed in the _Kasr-al-Kholaifa_ or hall of the khalifs ""the roof and walls of which were of gold and solid but transparent blocks of marble of various colours: on each side were eight doors fixed on arches of ivory and ebony ornamented with gold and precious stones and resting on pillars of variegated marble and transparent crystal:--and in the centre was fixed the unique pearl presented to An-nassir by the Greek Emperor."" The mosque and baths attached to the palace were on a corresponding scale of magnificence: and the number of inmates male and female is said to have been not less than 20 000. The expenses of the establishment must have consumed the revenues of a kingdom if we are to believe the statement that 12 000 loaves of bread were daily allowed to feed the fish in the ponds! ""But all this and more is recorded by orators and poets who have exhausted the mines of eloquence in the description "" --says Al-Makkari who after enlarging upon ""the running streams the luxuriant gardens the stately buildings for the accommodation of the guards and high functionaries--the throngs of soldiers pages eunuchs and slaves attired in robes of silk and brocade moving to and fro through its broad streets--and the crowds of judges katibs theologians and poets walking with becoming gravity through the spacious halls and ample courts of the palace ""--concludes with a burst of pious enthusiasm. ""Praise be to God who allowed those contemptible creatures (mankind) to build such palaces and to inhabit them as a recompense in this world that the faithful might be stimulated to the path of virtue by reflecting that the pleasures enjoyed by their owners were still very far from giving even a remote idea of those reserved for the true believers in paradise!"" ""Abdurrahman "" as Al-Makkari sums up his character ""has been described as the mildest and most enlightened of sovereigns. His meekness generosity and love of justice became proverbial: none of his ancestors surpased him in courage zeal for religion and other virtues which constitute an able and beloved monarch. He was fond of science and the patron of the learned with whom he loved to converse.... We should never finish were we to transcribe the innumerable anecdotes respecting him which are scattered like loose pearls over the writings of the Andalusian poets and historians ""--but as the ""pearls"" selected possess but little novelty in the illustration of the kingly virtues which they commemorate we prefer to quote once more the oft-repeated legacy to posterity in which this ""Soliman of the West "" as he was called by his contemporaries confessed that like his eastern prototype he had found all his grandeur ""but vanity and vexation of spirit.""--""After his death a paper was found in his on handwriting in which were noted those days he had spent in happiness and without any cause of sorrow and they were found to amount to fourteen. O man of understanding! consider and observe the small portion of happiness the world affords even in the most enviable position! The khalif An-nasir whose prosperity in mundane affairs became proverbial had only fourteen days of undisturbed enjoyment during a reign of fifty years seven months and three days. Praise be given to him the Lord of eternal glory and everlasting empire! There is no God but he!"" In the fulness of years and glory Abdurrahman died of a paralytic stroke at Az-zahra on the second or third of Ramadhan A.H. 350 (Oct. 961 ) and was succeeded according to his previous nomination by his son Al-hakem II. who assumed on this occasion the title of Al-mustanser-billah (one who implores God's assistance.) This prince has been characterized by one of the ablest of recent historians [20] as ""one of those rare beings who have employed the awful engine of despotism in promoting the happiness and intelligence of his species;"" and who rivaled ""in his elegant tastes appetite for knowledge and munificent patronage the best of the Medici:""--nor is this high praise undeserved. Though he more than once headed his armies in person with success against the Christians and Northmen and maintained on public occasions the state and magnificence which had been introduced by his father the toils of war and the pomp of royalty were alike alien to his inclinations which had been directed from his earliest years to pursuits of literature and science. The library which he amassed is said by some writers to have amounted to the almost incredible number of 400 000 volumes: and such was his ardour in the collection of books that even in Persia and other remote regions the munificence which he exercised through agents employed for the purpose secured him copies of forthcoming works even before their appearance in their own country. ""He made Andalus a great market for the literary productions of every clime ... so that rich men in Cordova however illiterate they might be rewarded writers and poets with the greatest munificence and spared neither trouble nor expense in forming libraries."" Nor were these treasures of literature idly accumulated at least by Al-hakem himself; for so vast and various was his reading that there was scarcely one of his books (as we are assured by the historian Ibn'ul-Abbar) which was not enriched with remarks and annotations from his pen. ""In the knowledge especially of history biography and genealogy he was surpassed by no living author of his days: and he wrote a voluminous history of Andalus in which was displayed such sound criticism that whatever he related as borrowed from more ancient sources might be implicitly relied upon."" [20] Prescott's Ferdinand and Isabella i. 351. The reign of Al-hakem was the Augustan age of Andalusian literature; and besides the numerous learned men whom the fame of his father's and his own liberality with the security of their rule had attracted to Spain from other regions of Islam we find in the pages of Al-Makkari an extensive list of native authors principally in the departments of poetry history and philology who are said to be ""a few only of the most eminent who flourished during this reign""--but none of their names however noted in their own day are known in modern Europe. Nor was the gentler sex as is usually the case in the lands of Islam excluded from the general taste for letters; and one of our author's chapters is almost entirely filled with a catalogue of the poetesses who adorned Andalus at this and other periods of its history. One of these Mariam or Mary the daughter of Abu-Yakub Al-ansari who rose into celebrity in the latter years of Al-hakem appears to have been one of the earliest _bas-bleus_ on record. Independent of her poetical talents she gave lectures at her residence at Seville ""in rhetoric and literature; which united to her piety virtue and amiable disposition gained her the affection of her sex and procured her many pupils: she lived to old age and died after the 400th year of the Hejra "" (A.D. 1010.) The favourite study of the Moslems the divinity and law of the Koran was cultivated with especial zeal under a monarch who was himself a rigid observer of its ordinances; and various anecdotes are related by Al-Makkari of the extraordinary deference paid by Al-hakem to the eminent theologians who frequented his court. The Khalif himself ""attended public worship every Friday and distributed alms to the poor; he laid out large sums in the construction of mosques hospitals and colleges for youth;[21] and being himself very strict in the observance of his religious duties he enforced the precepts of the _Sunnah_ (tradition) throughout his dominions."" With this view severe edicts were directed against the use of wine which had become prevalent among the Andalusian Moslems; and Al-hakem was with difficulty restrained by representations of the ruin which would be thus brought on the cultivators from ordering the destruction of all the vines in his dominions. But the reign of this excellent and enlightened prince lasted only fifteen years; and at his death (Sept. 976 ) which was caused by the same malady that had proved fatal to his father the glory of the house of Umeyyah expired. [21] Eighty free schools are said by other authorities to have existed or been founded during this reign in Cordova; the number of dwelling-houses in which at the same time great and small is stated at 200 000. The evils of a minority had never yet been experienced in the succession of the Umeyyan princes all of whom had ascended the throne at a mature age and with some experience of administration from their previous recognition as heir. But Hisham II. (surnamed Al-muyyed-billah the assisted by God ) the only son of Al-hakem was but nine years old at the time of his father's decease; and for some time the government was directed in his name by the Hajib Jafar Al-Mushafi; but the influence of the queen-mother erelong succeeded in displacing this faithful minister in favour of Mohammed Ibn Abu Amir who then held the post of _sahib-ush-shortah_ or captain of the guard. This remarkable personage (better known in history by his surname of Al-mansur) was the son of a religious devotee and his condition in early life was so humble that he supported himself as a public letter-writer in the streets of Cordova; but an accident having introduced him into the palace he so skilfully wound his way among the intigues of the court as to attain the highest place next the throne. But even this dignity was far from satisfying his ambition. Under various pretexts he destroyed or drove into exile within a few years all the princes of the blood and others whose influence or station might have endangered the success of his projects and concentrated in his own hands all the powers of the state; while the khalif secluded from public view within his palace was as completely a puppet in the hands of his all-powerful minister as the khalifs of Bagdad at the same period in those of the _Emirs-al-Omrah_. Secure of the support of the soldiery whose affections he had gained by his liberality Al-mansur so little affected to disguise his assumption of supremacy that he ordered his own name to be struck on the coin and repeated in the public prayers along with that of Hisham thus arrogating to himself a share in the two most inalienable prerogatives of sovereignty. His robes were made of a peculiar fashion and stuff appropriated to royalty; he received embassies seated on the throne and declared peace and war in his own name. To such utter helplessness was the khalif reduced [22] that he was unable even to oppose the removal of the royal treasure fiom Cordova to a fortified palace which Al-mansur had built for his residence not far from Az-zahra and had named as if in mockery Az-zahirah;--and the Hajib was at one time obliged to quiet the murmurs of the populace who doubted whether their sovereign was still in existence by leading him in procession through the streets of the capital; ""and the eyes of the people feasted on what had been so long concealed from them."" [22] Some historians even speak of this period as the ""dynasty of the Amirites "" from Al-mansur's father Abn Amir. But this daring usurpation was in part redeemed by qualities in the usurper worthy of a king. Though the bigotry of Al-masur led him to order the destruction of those volumes in the library of Al-hakem which treated of philosophy and the abstruse sciences on the ground that such studies tended to irreligion he was yet liberal to the learned men who visited his court at Az-zahirah where he resided in royal splendour during the intervals of his campaigns; and he endeared hinself to the people by his generosity his rigid justice and the strict control which he enforced over his subordinate officers. But it was on his fervent zeal for the cause of Islam and his martial exploits against the Christians (whence his surname of _Al-mansur_ or _the Victorious_ was derived ) that his fame and popularity chiefly rested. The martial spirit of the Spanish Moslems appears from various anecdotes related by Al-Makkari to have suffered great deterioration from the progress of luxury and decay of discipline; but the armies led by Al-mansur were mainly recruited from the fiery tribes of Barbary and strengthened by numerous Christian slaves or Mamlukes trained to serve their captors in arms against their own countrymen. With forces thus constituted did Al-mansur in whom once more shone forth the spirit of the Arab conquerors of past times invade the Christian territories in each spring and autumn for twenty-six successive years carrying the Moslem arms in triumph even to the shores of the ""Green Sea "" (Atlantic Ocean ) and into regions which Tarik and Musa had never reached. Astorga and Leon in spite of the efforts of Bermudo II. to save his capital were taken and razed to the ground in 983. Barcelona only escaped the same fate in the following year by submission and tribute; but the crowning glory of Al-mansur's achievements in the _al-jahid_ or holy war was the capture in 997 Santiago the shrine and sepulchre of the patron saint of Spain. ""No Moslem general had ever penetrated as far as that city which is in an inaccessible position in the most remote part of Galicia and is a sanctuary regarded by the Christians with veneration equal to that which the Moslems entertain for the Kaaba ""--but Al-mansur supplied with provisions from a fleet which accompanied his march along the coast of Portugal forced his way through the Galician defiles and occupied the holy city without opposition--all the inhabitants having fled according to Ibn Hayyan with the exception of an old monk who tended the tomb. The city and cathedral were leveled with the ground; the shrine alone was left untouched in the midst of the ruins from the belief of the Moslems that St James was the brother of the Messiah--and the church-bells were conveyed on the shoulders of the captives to Cordova where they were suspended as lamps in the great mosque to commemorate the triumph of Islam in the principal seat of Christian worship and pilgrimage. Such was the depression produced among the Christians by these repeated disasters that if we may believe Al-Makkari ""one of Al-mansur's soldiers having left his banner fixed in the earth on a mountain before a Christian town the garrison dared not come out for several days after the retreat of the Moslem army not knowing what troops might be behind it."" The pressing sense of common danger at length extinguished (""for the first time perhaps "" as Conde remarks) the feuds of the Christian princes; and in the spring of 1002 the united forces of the Count of Castile Sancho the Great of Navarre and the King of Leon confronted the Moslem host at Kalat-an-nosor [23] (the Castle of the Eagles ) on the frontiers of Old Castile. The mighty conflict which ensued is very briefly dismissed by Al-Makkari--""Al-mansur attacked and defeated them with great loss""--but a far different account is given by the Christian chroniclers who represent the Moslems as only saved from a total overthrow by the approach of night. It seems in truth to have been nearly a drawn battle with immense carnage on both sides; but the advantage was decidedly with the Christians who retained possession of the field; while Al-mansur weakened by the loss of great numbers of his best men and officers abandoned his camp and retreated the next day across the Douro. In all his fifty-two campaigns he is said never before to have been defeated; and the chagrin occasioned by this severe reverse joined to a malady under which he was previously suffering ended his life shortly after[24] at Medinah-Selim (Medinaceli.) He was buried by his sons in the same place; the dust which had adhered to his garments in his campaigns against the Christians and which had been carefully preserved for the purpose being placed in the tomb with the corpse--a practice not unusual at the funeral of a celebrated warrior. ""This enlightened and never-vanquished Hajib""--says Al-Makkali with whom Al-mansur is a favourite hero--""used continually to ask God to permit him to die in his service and in war against the infidels and thus his desire was granted;... and after his death the Mohammedan empire in Andalus began to show visible signs of decay."" [23] The precise locality of this famous battle is not very clearly ascertained; but Condé places it betveen Soria and Medinaceli. [24] The battle is placed by the Christian writers in 998; but the death of Al-mansur which both Christians and Moslems agree in stating to have taken place within a very short time is said by the latter to have been A.M. 392 A.D. 1002. Al-mansur had a worthy successor in his son Abdul-malek who at once received the appointment of Hajib from the passive Khalif:--but on his death in 1008 the post was assumed by his brother Abdurrahman popularly known as Shanjul a Berber word signifying _madman_--a surname which he had earned by his habits of low vice and intemperance. Scarcely had he entered upon office when not contented with exercising sovereign authority like his father and brother under an appearance of delegation from the Khalif he persuaded or compelled the feeble Hisham who had no male issue to appoint him _Wali-al-ahd _ or heir-presumptive--the deed of nomination is given at length by Al-Makkari and is a curious specimen of a state-paper. But this transfer was viewed with deep indignation by the people of Cordova who were warmly attached to the line of their ancient princes; and their discontent being fomented by the members of the Umeyyan family they rose in furious revolt during the absence of the Hajib on the Galician frontiers deposed Hisham and raised to the throne Mohammed-Al-muhdi a great-grandson of Abdurrahman III. Abdurrahman returning in haste to quell the insurrection found himself deserted by his army and was put to death with most of his family and principal adherents; and the power of the Amirites vanished in a day like the remembrance of dream. But the sceptre which had thus been struck from their grasp found no other hand strong enough to seize it; and from the first deposition of Hisham II. in 1009 to the final dissolution of the monarchy on the abdication of Hisham III. in 1031 the whole of Moslem Spain presented a frightful scene of anarchy and civil war. Besides the imbecile Hisham who was at least once released and restored to the throne and was personated by more than one pretender the royal title was assumed within twenty years by not fewer than six princes of the house of Umeyyah and by three of a rival race--a branch of the Edrisites called Beni-Hammud who endeavoured in the general confusion to assert their claims as descendants of the Khalif Ali. The aid of the Christians was called in by more than one faction; and Cordova was stormed and sacked after a long siege in 1013 by the African troops who followed the standard of Soliman Ab-muhdi one of the Umeyyan competitors. The palaces of Az-zahra and Az-zahirah were utterly destroyed; the remains of Hakem's library with the treasures amassed by former sovereigns were either plundered or dispersed; nor did the ancient capital of Audalus no more the seat of the Khalifate ever recover its former grandeur. The provincial _walis_ many of whom owed their appointments to the Hajibs of the house of Amir and were disaffected to the Beni-Umeyyah every where threw off their allegiance and assumed independence till only the districts in its immediate vicinity remained attached to Cordova which was still considered the seat of the Mohammedan empire. The last Umeyyan prince who ruled there was a grandson of the great Abdurrahman named Hisham Al-Mutadd; whom the inhabitants after expelling the troops of the Beni-Hammud in 1027 invited to ascend the throne of his ancestors. ""He was a mild and enlightened prince and possessed many brilliant qualities; but notwithstanding this the volatile and degenerate citizens of Cordova grew discontented with him and he was deposed by the army in 422 (A.D. 1031.) He left the capital and retired to Lerida where he died in 428 (A.D. 1036.) He was the last member of that illustrious dynasty which had ruled over Andalus and a great portion of Africa for two hundred and eighty-four years counting from the accession of Abdurrahman I. surnamed Ab-dakhel in 138 (A.D. 756.) There is no God but God! He is the Almighty!"" The fall of the Umeyyan khalifate closes the first of the two brilliant periods which illustrate the Arab history of Spain. The uninterrupted hereditary succession for ten generations and the long average duration of the reign of each monarch from the arrival in Spain of Abdurrahman I. in 756 to the death or disappearance of Hisham II. in 1009 are without a parallel it any other Moslem dynasty with the single exception of the Ottoman line; and though on pursuing the comparison the Umeyyan princes cannot vie with the last-named race in extent of conquest and splendour of martial achievement they far surpass not only the Ottomans but almost every sovereign family in the annals of Islam in the cultivation of kingly virtues and arts of peace and the refinement and love of literature which they introduced and fostered in their dominions. During the greater part of their rule the court of Cordova was the most polished and enlightened in Europe removed equally from the martial rudeness of those of the Frank monarchs and the punctilious attention to forms and jealous etiquette within which the Grcek emperors studiously intrenched themselves. The useful arts and in particular the science of agriculture necessary for the support of a dense population were cultivated to an extent of which no other country afforded an example; and the commerce which filled the ports of Spain from all parts of Europe and the East was the natural result of the industry of her people. In how great a degree the personal character of the Umeyyan sovereigns contributed to this state of political and social prosperity is best proved by the rapid disruption and fall of the monarchy when it passed into the feeble hands of Hisham II. and by the history of the two following centuries of anarchy civil war and foreign domination. But the sun of Andalusian glory which had attained its meridian splendour under the Khalifs of Cordova once more emerged before the close of its course from the clouds and darkness which surrounded it;--and its setting rays shone with concentrated lustre over the kingdom of GRANADA. * * * * * TWO NIGHTS IN SOUTHERN MEXICO. A FRAGMENT FROM THE JOURNAL OF AN AMERICAN TRAVELLER. ""A capital place this for our bivouac!"" cried I swinging myself off my mule and stretching my arms and legs which were stiffened by a long ride. It _was_ a fairish place to all appearances--a snug ravine well shaded by mahogany-trees the ground covered with the luxuriant vegetation of that tropical region a little stream bubbling and leaping and dashing down one of the high rocks that flanked the hollow and rippling away through the tall fern towards the rear of the spot where we had halted at the distance of a hundred yards from which the ground was low and shelving. ""A capital place this for our bivouac!"" My companion nodded. As to our lazy Mexican _arrieros_ and servants they said nothing but began making arrangements for passing the night. Curse the fellows! If they had seen us preparing to lie down in a swamp cheek by jowl with an alligator I believe they would not have offered a word of remonstrance. Those Mexican half-breeds half Indian half Spaniard with sometimes a dash of the Negro are themselves so little pervious to the dangers and evils of their soil and climate that they never seem to remember that Yankee flesh and blood may be rather more susceptible; that niguas[25] and musquittoes and _vomito prieto_ as they call their infernal fever are no trifles to encounter; without mentioning the snakes and scorpions and alligators and other creatures of the kind which infest their strange wild unnatural and yet beauti

ul country. [25] The nigua is a small but very dangerous insect which fixes itself in the feet bores holes in the skin and lays its eggs there. These if not extracted (which extraction by the by is a most painful operation) cause first an intolerable itching and subsequently sores and ulcers of a sufficiently serious nature to entail the loss of the feet. I had come to Mexico in company with Jonathan Rowley a youth of Virginian raising six and twenty years of age six feet two in his stockings with the limbs of a Hercules and shoulders like the side of a house. It was towards the close of 1824; and the recent emancipation of Mexico from the Spanish yoke and its self-formation into a republic had given it a new and strong interest to us Americans. We had been told much too of the beauty of the country--but in this we were at first rather disappointed; and we reached the capital without having seen any thing except some parts of the province of Vera Cruz that could justify the extravagant encomiums we had heard bestowed in the States upon the splendid scenery of Mexico. We had not however to go far southward from the chief city before the character of the country altered and became such as to satisfy our most sanguine expectations. Forests of palms of oranges citrons and bananas filled the valleys: the marshes and low grounds were crowded with mahogany-trees and with immense fern plants in height equal to trees. All nature was on a gigantic scale--the mountains of an enormous height the face of the country seamed and split by _barrancas_ or ravines hundreds ay thousands of feet deep and filled with the most abundant and varied vegetation. The sky too was of the deep glowing blue of the tropics the sort of blue which seems varnished or clouded with gold. But this ardent climate and teeming soil are not without their disadvantages. Vermin and reptiles of all kinds and the deadly fever of these latitudes render the low lands uninhabitable for eight months out of the twelve. At the same time there are large districts which are comparatively free from these plagues--perfect gardens of Eden of such extreme beauty that the mere act of living and breathing amongst their enchanting scenes becomes a positive and real enjoyment. The heart seems to leap with delight and the soul to be elevated by the contemplation of those regions of fairy-like magnificence. The most celebrated among these favoured provinces is the valley of Oaxaca in which two mountainous districts the Mistecca and Tzapoteca bear off the palm of beauty. It was through this immense valley nearly three hundred leagues in length and surrounded by the highest mountains in Mexico that we were now journeying. The kind attention of our chargé-d'affaires at the Mexican capital had procured us every possible facility in travelling through a country of which the soil was at that time rarely trodden by any but native feet. We had numerous letters to the alcaldes and authorities of the towns and villages which are sparingly sprinkled over the southern provinces of Mexico; we were to have escorts when necessary; every assistance protection and facility were to be afforded us. But as neither the authorities nor his excellency Uncle Sam's envoy could make inns and houses where none existed it followed that we were often obliged to sleep _à la belle étoile_ with the sky for a covering. And a right splendid roof it was to our bedchamber that tropical sky with its constellations all new to us northerns and every star magnified by the effect of the atmosphere to an incredible size. Mars and Saturn Venus and Jupiter had all disappeared; the great and little Bear were still to be seen; in the far distance the ship Argo and the glowing Centaur; and beautiful above all the glorious sign of Christianity the colossal Southern Cross in all its brightness and sublimity glittering in silvery magnificence out of its setting of dark blue crystal. We were travelling with a state and a degree of luxury that would have excited the contempt of our backwoodsmen; but in a strange country we thought it best to do as the natives did; and accordingly instead of mounting our horses and setting forth alone with our rifles slung over our shoulders and a few handfuls of parched corn and dried flesh in our hunting pouches we journeyed Mexican fashion with a whole string of mules a _topith_ or guide a couple of _arrieros_ or muleteers a cook and one or two other attendants. While the latter were slinging our hammocks to the lowermost branches of a tree--for in that part of Mexico it is not very safe to sleep upon the ground on account of the snakes and vermin--our _cocinero_ lit a fire against the rock and in a very few minutes an iguana which we had shot that day was spitted and roasting before it. It looked strange to see this hideous creature in shape between a lizard and a dragon twisting and turning in the light of the fire; and its disgusting appearance might have taken away some people's appetites; but we knew by experience that there is no better eating than a roasted iguana. We made a hearty meal off this one concluding it with a pull at the rum flask and then clambered into our hammocks; the Mexicans stretched themselves on the ground with their heads upon the saddles of the mules and both masters and men were soon asleep. It was somewhere about midnight when I was awakened by an indescribable sensation of oppression from the surrounding atmosphere. The air seemed to be no longer air but some poisonous exhalation that had suddenly arisen and enveloped us. From the rear of the ravine in which we lay billows of dark mephitic mist were rolling forward surrounding us with their baleful influence. It was the _vomito prieto_ the fever itself embodied in the shape of a fog. At the same moment and while I was gasping for breath a sort of cloud seemed to settle upon me and a thousand stings like redhot needles were run into my hands face neck--into every part of my limbs and body that was not triply guarded by clothing. I instinctively stretched forth my hands and closed them clutching by the action hundreds of enormous musquittoes whose droning singing noise how almost deafened me. The air was literally filled by a dense swarm of these insects; and the agony caused by their repeated and venomous stings was indescribable. It was a perfect plague of Egypt. Rowley whose hammock was slung some ten yards from mine soon gave tongue: I heard him kicking and plunging spluttering and swearing with a vigour and energy that would have been ludicrous under any other circumstances; but matters were just then too serious for a laugh. With the torture for such it was of the musquitto bites and the effect of the insidious and poisonous vapours that were each moment thickening around me I was already in a high state of fever alternately glowing with heat and shivering with cold my tongue parched my eyelids throbbing my brain seemingly on fire. There was a heavy thump upon the ground. It was Rowley jumping out of his hammock. ""Damnation"" roared he ""Where are we? On the earth or under the earth?--We must be--we are--in their Mexican purgatory. We are or there's no snakes in Virginny. Hallo arrieros! Pablo! Matteo!"" At that moment a scream--but a scream of such terror and anguish as I never heard before or since--a scream as of women in their hour of agony and extreme peril sounded within a few paces of us. I sprang out of my hammock; and as I did so two white and graceful female figures darted or rather flew by me shrieking--and oh! in what heart-rending tones--for ""_Socorro! Socorro! Por Dios_! Help! Help!"" Close upon the heels of the fugitives bounding and leaping along with enormous strides and springs came three or four dark objects which resembled nothing earthly. The human form they certainly possessed; but so hideous and horrible so unnatural and spectre-like was their aspect that their sudden encounter in that gloomy ravine and in the almost darkness that surrounded us might well have shaken the strongest nerves. We stood for a second Rowley and myself paralysed with astonishment at these strange appearances; but another piercing scream restored to us our presence of mind. One of the women had either tripped or fallen from fatigue and she lay a white heap upon the ground. The drapery of the other was in the clutch of one of the spectres or devils or whatever they were when Rowley with a cry of horror rushed forward and struck a furious blow at the monster with his _machetto_. At the same time and almost without knowing how I found myself engaged with another of the creatures. But the contest was no equal one. In vain did we stab and strike with our machettos; our antagonists were covered and defended with a hard bristly hide which our knives although keen and pointed had great difficulty in penetrating; and on the other hand we found ourselves clutched in long sinewy arms terminating in hands and fingers of which the nails were as sharp and strong as an eagle's talons. I felt these horrible claws strike into my shoulders as the creature seized me and drawing me towards him pressed me as in the hug of a bear; while his hideous half man half brute visage was grinning and snarling at me and his long keen white teeth were snapping and gnashing within six inches of my face. ""God of heaven! This is horrible! Rowley! Help me!"" But Rowley in spite of his gigantic strength was powerless as an infant in the grasp of these terrible opponents. He was within a few paces of me struggling with two of them and making superhuman efforts to regain possession of his knife which had dropped or been wrenched from his hand. And all this time where were our arrieros? Were they attacked likewise? Why didn't they come and help us? All this time!--pshaw! it was no time: it all passed in the space of a few seconds in the circumference of a few yards and in the feeble glimmering light of the stars and of the smouldering embers of our fire which was at some distance from us. ""Ha! That has told!"" A stab dealt with all the energy of despair had entered my antagonist's side. But I was like to pay dearly for it. Uttering a deafening yell of pain and fury the monster clasped me closer to his foul and loathsome body; his sharp claws dug deeper into my back seemed to tear up my flesh: the agony was insupportable--my eyes began to swim and my senses to leave me. Just then--Crack! crack! Two--four--a dozen musket and pistol shots followed by such a chorus of yellings and howlings and unearthly laughter! The creature that held me seemed startled--relaxed his grasp slightly. At that moment a dark arm was passed before my face there was a blinding flash a yell and I fell to the ground released from the clutch of my opponent. I remember nothing more. Overcome by pain fatigue terror and the noxious vapors of that vile ravine my senses abandoned me and I swooned away. When consciousness returned I found myself lying upon some blankets under a sort of arbour of foliage and flowers. It was broad day; the sun shone brightly the blossoms smelled sweet the gay-plumaged hummingbirds were darting and shooting about in the sunbeams like so many animated fragments of a prism. A Mexican Indian standing beside my couch and whose face was unknown to me held out a cocoa-nutshell containing some liquid which I eagerly seized and drank off the contents. The draught (it was a mixture of citron juice and water) revived me greatly; and raising myself on my elbow although with much pain and difficulty I looked around and beheld a scene of bustle and life which to me was quite unintelligible. Upon the shelving hillside on which I was lying a sort of encampment was established. A number of mules and horses were wandering about at liberty or fastened to trees and bushes and eating the forage that had been collected and laid before them. Some were provided with handsome and commodious saddles while others had pack-saddles intended apparently for the conveyance of numerous sacks cases and wallets that were scattered about on the ground. Several muskets and rifles were leaning here and there against the trees; and a dozen or fifteen men were occupied in various ways--some filling up saddle-bags or fastening luggage on the mules others lying on the ground smoking one party surrounding a fire at which cooking was going on. At a short distance from my bed was another similarly composed couch occupied by a man muffled up in blankets and having his back turned towards me so that I was unable to obtain a view of his features. ""What is all this? Where am I? Where is Rowley--our guide--where are they all?"" ""_Non entiendo_ "" answered my brown-visaged Ganymede shaking his head and with a good-humoured smile. ""_Adonde estamos?_"" ""_In el valle de Chihuatan in el gran valle de Oaxaca y Guatimala; diez leguas de Tarifa_. In the valley of Chihuatan; ten leagues from Tarifa."" The figure lying on the bed near me now made a movement and turned round. What could it be? Its face was like a lump of raw flesh streaked and stained with blood. No features were distinguishable. ""Who are you? What are you?"" cried I. ""Rowley "" it answered: ""Rowley I was at least if those devils haven't changed me."" ""Then changed you they have "" cried I with a wild laugh. ""Good God! have they scalped him alive or what? That is not Rowley."" The Mexican who had gone to give some drink to the creature claiming to be Rowley now opened a valise that lay on the ground a short distance off and took out a small looking-glass which he brought and held before my face. It was then only that I began to call to mind all that had occurred and understood how it was that the mask of human flesh lying near me might indeed be Rowley. He was if any thing less altered than myself. My eyes were almost closed; my lips nose and whole face swollen to an immense size and perfectly unrecognisable. I involuntarily recoiled in dismay and disgust at my own appearance. The horrible night passed in the ravine the foul and suffocating vapours the furious attack of the musquittoes--the bites of which and the consequent fever and inflammation had thus disfigured us--all recurred to our memory. But the women the fight with the monsters--beasts--Indians--whatever they were that was still incomprehensible. It was no dream: my back and shoulders were still smarting from the wounds that had been inflicted on them by the claws of those creatures and I now felt that various parts of my limbs and body were swathed in wet bandages. I was mustering my Spanish to ask the Mexican who still stood by me for an explanation of all this when I suddenly became aware of a great bustle in the encampment and saw every body crowding to meet a number of persons who just then emerged from the high fern and amongst whom I recognized our arrieros and servants. The new-comers were grouped around something which they seemed to be dragging along the ground; several women--for the most part young and graceful creatures their slender supple forms muffled in the flowing picturesque _reboxos_ and _frazadas_--preceded the party looking back occasionally with an expression of mingled horror and triumph; all with rosaries in their hands the beads of which ran rapidly through their fingers while they occasionally kissed the cross or made the sign on their breasts or in the air. ""_Un Zambo muerto! Un Zambo Muerto!_"" shouted they as they drew near. ""_Han matado un Zambo!_ They have killed a Zambo!"" repeated my attendant in a tone of exultation. The party came close up to where Rowley and I were lying; the women stood aside jumping and laughing and crossing themselves and crying out ""_Un Zambo! Un Zambo Muerto!_"" the group opened and we saw lying dead upon the ground one of our horrible antagonists of the preceding night. ""Good God what is that?"" cried Rowley and I with one breath. ""_Un demonio!_ a devil!"" ""_Perdonen vos Senores--Un Zambo mono--muy terribles los Zambos._ Terrible monkeys these Zambos."" ""Monkeys!"" cried I. ""Monkeys!"" repeated poor Rowley raising himself up into a sitting posture by the help of his hands. ""Monkeys--apes--by Jove! We've been fighting with monkeys and it's they who have mauled us in this way. Well Jonathan Rowley think of your coming from old Virginny to Mexico to be whipped by a monkey. It's gone goose with _your_ character. You can never show your face in the States again. Whipped by an ape!--an ape with a tail and a hairy--O Lord! Whipped by a monkey!"" And the ludicrousness of the notion overcoming his mortification and the pain of his wounds and bites he sank back upon the bed of blankets and banana leaves laughing as well as his swollen face and sausage-looking lips would allow him. It was as much as I could do to persuade myself that the carcass lying before me had never been inhabited by a human soul. It was humiliating to behold the close affinity between this huge ape and our own species. Had it not been for the tail I could have fancied I saw the dead body of some prairie hunter dressed in skins. It was exactly like a powerful well-grown man; and even the expression of the face had more of bad human passions than of animal instinct. The feet and thighs were those of a muscular man: the legs rather too curved and calfless though I have seen Negroes who had scarcely better ones; the tendons of the hands stood out like whipcords; the nails were as long as a tiger's claws. No wonder that we had been overmatched in our struggle with the brutes. No man could have withstood them. The arms of this one were like packets of cordage all muscle nerve and sinew; and the hands were clasped together with such force that the efforts of eight or ten Mexicans and Indians were insufficient to disunite them. Whatever remained to be cleared up in our night's adventures was now soon explained. Our guide through ignorance or thoughtlessness had allowed us to take up our bivouac within a very unsafe distance of one of the most pestiferous swamps in the whole province. Shortly after we had fallen asleep a party of Mexican travellers had arrived and established themselves within a few hundred yards of us but on a rising ground where they avoided the mephitic vapours and the musquittoes which had so tortured Rowley and myself. In the night two of the women having ventured a short distance from the encampment were surprised by the zambos or huge man-apes common in some parts of Southern Mexico; and finding themselves cut off from their friends had fled they knew not whither fortunately for them taking the direction of our bivouac. Their screams our shouts and the yellings and diabolical laughter of the zambos had brought the Mexicans to our assistance. The monkeys showed no fight after the first volley; several of then must have been wounded but only the one now lying before us had remained upon the field. The Mexicans we had fallen amongst were on the Tzapoteca principally cochineal gatherers and kinder-hearted people there could not well be. They seemed to think they never could do enough for us; the women especially and more particularly the two whom we had endeavoured to rescue from the power of the apes. These latter certainly had cause to be grateful. It made us shudder to think of their fate had they not met with us. It was the delay caused by our attacking the brutes that had given the Mexicans time to come up. Every attention was shown to us. We were fanned with palm leaves refreshed with cooling drinks our wounds carefully dressed and bandaged our heated irritated musquitto-bitten limbs and faces washed with balsam and the juice of herbs: more tender and careful nurses it would be impossible to find. We soon began to feel better and were able to sit up and look about us; carefully avoiding however to look at each other for we could not get reconciled to the horrible appearance of our swollen bloody and disgusting features. From our position on the rising ground we had a full view over the frightful swamp at the entrance of which all our misfortunes had happened. There it lay steaming like a great kettle; endless mists rising from it out of which appeared here and there the crown of some mighty tree towering above the banks of vapour. To the left cliffs and crags were to be seen which had the appearance of being baseless and of swimming on the top of the mist. The vultures and carrion-birds circled screaming above the huge caldron or perched on the tops of the tall palms which looked like enormous umbrellas or like the roofs of Chinese summer-houses. Out of the swamp itself proceeded the yellings snarlings and growlings of the alligators bull-frogs and myriads of unclean beasts that it harboured. The air was unusually sultry and oppressive: from time to time the rolling of distant thunder was audible. We could hear the Mexicans consulting amongst themselves as to the propriety of continuing their journey to which our suffering state seemed to be the chief obstacle. From what we could collect of their discourse they were unwilling to leave us in this dangerous district and in our helpless condition with a guide and attendants who were either untrustworthy or totally incompetent to lead us aright. Yet there seemed to be some pressing necessity for continuing the march; and presently some of the older Mexicans who appeared to have the direction of the caravan came up to us and enquired how we felt and if we thought we were able to travel; adding that from the signs on the earth and in the air they feared a storm and that the nearest habitation or shelter was at many leagues' distance. Thanks to the remedies that had been applied our sufferings were much diminished. We felt weak and hungry and telling the Mexicans we should be ready to proceed in half an hour we desired our servants to get us something to eat. But our new friends forestalled them and brought us a large piece of iguana with roasted bananas and cocoa-nutshell cups full of coffee to all of which Rowley and I applied ourselves with much gusto. Meanwhile our muleteers and the Tzapotecans were busy packing their beasts and making ready for the start. We had not eaten a dozen mouthfuls when we say a man running down the hill with a branch in each hand. As soon as he appeared a number of the Mexicans left their occupations and hurried to meet him. ""_Siete horas!_"" shouted the man. ""Seven hours and no more!"" ""No more than seven hours!"" echoed the Tzapotecans in tones of the wildest terror and alarm. ""_La Santissima nos guarde!_ It will take more than ten to reach the village."" ""What's all that about?"" said I with my mouth full to Rowley. ""Don't know--some of their Indian tricks I suppose."" ""_Que es esto_?"" asked I carelessly. ""What's the matter?"" ""_Que es esto_!"" repeated an old Tzapotecan with long grey hair curling from under his _sombrero_ and a withered but finely marked countenance. ""_Las aguas! El ouracan!_ In seven hours the deluge and the hurricane!"" ""_Vamos por la Santissima!_ For the blessed Virgin's sake let us be gone!"" cried a dozen of the Mexicans pushing two green boughs into our very faces. ""What are those branches?"" ""From the tempest-tree--the prophet of the storm "" was the reply. And Tzapotecans and women arrieros and servants ran about in the utmost terror and confusion with cries of ""_Vamos paso redoblado_! Off with us or we are all lost man and beast "" and saddling packing and scrambling on their mules. And before Rowley and I knew where we were they tore us away from our iguana and coffee and hoisted and pushed us into our saddles. Such a scene of bustle and desperate hurry I never beheld. The place where the encampment had been was alive with men and women horses and mules shouting shrieking and talking neighing and kicking; but with all the confusion there was little time lost and in less than three minutes from the first alarm being given we were scampering away over stock and stone in a long wild irregular sort of train. The rapidity and excitement of our ride seemed to have the effect of calming our various sufferings or of making us forget them; and we soon thought no more of the fever or of stings or musquitto bites. It was a ride for life or death and our horses stepped out as if they knew how much depended on their exertions. In the hurry and confusion we had been mounted on horses instead of our our own mules; and splendid animals they were. I doubt if our Virginians could beat them and that is saying a great deal. There was no effort or straining in their movements; it seemed mere play to them to surmount the numerous difficulties we encountered on our road. Over mountain and valley swamp and barranca always the same steady surefootedness--crawling like cats over the soft places gliding like snakes up the steep rocky ascents and stretching out with prodigious energy when the ground was favourable; yet with such easy action that we scarcely felt the motion. We should have sat in the roomy Spanish saddles as comfortably as in arm-chairs had it not been for the numerous obstacles in our path which was strewed with fallen trees and masses of rock. We were obliged to be perpetually stooping and bowing our heads to avoid the creeping plants that swung and twined and twisted across the track intermingled often with huge thorns as long as a man's arm. These latter stuck out from the trees on which they grew like so many brown bayonets; and a man who had run up against one of them would have been transfixed by it as surely as though it had been of steel. We pushed on however in Indian file following the two guides who kept at the head of the party and making our way through places where a wild-cat would have difficulty in passing; through thickets of mangroves mimosas and tall fern and cactuses with their thorny leaves full twenty feet long; the path turning and winding all the while. Now and then a momentary improvement in the nature of the ground enabled us to catch a glimpse of the whole column of march. We were struck by its picturesque appearance the guides in front acting as pioneers and looking out on all sides as cautiously and anxiously as though they had been soldiers expecting an ambuscade; the graceful forms of the women bowing and bending over their horses' manes and often leaving fragments of their mantillas and rebozas on the branches and thorns of the labyrinth through which we were struggling. But it was no time to indulge in contemplation of the picturesque and of this we were constantly made aware by the anxious vociferations of the Mexicans. ""_Vamos! Por Dios vamos!_"" cried they if the slightest symptom of flagging became visible in the movements of any one of the party; and at the words our horses as though gifted with understanding pushed forward with renewed vigour and alacrity. On we went--up hill and down in the depths of the valley and over the soft fetid swamp. That valley of Oaxaca has just as much right to be called a valley as our Alleghanies would have to be called bottoms. In the States we should call it a chain of mountains. Out of it rise at every step hills a good two thousand feet above the level of the valley and four or five thousand above that of the sea; but these are lost sight of and become flat ground by the force of comparison; that is when compared with the gigantic mountains that surround the valley on all sides like a frame. And what a splendid frame they do compose those colossal mountains in their rich variety of form and colouring! here shining out like molten gold there changing to a dark bronze; covered lower down with various shades of green and with the crimson and purple and violet and bright yellow and azure and dazzling white of the millions of paulinias and convolvoluses and other flowering plants from amongst which rise the stately palm-trees full a hundred feet high their majestic green turbans towering like sultans' heads above the luxuriance of the surrounding flower and vegetable world. Then the mahogany-trees the chicozapotes and again in the barrancas the candelabra-like cactuses and higher up the knotted and majestic live oak. An incessant change of plants trees and climate. We had been five hours in the saddle and had already changed our climate three times; passed from the temperate zone the _tierra templada_ into the torrid heat of the _tierra muy caliente_. It was in the latter temperature that we found ourselves at the expiration of the above-named time dripping with perspiration roasting and stewing in the heat. We were surrounded by a new world of plants and animals. The borax and mangroves and fern were here as lofty as forest-trees whilst the trees themselves shot up like church steeples. In the thickets around us were numbers of black tigers--we saw dozens of those cowardly sneaking beasts--iguanas full three feet long squirrels double the size of any we had ever seen and panthers and wild pigs and jackals and apes and monkeys of every tribe and description who threatened and grinned and chattered at us from the branches of the trees. But what is that yonder to the right that stands out so white against the dark blue sky and the bronze-coloured rocks? A town--Quidricovi d'ye call it? We had now ridden a good five or six leagues and begun to think we had escaped the _aguas_ or deluge of which the prospect had so terrified our friends the Tzapotecans. Rowley calculated as he went puffing and grumbling along that it wouldn't do any harm to let our beasts draw breath for a minute or two. The scrambling and constant change of pace rendered necessary by the nature of the road or rather track that we followed was certainly dreadfully fatiguing both to man and beast. As for conversation it was out of the question. We had plenty to do to avoid getting our necks broken or our teeth knocked out as we struggled along up and down barrancas through marshes and thickets over rocks and fallen trees and through mimosas and bushes laced and twined together with thorns and creeping plants--all of which would have been beautiful in a picture but was most infernally unpoetical in reality. ""_Vamos! Por la Santissima Madre vamos!_"" yelled our guides and the cry was taken up by the Mexicans in a shrill wild tone that jarred strangely upon our ears and made the horses start and strain forward. Hurra! on we go through thorns and bushes which scratch and flog us and tear our clothes to rags. We shall be naked if this lasts long. It is a regular race. In front the two guides stooping nodding bowing crouching down first to one side then to the other like a couple of mandarins or Indian idols--behind them a Tzapotecan in his picturesque capa then the women then more Tzapotecans. There is little thought about precedence or ceremony; and Rowley and I having been in the least hurry to start find ourselves bringing up the rear of the whole column. ""_Vamos! Por la Santissima! Las aguas las aguas!_"" is again yelled by twenty voices. Hang the fools! Can't they be quiet with their eternal _vamos_? We can have barely two leagues more to go to reach the _rancho_ or village they were talking of and appearances are not as yet very alarming. It is getting rather thick to be sure; but that's nothing only the exhalations from the swamp for we are again approaching one of those cursed swamps and can hear the music of the alligators and bullfrogs. There they are the beauties; a couple of them are taking a peep at us sticking their elegant heads and long delicate snouts out of the slime and mud. The neighbourhood is none of the best; but luckily the path is firm and good carefully made evidently by Indian hands. None but Indians could live and labour and travel habitually in such a pestilential atmosphere. Thank God! we are out of it at last. Again on firm forest ground amidst the magnificent monotony of the eternal palms and mahogany-trees. But--see there! A new and surpassingly beautiful landscape burst suddenly upon our view seeming to dance in the transparent atmosphere. On either side mountains those on the left in deep shadow those on the right standing forth like colossal figures of light in a beauty and splendour that seemed really supernatural every tree every branch shining in its own vivid and glorious colouring. There lay the valley in its tropical luxuriance and beauty one sheet of bloom and blossom up to the topmost crown of the palm-trees that shot up some of them a hundred and fifty and a hundred and eighty feet high. Thousands and millions of convolvoluses paulinias bignonias dendrobiums climbing from the fern to the tree trunks from the trunks to the branches and summits of the tre

s and thence again falling gracefully down and catching and clinging to the mangroves and blocks of granite. It burst upon us like a scene of enchantment as we emerged from the darkness of the forest into the dazzling light and colouring of that glorious valley. ""_Misericordia misericordia! Audi nos peccadores! Misericordia las aquas!_"" suddenly screamed and exclaimed the Mexicans in various intonations of terror and despair. We looked around us. What can be the matter? We see nothing. Nothing except that from just behind those two mountains which project like mighty promontories into the valley a cloud is beginning to rise. ""What is it? What is wrong?"" A dozen voices answered us-- ""_Por la Santa Virgen_ for the holy Virgin's sake on on! _No hay tiempo para hablar_. We have still two leagues to go and in one hour comes the flood."" And they recommenced their howling yelling chorus of ""_Misericordia! Audi nos peccadores!_"" and ""_Santissima Virgen_ and _Todos santos y angeles!_"" ""Are the fellows mad?"" shouted Rowley ""What if the water does come? It won't swallow you. A ducking more or less is no such great matter. You are not made of sugar or salt. Many's the drenching I've had in the States and none the worse for it. Yet our rains are no child's play neither."" On looking round us however we were involuntarily struck with the sudden change in the appearance of the heavens. The usual golden black blue colour of the sky was gone and had been replaced by a dull gloomy grey. The quality of the air appeared also to have changed; it was neither very warm nor very cold but it had lost its lightness and elasticity and seemed to oppress and weigh us down. Presently we saw the dark cloud rise gradually from behind the hills completely clearing their summits and then sweeping along until it hung over the valley in form and appearance like some monstrous night-moth resting the tips of its enormous wings on the mountains on either side. To our right we still saw the roofs and walls of Quidricovi apparently at a very short distance. ""Why not go to Quidricovi?"" shouted I to the guides ""we cannot be far off."" ""More than five leagues "" answered the men shaking their heads and looking up anxiously at the huge moth which was still creeping and crawling on each moment darker and more threatening. It was like some frightful monster or the fabled Kraken working itself along by its claws which were struck deep into the mountain-wall on either side of its line of progress and casting its hideous shadow over hill and dale forest and valley clothing them in gloom and darkness. To our right hand and behind us the mountains were still of a glowing golden red lighted up by the sun but to the left and in our front all was black and dark. With the same glance we beheld the deepest gloom and the brightest day meeting each other but not mingling. It was a strange and ominous sight. Ominous enough; and the brute creation seem to feel it so as well as ourselves. The chattering parrots the hopping gibbering quarrelsome apes all the birds and beasts scream and cry and flutter and spring about as though seeking a refuge from some impending danger. Even our horses begin to tremble and groan--refuse to go on start and snort. The whole animal world is in commotion as if seized with an overwhelming panic. The forest is teeming with inhabitants. Whence come they all these living things? On every side is heard the howling and snarling of beasts the frightened cries and chirpings of birds. The vultures and turkey-buzzards that a few minutes before were circling high in the air are now screaming amidst the branches of the mahogany-trees; every creature that has life is running scampering flying--apes and tigers birds and creeping things. ""_Vamos por la Santissima!_ On! or we are all lost."" And we ride we rush along--neither masses of rock nor fallen trees nor thorns and brambles check our wild career. Over every thing we go leaping scrambling plunging riding like desperate men flying from a danger of which the nature is not clearly defined but which we feel to be great and imminent. It is a frightful terror-striking foe that huge night-moth which comes ever nearer growing each moment bigger and blacker. Looking behind us we catch one last glimpse of the red and bloodshot sun which the next instant disappears behind the edge of the mighty cloud. Still we push on. Hosts of tigers and monkeys both large and small and squirrels and jackals come close up to us as if seeking shelter and then finding none retreat howling into the forest. There is not a breath of air stirring yet all nature--plants and trees men and beasts--seem to quiver and tremble with apprehension. Our horses pant and groan as they bound along with dilated nostrils and glaring eyes trembling in every limb sweating at every pore half wild with terror; giving springs and leaps that more resemble those of a hunted tiger than of a horse. The prayer and exclamations of the terrified Mexicans continued without intermission whispered and shrieked and groaned in every variety of intonation. The earthy hue of intense terror was upon every countenance. For some moments a death-like stillness an unnatural calm reigned around us: it was as though the elements were holding in their breath and collecting their energies for some mighty outbreak. Then came a low indistinct moaning sound that seemed to issue from the bowels of the earth. The warning was significant. ""Halt! stop"" shouted we to the guides. ""Stop! and let us seek shelter from the storm."" ""On! for God's sake on! or we are lost "" was the reply. Thank Heaven! the path is getting wider--we come to a descent--they are leading us out of the forest. If the storm had come on while we were among the trees we might be crushed to death by the falling branches. We are close to a barranca. ""_Alerto! Alerto!_"" shrieked the Mexicans. ""_Madre de Dios! Dios! Dios!""_ And well might they call to God for help in that awful moment. The gigantic night-moth gaped and shot forth tongues of fire--a ghastly white flame that contrasted strangely and horribly with the dense black cloud from which it issued. There was a peal of thunder that seemed to shake the earth then a pause during which nothing was heard but the panting of our horses as they dashed across the barranca and began straining up the steep side of a knoll or hillock. The cloud again opened: for a second every thing was lighted up. Another thunder clap and then as though the gates of its prison had been suddenly burst open the tempest came forth in its might and fury breaking crushing and sweeping away all that opposed it. The trees of the forest staggered and tottered for a moment as if making an effort to bear up against the storm; but it was in vain: the next instant with a report like that of ten thousand cannon whole acres of mighty trees were snapped off their branches shivered their roots torn up; it was no longer a forest but a chaos; an ocean of boughs and tree-trunks that were tossed about like the waves of the sea or thrown into the air like straws. The atmosphere was darkened with dust and leaves and branches. ""God be merciful to us! Rowley! where are ye?--No answer. What is become of them all?"" A second blast more furious than the first. Can the mountains resist it? will they stand? By the Almighty! they do not. The earth trembles; the hillock on the leeside of which we are rocks and shakes; and the air grows thick and suffocating--full of dust and saltpetre and sulphur. We are like to choke. All around is dark as night. We can see nothing hear nothing but the howling of the hurricane and the thunder and rattle of falling trees and shivered branches. Suddenly the hurricane ceases and all is hushed; but so suddenly that the charge is startling and unnatural. No sound is audible save the creaking and moaning of the trees with which the ground is cumbered. It is like a sudden pause in a battle when the roar of the cannon and clang of charging squadrons cease and nought is heard but the groaning of the wounded the agonized sobs and gasps of the dying. The report of a pistol is heard; then another a third hundreds thousands of them. It is the flood _las aguas_; the shots are drops of rain; but such drops! each as big as a hen's egg. They strike with the force of enormous hailstones--stunning and blinding us. The next moment there is no distinction of drops the windows of heaven are opened; it is no longer rain nor flood but a sea a cataract a Niagara. The hillock on which I am standing undermined by the waters gives way and crumbles under me; in ten seconds' time I find myself in the barranca which is converted into a river off my horse which is gone I know not whither. The only person I see near me is Rowley also dismounted and struggling against the stream which is already up to our waists and sweeps along with it huge branches and entire trees that threaten each moment to carry us away with them or to crush us against the rocks. We avoid these dangers God knows how make violent efforts to stem the torrent and gain the side of the barranca; although even should we succeed it is so steep that we can scarcely hope to climb it without assistance. And whence is that assistance to come? Of the Mexicans we see or hear nothing. They are doubtless all drowned or dashed to pieces. They were higher up on the hillock than we were must consequently have been swept down with more force and were probably carried away by the torrent. Nor can we hope for a better fate. Wearied by our ride weakened by the fever and sufferings of the preceding night we are in no condition to strive much longer with the furious elements. For one step that we gain we lose two. The waters rise; already they are nearly up to our armpits. It is in vain to resist any longer. Our fate is sealed. ""Rowley all is over--let us die like men. God have mercy on our souls!"" Rowley was a few paces higher up the barranca. He made me no answer but looked at me with a calm cold and yet somewhat regretful smile upon his countenance. Then all at once he ceased the efforts he was making to resist the stream and gain the bank folded his arms on his breast and gave a look up and around him as though to bid farewell to the world he was about to leave. The current was sweeping him rapidly down towards me when suddenly a wild hurra burst from his lips and he recommenced his struggles against the waters striving violently to retain a footing on the slippery uneven bed of the stream. ""_Tenga! Tenga!_"" screamed a dozen voices that seemed to proceed from spirits of the air; and at the same moment something whistled about my ears and struck me a smart blow across the face. With the instinct of a drowning man I clutched the _lasso_ that had been thrown to me. Rowley was at my elbow and seized it also. It was immediately drawn tight and by its aid we gained the bank and began ascending the side of the barranca composed of rugged declivitous rocks affording but scanty foot-hold. God grant the lasso may prove tough! The strain on it is fearful. Rowley is a good fifteen stone and I am no feather; and in some parts of our perilous ascent the rocks are almost as perpendicular and smooth as a wall of masonry and we are obliged to cling with our whole weight to the lasso which seems to stretch and crack and grow visibly thinner. Nothing but a strip of twisted cow-hide between us and a frightful agonizing death on the sharp rocks and in the foaming waters below. But the lasso holds good and now the chief peril is past: we get some sort of footing--a point of rock or a tree-root to clutch at. Another strain up this rugged slope of granite another pull at the lasso; a leap a last violent effort and--_Viva_!--we are seized under the arms dragged up held upon our feet for a moment and then--we sink exhausted to the ground in the midst of the Tzapotecans mules arrieros guides and women who are sheltered from the storm in a sort of natural cavern. At the moment at which the hillock had given way under Rowley and myself who were a short distance in rear of the party the Mexicans had succeeded in attaining firm footing on a broad rocky ledge a shelf of the precipice that flanked the barranca. Upon this ledge which gradually widened into a platform they found themselves in safety under some projecting crags that sheltered them completely from the tempest. Thence they looked down upon the barranca where they descried Rowley and myself struggling for our lives in the roaring torrent; and thence by knotting several lassos together they were able to give us the opportune aid which had rescued us from our desperate situation. But whether this aid had come soon enough to save our lives was still a question or at least for some time appeared to be so. The life seemed driven out of our bodies by all we had gone through: we were unable to move a finger and lay helpless and motionless with only a glimmering indistinct perception not amounting to consciousness of what was going on around us. Fatigue the fever the immersion in cold water when reeking with perspiration the sufferings of all kinds we had endured in the course of the last twenty hours had completely exhausted and broken us down. The storm did not last long in its violence but swept onwards leaving a broad track of desolation behind it. The Mexicans recommenced their journey with the exception of four or five who remained with us and our arrieros and servants. The village to which we were proceeding was not above a league off; but even that short distance Rowley and myself were in no condition to accomplish. The kind-hearted Tzapotecans made us swallow cordials stripped off our drenched and tattered garments and wrapped us in an abundance of blankets. We fell into a deep sleep which lasted all that evening and the greater part of the night and so much refreshed us that about an hour before daybreak we were able to resume our march--at a slow pace it is true and suffering grievously in every part of our bruised and wounded limbs and bodies at each jolt or rough motion of the mules on which we were clinging rather than sitting. Our path lay over hill and dale perpetually rising and falling. We soon got out of the district or zone that had been swept by the preceding day's hurricane and after nearly an hour's ride we paused on the crest of a steep descent at the foot of which as our guides informed us lay the land of promise the long looked-for _rancho_. While the muleteers were seeing to the girths of their beasts and giving the due equilibrium to the baggage before commencing the downward march Rowley and I sat upon our mules wrapped in large Mexican _capas_ gazing at the morning-star as it sank down and grew gradually paler and fainter. Suddenly the eastern sky began to brighten and a brilliant beam appeared in the west a point of light no bigger than a star--but yet not a star; it was of a far rosier hue. The next moment a second sparkling spot appeared near to the first which now swelled out into a sort of fiery tongue that seemed to lick round the silvery summit of the snow-clad mountain. As we gazed five--ten--twenty hill tops were tinged with the same rose-coloured glow; in another moment they became like fiery banners spread out against the heavens while sparkling tongues and rays of golden light flashed and flamed round them springing like meteors from one mountain summit to another lighting them up like a succession of beacons. Scarcely five minutes had elapsed since the distant pinnacles of the mountains had appeared to us as huge phantom-like figures of a silvery white dimly marked out upon a dark star-spangled ground; now the whole immense chain blazed like volcanoes covered with glowing lava rising out of the darkness that still lingered on their flanks and bases visible and wonderful witnesses to the omnipotence of _him_ who said ""Let there be light and there was light."" Above all was broad day flaming sunlight; below all black night. Here and there streams of light burst through clefts and openings in the mountains and then ensued an extraordinary kind of conflict. The shades of darkness seemed to live and move to struggle against the bright beams that fell amongst them and broke their masses forcing them down the wooded heights tearing them asunder and dispersing them like tissues of cobwebs; so that successively and as if by a stroke of enchantment there appeared first the deep indigo blue of the tamarinds and chicozapotes then the bright green of the sugar-canes lower down the darker green of the nopal-trees lower still the white and green and gold and bright yellow of the orange and citron groves and lowest of all the stately fan-palms and date-palms and bananas; all glittering with millions of dewdrops that covered them like a ganze veil embroidered with diamonds and rubies. And still in the very next valley all was utter darkness. We sat silent and motionless gazing at this scene of enchantment. Presently the sun rose higher and a flood of light illumined the whole valley which lay some few hundred feet below us--a perfect garden such as no northern imagination could picture forth; a garden of sugar-canes cotton and nopal-trees intermixed with thickets of pomegranate and strawberry-trees and groves of orange fig and lemon giants of their kind shooting up to a far greater height than the oak attains in the States--every tree a perfect hothouse a pyramid of flowers covered with bloom and blossom to its topmost spray. All was light and freshness and beauty; every object seemed to dance and rejoice in the clear elastic golden atmosphere. It was an earthly paradise fresh from the hand of its Creator and at first we could discover no sign of man or his works. Presently however we discerned the village lying almost at our feet the small stone houses overgrown with flowers and embedded in trees; so that scarcely a square foot of roof or wall was to be seen. Even the church was concealed in a garland of orange-trees and had lianas and star-flowered creepers climbing over and dangling on it up as high as the slender cross that surmounted its square white tower. As we gazed the first sign of life appeared in the village. A puff of blue smoke rose curling and spiral from a chimney and the matin bell rang out its summons to prayer. Our Mexicans fell on their knees and crossed themselves repeating their Ave-marias. We involuntarily took off our hats and whispered a thanksgiving to the God who had been with us in the hour of peril and was now so visible to us in his works. The Mexicans rose from their knees. ""_Vamos! Senores _"" said one of them laying his hand on the bridle of my mule. ""To the _rancho_ to breakfast."" We rode slowly down into the valley. * * * * * THE BRITISH FLEET[26]. [26] Memoirs of Admiral Earl St Vincent. By T.S. TUCKER. 2 vols. Were the question proposed to us What is the most extraordinary complete and effective instance of skill contrivance science and power ever combined by man? we should unhesitatingly answer an English line-of-battle ship. Take the model of a 120 gun ship--large as it may be for a floating body its space is not great. For example it is not half the ordinary size of a nobleman's mansion; yet that ship carries a thousand men with convenience and lodges them day and night with sufficient room for the necessary distinctions of obedience and command--has separate apartments for the admiral and the captain for the different ranks of officers and even for the different ranks of seamen--separate portions below decks for the sleeping of the crew the dining of the officers and the receptacle for the sick and wounded. Those thousand men are to be fed three times a-day and provisions for four months are to be stowed. One hundred and twenty cannon some of them of the heaviest metal are to be carried; and room is to be found for all the weight of shot and quantities of powder with other missiles rockets and signal fires necessary for service. Besides this room is to be provided for the stowage of fresh rigging sails ropes cables and yards to replace those lost by accident battle or wear and tear. Besides this too there is to be a provision for the hospital. So far for the mere necessaries of the ship. Then we are to regard the science; for nothing can be more essential than the skill and the instruments of the navigator as nothing can be more fatal than a scientific error a false calculation or a remission of vigilance. We shall do no more than allude to the habits of command essential to keep a thousand of these rough and daring spirits in order and that too an order of the most implicit steady and active kind; nor to their knowledge of tactics and conduct in battle. The true definition of the line-of-battle ship being a floating regiment of artillery in a barrack which at the beat of a drum may be turned into a field of battle or at the command of government may be sent flying on the wings of the wind round the world. We think that we have thus established our proposition. If not let any thing else be shown which exhibits the same quantity of power _packed_ within the same space; and that power too increasing daily by new contrivances of stowage and building by new models of guns and new inventions in machinery. England is at this moment building two hundred steam-ships with guns of a calibre to which all the past were trifling with room for a regiment of land troops besides their crews and with the known power of defying wind and wave and throwing an army in full equipment for the field within a few days on any coast of Europe. It is remarkable that the use of the navy as a great branch of the military power of England had been scarcely contemplated until the last century. Though the sea-coast of England the largest of any European state and the national habits of an insular country might have pointed out this direction for the national energies from the earliest period yet England was a kingdom for five hundred years before she seems to have thought of the use of ships as an instrument of public power. In the long war with France during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries the ships were almost wholly mercantile; and when employed in wars were chiefly employed as transports to throw our troops on the French soil. It was the reign of Elizabeth that true birth of the progress of England that first developed the powers of an armed navy. The Spanish invasion forced the country to meet the Armada by means like its own; and the triumph though won by a higher agency and due to the winds and waves or rather to the Supreme Providence which watched over the land of Protestantism awoke the nation to the true faculty of defence; and from that period alone could the burden of the fine national song be realized and Britain was to ""rule the main."" The expeditions against the Spanish West Indies and the new ardour of discovery in regions where brilliant fable lent its aid to rational curiosity carried on the process of naval power. The war against Holland under Charles II. though disastrous and impolitic showed at least that the fleet of England was the true arm of its strength; and the humiliation of the only rival of her commerce at once taught her where the sinews of war lay and by what means the foundations of naval empire were to be laid. But it was not until the close of the last century that the truth came before the nation in its full form. The American war--a war of skirmishes--had its direct effect perhaps its providential purpose in compelling England to prepare for the tremendous collision which was so soon to follow and which was to be the final security of the Continent itself. It was then for the first time that the nation was driven to the use of a navy on a great scale. The war lying on the western shore of an ocean made the use of naval armaments necessary to every operation. The treacherous hostility of the French cabinet and the unfortunate subserviency of Spain to that treachery made corresponding energy on the part of England a matter of public demand; and when France and Spain sent out fleets of a magnitude till then unknown England was urged to follow their example. The defeats of the combined navies excited the nation to still more vigorous efforts; and the war closed with so full a demonstration of the matchless importance of a great navy to England that the public feeling was fixed on giving it the largest contribution of the national confidence. The time was at hand when the trial was to involve every interest of England and mankind. The first grand struggle of revolutionary France with England was to be on the seas; and the generation of naval officers who had been reared in the American war then rising into vigour trained by its experience and stimulated by its example gallantly maintained the honour of their country. A succession of sanguinary battles followed each on the largest scale and each closing in British victory; until the republic in despair abandoned the fatal element and tied her fortunes in the easier conflicts of the land. The accession of Napoleon renewed the struggle for naval supremacy until one vast blow extinguished his hopes and his navy at Trafalgar. Peace now exists and long may it exist! but France is rapidly renewing her navy taking every opportunity of exercising its strength and especially patronising the policy of founding those colonies which it idly imagines to be the source of British opulence. But whether the wisdom of Louis Philippe limits the protection of French trade to the benefits which commerce may confer on his vast kingdom or looks forward to the support which a mercantile navy may give to a warlike one we must not sleep on our posts. The life of any individual is brief on a national scale; and his successor whether regent or republican may be as hot-headed rash and ambitious as this great monarch has shown himself rational prudent and peaceful. We must prepare for all chances; and our true preparation must be a fleet that may defy all. It is a remarkable instance of the slowness with which science advances that almost the whole scientific portion of seamanship has grown up since the middle of the seventeenth century though America had been reached in 1492 and India in 1496; and thus the world had been nearly rounded before what would now be regarded as the ordinary knowledge of a navigator had been acquired. England has the honour of making the first advances. It was an Englishman Norwood who made the first measurement of a degree between London and York and fixed it at 122 399 English yards. The attention of the world thus once awakened Huygens and Cassini applied themselves to ascertain the figure of the earth. The first experiments of the French _savans_ were in contradiction to Newton's theory of the flattening of the poles; but the controversy was the means of exciting new interest. The eyes of the scientific world were turned more intently on the subject. New experiments were made which corrected the old; and finally on the measurement of the arc in Peru and in the north truth and Newton triumphed and the equatorial diameter was found to exceed the polar by a two hundred and fourth part of the whole. This was perhaps the finest problem ever solved by science; the most perplexing in its early state--exhibiting for a while the strongest contradiction of experiment and theory occupying in a greater degree the attention of philosophers than any before or since and finally established with a certainty which every subsequent observation has only tended to confirm. And this triumph belonged to an Englishman. The investigation by measurements has since been largely adopted. In 1787 joint commissions were issued by England and France to connect the Greenwich and Parisian observations. Arcs of the meridian have since been measured across the whole breadth of France and Spain and also near the Arctic circle and in the Indian peninsula. In navigation the grand point for the sailor is to ascertain his latitude and longitude; in other words to know where he is. The discovery of the latitude is easily effected by the quadrant but the longitude is the difficulty. Any means which ascertained the hour at Greenwich at the instant of making a celestial observation in any other part would answer the difficulty; for the difference in quarters of an hour would give the difference of the degrees. But clocks could not be used on shipboard and the best watches failed to keep the time. In the reign of Anne Parliament offered a reward of L. 5000 perhaps not far from the value of twice the sum in the present day for a watch within a certain degree of accuracy. Harrison a watchmaker sent in a watch which came within the limits losing but two minutes in a voyage to the West Indies; yet even this was an error of thirty miles. But though chronometers have since been considerably improved there are difficulties in their preservation in good order which have made it expedient to apply to other means; and the lunar tables of Mayer of Gottingen formed in 1755 and subsequently improved by Dr Maskelyne and others have brought the error within seven miles and a half. Improvements of a very important order have also taken place in the mariner's compass; the variation of the needle has been reduced to rules and some anomalies arising from the metallic attraction of the ship itself have been corrected by Professor Barlow's experiments. The use of the marine barometer and thermometer have also largely assisted to give notice of tempests; and some ingenious theories have been lately formed which promising to give a knowledge of the origin and nature of tempests are obviously not unlikely to assist the navigator in stemming their violence or escaping them altogether. The construction of ships for both the merchant and the public service has undergone striking improvements within this century. Round sterns for the defence of a vessel engaged with several opponents at once; compartments in the hold for security against leaks; iron tanks for water containing twice the quantity and keeping it free from the impurities of casks; a better general stowage; provisions prepared so as to remain almost fresh during an East Indian voyage; every means of preserving health suggested by science and succeeding to the most remarkable degree; a more intelligent system of shipbuilding and a constant series of experiments on the shape stowage and sailing of ships are among the beneficial changes of later times. But the one great change--steam--will probably swallow up all the rest and form a new era in shipbuilding in navigation in the power and nature of a navy and in the comfort safety and protection of the crews in actual engagement. The use of steam is still so palpably in its infancy yet that infancy is so gigantic that it is equally difficult to say what it may yet become and to limit its progress. It will have the one obvious advantage to mankind in general of making the question of war turn more than ever on the financial and mechanical resources of a people; and thus increasing the necessity for commercial opulence and intellectual exertion. It may expose nations more to each other's attacks; but it will render hostility more dreaded because more dangerous. On the whole like the use of gunpowder which made a Tartar war impossible and which rapidly tended to civilize Europe steam appears to be intended as a further step in the same high process in which force is to be put down by intelligence and success even in war is to depend on the industry of peace; thus in fact providing a perpetual restriction on the belligerent propensities of nations and urging the uncivilized by necessity to own the superiority and follow the example of the civilized by knowledge habit and principle. It is not to be forgotten even in this general and brief view of the values of the British fleet that it has within these few years assumed a new character as an instrument of war. The Syrian campaign the shortest and beyond all comparison the most brilliant on record if we are to estimate military distinction not only by the gallantry of the conflict but by the results of the victory--this campaign which at once finished the war in Syria gave peace to Turkey reduced Egypt to obedience rescued the sultan from Russian influence and Egypt from French; or rather rescued all Europe from the collision of England France and Russia; and even by the evidence of our naval capabilities taught American faction the wisdom of avoiding hostilities--this grand operation was effected by a small portion

of the British navy well commanded directed to the right point and acting with national energy. The three hours' cannonade of Acre the most effective achievement in the annals of war exhibited a new use of a ship's broadside; for though ships' guns had often battered forts before it was the first instance of a _fleet_ employed in attack and fully overpowering all opposition. The attack on Algiers was the only exploit of a similar kind; but its success was limited and the result was so far disastrous that it at once fixed the eye of France on the invasion of Algiers and disabled and disheartened the native government from vigorous resistance. The victory of the fleet at Acre will also have the effect of changing the whole system of defence in fortresses and cities exposed to the sea. But a still further advance in the employment of fleets as an instrument of hostilities has since occurred in the Chinese war--their simultaneous operation with troops. In former assaults of fortresses the troops and ships attacked the same line of defence and the consequence was the waste of force. From the moment when the troops approached the land the fire of the ships necessarily ceased and the fleet then remained spectators of the assault. But in this war while the troops attacked on the land side the fleet ran up to the sea batteries and both attacks went on together--of course dividing the attention of the enemy thus having a double chance of success and employing both arms of the service in full energy. This masterly combination the Duke of Wellington the highest military authority in Europe pronounced to be a new principle in war; and even this is perhaps only the beginning of a system of combination which will lead to new victories if war should ever unhappily return. We now revert to the history of a naval hero. John Jervis the second son of Swynfen Jervis Esq. was born on the 20th of January 1735. He was descended on both the paternal and maternal side from families which had figured in the olden times of England. The family of Jervis possessed estates in Staffordshire as far back as the reign of Edward III. The family of Swynfen was also long established in Worcestershire. John Swynfen was a public character during the troubled times of Charles I. and Cromwell and until a late period in the reign of Charles II. He had been originally a strong Parliamentarian; but thinking that the party went too far he was turned out of parliament for tardiness by the Protector. But his original politics adhered to him still; for even after the restoration he was joined with Hampden the grandson of the celebrated patriot in drawing up the Bill of Exclusion. Among his ancestors by the mother's side was Sir John Turton a judge in the Court of King's Bench married to a daughter of the brave Colonel Samuel Moore who made the memorable defence of Hopton Castle in the Civil War. But no man less regarded ancestry than the subject of the present pages who in writing with reference to his pedigree observed in his usual frank and straightforward language--""They were all highly respectable; but _et genus et proavos_ nearly all the Latin I now recollect always struck my ear as the sound maxim for officers and statesmen."" His first school was at Burton-upon-Trent where a slight incident seemed to designate his future politics and fortitude. In 1745 when the Pretender marched into the heart of the kingdom without being joined by his friends or opposed by his enemies as Gibbon antithetically observed all the boys at the school excepting young Jervis and Dick Meux (afterwards the eminent brewer ) wore plaid ribands sent to them from home and they pelted their two constitutional playmates calling them Whigs. His father designed young Jervis for the law; but in 1747 removing to Greenwich on being appointed Counsel to the Admiralty and Auditor to the Hospital naval sights were too near not to prove a strong temptation to the mind of an animated and vigorous boy. His parents were still strongly for the adoption of his father's profession; but there was another authority on the subject the family coachman one Pinkhorne who saying that it was a shame to go into a profession where all were rogues determined the future hero; and before the year was over he ran away to commence life as a sailor. He was reclaimed however by his family and was regularly entered in the navy in January 1748 on board the Gloucester fifty guns Commodore Townshend--twenty pounds being all that was given to him by his father for his equipment. The Gloucester sailed for the West Indies; and thus at the age of thirteen young Jervis began the world. It appears that the rigid economy of his father combined with the singular good sense of this mere child urged him to every means of acquiring the knowledge of his profession. The monotonous life of a guard-ship already seemed to him a waste of time while the expenses on shore must have been ruinous to his slender finances. He therefore volunteered into whatever ship was going to sea. He thus writes to his sister from on board the Sphinx 1753:--""There are many entertainments and public assemblies here but they are rather above my sphere many inconveniences and expenses attending them; so that my chief employ when from my duty is reading studying navigation and perusing my own letters of which I have almost enough to make an octavo volume."" At length however his twenty pounds were exhausted; and at the end of three years he drew for twenty pounds more. It is vexatious to say that his bill was dishonoured; and he never received another shilling from any one. It is scarcely possible to conceive that so harsh a measure could have been the result of intention; but it subjected this extraordinary boy to the severest privations. To take up the dishonoured bill he was obliged to effect his discharge from one ship into another so as to obtain his pay tickets which he sold at forty per cent discount. His remaining six years on the station were spent in the exercise of a severe economy and the endurance even of severe suffering. He was compelled to sell all his bedding and sleep on the bare deck. He had no other resource than generally to make and mend and always to wash his own clothes. He never afforded himself any fresh meat; and even the fruit and vegetables which are so necessary and so cheap he could obtain only by barter from the negroes for the small share of provisions which he could subduct from his own allowance. True as all this doubtless is it reflects more severely on the captain and officers of his own ship than even upon his parents. The latter on the other side of the Atlantic might have no knowledge of his difficulties; but that those who saw his sufferings from day to day could have allowed them to continue argues a degree of negligence and inhumanity of which we hope that no present instance occurs in our navy and which at any period would appear incomprehensible. In 1754 young Jervis returned to England and passed his examination for lieutenant with great credit. The commencement of the war with France was like the commencement of English wars in general disastrous. We seldom make due preparation. Fleets inferior to the enemy in equipment and number are sent out on the emergency; detachments of troops are sent where armies should have gone; and thus victory itself is without effect. Thus for a year or two we continue blundering if not beaten and angry with our generals and admirals for failing to do impossibilities. At last the nation becomes fairly roused; the success of the enemy makes exertion necessary; their insolence inflames the popular indignation; a great effort is made; a triumph is obtained and a peace follows which might have been accomplished half a dozen years before at a tenth part of the expense in blood and treasure which it cost to consummate the war. Our troops under Braddock a brave fool were beaten by the French and Indians in America. Our Mediterranean fleet was baffled under the unfortunate command of Byng. Minorca was taken before our eyes and the naval and military stars of England seem to have gone down together. Yet this era of national dishonour and public disgust was followed by the three years of Chatham's administration a period of triumph that equaled the campaigns of Marlborough at the commencement of the century and was scarcely eclipsed even by the splendours that followed its close. The skill and talent of young Jervis had already given him distinction among the rising officers of the feet. He had become a favourite with Admiral Saunders was taken with him from ship to ship; and when the admiral was recalled from the Mediterranean to take the command of the naval force destined to co-operate in the attack on Quebec by the heroic and lamented General Wolfe young Jervis was selected to be first lieutenant of the Prince which bore the admiral's flag. On the passage out the general and his aide-de-camp Captain afterwards the well-known Colonel Barré were guests on board the Prince and of course Jervis had the advantage of their intelligent society. In February 1759 the fleet sailed from England and in June proceeded from Louisburg to the St Lawrence. Lieutenant Jervis was now appointed to the command of the Porcupine sloop; and on the general requesting a naval force to escort his transports past Quebec the Porcupine was ordered by the admiral to lead. The service was one of extreme difficulty; for the attempt to sound the channel the day before had failed though it was made by the master of the fleet Cook afterwards the celebrated navigator. The winds suddenly falling calm prevented the Porcupine from reaching her station. A heavy fire was instantly opened upon her from every gun that could be brought to bear and the army were in terror of her being destroyed for the general was on board. But Jervis's skill was equal to his gallantry; he hoisted out his boats cheered his men through the fire and brought his ship to her station. A little incident occurred on the night before the memorable engagement which even at this distance of time is of painful interest but which shows the confidence reposed in the young naval officer by the hero of Quebec. After the orders for the assault next day were given Wolfe requested a private interview with him; and saying that he had the strongest presentiment of falling on the field yet that he should fall in victory he took from his bosom the miniature of a young lady to whom he was attached gave it to Jervis desiring that if the foreboding came to pass he should return it to her on his arrival in England. Wolfe's gallant fate and brilliant victory are known: the picture was delivered to Miss Lowther. After the capture of Quebec Jervis was dispatched to England; and was appointed to the Scorpion to carry out important despatches to General Amherst. On this occasion he gave an instance of that remarkable promptitude which characterised him throughout his whole career. The Scorpion was in such a crazy state that she had nearly foundered between Spithead and Plymouth. On reaching the latter port and representing at once the condition of the vessel and the importance of the despatches the port-admiral instantly ordered him to proceed to sea in the Albany a sloop in the Sound. But the Albany had been a long time in commission; her people claimed arrears of pay; and by no means relishing a voyage across the Atlantic in such weather they absolutely refused to heave the anchor. Their young commander first tried remonstrance but in vain; he then took a more effectual means--he ordered his boat's crew whom he had brought from the Scorpion to take their hatchets and cut the cables and then go aloft to loosen the foresail. Perceiving the kind of man with whom they had to do the crew submitted and the Albany instantly proceeded to sea: the ringleaders were punished; and the service was performed. The Albany made New York in twenty-four days. In October 1761 Commander Jervis was made Post into the Gosport of 60 guns. Among his midshipmen was the afterwards Admiral Lord Keith. In 1762 peace was made. The Gosport was paid off next year and Captain Jervis did not serve again until 1769 when he commanded the Alarm of 32 guns for the next three years. A striking incident occurred during the cruise of this vessel in the Mediterranean exhibiting not only the spirit of her captain but the historic recollections by which that spirit was sustained. One Sunday afternoon the day after her arrival at Genoa two Turkish slaves in enjoyment of the holiday's rest from labour sauntered from their galley near the mole. Seeing the Alarm's boat they jumped into her wrapped themselves in the British colours and exclaimed ""We are free!"" The Genoese officer on duty however ordered them to be dragged out which was done though one of them tore away in his struggle a piece of the boat's pendant. On the circumstance reaching the captain's ears he was indignant and demanded instant reparation. To use his own language:--""I required "" said he ""of the Doge and Senate that both the slaves should be brought on board with the part of the torn pendant which the slave carried off with him; the officer of the guard punished; and an apology made on the quarterdeck of the Alarm under the king's colours for the outrage offered to the British nation."" On the following Tuesday this was complied with in all the particulars; but unhappily the government at home did not exhibit the spirit of their gallant officer abroad; and in a letter which he addressed to his brother he says:--""_I had an opportunity of carrying the British flag in relation to two Turkish slaves as high as Blake had ever done_ for which I am publicly censured; though I hope we have too much virtue left for me not to be justified in private."" The result however of this transaction was that for many years afterwards in the Barbary states if a slave could but touch the British colours which all our men-of-war's boats carry in foreign ports he could of right demand his release. This however was counteracted as far as possible by the renewed vigilance of the Moors who kept all their slaves out of sight while a British flag flew in the harbour. The allusion to the famous Blake shows with what studies the young officer fed his mind and in how high a spirit he was prepared to adopt them. Another instance of his skill and intrepidity soon followed. In March 1770 the frigate after a tempestuous cruise came to anchor at Marseilles. An equinoctial gale came on and after two days of desperate exertion and throwing many of the guns overboard the frigate was driven from her anchors stranded on a reef of rocks and the crew in such peril that they were saved only by the most extraordinary exertions and the assistance of the people on shore. The port officer M. de Peltier exhibited great kindness and activity and the ship was rapidly repaired but with such an exact economy that its complete refit with the expense of the crew for three months amounted only to £1415. The first act of this excellent son was to write to his father:--""Do not be alarmed my dear sir at the newspaper accounts which you will hear of the Alarm. The interposition of Divine Providence has miraculously preserved her. The same Providence will I hope give long life to my dear father mother and brother."" In July he wrote to his sister from Mahon after the repairs of the vessel:--""The Alarm is the completest thing I ever saw on the water insomuch that I forgot she was the other day in the opinion of most beholders her own officers and crew not excepted a miserable sunken wreck. Such is the reward of perseverance. Happily for my reputation my health at that period happened to be equal to the task or I had been lost for ever instead of receiving continual marks of public and private approbation of my conduct; but this is _entre nous_. I never speak or write on the subject except to those I most love. You will easily believe Barrington to be one; his goodness to me is romantic."" It is gratifying to state that the English Admiralty on the young captain's warm representation of the French superintendent M. de Peltier's hospitality and kindness sent a handsome piece of plate in public acknowledgment to that officer; and as if to make the compliment perfect in all its parts as it arrived before the frigate had left the station the captain had the indulgence of presenting it in person; thus making as his letter to his father mentioned ""the family of Pleville de Peltier happy beyond description."" The frigate was soon after paid off and as there was no probability of his being speedily employed he applied himself to gain every species of knowledge connected with his profession. We strongly doubt whether the example of this rising officer is not even more important when we regard him in peace than in the activity and daring of war. There is no want of courage and conduct in the British fleet; but life on shore offers too many temptations to indolence to be always turned to the use of which it is capable. Captain Jervis on the contrary appears always to have regarded life on shore preparatory to life afloat and to be constantly employed in laying up knowledge for those emergencies which so often occur in the bold and perilous life of the sailor. There is often something like a predictive spirit in the early career of great men which urges them to make provision for greatness; and remote as is the condition of a captain of a smart frigate from the commander of fleets yet the captain of the Alarm though the least ostentatious of men seems always to have had a glance towards the highest duties of the British admiral. ""Time "" says Franklin ""is the stuff that life is made of;"" and as France is the antagonist with which the power of England naturally expects to struggle his first object was to acquire all possible knowledge of the naval means of France. The primary step was to acquire a knowledge of the language. Accordingly he went to France and placed himself in a _pension_. There he applied himself so closely to the study of the language that his health became out of order and his family requested him to return. But this he declined and in his answer said that he had adopted this pursuit on the best view a military man in his situation could form. ""For it will always "" said he ""be useful to have a general idea of this prevalent language and a knowledge of the country with which we have so long contended and which must ever be our rival in arms and commerce."" Having accomplished his object of acquiring sufficient fluency in speaking French his next excursion was to St Petersburg. He and Captain Barrington went in a merchant vessel and reached Cronstadt. While at sea Captain Jervis kept a regular log. During the voyage all the headlands are described all the soundings noted and every opportunity to test and correct the charts adopted. As an example he remarks on the castle of Cronenburg which guards the entrance into the Sound that it may be overlooked by a line-of-battle ship which may anchor in good ground as near the beach as she pleases. He remarks the two channels leading to Copenhagen puts all the lighthouses down on his own chart and lays down all the approaches to St Petersburg accurately; ""because "" said he ""I find all the charts are incorrect and it may be useful."" And he actually did find it useful; for when he was at the head of the Admiralty this knowledge enabled him while his colleagues hesitated to give his orders confidently to Sir Charles Pole in command of the Baltic fleet. His sojourn at St Petersburg was but brief; but it was at a time of remarkable excitement. The Empress Catharine was at the height of her splendour a legislator and a conqueror and surrounded by a court exhibiting all the daring and dashing characters of her vast empire. His description of this celebrated woman's character on one public occasion shows the exactness with which he observed every thing:--""When she entered the cathedral Catharine mingled her salutations to the saints and the people showing at once her compliance with religious ceremonials and her attentions to her servants and the foreign ambassadors. But she showed no devotion in which she was not singular old people and Cossack officers excepted. During the sermon she took occasion to smile and nod to those whom she meant to gratify; and surely no sovereign ever possessed the power of pleasing all within her eye to the degree she did. She was dressed in the Guards' uniform which was a scarlet pelisse and a green silk robe lapelled from top to bottom. Her hair was combed neatly and boxed _en militaire_ with a small cap and an ornament of diamonds in front; a blue riband and the order of St Andrew on her right shoulder."" He speaks of the empress excelling in that inclination of the body which the Russian ladies substitute for the curtsy and which he justly regards as very becoming the empress adding dignity and grace. He describes Orloff as an herculean figure finely proportioned with a cheerful eye and for a Russian a good complexion: Potemkin as having stature and shoulders but being ill limbed and of a most forbidding countenance. His examination of the Russian dockyards naval armament and general style of shipbuilding was most exact; and he records in his notes his having seen in the naval arsenals of Norway sheds to cover ships on the stocks--an important arrangement which was afterwards claimed as an invention at home. After inspecting the harbours of Sweden and Norway the travellers returned by Holland where they made similar investigations. In the following year they renewed their tour of inspection and traversed the western parts of France. And this active pursuit of knowledge was carried on without any pecuniary assistance beyond his half-pay. He had hitherto made no prize-money. ""To be sure "" he said in after days ""we sometimes did fare rather roughly; but what signifies that now? my object was attained."" His character was now high but it is to be presumed that he had some powerful interest; for on his return he was appointed to two line-of-battle ships in succession the Kent 74 and the Foudroyant 84 a French prize and reckoned the finest two-decker in the navy. From this period a new scene opened before him and his career became a part of the naval history of England. In 1778 he joined the Channel fleet and his ship was placed by the celebrated Keppel as one of his seconds in the order of battle and immediately astern of the admiral's ship the Victory on the 27th of July in the drawn battle off Ushant with the French fleet commanded by D'Orvilliers. The people of England are not content with drawn battles and the result of this action produced a general uproar. Keppel threw the blame on the tardiness of Sir Hugh Palliser the second in command. Palliser retorted and the result was a court-martial on the commander of the fleet; which however ended in a triumphant acquittal. It was not generally known that Keppel's defence which was admired as a model of intelligence and even of eloquence was drawn up by Captain Jervis. The transaction though so long passed away is not yet beyond discussion; and there is still some interest in knowing the opinion of so powerful a mind on the general subject. It was thus given in a private letter to his friend Jackson:--""I do not agree that we were outwitted. The French I am convinced never would have fought us if they had not been surprised into it by a sudden flow of wind; and when they formed their inimitable line after our brush it was merely to cover their intention of flight."" He then gives one of those comprehensive maxims which already show the experienced ""admiral:""--""I have often told you that two fleets of equal force can never produce decisive events unless they are equally determined to fight it out or the commander-in-chief of one of them misconducts his line."" We have then an instance of that manly feeling which is one of the truest characteristics of greatness and yet which has been deficient in some very remarkable men. ""I perceive "" says he ""it is the fashion of people to puff themselves. For my part I forbade my officers to write by the frigate that carried the despatches. I did not write a syllable myself except touching my health; nor shall I but to state the intrepidity of the officers and people under my command (through the most infernal fire I ever saw or heard ) to Lord Sandwich "" (first lord of the Admiralty.) But one cannot feel the merit of this self-denial without a glance at his actual hazards and services during the battle. ""In justice to the Foudroyant "" he thus ends his letter ""I must observe to you that though she received the fire of seventeen sail and had the Bretagne Ville de Paris and a seventy-four on her at the same time and appeared more disabled in her masts and rigging than any other ship she was the first in the line of battle and truly fitter for business in essentials (because her people were cool ) than when she began. _Keep this to yourself_ unless you hear too much said in praise of others. ""J.J."" The national wrath was poured on Sir Hugh Palliser Keppel's second in command whose tardiness in obeying signals was charged as the cause of the French escape; so strong had already become the national assurance that a British fleet could go forth only to victory. But the succession of courts-martial cleared up nothing except the characters of the two admirals. Palliser was enabled to show that his ship had suffered so much from the enemy's fire as to be at least (plausibly) unfit for close action and the whole dispute on land closed like the naval conflict in a drawn battle. Jervis was the chief witness for Keppel as serving next his ship; and his testimony was of the highest order to the gallantry skill and perseverance of the admiral. But Palliser was acknowledged to be brave; and it is evident from Jervis's personal opinion that when it was once the object of the enemy's commander to get away it was next to impossible to have prevented his escape. But these were trying times for the British navy: it was scarcely acquainted with its own strength; the nation disgusted with the nature of the American war refused its sympathy; without that sympathy ministers could do nothing effectual and never can do any thing effectual. The character of the cabinet was feebleness the spirit of the metropolis was faction; the king though one of the best of men was singularly unpopular; and the war became a system of feeble defence against arrogant and increasing hostilities. France powerful as she was became more powerful by the national exultation--the frenzied rejoicing in the success of American revolt--and the revived hope of European supremacy in a nation which had been broken down since the days of Marlborough; a crush which had been felt in every sinew of France for a hundred angry years. Spain always strong but unable to use her strength had now given it in to the training of discipline; and the combined fleets presented a display of force which in the haughty language of the Tuileries was formed to sweep the seas. The threat was put in rapid and unexpected execution. The combined fleet moved up the Channel; and to the surprise the sorrow and the indignation of England the British fleet under Sir Charles Hardy was seen making what could only be called ""a dignified retreat."" The Foudroyant on that melancholy occasion had been astern of the Victory the admiral's ship. If Jervis had been admiral he would have tried the fate of battle--and he would have done right. No result of a battle could have been so painful to the national feelings or so injurious in its effects on the feelings of Europe as that retreat. If the whole British fleet on that occasion had perished its gallantry would have only raised a new spirit of worth and power in the nation; and England has resources that when once fully called into exertion are absolutely unconquerable. But that was a dishonour; and even now we can echo the feelings of the brave and high-minded young officer who was condemned to share in the disgrace. He writes to his sister as if to relieve the fulness of his heart at the moment--""I am in the most humbled state of mind I ever experienced from the retreat we have made before the combined fleets all _yesterday_ and _this morning_."" The Admiralty ultimately gave the retreating admiral an official certificate of good behaviour ""their high approbation of Sir Charles Hardy's wise and prudent conduct;"" but ""gallant and bold conduct"" would have been a better testimonial. The truth seems to be that the Admiralty blamable themselves in sending him to sea with an inadequate force and scarcely expecting to escape if they had suffered him to lie under the charge were glad to avail themselves of his personal character as a man of known bravery; and thus quash a process which must finally have brought them before the tribunal. But let naval officers remember that the officer who fights is the officer of the nation. Nelson's maxim is unanswerable--""The captain cannot be mistaken who lays his ship alongside the enemy."" This too was a period of cabinet revolutions. No favouritism can sustain a ministry which has become disgustful to the nation. Lord North though ingenious dexterous and long enough in possession of power to have filled all its offices with his dependents was driven from the premiership with such a storm of national contempt that he could scarcely be sheltered by the curtains of the throne. Lord Rockingham a dull minister was transformed into a brilliant one by his contrast with the national weariness of Lord North; and it fell to the lot of Captain Jervis to give the country the first omen of returning victory. France had already combined Holland in her alliance and the French minister already made insolent by his triumph in the Channel had determined on a blow in a quarter where English interests were most vulnerable and where the assault was least expected. A squadron of French line-of-battle ships convoying a fleet of transports were prepared for an expedition to the East Indies. The preparations for the combined movement were on an immense scale. The fleets of France Spain and Holland were again to sweep the Channel; and while the attention of the British fleets was thus engrossed the Eastern expedition was to sail from Brest. The Admiralty in order to counteract or at least delay this formidable movement immediately dispatched Admiral Barrington with twelve sail of the line to cruise in the bay of Biscay. On the 18th of April the French expedition sailed and on the 20th when Admiral Barrington had reached a few leagues beyond Ushant the Artois frigate signaled a hostile fleet but could not discover their flag or numbers. The signal being made for a general chase the Foudroyant Jervis's ship soon left the rest of the fleet behind; and before night she had so much gained upon the enemy as to ascertain that they were six French ships of war with eighteen sail of convoy. The whole of the British fleet being several leagues astern was now lost sight of and did not come up till the following day. In the mean time Jervis was left alone. At ten at night the French ships of war separating Jervis selecting the largest for pursuit prepared to attack: at twelve he had approached near enough to see that the chase was a ship of the line. The Foudroyant's superior manoeuvring enabled her to commence the engagement by a raking fire. Its effect was so powerful that the enemy was thrown into extreme disorder and was carried by boarding after an action of only three quarters of an hour. The prize was the Pégase seventy-four. The loss of life on board the enemy was great; but by an extraordinary piece of good fortune on board the Foudroyant not a man was killed Captain Jervis and five seamen being the only wounded. To the gallantry which produced this striking success the young officer added extreme delicacy with respect to his prisoners. He would not allow the first boat to be sent on board the prize until he had given written orders for the particular preservation of every thing in the shape of property belonging to the French officers adding at the bottom of his memorandum --""For though I have the highest opinion of my officers we must not be suspected of designs to plunder."" The result of the action was that sixteen transports out of twenty were taken according to the letter of young Ricketts the captain's nephew. It must be owned that brave as the French are their admira

made but a bad figure in this business: why the sight of one vessel should have been sufficient to disperse a fleet of six men-of-war and of course ruin an expedition which must thus be left without convoy is not easily to be accounted for; or why when the admiral saw that his pursuer was but a single ship he should not have turned upon him and crushed him it is equally difficult to say. It only shows that his court wanted common sense as much as he wanted discretion. The expedition was destroyed and the Foudroyant had the whole honour of the victory. An action between single ships of this force is rare at any period and nothing could be nearer a match in point of equipment then the two ships. The Foudroyant had the larger tonnage and carried three more guns on her broadside; but the Pégase threw a greater weight of shot had a more numerous crew and a large proportion of soldiers on board. The English ship however had the incomparable advantage of a crew which had sailed together for six years and been disciplined by such an officer as Jervis. The ministry and the king were equally rejoiced at this return of the naval distinctions of the country and the immediate consequence was the conferring of a baronetcy and the order of the Bath upon the gallant officer. Congratulations of all kinds were poured upon him by the ministry his admiral and his brother officers. The admiral writes in speaking of the squadron's cruise ""but the Pégase is every thing and does the highest honour to Jervis."" Another instance of his decision and as in all probability will be thought of the clearness of his judgment was shortly after given in the memorable relief of Gibraltar. As it was likely that the combined fleets of France and Spain would oppose the passage of the British Lord Howe at an early period called the flag-officers and captains on board the Victory and proposed to them the question--Whether considering the superiority of the enemy's numbers it might not be advisable to fight the battle at night when British discipline might counterbalance the numerical superiority? All the officers junior to Jervis gave their opinion for the night attack but he dissented. ""Expressing his regret that he must offer an opinion not only contrary to that of his brother officers but also as he feared to that of his commander-in-chief he was convinced that battle in the day would be greatly preferable. In the first place because it would give an opportunity for the display of his lordship's tactics and afford the means of taking prompt advantage of any mistake of the enemy change of the wind or any other favourable circumstance; while in the mêlée of a battle at night there must always be greater risk of separation and of ships receiving the fire of their friends as well as their foes."" It is obvious to every comprehension that a night action must preclude all manoeuvring and prevent the greater skill of the tactician from having any advantage over the blunderer who turns his ships into mere batteries. The only officer who coincided with Jervis was Admiral Barrington who gave as an additional and a just argument for the attack by day that it would give an opportunity of ascertaining the conduct of the respective captains in action. On those opinions Lord Howe made no comment; but it is presumed that he ultimately agreed with them from his conduct in the celebrated action of the 1st of June 1794 when he had the enemy's fleet directly to leeward of him from the night before. In the relief of Gibraltar the Foudroyant had the honour to be the ship which was dispatched from the fleet to escort the victuallers into the harbour which was accomplished amid the acclamations of the garrison. It had been expected that Lord Howe would have attacked the combined fleets and the nation of course looked forward to a victory; but they were disappointed. The fact is that Lord Howe though a brave man and what is generally regarded as a good officer was of a different class of mind from the Jervises and Nelsons. He did his duty but he did no more. The men who were yet to give a character to the navy did more than their duty suffered no opportunity of distinction to escape them relied on the invincibility of British prowess when it was boldly directed and by that reliance rendered it invincible. There was a kindness and generosity of nature in this future ""thunderbolt of war "" which shows how compatible the gentler feelings are with the gallant daring and comprehensive talent of the great commander. Having happened to receive the Duc de Chabelais on board his ship when at Cadiz the politeness of his reception caused the Sardinian prince to exhibit his gratitude in some handsome presents to the officers. One of Jervis's letters mentions that the prince had given to each of the lieutenants a handsome gold box; to the lieutenant of marines and five of the midshipmen gold watches; and to the other officers and ship's company a princely sum of money. ""I pride myself "" he adds ""exceedingly in the presents being so diffused; on all former occasions they have centred in the captain."" In another letter he says --""I was twenty-four hours in the bay of Marseilles about a fortnight ago just time to receive the warm embraces of a man to whose bravery and friendship I had some months before been indebted for my reputation the preservation of the people under my command and of the Alarm. You would have felt infinite pleasure at the scene of our interview."" In a letter to the under-secretary of the Admiralty he says --""My dear Jackson you must allow me to interest your humanity in favour of poor Spicer who overwhelmed with dropsy asthma and a large family and with nothing but his pay to support him under those afflictions is appointed to the ---- under a mean man and very likely to go to the East Indies. The letter which he writes to the Board desiring to be excused from his appointment is dictated by me."" He then mentions a contingency ""in which case I shall write for Spicer to be first lieutenant of the Foudroyant with intention to nurse him and keep him clear of all expense."" Shortly after the Foudroyant was paid off Sir John Jervis was united to a lady to whom he had long been attached the daughter of Sir Thomas Parker Chief Baron of the Exchequer. Every man in England as he rises into distinction necessarily becomes a politician. It was the misfortune of Sir John Jervis and it was his only misfortune that he was a politician before he had risen into distinction. Having had the ill luck to profess himself a Whig at a period when he could scarcely have known the nature of the connexion he unhappily adhered to it long after Whiggism had ceased to possess either public utility or national respect. But his Whiggism was unconscious Toryism after all: it was what even his biographer is forced to call it Whig Royalism or pretty nearly what Blake's Republicanism was--a determination to raise his country to the highest eminence to which his talents and bravery could contribute without regarding by whom the government was administered. At the general election of 1784 he sat for Yarmouth. In 1787 Sir John Jervis was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral. At the general election in 1790 he was returned for Wycombe and shared in parliament the successive defeats of his party; until in 1793 he was called to a nobler field in which unembarrassed by party and undegraded by Whiggism his talents took their natural direction in the cause of his country. It is now scarcely necessary to remark upon the narrow system of enterprise with which England began the great revolutionary war; nor can it now be doubted that if the energies of the country had been directed to meet the enemy in Europe measureless misfortunes might have been averted. If the succession of fleets and armies which were wasted upon the conquest of the French West Indies had been employed in the protection of the feebler European states there can be no question that the progress of the French armies would have been signally retarded if invasion had not been thrown back over the French frontier. For instance it would have been utterly impossible for Napoleon in 1796 to have marched triumphantly throughout Italy with the British fleet covering the coast commanding all the harbours and ready to throw in troops in aid of the insurrections in his rear. But it was the policy of the time to pacify the merchants whose bugbear was a negro insurrection in the West Indies; and whether the genius or the fears of Pitt gave way to the impression the consequence was equally lamentable--the mighty power of England was wasted on the capture of sugar islands which we did not want which we could not cultivate and which cost the lives by disease and climate of ten times the number of gallant men who might have saved Europe. At the close of 1793 a grand expedition against the French Caribbee islands was resolved upon by the British cabinet; and it is a remarkable instance of both the reputation of Sir John Jervis and the impartiality of the great minister that a Whig member of parliament should have been chosen to command the naval part of the expedition. The expedition consisted of twenty-two ships of war and six thousand troops the troops divided into three brigades of which one was commanded by the late Duke of Kent. Sir John Jervis hoisted his flag as vice-admiral of the blue on the 3d of October. A ludicrous circumstance occurred in the instance of a favourite officer Mr Bayntun who had applied for permission to join Sir John. Bayntun received in answer the following decisive note: ""Sir your having thought fit to take to yourself a wife you are to look for no further attention from your humble servant J. JERVIS."" It happened that Bayntun was a bachelor and he instantly wrote an exculpatory letter denying that he had been guilty of so formidable a charge. The mistake arose from a misdirection in two notes which the admiral had written on the same subject. He had left them to Lady Jervis to direct and she had addressed them to the wrong persons. The consequence however was that Bayntun received the appointment and the married man the refusal. This inveteracy against married officers seems strange in one who had committed the same crime himself; yet he constantly persisted in calling officers who married moon-struck and appears at all times to have regarded matrimony in the service as little short of personal ruin. On the passage out a curious circumstance occurred to the Zebra frigate under command of the gallant Robert Faulknor. The Zebra which had been separated from the rest of the squadron saw one evening a ship on the horizon. All sail was made in chase and the ship was discovered to be a twenty-eight gun frigate. All contrivances were adopted to induce her to show her colours but without success. At length Faulknor impatient of delay and disregarding the disparity of force closed upon her and jumped on board at the head of his men. To his astonishment he found that she was a Dutch frigate quietly pursuing her way; and as Holland was at peace with England equally unexpecting and unprepared for an attack. This instance of apathy night have procured her a broadside; but luckily the affair finished with the shaking of hands. On the 5th of February the expedition reached Martinique. On the 18th of March Fort Lewis was stormed General Rochambeau capitulated and Martinique was taken St Lucie followed the Saintes next fell and the final conquest was Guadaloupe. Thus in three months the capture of the French islands was complete. But an enemy more formidable than the sword was now to be encountered. The yellow fever began its ravages. The troops perished in such numbers that the regiments were reduced to skeletons; and just at the moment when the disease was at its height Victor Hughes was dispatched from France with an expedition. The islands fell one by one into his hands and the campaign was utterly thrown away. The romantic portion of the European campaigns now began. The French Directory unpopular at home wearied by the sanguinary successes of the Vendéan insurrection and baffled in their invasion of Germany were in a condition of the greatest perplexity when a new wonder of war taught France again to conquer. Napoleon Bonaparte since so memorable but then known only as commanding a company of artillery at Toulon and repelling the armed mob in Paris was appointed to command the army on the Italian frontier. Even now with all our knowledge of his genius and the splendid experience of his successes his sudden elevation his daring offer of command his plan of the Italian campaign and his almost instantaneous victories are legitimate matter of astonishment. In him we have the instance of a young man of twenty-six who had never seen a campaign who had never commanded a brigade nor even a regiment undertaking the command of an army proposing the invasion of a country of eighteen millions garrisoned by the army of one of the greatest military powers of Europe which had nearly 300 000 soldiers in the field and which was in the most intimate alliance with all the sovereigns of Italy. Yet extravagant as all those conceptions seem and improbable as those results certainly were two campaigns saw every project realized--Italy conquered the Tyrol the great southern barrier of Austria overpassed and peace signed within a hundred miles of Vienna. The invasion of Italy first awoke the British ministry to the true direction of the vast naval powers of England. To save Italy if possible was the primary object; the next was to prevent the superiority of the French fleet in the Mediterranean. A powerful fleet had been prepared in Toulon for the purpose of aiding the French army in its invasion and finally taking possession of all the ports and islands until it should have realized the project of Louis XIV. of turning the Mediterranean into a French lake. It was determined to keep up a powerful British fleet to oppose this project and Sir John Jervis was appointed to the command. Nothing could be a higher testimony to the opinion entertained of his talents as his connexion with the Whigs was undisguised. But Pitt's feeling for the public service overcame all personal predilections and this great officer was sent to take the command of the most extensive and important station to which a British admiral could be appointed. Lord Hood had previously declined it on the singular plea of inadequacy of force; and Sir Charles Hotham having solicited his recall in consequence of declining health the gallant Jervis was sent forth to establish the renown of his country and his own. The fleet was a noble command. It consisted on the whole of about twenty-five sail of the line two of them of a hundred guns and five of ninety-eight; thirty-six frigates and fifteen or sixteen sloops and other armed vessels. Among the officers of the fleet were almost all the names which subsequently obtained distinction in the great naval victories-- Troubridge Hallowell Hood Collingwood &c. and first of the first that star of the British seaman Nelson. It is remarkable and only a just tribute to the new admiral that he almost from his earliest intercourse with those gallant men marked their merits although hitherto they had found no opportunities of acquiring distinction--all were to come. Nelson in writing to his wife speaking of the admiral's notice of him says ""Sir John Jervis was a perfect stranger to me therefore I feel the more flattered."" The admiral in writing to the secretary of the Admiralty says--""I am afraid of being thought a puffer like many of my brethren or I should before have dealt out to the Board the merits of Captain Troubridge which are very uncommon."" The French fleet of fifteen sail of the line lay in Toulon ready to convoy an army to plunge upon the Roman states. Sir John Jervis instantly proceeded to block up Toulon keeping what is called the in-shore squadron looking into the harbour's mouth while the main body cruised outside. The admiral at once employed Nelson on the brilliant service for which he was fitted and sent him with a flying squadron of a ship of the line three frigates and two sloops to scour the coast of Italy. The duties of the Mediterranean fleet powerful as the armament was were immense. Independently of the blockade of Toulon and the necessity of continually watching the enemy's fleet which might be brought out by the same wind which blew off the British the admiral had the responsibility of protecting the Mediterranean convoys of sustaining the British interests in the neutral courts of assisting the allies on shore of overawing the Barbary powers which were then peculiarly restless and insolent and of upholding the general supremacy of England from Smyrna to Gibraltar. The French campaign opened on the 9th of April 1797 and the Austrians were beaten on the following day at Montenotte and in a campaign of a month Bonaparte reached Milan. The success of the enemy increased to an extraordinary degree the difficulties of the British admiral. The repairs of the fleet the provisioning and every other circumstance connected with the land lay under increased impediments; but they were all gradually overcome by the vigilance and intelligence of the admiral. A curious and characteristic circumstance occurred soon after his taking the command. Nelson had captured a vessel carrying 152 Austrian grenadiers who had been made prisoners by the French and actually sold by their captors to the Spaniards for the purpose of enlisting them in the Spanish army. His letter to Jackson the secretary of legation at Turin on this subject spiritedly expresses his feelings:-- ""SIR --From a Swiss dealer in human flesh the demand made upon me to deliver up 152 Austrian grenadiers serving on board his Majesty's fleet under my command is natural enough but that a Spaniard who is a noble creature should join in such a demand I must confess astonishes me; and I can only account for it by the Chevalier Caamano being ignorant that the persons in question were made prisoners of war in the last war with General Beaulieu and are not deserters and that they were most basely sold by the French commissaries to the vile crimps who recruit for the foreign regiments in the service of Spain. It is high time a stop should be put to this abominable traffic a million times more disgraceful than the African slave-trade."" But other dangers now menaced the British supremacy in the Mediterranean. The victories of Bonaparte had terrified all the Italian states into neutrality or absolute submission; and the success of the Directory and perhaps their bribes influenced the miserably corrupt and feeble Spanish ministry to make common cause with the conquering republic. Spain at last became openly hostile. This was a tremendous increase of hazards because Spain had fifty-seven sail of the line and a crowd of frigates. The difficulty of blockading Toulon was now increased by the failure of provisions. On the night of the 2d of November the admiral sent for the master of the Victory and told him that he now had not the least hope of being reinforced and had made up his mind to push down to Gibraltar with all possible dispatch. The passage became a stormy one and it was with considerable difficulty that the fleet reached Gibraltar. Some of the transports were lost a ship of the line went down and several of the fleet were disabled. The result of the French successes and the Austrian misfortunes was an order for the fleet to leave the Mediterranean and take up its station at the Tagus. The vivid spirit of Nelson was especially indignant at this change of scene. In one of his letters he says--""We are preparing to leave the Mediterranean a measure which I cannot approve. They at home do not know what this fleet is capable of performing--any thing and every thing. Of all the fleets I ever saw I never saw one in point of officers and men equal to Sir John Jervis's who is a commander able to lead them to glory."" The admiral's merits were recognized by the government in a still more permanent manner; for by a despatch from the Admiralty in February 1797 it was announced that the king had raised him to the dignity of the peerage. The prospect now darkened round every quarter of the horizon. The power of Austria had given way; Spain and Holland were combined against our naval supremacy; Italy was lost; a French expedition threatened Ireland; there was a strong probability of the invasion of Portugal; and the junction of the French and Spanish fleets might endanger not merely the Tagus fleet but expose the Channel fleet to an encounter with numbers so superior as to leave the British shores open to invasion. The domestic difficulties too had their share. The necessity of suspending cash payments at the Bank had if not thrown a damp upon the nation at least given so formidable a ground for the fallacies and bitterness of the Opposition as deeply to embarrass even the fortitude of the great minister. We can now see how slightly all these hazards eventually affected the real power of England; and we now feel how fully adequate the strength of this extraordinary and inexhaustible country was to resist all obstacles and turn the trial into triumph. But faction was busy party predicted ruin public men used every art to dispirit the nation and inflame the populace; and the result was a state of public anxiety of which no former war had given the example. It is incontestable that the list of the British navy at this period of the war exhibited some of the noblest specimens of English character--brave intelligent and indefatigable men ready for any service and equal for all; with all the intrepidity of heroes possessing the highest science of their profession and exhibiting at once that lion-heartedness and that knowledge which gave the British navy the command of the ocean. And yet if we were to assign the highest place where all were high we should probably assign it to Lord St Vincent as an admiral. Nelson certainly as an executive officer defies all competition; his three battles Copenhagen Aboukir and Trafalgar each of them a title to eminent distinction place him as a conqueror at the head of all. But an admiral has other duties than those of the line of battle; and for a great naval administrator first disciplining a fleet then supplying it with all the means of victory and finally leading it to victory--Lord St Vincent was perhaps the most complete example on record of all the combined qualities that make the British admiral. His profound tactics his stern but salutary exactness of command his incomparable judgment and his cool and unhesitating intrepidity form one of the very noblest models of high command. All those qualities were now to be called into full exertion. The continental campaign had left Europe at the mercy of France. England was now the only enemy and she was to be assailed in the first instance by a naval war. To prevent the junction of the Spanish and French fleets the Tagus was the station fixed upon by Lord St Vincent. Ill luck seemed to frown upon the fleet. The Bombay Castle a seventy-four was lost going in; the St George a ninety grounded in coming out and was obliged to be docked; still the admiral determined to keep the sea though his fleet was reduced to eight sail of the line. The day before he left the Tagus information was received that the enemy's fleets had both left the Mediterranean. The French had gone to Brest the Spanish first to Toulon then to Carthagena and was now proceeding to join the French at Brest. A reinforcement of six sail of the line now fortunately joined the fleet off the Tagus; but at the same time information was received that the Spanish fleet of twenty-seven sail of the line with fourteen frigates had passed Cadiz and could not be far distant. To prevent the junction of this immense force with the powerful fleet already prepared for a start in Brest was of the utmost national importance; for combined they must sweep the Channel. The admiral instantly formed his plan and sailed for Cape St Vincent. The details of the magnificent encounter which followed are among the best portions of the volumes. They are strikingly given and will attract the notice as they might form the model of the future historian of this glorious period of our annals. We can now give only an outline. On the announcement of the Spanish advance the first object was to gain exact intelligence and ships were stationed in all quarters on the look-out. But on the 13th Captain Foote in the Niger frigate joined with the intelligence that he had kept sight of the enemy for three days. The admiral was now to have a new reinforcement not in ships but in heroes; the Minerva frigate bearing Nelson's broad pendant from the Mediterranean arrived and Nelson shifted his pendant into the Captain. The Lively frigate with Lord Garlies also arrived from Corsica. The signal was made ""To keep close order and prepare for battle."" On that day Lord Garlies Sir Gilbert Elliot and Captain Hallowell with some other officers dined on board the Victory. At breaking up the toast was drunk ""Victory over the Dons in the battle from which they cannot escape to-morrow!"" The ""gentlemen of England who live at home at ease "" can probably have but little conception of the price which men in high command pay for glory. No language can describe the anxieties which have often exercised the minds of those bold and prominent characters of whom we now know little but of their laurels. The solemn responsibilities of their condition the consciousness that a false step might be ruin the feeling that the eye of their country was fixed upon them the hope of renown the dread of tarnishing all their past distinctions must pass powerfully and painfully through the mind of men fitted for the struggles by which greatness is to be alone achieved. ""It is believed that Sir John Jervis did not go to bed that night but sat up writing. It is certain that he executed his will."" In the course of the first and second watches the enemy's signal-guns were distinctly heard; and as he noticed them sounding more and more audibly Sir John made more earnest enquiries as to the compact order and situation of his own ships as well as they could be made out in the darkness. Long before break of day he walked the deck in more than even his usual silence. When the grey of the morning of the 14th enabled him to discern his fleet his first remarks were high approbation of his captains for ""their admirably close order and that he wished they were now well up with the enemy; for "" added he thoughtfully ""a victory is very essential to England at this moment."" Now came on the day of decision. The morning was foggy; but as the mist cleared up the Lively and then the Niger signaled ""a strange fleet."" The Bonne Citoyenne was next ordered to reconnoitre. Soon after the Culloden's guns announced the enemy. At twenty minutes past ten the signal was made to six of the ships--""to chase."" Sir John still walked the quarterdeck and as the enemy's numbers were counted they were duly reported to him by the captain of the fleet. ""There are eight sail of the line Sir John."" ""Very well sir."" ""There are twenty sail of the line Sir John."" ""Very well sir."" ""There are twenty-five sail of the line Sir John."" ""Very well sir."" ""There are twenty-seven sail of the line Sir John."" This was accompanied by some remark on the great disparity of the two forces. Sir John's gallant answer now was:-- ""Enough sir--no more of that: the die is cast and if there are fifty sail I will go through them."" At forty minutes past ten the signal was made to form line of battle ahead and astern of the Victory and to steer S.S.W. The fog was now cleared off and the British fleet were seen admirably formed in the closest order; while the Spaniards were stretching in two straggling bodies across the horizon leaving an open space between. The opportunity of dividing their fleet struck the admiral at once and at half-past eleven the signal was made to pass through the enemy's line and engage them to leeward. At twelve o'clock as the Culloden was reaching close up to the enemy the British fleet hoisted their colours and the Culloden opened her fire. An extraordinary incident even in those colossal battles occurred to this fine ship. The course of the Culloden brought her directly on board one of the enemy's three-deckers. The first lieutenant Griffiths reported to her captain Troubridge that a collision was inevitable. ""Can't help it Griffiths--let the weakest fend off "" was the hero's reply. The Culloden still pushing on fired two of her double-shotted broadsides into the Spaniard with such tremendous effect that the three-decker went about and the guns of her other side not being even cast loose she did not fire a single shot while the Culloden passed triumphantly through. Scarcely had she broken the enemy's line than the commander-in-chief signaled the order to tack in succession. Troubridge's manoeuvre was so dashingly performed that the admiral could not restrain his delight and admiration. ""Look Jackson "" he rapturously exclaimed ""look at Troubridge there! He tacks his ship to battle as if the eyes of all England were upon him; and would to God they were for then they would see him to be what I know him."" The leeward division of the enemy perceiving the fatal consequences of their disunited order of sailing now endeavoured to retrieve the day and to break through the British line. A vice-admiral in a three-decker led them and was reaching up to the Victory just as she had come up to tack in her station. The vice-admiral stood on with great apparent determination till within pistol-shot but there he stopped; and when the Victory could bring her guns to bear upon him she thundered in two of her broadsides sweeping the Spaniard's decks and so terrified him that when his sails filled he ran clear out of the battle altogether. The Victory then tacked into her station and the conflict raged with desperate fury. At this period of the battle the Spanish commander-in-chief bore up with nine sail of the line to run round the British and rejoin his leeward division. This was a formidable manoeuvre; but no sooner was it commenced than his eye caught it ""whose greatest wish it ever was to be the first to find and foremost to fight his enemy."" Nelson instead of waiting till his turn to tack should bring him into action took it upon himself to depart from the prescribed mode of attack and ordered his ship to be immediately wore. This masterly manoeuvre was completely successful at once arresting the Spanish commander-in-chief and carrying Nelson and Collingwood into the van and brunt of the battle. He now attacked the four-decker the Santissima Trinidada also engaged by the Culloden. The Captain's fore-topmast being now shot away Nelson put his helm down and let her come to the wind that he might board the San Nicolas; Captain afterwards Sir Edward Berry then a passenger with Nelson jumping into her mizen-chains was the first in the enemy's ship; Nelson leading his boarders and a party of the 69th regiment immediately followed and the colours were hauled down. While he was on the deck of the San Nicolas the San Josef disabled fell on board. Nelson instantly seized the opportunity of boarding her from his prize; followed by Captain Berry and Lieutenant Pierson of the 69th he led the boarders and jumped into the San Josef's main-chains. He was then informed that the ship had surrendered. Four line-of-battle ships had now been taken and the Santissima Trinidada had also struck; but she subsequently made her escape for now the Spanish leeward division fourteen sail having re-formed their line bore down to support their commander-in-chief: to receive them Sir John Jervis was obliged to form a line of battle on the starboard tack--the enemy immediately retired. Thus at five in the evening concluded the most brilliant battle that had ever till then been fought at sea. Captain Calder was immediately sent off with the despatch and arrived in London on the 3d of March. A battle gained over such a numerical superiority for it was much more than two to one when we take into our estimate the immense size of the enemy's ships and their weight of metal there being one four-decker of 130 guns and six three-deckers of 112 of which two were taken; and further the more interesting circumstance that this great victory was gained on our part with only the loss of 73 killed and 227 wounded the public feeli

g of exultation was unbounded; and when the minister on that very evening proposed that the vote of thanks should be taken on the following Monday the House would hear of no delay but insisted on recording its gratitude at the moment. The House of Peers gave a similar vote on the 8th; and the Commons and the Crown immediately proposed to settle upon the admiral a pension of three thousand a-year. A member of the House of Commons on moving for an address to the Crown to confer some signal mark of favour on the admiral was instantly replied to by the sonorous eloquence of the minister--""Can it be supposed "" said he ""that the Crown can require to be prompted to pay the just tribute of approbation and honour to those who have eminently distinguished themselves by public services? On the part of his Majesty's ministers I can safely affirm that before the last splendid instance of the conduct of the gallant admiral we have not been remiss in watching the uniform tenor of his professional career. We have witnessed the whole of his proceedings--such instances of perseverance of diligence and of exertion in the public service as though less brilliant and dazzling than the last exploit are only less meritorious as they are put in competition with a single day which has produced such incalculable benefit to the British empire."" The result was an earldom. The first lord of the Admiralty Lord Spencer having already written to Sir John the royal pleasure to promote him to a peerage and the letter not having reached him previously to the battle he thus had notice of the two steps in the peerage nearly at once. Popular honours now flowed in upon him: London voted its freedom in a gold box with swords to the admirals of the fleet and Nelson; vice-admirals Parker and Thompson were created baronets; Nelson received the red riband; the chief cities and towns of England and Ireland sent their freedoms and presents; and the king gave all the admirals and captains a gold medal. We must now be brief in our observations on the services of this most distinguished person. We have next a narrative of the suppression of the memorable mutiny of 1798 whose purpose it was to have suffered the enemy's fleet to leave their harbours to revolutionize the Mediterranean fleet and after putting the admirals and captains to death proceed to every folly and frenzy that could be committed by men conscious of power and equally conscious that forgiveness was impossible. The fleet under Lord St Vincent was on the point of corruption when it was restored to discipline by the singular firmness of the admiral who by exhibiting his determination to punish all insubordination extinguished this most alarming disaffection and saved the naval name of the country. On the resignation of Mr Pitt in 1801 and the appointment of Mr Addington as first lord of the treasury a letter was written from the new minister to Lord St Vincent offering him the appointment of first lord of the Admiralty. Having obtained an interview with the king and explained the general tone of his political feelings the king told him he very much wished to see him at the Admiralty and to place the navy entirely in his hands. This was perhaps the only appointment of that singularly feeble administration which met with universal approval. There could be no question of the intelligence high principle or public services of the great admiral. Mr Addington came into power under circumstances which would have tried the talents of a man of first-rate ability. The war had exhausted the patience though not the power of the nation. All our allies had failed. The severity of the taxes was doubly felt when the war had necessarily turned into a blockade on the Continent. We had thus all the exhaustion of hostilities without the excitement of triumph; and to increase public anxieties the failure of the harvest threatened a comparative famine. Wheat which on an average of the preceding ten years had been 54s. a quarter was now at 110s. then rose to 139s. and even reached as high as 180s. At one period the quartern loaf had risen to 1s. 10-1/2d. The popular cry now arose for peace. France which with all her victories had been taught the precariousness of war by the loss of Egypt and the capture of her army was now also eager for peace. England had but two allies Portugal and Turkey. At length the peace was made and Lord St Vincent's attention was then drawn to an object which he had long in view the reformation of the dockyards. This was indeed the Augean stable and unexampled clamour arose from the multitude who had indolently fattened for years on the easy plunder of the public stores. However the reform went on: perquisites were abolished privileges taken away; and rough as the operation was nothing could be more salutary than its effect. The acuteness of the gallant old man at the head of the Admiralty could not be evaded his vigour could not be defied and his public spirit gave him an influence with the country which enabled him to outlive faction and put down calumny. Yet this was evidently the most painful and to a certain extent the most unsuccessful portion of his long career. Nominally a Whig but practically a Tory--for his loyalty was unimpeachable and his honour without a stain--Lord St Vincent found himself in the condition of a man who presses reform on those with whom hitherto it has been only a watchword and expects faction to act up to its professions. The Addington treaty was soon discovered to be nothing more than a truce. Napoleon lived only in war; hostilities were essential to the government which he had formed for France; and his theory of government false as it was and his passion for excitement whatever might be its price made even the two years of peace so irksome to him that he actually adopted a gross and foolish insult to the British ambassador as the means of compelling us to renew the conflict. The first result was the return of Pitt to power; the next the total ruin of the French navy at Trafalgar; the next the bloody and ruinous war with Russia expressly for the ruin of England through the ruin of her commerce; and finally the crash of Waterloo which extinguished his diadem and his dominion together--a series of events occurring within little more than ten years of a more stupendous order than had hitherto affected the fate of any individual or influenced the destinies of an European kingdom. With the ministry of Mr Addington Lord St Vincent retired from public life. He was now old and the hardships of long service had partially exhausted his original vigour of frame. He retired to his seat Rochetts in Essex and there led the delightful life of a man who had gained opulence and distinction by pre-eminent services and whose old age was surrounded by love honour and troops of friends. He appeared from time to time in the House of Lords where however he spoke but seldom but where he always spoke with dignity and effect. In the month of March 1823 Lord St Vincent was seized with a general feeling of infirmity which portended his speedy dissolution. He had a violent and convulsive cough; yet his intellects were strongly turned upon public events and he expressed an anxiety to know all that could be known of events in France which was then disturbed; of the Spanish revolution which then threatened to involve Europe; and even of the affairs of Greece. In the course of the evening of the 13th while his physician and family were round him his strength suddenly gave way and at half past eight he died at the age of eighty-eight and was buried at Stone in Staffordshire. He was succeeded in the peerage by his nephew who however inherits only the viscounty. In our general notice of Lord St Vincent's career we have adverted as little as possible to the opinions which his biographer had introduced from his own view of public affairs. We have no wish to make a peevish return to the writer of a work which has given us both information and pleasure. But it is necessary to caution Mr Tucker against giving trite and trifling opinions on subjects of which he evidently knows so little as of the Romish question or the state of Ireland. Nothing is easier than to be at once solemn and superficial on such topics; and when a writer of this order flings his epithets of ""bigoted harsh and impolitic "" and the other stock phrases of party organs he only enfeebles our respect for his authority in the immediate matters of his work and rather lowers our respect for his faculties in all. The question of Popery in Ireland is not a question of religion but of faction. Religious controversy on Romish doctrines has long ceased to exist. Romanism has no grounds on which a controversy can be sustained. It cannot appeal to the Scriptures which it shuts up; and it will no longer be suffered to appeal to its mere childish pretence of infallibility. Its only ground in Ireland is party; and the present unhappy condition to which it has reduced Ireland exhibits the natural consequences of indulgence to Popery and the only means by which its spirit can be rendered consistent with the order of society. * * * * * MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART X. ""Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea puft up with wind Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in the pitched battle heard Loud 'larums neighing steeds and trumpets clang?"" SHAKSPEARE. On reaching the prison I gave up all for lost; sullenly resigned myself to what now seemed the will of fate; and without a word except in answer to the interrogatory of my name and country followed the two horrid-looking ruffians who performed the office of turnkeys. St Lazare had been a monastery and its massiveness grimness and confusion of buildings with its extreme silence at that late hour gave me the strongest impression of a huge catacomb above ground. The door of a cell was opened for me after traversing a long succession of cloisters; and on a little wooden trestle and wrapt in my cloak I attempted to sleep. But if sleep has not much to boast of in Paris at any time what was it then? I had scarcely closed my eyes when I was roused by a rapid succession of musket-shots fired at the opposite side of the cloister the light of torches flashing through the long avenues and the shouts of men and women in wrath terror and agony. I threw myself off my uneasy bed and climbing up by my prison bars endeavoured to ascertain the cause of the mêlée. But the imperfect light served little more than to show a general mustering of the national guard in the court and a huge and heavy building into which they were discharging random shots whenever a head appeared at its casements. A loud huzza followed whenever one of those shots appeared to take effect and a laugh equally loud ran through the ranks when the bullet wasted its effect on the massive mullions or stained glass of the windows. A tall figure on horseback whom I afterwards learned to be Henriot the commandant of the national guard galloped up and down the court with the air of a general-in-chief manoeuvring an army. I think that he actually had provided himself with a truncheon to meet all the emergencies of supreme command. While this sanguinary and yet mocking representation of warfare was going on M. le Commandant was in full eloquence and prodigious gesticulation. ""A la gloire mes enfans!"" was his constant cry. ""Fight _mes braves!_ the honour of France demands it: the eyes of Europe--of the world--are turned upon you. _Vive la Republique!_"" And all this accompanied with waving his hat and spurring his horse into foam and fury. But fortune is a jade after all; and the hero of the tricolored scarf was destined to have his laurels a little shorn even on this narrow field. While his charger was caracoling over the cloisters and his veterans from the cellars and counters of Paris were popping off their muskets at the unfortunates who started up against the old casement I heard a sudden rush and run; a low postern of the cloister had been flung back and the prisoners within the building had made a sally on their tormentors. A massacre at the Bicêtre in which six thousand had perished had warned these unhappy people that neither the prison wall nor night was to be security against the rage of the bloodhounds with whom murder seemed to have grown into a pastime; and after having seen several of their number shot down within their dungeon they determined to attack them and if they must die at least die in manly defence. Their rush was perfectly successful; it had the effect of a complete surprise; and though their only weapons were fragments of their firewood--for all fire-arms and knives had been taken from them immediately on their entrance into the prison--they routed the heroes of the guard at the first charge. Even the gallant commander himself only shared the chance of his ""camarades:"" a flourish or two of his sabre and an adjuration of ""liberty "" had no other effect than to insure a heavier shower of blows and I had the gratification of seeing the braggadocio go down from his saddle in the midst of a group who certainly had no veneration for the majesty of the truncheon. The victory was achieved; but like many another victory it produced no results: the gates of the St Lazare were too strongly guarded to be forced by an unarmed crowd and I saw the prisoners successively and gloomily return to the only roof melancholy as that was which now could shelter them. The morning brought my case before the authorities of this den. Half a dozen coarse and filthy uniformed men and some of them evidently sufferers in the tumult of the night for their heads were bound up and their arms bandaged--a matter which if it did not improve their appearance gave me every reason to expect increased brutishness in their tempers--formed the tribunal. The hall in which they had established their court had once been the kitchen of the convent; and though all signs of hospitality had vanished its rude and wild construction its stone floor and vaulted roof and even its yawning and dark recesses for the different operations which in other days had made it a scene of busy cheerfulness now gave it a look of dreariness in the extreme. I could have easily imagined it to be a chamber of the Inquisition. But men in my circumstances have not much time for the work of fancy; and I was instantly called on for my name and business in France. I had heard enough of popular justice to believe that I had now arrived within sight of the last struggle and I resolved to give these ruffians no triumph over the Englishman. ""Citizen who are you?"" Was the first interrogatory. ""I am no citizen no Frenchman and no republican "" was my answer. My judges stared at each other. ""You are a prisoner. How came you here?"" ""You are judges; how came you there?"" ""You are charged with crimes against the Republic."" ""In my country no man is expected to criminate himself."" ""But you are a traitor: can you deny that?"" ""I am no traitor to my king; can you say as much for yourselves?"" They now began to cast furious glances at me. ""You are insolent: what brought you into the territory of France?"" ""The same thing which placed you on that bench--force."" ""Are you mad?"" ""No--are you?"" ""Do you not know that we can send you to the""-- ""If you do I shall only go before _you_."" This put an end to my interrogatory at once. I had accidentally touched upon the nerve which quivered in every bosom of these fellows. There was a singular presentiment among even the boldest of the Revolutionists that the new order of things would not last and that when the change came it would be a bloody one. Life had become sufficiently precarious already among the possessors of power; and the least intimation of death was actually formidable to a race of villains whose hands were hourly imbued in slaughter. I had been hitherto placed in scarcely more than surveillance. An order for my confinement as a ""Brigand Anglais "" was made out by the indignant ""commission "" and I was transferred from my narrow and lonely cell into the huge crowded building in the opposite cloister which had been the scene of the attack on the previous night. I could with Cato ""smile on the drawn dagger and defy its point."" I walked out with the air of a Cato. This change intended for my infinite degradation until the guillotine should have dispatched its business in arrear I found much to my advantage. The man who expects nothing cannot be hurt by disappointment; and when I was conducted from my solitary cell into the midst of four or five hundred prisoners I felt the human feelings kindle in me which had been chilled between my four stone walls. The prisoners with whom I was now to take my chance were of all ranks professions and degrees of crime. The true crime in the eyes of the republic being to be rich. Yet there the culprit had some hope of being suffered to live at least while daily examinations with the hourly perspective of the axe could make him contribute to the purses of the tribunal. Those who happened to be poor were found guilty of _incivisme_ at once and were daily drafted off to the Place de Grève from which they never returned. But some of the prisoners were from La Vendée peasants mixed with nobles; who though no formal shape of resistance to the republic was yet declared had exhibited enough of that gallant contempt of the new tyranny which afterwards immortalized the name to render them obnoxious to the ruffians at its head. It was this sturdy portion which had made the dash on the night of the riot and their daring had the effect at least of saving their fellow-prisoners in future from being made marks to teach the national guard the art of shooting. Even their sentries kept a respectful distance; and M. Henriot wisely mindful of his flagellation flourished his staff of command no more within our cloister. We were in fact left almost wholly to ourselves. Yet if a philosopher desired to take a lesson in human nature this was the spot of earth for the study. We had it in every shape and shade. We had it in the wits and blockheads the courtiers and the clowns the opulent and the ruined the brave and the pusillanimous--and all under the strangest pressure of those feelings which rouse the nature of man to its most undisguised display. Death was before every eye. Where was the use of wearing a mask when the wearer was so soon to part with his head? Pretence gradually vanished and a general spirit of boldness frankness and something if not exactly of dignity at least of manliness superseded the customary cringing of society under a despotism. In all but the name we were better republicans than the tribe who shouted in the streets or robbed in the tribunals. I made the remark one day to the Marquis de Cassini a philosopher and pupil of the great Buffon. ""The reason is "" said he ""that men differ chiefly by circumstances as they differ chiefly by their clothes. Throw off their dress whether embroidery or rags and you will find the same number of ribs in them all."" ""But my chief surprise is to find in this prison more mutual kindness and in every sense more generosity of sentiment than one generally expects to meet in the world."" ""Helvetius would tell you that all this was self-interest "" was my pale-visaged and contemplative friend's reply. ""But I always regarded M. Helvetius in the light of a well-trained baboon who thought when men stared at his tricks they were admiring his talents. The truth is that self-interest is the mere creature of society and is the most active in the basest society. It is the combined cowardice and cruelty of men struggling for existence; the savageness of the forest where men cannot gather acorns enough to share with their fellows; the effort for life where there is but one plank in a storm and where if you are to cling at all it must be by drowning the weaker party. But here "" and he cast his eyes calmly round the crowd ""as there is not the slightest possibility that any one of us will escape we have the better opportunity of showing our original _bienséance_. All the struggling on earth will not save us from the guillotine; and therefore we resolve to accommodate each other for the rest of our journey."" I agreed with him on the philosophy of the case and in return he introduced me to some of the Vendéan nobles who had hitherto exhibited their general scorn of Parisian contact by confining themselves to the circle of their followers. I was received with the distinction due to my introducer and was invited to join their supper that night. The prison had once been the chapel of the convent; and though the desecration had taken place a hundred years before and the revolutionary spoil had spared but little of the remaining ornaments the original massiveness of the building and the nobleness of the architecture had withstood the assaults of both time and plunder. The roofs of the aisles could not be reached except by flame and the monuments of the ancient priors and prelates when they had once been stripped of their crosses were too solid for the passing fury of the mob. And thus in the midst of emblems of mortality and the recollections of old solemnity were set some hundreds of people who knew as little of each other as if they had met in a caravansery and who perhaps expected to part as soon. The scene was curious but by no means uncheerful. The national spirit is inextinguishable; and however my countrymen may bear up against the extremes of ill-fortune no man meets its beginnings with so easy an air as the man of France. Our supper was laid out in one of the side chapels; and coarse and scanty as it was I seldom recollect an evening which I passed with a lighter sense of the burden of a prisoner's time. I found the Vendéan nobles a manlier race than their more courtly countrymen. Yet they had courtliness of their own; but it was more the manner of our own country gentlemen of the last century than the polish of Versailles. Their habits of living on their domains of country sports of intercourse with their peasantry and of the general simplicity of country life had drawn a strong line of distinction between them and the dukes and marquises of the royal saloons. Like all Frenchmen of the day they conversed largely upon the politics of France; but there was a striking reserve in their style. The existing royal family were but little mentioned or mentioned only with a certain kind of sacred respect. Their misfortunes prohibited the slightest severity of language. Yet still it was not difficult to see that those straightforward and honest lords of the soil who were yet to prove themselves the true chevaliers of France could feel as acutely and express as strongly the injuries inflicted by the absurdities and vices of the successive administrations of their reign as if they had figured in the clubs of the capital. But the profligacies of the preceding monarch and the tribe of fools and knaves whom those profligacies as naturally gathered round him as the plague propagates its own contagion met with no mercy. And though they were spoken of with the gravity which became the character and rank of the speakers they were denounced with a sternness which seemed beyond the morals or the mind of their country. Louis XV. Du Barri and the whole long succession of corrupting and corrupted cabinets which had at length rendered the monarchy odious were denounced in terms worthy of gallant men; who though resolved to sink or swim with the throne experienced all the bitterness of generous indignation at the crimes which had raised the storm. We had our songs too and some of them were as contemptuous as ever came from the pen of Parisian satire. Among my recollections of the night was one of those songs of which the _refrain_ was-- ""Le Bien-Aimé--_de l'Almanac_."" A burlesque on the title--Le Bien-Aimé &c. which the court calendar and the court calendar _alone_ had annually given to the late king. I can offer only a paraphrase. ""Louis Quinze our burning shame Hear our song 'old well-beloved ' What if courts and camps are tame Pension'd beggars laced and gloved France's love grows rather slack Idol of--the Almanac. ""Let your flatterers hang or drown We are of another school Truth no more shall be put down We can call a fool a fool Fearless of Bastile or rack Titus of--the Almanac. ""Louis trample on your serfs We'll be trampled on no more Revel in your _parc aux cerfs_ [27] Eat and drink--'twill soon be o'er. France will steer another tack Solon of--the Almanac! ""Hear your praises from your pages Hear them from your liveried lords Let your valets earn their wages Liars living on their words; We'll soon give them nuts to crack Cæsar of--the Almanac! ""When a dotard fills the throne Fit for nothing but a nurse When a nation's general groan Yields to nothing but its curse; What are armies at thy back Henri of--the Almanac? ""When the truth is bought and sold When the wrongs of man are spurn'd Then the crown's last knell is toll'd Then old Time thy glass has turn'd And comes flying from thy pack To nations a _new_ Almanac! ""Mistress minister Bourbon Rule by bayonets bribes and spies Charlatans in church and throne France is opening all her eyes-- Down go minion king and quack We'll have _our_ new Almanac!"" [27] A scene of peculiar infamy near Paris. When I returned to the place where my mattress was flung the crowd had already sunk to rest and there was a general silence throughout the building. The few lights which our jailers supplied to us had become fewer; and except for the heavy sound of the doubled sentries' tread outside I might have imagined myself in a vast cemetery. The agitation of the day followed by the somewhat unsuitable gayety of the evening had thrown me into such a state of mental and bodily fatigue that I had scarcely laid my side on my bed untempting as it was when I dropped into a heavy slumber. The ingenuity of our tormentors however prohibited our knowing any thing in the shape of indulgence; and in realisation of the dramatist's renowned _mot_ ""traitors never sleep "" the prison door was suddenly flung open--a drum rattled through the aisle--the whole body of the prisoners were ordered to stand forth and answer to their names; this ceremony concluding with the march of the whole night-guard into the chapel and their being ordered to load with ball-cartridge to give us the sufficient knowledge of what any attempt to escape would bring upon us in future. This refinement in cruelty we owed to the _escapade_ of the night before. At length after a variety of insulting queries even this scene was over. The guard marched out the roll of their drum passed away among the cloisters; we went shivering to our beds--threw ourselves down dressed as we were and tried to forget France and our jailers. But a French night in those times was like no other and I had yet to witness a scene such as I believe could not have existed in any other country of the globe. After some period of feverish sleep I was awakened by a strange murmur which mixing with my dreams had given me the comfortless idea of hearing the roar of the multitude at some of the horrid displays of the guillotine; and as I half opened my unwilling eyes still heavy with sleep I saw a long procession of figures in flowing mantles and draperies moving down the huge hall. A semicircle of beds filled the extremity of the chapel which had been vacated by a draft of unfortunate beings carried off during the day to that dreadful tribunal whose sole employment seemed to be the supply of the axe and from which no one was ever expected to return. While my eyes with a strange and almost superstitious anxiety--such is the influence of time and place--followed this extraordinary train I saw it take possession of the range of beds; each new possessor sitting wrapt in his pale vesture and perfectly motionless. I can scarcely describe the singular sensations with which I continued to gaze on the spectacle. My eyes sometimes closed and I almost conceived that the whole was a dream; but the forms were too distinct for this conjecture and the question with me now became ""are they flesh and blood?"" I had not sunk so far into reverie as to imagine that they were the actual spectres of the unhappy tenants of those beds on the night before all of whom were now doubtless in the grave; but the silence the distance the dimness perplexed me and I left the question to be settled by the event. At a gesture from the central figure they all stood up--and a man loaded with fetters was brought forward in front of their line. I now found that a trial was going on: the group were the judges the man was the presumed criminal; there was an accuser there was an advocate--in short all the general process of a trial was passing before my view. Curiosity would naturally have made me spring from my bed and approach this extraordinary spectacle; but I am not ashamed now to acknowledge that I felt a nervelessness and inability to speak or move which for the time wholly awed me. All that I could discover was that the accused was charged with _incivisme_ and that defying the court and disdaining the charge he was pronounced guilty--the whole circle standing up as the sentence was pronounced and with a solemn waving of their arms and murmur of their voices assenting to the act of the judge. The victim was then seized on swept away into the darkness and after a brief pause I heard a shriek and a crash; the sentence had been fulfilled--all was over. The court now covered their heads with their mantles as if in sorrow for this formidable necessity. But how shall I speak of the closing scene? However it surprised and absorbed me in that moment of nervous excitement I can allude to it now only as characteristic of a time when every mind in France was half lunatic. I saw a figure enveloped in star-coloured light emerge from the darkness slowly ascend in a vesture floating round it like the robes which Raphael or Guido gives to the beings of another sphere and accompanied by a burst of harmony as it rose ascend to the roof where it suddenly disappeared. All was instantly the silence and the darkness of the grave. Daylight brought back my senses and I was convinced that the pantomimic spirit of the people however unaccountably it might disregard proprieties had been busy with the scene. I should now certainly have abandoned the supernatural portion of the conjecture altogether; but on mentioning it to Cassini he let me into the solution at once. ""Have you never observed "" said he ""the passion of all people for walking on the edge of a precipice climbing a church tower looking down from a battlement or doing any one thing which gives them the nearest possible chance of breaking their necks?--then you can comprehend the performance of last night. There we are like fowls in a coop: every day sees some of us taken out; and the amusement of the remaining fowls is to imagine how the heads of the others were taken from their bodies."" The prisoners were practising a trial. I gave an involuntary look of surprise at this species of amusement and remarked something on the violation of common feeling--to say nothing of the almost profaneness which it involved. ""As to the feeling "" said Cassini with that shrug which no shoulders but those of a Frenchman can ever give ""it is a matter of taste; and perhaps we have no right to dictate in such matters to persons who would think a week a long lease of life and who instead of seven days may not have so many hours. As to the profanation if your English scruples made you sensitive on such points I can assure you that you might have seen some things much more calculated to excite your sensibilities. The display last night was simply the trial of a royalist; and as we are all more or less angry with republicanism at this moment and with some small reason too the royalist though he was condemned as every body now is was suffered to have his apotheosis. But _I_ have seen exhibitions in which the republican was the criminal and the scene that followed was really startling even to my rather callous conceptions. Sometimes we even had one of the colossal ruffians who are now lording it over France. I have seen St Just Couthon Caier Danton nay Robespierre himself; arraigned before our midnight tribunal; for this amusement is the only one which we can enjoy without fear of interruption from our jailers. Thus we enjo

it with the greater gusto and revenge ourselves for the tribulations of the day by trying our tormentors at night."" ""I am satisfied with the reason although I am not yet quite reconciled to the performance. Who were the actors?"" ""You are now nearer the truth than you suspected. We have men of every trade here and among the rest we have actors enough to stock the _Comédie Française_. If you remain long enough among us you will see some of the best farces of the best time played uncommonly well by our fellow _détenus_. But in the interim--for our stage is permitted by the municipality to open in the St Lazare only four times a month--a piece of cruelty which we all regard as intolerable--our actors refresh their faculties with all kinds of displays. You acknowledge that the scene last night was well got up; and if you should see the trial of some of our 'Grands Democrats ' be assured that your admiration will not be attracted by showy vesture blue lights or the harmonies of the old asthmatic organ in yonder gallery; our pattern will be taken from the last scene of 'Il Don Giovanni.' You will have no pasteboard figure suspended from the roof and wafted upward in starlight or moonlight. But if you wish to see the exhibition I am concerned to tell you that you must wait for to-night all our _artistes_ are busy. In what do you conceive?"" I professed my inability to fathom ""the infinite resources of the native mind where amusement was the question."" ""Well then--not to keep you in suspense--we are to have a masquerade."" The fact was even so. France having grown tired of all things that had been grew tired of weeks and Decades were the law of the land. The year was divided into packs of ten days each and she began the great game of time by shuffling and cutting her cards anew. The change was not marked by any peculiar good fortune; for it was laughed at as every thing in France was except an order for deportation to the colonies or a march to the scaffold. The populace fully admitting the right of government to deal with kings and priests as it pleased regarded the interference with their pleasures as a breach of compact; and the result was that the populace had their Dimanche as well as their Decadi and that the grand experiment for wiping out the Sunday issued in giving them two holidays instead of one. It was still early in the day when some bustle in the porch of the prison turned all eyes towards it and a new detachment of prisoners was brought in. I shall say nothing of the scenes of wretchedness which followed; the wild terrors of women on finding themselves in this melancholy place which looked and was scarcely more than a vestibule to the tomb; the deep distress of parents with their children clinging round them and the general despair--a despair which was but too well founded. Yet the tumult of their settling and distribution among the various quarters of the chapel had scarcely subsided when another scene was at hand. The commissary of the district came in with a list of the prisoners who were summoned before the tribunal. Our prison population was like the waters of a bath as one stream flowed in another flowed out; the level was constantly sustained. With an instinctive pang I heard my name pronounced among those unhappy objects of sanguinary rule. Cassini approached me with a smile which he evidently put on to conceal his emotion. ""This is quick work M. Marston "" said he taking my hand. ""As the ruffian in the school fable says 'Hodie tibi cras nihi'--twelve hours will probably make all the difference between us."" I took off the little locket coutaining my last remembrance of Clotilde and put it into his hands requesting him if he survived to transmit it to his incomparable countrywoman with an assurance that I remembered her in an hour when all else was forgotten. ""I shall perform the part of your legatee "" said he ""till to-morrow; then I will find some other depositary. Here you must know that heirship is rapid and that the will is executed before the ink is dry."" He turned away to hide a tear. ""I have not known you long sir "" said he; ""but in this place we must be expeditious in every thing. You are too young to die. If you are sacrificed I am convinced that you will die like a gentleman and a man of honour. And yet I have some feeling some presentiment nay almost a consciousness that you will not be cut off at least until you are as weary of the world as I am."" I endeavoured to put on a face of resignation if not of cheerfulness and said ""That though my country might revenge my death my being engaged in its service would only make my condemnation inevitable. But I was prepared."" ""At all events my young friend "" said he ""if you escape from this pandemonium of France take this paper and vindicate the memory of Cassini."" He gave me a memoir which I could not help receiving with a smile from the brevity of the period during which the trust was likely to hold. The gendarme now came up to demand my attendance. I shook hands with the marquis who at that moment was certainly no philosopher and followed the train. We were about fifty in number; and after being placed in open artillery waggons the procession moved rapidly through the suburb until we reached one of those dilapidated and hideous-looking buildings which were then to be found startling the stranger's eye with the recollections of the St Bartholomew and the Fronde. A crowd assembled round the door of one of these melancholy shades and the bayonets of a company of the national guard glittering above their heads at length indicated the place of our destination. The crowd shouted and called us ""aristocrats thirsting for the blood of the good citizens."" The line of the guard opened and we were rapidly passed through several halls the very dwelling of decay until we reached a large court where the prisoners remained while the judges were occupied in deciding on the fate of the train which the morning had already provided. I say nothing of the insults which were intended if not to add new bitterness to death to indulge the wretched men and women who could find an existence in attending on the offices of the tribunal with opportunities of triumphing over those born to better things. While we remained in the court exposed to the weather which was now cold and gusty shouts were heard at intervals which as the turnkeys informed us arose from the spectators of the executions--death in these fearful days immediately following sentence. Yet to the last the ludicrous often mingled with the melancholy. While I was taking my place in the file according to the order of our summons and was next in rotation for trial a smart and overdressed young man stepped out of his place in the rank and drawing from his bosom a pamphlet in manuscript presented it to me with the special entreaty that ""in case I survived I should take care of its propagation throughout Europe."" My answer naturally was ""That my fate was fully as precarious as that of the rest and that thus I had no hope of being able to give his pamphlet to mankind."" ""_Mais_ monsieur "" that phrase which means so many inexpressible things--""But sir you must observe that by putting my pamphlet into your charge it has a double chance. You may read it as a part of your defence; it is a treatise on the government of France which settles all the disputed questions reconciles republicanism with monarchy and shows how a revolution may be made to purify all things without overthrowing any. Thus my sentiments will become public at once the world will be enlightened and though _you_ may perish France will be saved."" Nothing could be more convincing; yet I continued stubborn. He persisted. I suggested the ""possibility of my not being suffered to make any defence whatever but of being swept away at once; in this case endangering the total loss of his conceptions to the world;"" but I had to deal with a man of resources. ""No "" said the author and philanthropist; ""for that event I have provided. I have a second copy folded on my breast which I shall read when I am called on for trial. Then those immortal truths shall not be left to accident; I shall have two chances for celebrity; the labour of my life shall be known; nor shall the name of Jean Jacques Pelletier go to the tomb without the renown due to a philosopher."" But further deprecation on my part was cut short by the appearance of two of the guard by whom I was marched to the presence of the tribunal. The day had now waned and two or three lamps showed my weary eye the judges whose decision was to make the difference to me between life and death within the next half hour. Their appearance was the reverse of one likely to reconcile the unfortunate to the severity of the law. They were seven or eight sitting on a raised platform with a long table in their front covered with papers with what seemed to be the property taken from the condemned at the moment--watches purses and trinkets; and among those piles very visibly the fragments of a dinner--plates and soups with several bottles of cognac and wine. Justice was so indefatigable in France that its ministers were forced to mingle all the functions of public and private life together; and to be intoxicated in the act of passing sentence of death was no uncommon event. The judges of those sectional tribunals were generally ruffians of the lowest description who having made themselves notorious by violence and Jacobinism had driven away the usual magistracy and under the pretext of administering justice were actually driving a gainful trade in robbery of every kind. The old costume of the courts of law was of course abjured; and the new civic costume which was obviously constructed on the principle of leaving the lands free for butchery and preserving the garments free from any chance of being disfigured by the blood of the victim--for they were the perfection of savage squalidness--was displayed _à la rigueur_ on the bench. A short coat without sleeves the shirt sleeves tucked up as for instant execution the neck open no collar fierce mustaches a head of clotted hair sometimes a red nightcap stuck on one side and sometimes a red handkerchief tied round it as a temporary ""bonnet de nuit""--for the judges frequently in drunkenness or fatigue threw themselves on the bench or the floor and slept--exhibited the regenerated aspect of Themis in the capital of the polished world. My name was now called. I shall not say with what a throb of heart I heard it. But at the moment when I was stepping forward I felt my skirt pulled by one of the guard behind me. I looked and recognized through all his beard and the hair that in profusion covered his physiognomy my police friend who seemed to possess the faculty of being every where--a matter however rendered easier to him by his being in the employ of the government--and who simply whispered the words--""Be firm and acknowledge nothing."" Slight as the hint was it had come in good time; for I had grown desperate from the sight of the perpetual casualties round me and like Cassini's idea of the man walking on the edge of the precipice had felt some inclination to jump off and take my chance. But now contempt and defiance took the place of despair; and instead of openly declaring my purposes and performances my mind was made up to leave them to find out what they could. On my being marched up to the foot of the platform between two frightful-looking ruffians whose coats and trousers seemed to have been dyed in gore to show that they were worthy of the murders of September and who to make ""assurance doubly sure "" wore on their sword-belts the word ""September "" painted in broad characters I remained for a while unquestioned until they turned over a pile of names which they had flung on the table before them. At last their perplexity was relieved by one of the clerks who pronounced my name. I was then interrogated in nearly the same style as before the committee of my first captors. I gave them short answers. ""Who are you?"" asked the principal distributor of rabble justice. The others stooped forward pens in hand to record my conviction. My answer was-- ""I am a man."" (Murmurs on the platform.) ""Whence come you?"" ""From your prison."" ""You are not a Frenchman?"" ""No thank Heaven!"" (Murmurs again.) ""Beware sir of insolence to the tribunal. We can send you instantly to punishment."" ""I know it. Why then try me at all?"" ""Because prisoner we desire to hear the truth first."" ""First or last can you bear to hear it?"" (Angry looks but more attention.) ""We have no time to waste--the business of the Republic must be done. Are you a citizen?"" ""I am; a citizen of the world."" ""You must not equivocate with justice. Where did you live before you were arrested?"" ""On the globe."" (A half-suppressed laugh among the crowd in the back ground.) ""What profession?"" ""None."" ""On what then do you live have lived or expect to live?"" ""To-day on nothing for your guards have given me nothing. Yesterday I lived on what I could get. To-morrow it depends on circumstances whether I shall want any thing."" (A low murmur of applause among the bystanders who now gathered closer to the front.) ""Prisoner "" said the chief swilling a glass of cognac to strengthen the solemnity of his jurisprudence ""the Republic must not be trifled with. You are arraigned of _incivisme_. Of what country are you a subject?"" ""Of France while I remain on her territory."" ""Have you fought for France?"" ""I have; for her laws her liberty her property and her honour."" (Bravo! from the crowd.) ""Yet you are not a Republican?"" ""No; no more than you are."" This produced confusion on the bench. The hit was contemptuously accidental; but it was a home-thrust at the chief who had former been a domestic in the Tuileries and was still strongly suspected of being a spy of the Bourbons. The crowd who knew his story who are always delighted with a blow at power burst into a general roar. But a little spruce fellow on the bench who had already exhibited a desire to take his share in the interrogatory now thrust his head over the table and said in his most searching tone-- ""To come to the point--Prisoner how do you live? What are your means? All honest men must have visible means. That is _my_ question."" (All eyes were now turned on me.) I was now growing angry; and pointing to the pile of purses and watches on the table-- ""No man "" said I ""needs ask what are your visible means when they see that pile before you. Yet I doubt if that proves you to be an honest man. That is _my_ answer."" The little inquisitor looked furious and glanced towards the chief for protection; but his intrusion had provoked wrath in that quarter and his glance was returned with a rigid smile. ""Prisoner "" said the head of the tribunal ""though the question was put improperly it was itself a proper one. How do you live?"" ""By my abilities."" ""That is a very doubtful support in those times."" ""I do not recommend you or any of those around you to make the experiment "" was my indignant answer. The bystanders gave a general laugh in which even the guard joined. To get the laugh against one is the most unpardonable of all injuries in France and this answer roused up the whole tribunal. They scarcely gave themselves the trouble of a moment's consultation. A few nods and whispers settled the whole affair; and the chief standing up and drawing his sabre from its sheath--then the significant custom of those places of butchery pronounced the fatal words ""Guilty of _incivisme_. Let the criminal be conducted _à la Force_ "" the well-known phrase for immediate execution. The door was opened from which none ever came back. Two torches were seen glaring down the passage and I was seized by the grim escort who were to lead me to the axe. The affectation of cowardice is as childish as the affectation of courage; but I felt a sensation at that moment which took me by surprise. I had been perfectly assured of my sentence from the first glance at the judges. If ever there was a spot on earth which deserved Dante's motto of Erebus-- ""Voi qui entrate lasciate agui speranza""-- it was the revolutionary tribunal. Despair was written all over it in characters impossible to be mistaken. I had fixed my resolution to go through the whole scene if not with heroism at least with that decent firmness which becomes a man; yet the sound of the words which consigned me to the scaffold struck me with a general chill. Momentary as the period was the question passed through my mind are those paralysed limbs the same which bore me so well through the hazards of the campaign? Why am I to feel the fluttering of heart now more than when I was facing sabres and cannon-shot? Why am I thus frigid and feeble when I so lately fought and marched and defied alike fatigue and wounds? But I felt in this chamber of death an inconceivable exhaustion which had never approached me in the havoc of the field. My feet refused to move my lips to breathe; all objects swam round and sick to death and fainting I thrust out my hand to save me from falling and thus gave the last triumph to my murderers. At this decisive moment I found my hand caught by a powerful grasp and a strong voice exclaiming ""Messieurs I demand the delay of this sentence. The criminal before you is of higher importance to the state than the wretches whom justice daily compels you to sacrifice. His crime is of a deeper dye. I exhibit the mandate of the Government to arrest the act of the tribunal and order him to be reserved until he reveals the whole of the frightful plots which endanger the Republic."" He then advanced to the platform; and taking a paper from his bosom displayed to the court and the crowd the order for my being remanded to prison signed by the triumvirate whose word was law in France. Some confusion followed on the bench and some bustle among the spectators; but the document was undeniable and my sentence was suspended. I am not sure that the people within much regretted the delay however those who had been lingering outside might feel themselves ill-used by a pause in the executions which had now become a popular amusement; for the crowd instantly pushed forward to witness another trial of sarcasm between me and my judges; but this the new authority sternly forbade. ""The prisoner "" said he in a dictatorial tone ""is now in my charge. He is a prisoner of state--an Englishman--an agent of the monster Pitt""--(he paused and was answered with a general shudder;) ""and above all has actually been in arms with the fiend Brunswick (a general groan ) and with those worse than fiends those parricides those emigrant nobles who have come to burn our harvests slay our wives and children and destroy the proudest monument of human wisdom the grandest triumph of human success and the most illustrious monument of the age of regeneration--the Republic of France."" Loud acclamations followed this popular rhetoric; and the panegyrist firmly grasping me by the arm walked with me rapidly out of court. All made way for him and before another word could be uttered by the astounded bench we were in one of the covered carriages reserved for prisoners of the higher rank and on our way at full gallop through the intricate streets of Paris. All this was done with such hurried action that I had scarcely time to know what my own emotions were; but the relief from immediate death or rather from those depressing and overwhelming sensations which perhaps make its worst bitterness was something and hope dawned in me once more. Still it was wholly in vain that I attempted to make my man of mystery utter a word. Nothing could extort a syllable from him and he was evidently unwilling that I should even see his face imperfect as the chance was among the few lamps which Paris then exhibited to enlighten the dismal darkness of her thoroughfares. Yet the idea that my rescue was not without a purpose predominated; and I was beginning even to imagine that I already felt the fresh air of the fields and that our journey would terminate outside the walls of Paris when the carriage came to a full stop and by the light of a torch streaming on the wind in front I saw the gate of the St Lazare. All was now over--resistance or escape was equally beyond me. The carriage was surrounded by the guard who ordered me to descend; their officer received the rescript for my safe custody and I had nothing before me but the dungeon. But at the moment when my foot was on the step of the vehicle my companion stooped forward and uttered in my ear with a pressure of my hand the word ""Mordecai."" I was hurried onward and the carriage drove away. My surprise was excessive. This talismanic word changes the current of my thoughts at once. It had so often and so powerfully operated in my favour that I could scarcely doubt its effect once more; yet before me were the stern realities of confinement. What spell was equal to those stonewalls what dexterity of man or friendship or even the stronger love of woman could make my dungeon free or my chains vanish into ""thin air?"" Still there had been a interposition and to that interposition whether for future good or ill it certainly was due that I was not already mounting the scaffold or flung headless trunk into the miserable and nameless grave. As I passed again through the cloisters my ears were caught with the sound of music and dancing. The contrast was sufficiently strong to the scene from which I had just returned; yet this was the land of contrasts. To my look of surprise the turnkey who attended me answered ""Perhaps you have forgotten that this is Decadi and on this night we always have our masquerade. If you have not got a dress I shall supply you; my wife is a _fripier_ in the Antoine; she supplies all the civic fêtes with costumes and you may have any dress you like from a grand signor with his turban down to a _colporteur_ with his pack or a watchman with his nightcap."" My mind was still too unsettled to enjoy masquerading notwithstanding the temptation of the turnkey's wardrobe; and I felt all that absence of accommodation to circumstances that want of plasticity that failure of grasping at every hair's-breadth of enjoyment which is declared by foreigners to form the prodigious deficiency of John Bull. If I could have taken refuge for that night at least in the saddest cell of the old convent or in the deepest dungeon of the new prison I should have gone to either with indulgence. I longed to lay down my aching brains upon my pillow and forget the fever of the time. But prisoners have no choice; and the turnkey after repeating his recommendations that I should not commit an act of such profound offence as to appear in the assembly without a domino if I should take nothing else from the store of the most popular _marchande_ in Paris the wife of his bosom at last with a shake of his head and a bending of his heavy brows at my want of taste unlocked the gate and thrust me into the midst of my old quarters the chapel. There a new scene indeed awaited me. The place which I had left filled with trembling clusters of people whole families clinging to each other in terror loud or mute but all in the deepest dread of their next summons I found in a state of the most extravagant festivity--the chapel lighted up from floor to root--bouquets planted wherever it was possible to fix an artificial flower--gaudy wreaths depending from the galleries--and all the genius of this country of extremes lavished on attempts at decoration. Rude as the materials were they produced at first sight a remarkably striking effect. More striking still was the spectacle of the whole multitude in every grotesque dress of the world dancing away as if life was but one festival. As I stood aloof for a while wholly dazzled by the glare the movement and the multitude I was recognised by some of my ""old"" acquaintance--the acquaintance of twenty-four hours--but here time like every thing else had changed its meaning and a new influx had recruited the hall. Cassini and some others came forward and welcomed me like one who had returned from the tomb--the news of the day was given and exchanged--a bottle of champagne was prescribed as the true medicine for my lowness of pulse--and I gradually gave myself up to the spirit of the hour. As I wandered through the crowd a mask dressed as a sylph bent its head over my shoulder and I heard the words ""Why are you not in a domino?"" I made some careless answer. ""Go and get one immediately "" was the reply. ""Take this card fasten it on your robe and meet me here again."" The mask put a card marked with a large rose into my hand and was gone waltzing away among the crowd. I still lingered leaning against one of the pillars of the aisle. The mask again approached me. ""Monsieur Anglais "" was the whisper ""you do not know your friends. Go and furnish yourself with a domino. It is essential to your safety."" ""Who are my friends and why do you give me this advice?"" was my enquiry. The mask lightly tripped round me laid its ungloved hand on mine as if in the mere sport of the dance; and I saw that it was the hand of a female from its whiteness and delicacy. I was now more perplexed than ever. As the form floated round me with the lightness of a zephyr it whispered the word ""Mordecai "" and flew off into an eddy of the moving multitude. I now obeyed the command; went to the little shrine where the turnkey's wife had opened her _friperie_ and equipped myself with the dress appointed; and with the card fixed upon my bosom returned to take my station beside the pillar. But no sylph came again; no form rivaled the zephyr before me. I listened for that soft low voice; but listened in vain. Yet what was all this but the common sport of a masquerade? However an object soon drew the general attention so strongly as to put an end to private curiosity for the time. This was a mask in the uniform of a national guard but so outrageously fine that his _entrée_ excited an universal burst of laughter. But when after a few displays of what was apparently all but intoxication he began a detail of his own exploits it was evident that the whole was a daring caricature; and as nothing could be less popular among us than the heroes of the shops the Colonels Calicot and Mustaches _au comptoir_ all his burlesque told incomparably. The old officers among us the Vendéans and all the ladies--for the sex are aristocrats under every government and in every region of the globe--were especially delighted. ""Alexandre Jules Cæsar "" colonel of the ""brave battalion of the Marais "" was evidently worth a dozen field-marshals in his own opinion; and his contempt for Vendôme Marlborough and Frederick le Grand was only less piquant than the perfect imitation and keen burlesque of Santerre Henriot and our municipal warriors. At length when his plaudits and popularity were at their height he proposed a general toast to the ""young heroism "" of the capital and prefaced it by a song in great repute in the old French service. ""AVANCEZ BRAVE GUERRIERS."" ""Shoulder arms--brave regiment! Hark the bugle sounds 'advance.' Pile the baggage--strike the tent; France demands you--fight for France. If the hero gets a ball His accounts are closed--that's all! ""Who'd stay wasting time at home Made for women to despise; When where'er we choose to roam All the world before us lies Following our bugle's call Life one holiday--that's all! ""When the soldier's coin is spent He has but to fight for more; He pays neither tax nor rent He's but where he was before. If he conquer if he fall-- _Fortune de la guerre_--that's all! ""Let the pedant waste his oil With the soldier all is sport; Let your blockheads make a coil In the cloister or the court; Let them fatten in their stall We can fatten too--that's all! ""What care we for fortune's frown All that comes is for the best; What's the noble's bed of down To the soldier's evening rest On the heath or in the hall All alike to him--that's all! ""When the morn is on the sky Hark the gay _reveillé_ rings! Glory lights the soldier's eye To the gory breach he springs Plants his colours on the wall Wins and wears the _croix_--that's all!"" The dashing style in which this hereditary song of the French camp was given by ""Colonel Alexandre Jules Cæsar"" of the ""brave battalion of the Marais "" his capitally awkward imitation of the soldier of the old _régime_ and his superb affectation of military nonchalance were so admirable that his song excited actual raptures of applause. His performance was encored and he was surrounded by a group of nymphs and graces among whom his towering figure looked like a grenadier of Brobdignag in the circle of a Liliputian light company. He carried on the farce for a while with great adroitness and animation; but at length he put the circle of tinsel and tiffany aside and rushing up to me insisted on making me a recruit for the ""brave battalion of the Marais."" But I had no desire to play a part in this pantomime and tried to disengage myself. One word again made me a captive: that word was now ""Lafontaine;"" and at the same moment I saw the sylph bounding to my side. What was I to think of this extraordinary combination? All was as strange as a midsummer night's dream. The ""colonel "" as if fatigued leaned against the pillar and slightly removing his mask I saw with sudden rejoicing the features of that gallant young friend whom I had almost despaired of ever seeing again. ""Wait in this spot until I return "" was all that I heard before he and the sylph had waltzed away far down the hall. I waited for some time in growing anxiety; but the pleasantry of the night went on as vividly as ever and some clever _tableaux vivants_ had varied the quadrilles. While the dancers gave way to a well-performed picture of Hector and Andromache from the _Iliad_ and the hero was in the act of taking the plumed helmet from his brow with a grace which enchanted our whole female population an old Savoyard and his daughter came up one playing the little hand-organ of their country and the other dancing to her tamborine. This was pretty but my impatience was ill disposed to look or listen; when I was awakened by a laugh and the old man's mask being again half turned aside I again saw my friend: the man moved slowly through the crowd and I followed. We gradually twined our way through the labyrinth of pillars leaving the festivity further and further behind until he came to a low door at which the Savoyard tapped and a watchword being given the cell was opened. There our robes and masks were laid aside; we found peasant dresses for which we exchanged them; and following a muffled figure who carried a lantern we began our movements again through the recesses of the endless building. At length we came to a stop and our guide lifting up a ponderous stone which covered the entrance to a deep and dark staircase we began to descend. I now for the first time heard the cheerful voice of Lafontaine at my side. ""I doubt "" said he ""whether a hundred years ago any one of us would have ventured on a night march of this kind; for be it known to you that we are now in the vaults of the convent and shall have to go through a whole regiment of monks and abbots in full parade."" I observed that ""if we were to meet them at all they would be less likely to impede our progress dead than alive;"" but I still advised Lafontaine to allude as little as he could to the subject lest it might have the effect of alarming our fair companion. ""There is no fear of that "" said he ""for little Julie is in love with M. le Comte our gallant guide; and a girl of eighteen desperately in love is afraid of nothing. You Englishmen are not remarkable for superstition; and as for me and my compatriots we have lost our reverence for monks in any shape since the taking of the Bastile."" We now went on drearily and wearily through a range of catacombs stopping from time to time to ascertain whether we were pursued; and occasionally not a little startled by the sudden burst of sound that came from the revelry above through the ventilators of these enormous vaults. But the Count had well prepared his measures had evidently traced his way before and led us on without hinderance until we approached a species of sallyport which once opened would have let us out into the suburb. Here misfortune first met us; none of the keys which the Count had brought with him would fit the lock. It was now concluded by our alarmed party either

hat the design of escape had been discovered or that the lock had been changed since the day before. Here was an insurmountable difficulty. To break down the gate or break through it was palpably impossible for it was strongly plated with iron and would have resisted every thing but a six-pounder. What was to be done? To remain where we were was starvation and death; to return would be heart-breaking; yet escape was clearly out of the question. The Count was furious as he tried in vain to shake the solid obstacle; Lafontaine was in despair. I rather more quietly took it for granted that the guillotine would settle all our troubles in the course of the next day; and the pretty Julie in a deluge of tears charging herself with having undone us all hung upon the neck of her cavalier and pledged herself by all the hopes and fears of passion to die along with him. While the lovers were exchanging their last vows Lafontaine in all the vexation of his soul was explaining to me the matchless excellence of the plot which had been thus defeated in the very moment of promised success. ""You perhaps remember "" said he ""the letter which the father of Mariamne that dearest girl whom I shall now never see again in this world gave you for one of his nation in Paris. On the night when I last saw you I had found it lying on your table; and in the confusion of the moment when I thought you killed and rushed into the street to gain some tidings of you I took charge of the letter to assist me in the enquiry. Unlucky as usual I fell into the hands of a rabble returning from the plunder of the palace was fired on was wounded and carried to the St Lazare. The governor was a man of honour and a royalist and he took care of me during a dangerous illness and a slow recovery. But to give me liberty was out of his power. I had lost sight of the world so long that the world lost sight of me and I remained forgetting and forgotten; until within these two days--when I received a note from the head of the family to whom your letter was directed informing me that you had been arrested and sent to the very prison in which I was--my recollection of the world suddenly revived and I determined to save you if possible. I had grown familiar with the proceedings of that tribunal of demons the Revolutionary committee; and as I had no doubt of your condemnation through the mere love of bloodshed I concerted with my Jewish friend the plan of having you claimed as a British agent who had the means of making important disclosures to the government. If this succeeded your life was saved for the day and your escape was prepared for the night. This weeping girl is the daughter of the late governor who has engaged in our plot to save the life of her affianced husband; and now within an hour of daylight when escape will be impossible all our plans are thrown away--we are brought to a dead stand by the want of one miserable key and shall have nothing more to do than to make up our minds to die with what composure we can."" Having finished his story the narrator wrapt up his head in his cloak and laid himself down like one determined never to rise again. The Count and his Julie were so engaged in recapitulating their sorrows sitting side by side on a tombstone like a pair of monumental figures that they had neither ear nor eye for any thing else; but my English nature was made of sterner stuff and thinking that at the last I could but die I took the lantern and set sturdily to work to examine the gate. It was soon evident that it could be neither undermined nor broken down by any strength of ours; but it was also evident that the lock was the old one which had closed it perhaps for the last century and that the right key was the only thing wanting. Leaving Lafontaine in his despair lying at the foot of the monument on which the lovers sat murmuring like a pair of turtle doves I determined to make a thorough search for the missing key and made my way back through all the windings of the catacomb tracing the ground step by step. Still no key was to be found. At last I reached the cell where we had changed our dresses and examined table floor and chair. Still nothing was to be found; but unluckily the light of the lantern glancing through the loop-hole of the cell caught the eye of the sentinel on the outside and he challenged. The sound made me start; and I took up one of the robes to cover the light. Something hard struck my hand. It was in the gown of the Savoyard's daughter. I felt its pockets and to my infinite astonishment and delight produced the key. The pretty Julie who had procured it had forgotten every thing in the rapture of meeting her lover and had left it behind her when she threw off her masquerading costume. I now hastened back with the rapid step becoming the bearer of good tidings and revived the group of despair. The key was applied to the lock but it refused to move and we had another pang of disappointment. Lafontaine uttered a groan and Julie poured another gush of tears upon her companion's shoulder. I made the experiment again; the rust of the lock was now found to have been our only hinderance; and with a strong turn the bolt flew back and the door was open. We had all been so much exhausted by agitation and the dreary traverse of the catacomb that the first gush of fresh air conveyed a sensation almost of new life. The passage had probably been formed in the period when every large building in Paris was a species of fortress; and we had still a portcullis to pass. When we first pushed against it we felt another momentary pang; but age had made it an unfaithful guardian and a few stout attacks on its decayed bars gave us free way. We were now under the open sky; but to our consternation a new and still more formidable difficulty presented itself. The moat was still to be passed. To attempt the drawbridge was hopeless; for we could hear the sentinel pacing up and down its creaking planks. The moment was critical; for a streak of grey light in the far east showed that the day was at hand. After resolving all imaginable plans and abandoning them all as fruitless; determining at all events never to return and yet without the slightest prospect of escape except in the bottom of that sullen pool which lay at our feet--the thought occurred to me that in my return through the vault I had stumbled over the planks which covered a vault lately dug for a prisoner. Communicating my idea to Lafontaine we returned to the spot loaded ourselves with the planks and fortunately found them of the length that would reach across the narrowest part of the fosse. Our little bridge was made without delay and Lafontaine led the way followed by the count and Julie I waiting to see them safe across before I added my weight to the frail structure. But I was not yet fated to escape. The sentinel whose vigilance I had startled by my lantern in the cell had given the alarm; and as I was setting my foot on the plank a discharge of fire-arms came from the battlement above. I felt that I was struck and a stunning sensation seized me. I made an attempt to spring forward but suddenly found myself unable to move. The patrol from the drawbridge now surrounded me and in this helpless state bleeding and as I thought dying I was hurried back into the St Lazare. After a fortnight's suffering in the hospital of the prison which alone probably saved me from the guillotine then almost the natural death of all the suspected I was enabled to get on my feet again. I found the prison as full as ever but nearly all its inmates had been changed except the Vendéans whom the crooked policy of the time kept alive partly to avoid raising the whole province in revolt partly as hostages for their countrymen. On my recovery I had expected to be put down once more in the list for trial; but it reached even the prison that the government were in a state of alarm for themselves which prevented them from indulging their friends in the streets with the national amusement. The chance of mounting the scaffold themselves had put the guillotine out of fashion; and two or three minor attempts at the seizure of the Jacobin sceptre by the partisans of the Girondists and Cordeliers had been put down with such difficulty that even the Jacobin Club had begun to protest against bloodshed through the prospect of a speedy retaliation. Thus we were suffered to linger on. But ""disguise thyself as thou wilt still slavery thou art a bitter draught "" and the suspense was heart-sickening. At length however a bustle outside the walls the firing of alarm guns and the hurrying of the national guard through the streets told us that some new measure of atrocity was at hand and we too soon learned the cause. The army under Dumourier had been attacked by the Austrians under Clairfait and had been defeated with heavy loss; despatches had been received from their favourite general in all the rage of failure declaring that the sole cause of the disaster was information conveyed from the capital to the Austrian headquarters and demanding a strict enquiry into the intrigues which had thus tarnished the colours of the Republic. No intelligence could have been more formidable to a government which lived from day to day on the breath of popularity; and to turn the wrath of the rabble from themselves an order was given to examine the prisons and send the delinquents to immediate execution. It may be easily believed that the briefest enquiry was enough for vengeance and the prisoners of St Lazare were the first to furnish the spectacle. A train of carts rattled over the pavement of our cloisters and we were ordered to mount them without delay. The guard was so strong as to preclude all hope of resistance; and with all the pomp of a military pageant drums beating trumpets sounding and bands playing _Ça Ira_ and the _Marseillaise_ we left our dreary dwelling which habit had now almost turned into a home and moved through the principal streets of the capital for the express purposes of popular display in the centre of a large body of horse and foot and an incalculable multitude of spectators until in the distance we saw the instrument of death. * * * * * THE CHILD'S WARNING. There's blood upon the lady's cheek There's brightness in her eye: Who says the sentence is gone forth That that fair thing must die? Must die before the flowering lime Out yonder sheds its leaf-- Can this thing be O human flower! Thy blossoming so brief? Nay nay 'tis but a passing cloud Thou didst but droop awhile; There's life long years and love and joy Whole ages in that smile-- In the gay call that to thy knee Brings quick that loving child Who looks up in those laughing eyes With his large eyes so mild. Yet thou art doom'd--art dying; all The coming hour foresee But in love's cowardice withhold The warning word from thee. God keep thee and be merciful! His strength is with the weak; Through babes and sucklings the Most High Hath oft vouchsafed to speak-- And speaketh now--""Oh mother dear!"" Murmurs the little child; And there is trouble in its eyes Those large blue eyes so mild-- ""Oh mother dear! they say that soon When here I seek for thee I shall not find thee--nor out there Under the old oak-tree; ""Nor up stairs in the nursery Nor any where they say. Where wilt thou go to mother dear? Oh do not go away!"" Then was long silence--a deep hush-- And then the child's low sob. _Her_ quivering eyelids close--one hand Keeps down the heart's quick throb. And the lips move though sound is none That inward voice is prayer. And hark! ""Thy will O Lord be done!"" And tears are trickling there Down that pale cheek on that young head-- And round her neck he clings; And child and mother murmur out Unutterable things. _He_ half unconscious--_she_ deep-struck With sudden solemn truth That number'd are her days on earth Her shroud prepared in youth-- That all in life her heart holds dear God calls her to resign. She hears--feels--trembles--but looks up And sighs ""Thy will be mine!"" C. * * * * * THE TWO PATRONS. CHAPTER I. The front door of a large house in Harley Street stood hospitably open and leaning against the plaster pillars (which were of a very miscellaneous architecture) were two individuals who appeared as if they had been set there expressly to invite the passengers to walk in. Beyond the red door that intersected the passage was seen the coloured-glass entrance to a conservatory on the first landing of the drawing-room stairs; and a multitude of statues lined each side of the lobby like soldiers at a procession but which the inventive skill of the proprietor had converted to nearly as much use as ornament; for a plaster Apollo in addition to watching the ""arrow's deathful flight "" had been appointed custodier of a Taglioni and a Mackintosh which he wore with easy negligence over his head--a distracted Niobe in the same manner had undertaken the charge of a grey silk hat and a green umbrella. The Gladiator wore a lady's bonnet; the Farnese Hercules looked like an old-fashioned watchman and sported a dreadnought coat. A glaring red paper gave a rich appearance to the hall; the stair carpet also added its contribution to the rubicundity of the scene which was brought to a _ne plus ultra_ by the nether habiliments of the two gentlemen who as already stated did the honours of the door. A more pleasing sight than two footmen refreshing themselves on the top of the front stairs with a view of the opposite houses and gratifying the anxious public at the same time with a view of themselves it is difficult to imagine. They always look so diffident and respectful that involuntarily our interest in them becomes almost too lively for words. We think with disdain on miserable soldiers and hungry mechanics and half-starved paupers and whole-starved labourers; and turn with feelings of a very different kind to the contemplation of virtue rewarded and modesty well fed in the persons of the two meditative gentlemen whose appearance at the front door in Harley Street has given rise to these reflections. The elder of them who kept the post of honour on the right hand side just opposite the bell-handle and whose superiority over the other was marked by much larger legs a more prominent blue waistcoat and a slight covering of powder over his auburn locks looked for some time at his companion while an expression of ill-disguised contempt turned up to still more dignified altitude the point of his nose. At last as if by an effort he broke forth in speech. ""Snipe "" he said--and seeing that Mr Snipe's ears were open he continued--""I can't tell how it is but I saw when first I came you had never been in a reg'lar fambly--never."" ""We was always more reg'larer at Miss Hendy's nor here--bed every night at ten o'clock and up in the morning at five."" ""You'll never get up to cribbage--you're so confounded slow "" replied the senior; ""you'll have to stick to dominoes which is only fit for babbies. Did ye think I meant Miss Hendy's or low people of that kind when I spoke of a reg'lar fambly?--I meant that you had never seen life. Did you ever change plates for a marquis Snipe?"" ""Never heared of one. Is he in a great way of business?"" ""A marquis is a reg'lar nob you know; and gives reg'lar good wages when you gets 'em paid. A man can't be a gentleman as lives with vulgar people--old Pitskiver is a genuine snob."" ""He's a rich gentleman "" returned Mr Snipe. ""But he's low--uncommon low""--said the other--""reg'lar boiled mutton and turnips."" ""And a wery good dish too "" observed Mr Snipe whose intellect being strictly limited to dominoes was not quite equal to the metaphorical. ""By mutton and turnips I means--he may be rich; but he ain't genteel Snipe. Look at our Sophiar's shoulders."" Mr Snipe looked up towards his senior with a puzzled expression as if he waited for information--""What has Miss Sophiar's shoulders to do with boiled mutton and turnips?"" ""Nothing won't do but to be at it from the very beginning "" said the superior with a toss of his powdered head; ""fight after it as much as ever they like wear the best of gownds and go to the fustest of boarding-schools--though they plays ever so well on the piando and talks Italian like a reg'lar Frenchman--nothing won't do--_there's_ the boiled mutton and turnips--shocking wulgarity! Look again I say at our Sophiar's shoulders and see how her head's set on. Spinks's Charlotte is a very different affair--and there she is at the winder over the way. That's quite the roast fowl and blamange "" he continued looking at a very beautiful girl who appeared at the window of one of the opposite houses--""a pretty blowen as ever I see and uncommon fond of Spinks."" ""I see nothing like a fowl about the young lady "" replied the prosaic Mr Snipe; ""and Spinks is a horrid liar."" ""But can't you judge for yourself Snipe? That girl opposite found two footmen and a butler all waiting to receive her with a French governess and a lady's maid the moment she got out of the cradle; and I say again she's nothing but roast fowl and blamange or perhaps a breast slice of pheasant for she's uncommon genteel. How different from our boiled veals and parsley and butters! I shall give warning if we don't change soon."" ""She's a beautiful young lady "" said Mr Snipe; ""but I thinks not half so plump and jolly as our Miss Emily or Sophia."" ""Plump! do you think you've got a sporting license and are on the look-out for a partridge? No; I tell you all the Pitskivers is low and old Pits is the worst of the lot."" ""I used always to hear him called a great man at Miss Hendy's "" replied Snipe; ""no end of money and a reg'lar tip-topper. I really expected to see the queen very often drop in to supper."" ""And meet all the tag-rag we have here! What would the queen care for all them portrait-painters and poets and engineers and writing vagabonds as old Pits is eternally feeding? The queen knows a mighty sight better and wouldn't ax any body to her table as had done nothing but write books or paint picters. No; old Pits is the boy for patronizing them there fellers; but mark ye Snipe he takes the wrong chaps. If a man is to demean himself by axing a riff-raff of authors to his house let it be the big 'uns; I should not care to give a bit of dinner to Dickens or Bulwer myself."" With this condescending confession of his interest in literature the gentleman in the shining garments looked down the street as if he expected some public approval of his praiseworthy sentiments. Being disappointed in this natural expectation he resolved to revenge himself by severe observations on the passers-by; but the severity was partly lost on the slow-minded Mr Snipe--being clothed in the peculiar phraseology of his senior in which it appeared that some particular dish was placed as the representative of the individual attacked. Not that Mr Daggles--for such was the philosophical footman's name--saw any resemblance between his master Mr Pitskiver and a dish of boiled mutton and turnips or between the beautiful young lady opposite and the breast of a pheasant; but that to his finely constituted mind those dishes shadowed forth the relative degrees in aristocracy which Mr Pitskiver and the young lady occupied. He had probably established some one super-eminent article of food as a high ""ideal"" to which to refer all other kinds of edibles--perhaps an ortolan pie; and the further removed from this imaginary point of perfection any dish appeared the more vulgar and commonplace it became; and taking it for granted that as far as human gradations are concerned the loftiest aristocracy corresponded with the ortolan pie it is evident that Mr Daggles's mode of assigning rank and precedence was founded on strictly philosophical principles; as much so perhaps as the labours of Debrett. ""Now look at this old covey--twig his shorts and long gaiters: he's some old Suffolk squire has grown too fat for harriers and goes out with the greyhounds twice a-week--a truly respectable member of society""--continued Mr Daggles with a sneer when the subject of his lecture had passed on--""reg'lar boiled beef and greens."" ""He ain't so fat as our Mr Pitskiver "" replied Snipe; ""I thinks I never see no gentleman with so broad a back; except p'raps a prize ox."" ""You should get a set of harrows to clean his Chesterfield with instead of a brush--it's more like a field than a coat "" said Daggles. ""But look here--here comes a ticket!"" The ticket alluded to was a well-made young man with a very healthy complexion long glossy black curls hanging down his cheek a remarkably long-backed surtout and a small silk hat resting on the very top of his umbrageous head. As he drew near he slackened his pace--passed the house slowly looking up to the drawing-room window evidently in hopes of seeing some object more attractive than the vast hydrangia which rose majestically out of a large flowerpot and darkened all the lower panes. Before he had proceeded ten yards and just when Mr Daggles had fixed in his own mind on the particular effort of culinary skill suggested by his appearance the ticket turned quickly round and darted up the steps. Snipe stepped forward in some alarm. ""Your master's not at home "" said the Ticket; ""but the ladies""-- ""Is all out in the featon sir."" ""Will you be good enough--I see I may trust you--to give this note to Miss Sophia? I shall take an opportunity of showing my gratitude very soon. Will you give it?"" ""Yes sir in course."" ""Secretly? And be assured I shall not forget you."" So saying the Ticket walked hurriedly away and Snipe stood with the note still in his hand and looked dubiously at his companion. Mr Daggle's eyes were fixed on the retreating figure of the Ticket; and after a careful observation of every part of his dress from the silk hat to the Wellingtons he shook his head in a desponding manner and merely said--""Tripe!"" ""What's to be done with this here letter?"" enquired Snipe. ""Open and read it of course. By dad! I don't think you _are_ up to dominoes; you must go back to skittles. He's evidently enclosed the sovereign in the note; for he never could have been fool enough to think that two gentlemen like us are to give tick for such a sum to a stranger."" ""What sum?"" enquired Snipe. ""Why the sovereign he was to pay for delivering the letter. If you don't like to read it yourself give it to the old snob--Pitskiver will give you a tip."" ""But the gentleman said he would show his gratitude""-- ""He should have showed his tin fust. There ain't no use of denying it Snipe; this is a wery low establishment and I shall cut it as soon as I can. What right has a dowdy like our Sophia to be getting billydoos from fellers as ought to be ashamed of theirselves for getting off their three-legged stools at this time of the day? Give the note to old Pits--and here I think he is."" Mr Pitskiver--or old Pits as he was irreverently called by his domestic--came rapidly up the street. He was a little man between fifty and sixty years of age with an exceedingly stout body and very thin legs. He was very red in the face and very short in the neck. A bright blue coat lively-coloured waistcoat and light-green silk handkerchief fastened with two sparkling pins united to each other by a gold chain check trowsers and polished French leather boots composed his attire. He wore an eyeglass though he was not short-sighted and a beautifully inlaid riding-whip though he never rode. His white muslin pocket-handkerchief hung very prominently out of the breast pocket of his coat and his hat was set a little on one side of his head and rested with a coquettish air on the top of the left whisker. What with his prodigious width and the flourishing of his whip and the imposing dignity of his appearance altogether he seemed to fill the street. Several humble pedestrians stepped off the pavement on to the dirty causeway to give him room. Daggles drew up Snipe slunk back to hold the door and Mr Pitskiver retired from the eyes of men and entered his own hall followed by his retainers. ""If you please sir "" said Snipe ""I have a letter for Miss Sophiar."" ""Then don't you think you had better give it her?"" replied Mr Pitskiver. ""A gentleman sir gave it to me."" ""I'll give it you too "" said the master of the mansion shaking the whip over the astonished Snipe. ""What are you bothering me with the ladies' notes for? Any thing for me Daggles?"" ""A few parcels sir--books and a couple of pictures."" ""No statue? My friend Bristles has deceived me. It was to have been finished to-day. If he gives the first view to the Whalleys I'll never speak to him again. Nothing else? Then have the phaeton at the door at half past five. I dine at Miss Hendy's at Hammersmith."" While Mr Pitskiver stepped up stairs Snipe was going over in his own mind the different grammatical meanings of the words ""I'll give it you."" And concluding at last that in the mouth of his master it meant nothing but a horsewhipping he resolved with the magnanimity of many other virtuous characters who find treachery unproductive to be true to Miss Sophia and give her the mysterious note with the greatest possible secrecy. ""Now donkey "" said Daggles aiding his benevolent advice with a kick that made it nearly superfluous ""get down them kitchen stairs and learn pitch-and-toss for you haven't brains enough for any thing else--and recollect you owes me a sovereign; half from master for telling and half from the long-backed Ticket for keeping mum. You can keep the other to yourself; for the job was well worth a sovereign a-piece."" A knock at the door interrupted the colloquy and Snipe once more emerged from the lower regions and admitted the two fair daughters of his master. They were stout bustling rosy-cheeked girls two or three and twenty years of age superbly dressed in flashy silks and bedizened with ribands like a triumphal arch. ""Miss "" said Snipe ""I've got a summut for you."" And he looked as knowing as it was possible for a student of pitch-and-toss to do. ""For me? What is it? Make haste Thomas."" ""A gentleman has been here and left you this "" replied the Mercury holding out the note. ""He said something about giving me a guinea; but I wasn't to let any body see."" ""It is his hand--I know it!"" cried Miss Sophia and hurried up stairs to her own room. ""You donkey!"" growled Mr Daggles who had overheard Snipe's proceedings; ""you've done me out of another ten shillings. Blowed if I don't put you under the pump! She would have given you a guinea for the letter by way of postage. But it all comes of living with red herrings and gooses' eggs."" And so saying Mr Daggles resumed his usual seat in the dining-room and went on with the perusal of the _Morning Post_. CHAPTER II. Mr Pitskiver's origin like that of early Greece is lost in the depths of antiquity. Through an infinite variety of posts and offices he had risen to his present position and was perhaps the most multifariously occupied gentleman in her majesty's dominions. He was chairman of three companies steward of six societies general agent and had lately reached the crowning eminence of his hopes by being appointed trustee of unaudited accounts. In the midst of all these labours he had gone on increasing in breadth and honour till his name was a symbol of every thing respectable and well to do in the world. With each new office his ambition rose and a list of his residences would be a perfect index to the state of his fortunes. We can trace him from Stepney to Whitechapel; from Whitechapel to Finsbury square; from Finsbury square to Hammersmith; and finally the last office (which by the by was without a salary) had raised him three months before our account of him begins to the centre of Harley Street. With his fortune and ambition we must do him the justice to say his liberality equally increased. He was a patron and would have travelled fifty miles to entertain a poet at his table; he had music-masters (without any other pupils) who were Mozarts and Handels for his daughters--Turners and Landseers (whose names were yet unknown) to teach them drawing--for by a remarkable property possessed by him in common with a great majority of mankind every thing gained a new value when it came into contact with himself. He bought sets of china because they were _artistic_; changed his silver plate for a more _picturesque_ pattern; employed Stultz for his clothes and above all Bell and Rannie for his wines. His cook was superb; and thanks to the above-named Bell and Rannie there were fewer headachs in the morning after a Mæcenatian dinner at Pitskiver's than could have been expected by Father Matthew himself. With these two exceptions--wine and clothes--his patronage was more indiscriminate than judicious. In fact he patronized for the sake of patronizing; and as he was always in search of a new miracle it is no wonder that he was sometimes disappointed--that his Landseers sometimes turned out to have no eyes and his musicians more fitted to play the Handel to a pump than an organ. But Pitskiver never lost heart. If he failed in one he was sure to succeed in another; he saw his name occasionally in the newspaper by giving an invitation to one of the literary gentlemen who enliven the public with accounts of fearful accidents and desperate offences; had his picture at the Exhibition in the character of the ""Portrait of a gentleman "" and his bust in the same place as the semblance of the honorary Secretary to the Poor Man's Pension and Perpetual Annuity Institution. He was a widower and looked dreadful things at all the widows of his acquaintance. And it was thought that if he succeeded in marrying off his girls he should himself become once more a candidate for the holy estate; and by this wise manoeuvre--for in fact he made no secret of his intention--he enlisted in his daughters' behalf all the elderly ladies who thought they had any claims on the attentions of that charming creature Mr Pitskiver. There were certainly no young ladies I have ever heard of so well supplied with assistants in the great art of catching husbands as the two plump damsels whom we have already seen enter the house in Harley Street and one of whom we have perceived placed in possession of the mysterious letter by the skittle-minded Mr Snipe. Miss Sophia Pitskiver according to all ordinary ideas of romance and true love had no right whatever to indulge in such luxuries being more adapted to make pies than enter into the beauty of sonnets to the moon. She was short stout--shall we be pardoned for saying the hateful word?--she was dumpy but a perfect picture of rosy health and hilarious good-nature. And yet if she had been half a foot taller and half a yard thinner and infinitely paler she could not have been one jot more sentimental. She cultivated sentiment because it was so pleasant and her father approved of it because it was genteel. Her enthusiasm was tremendous. Her ideas were all crackers and exploded at the slightest touch. She had a taste for every thing--poetry history fine arts in general philosophy glory puseyism and perhaps more than all for a certain tall young man with an interesting complexion whom we have introduced to the courteous reader by the name of the long-backed Ticket. It was this gentleman's note she was now about to read. Sundry palpitations about the robust regions of the heart might to common eyes have appeared to arise from her speed in running up stairs. But she knew better. She took but one look of the cheval glass and broke the seal. ""Stanzas!"" she said; and taking one other glance at the mirror she exclaimed to the agitated young lady represented there ""only think!"" and devoured the following lines:-- ""There is a tear that will not fall To cool the burning heart and brain; Oh I would give my life my all To feel once more that blessed rain! ""There is a grief--I feel in sooth It rends my soul it quells my tongue; It dims the sunshine of my youth But oh it will not dim it long! ""There is a place where life is o'er And sorrow's blasts innocuous rave; A place where sadness comes no more. Know'st thou the place? It is the grave. ""Yes if within that gentle breast Mild pity ever held her sway Thou'lt weep for one who finds no rest-- The reason he can never say. ""P.S.--Miss Hendy is an angel upon earth. My friend Mr Bristles of the _Universal Surveyor_ one of the most distinguished literary men of the age has got me an invitation to go to her house to-night to read the first act of my tragedy. Shall I have the happiness of seeing thee? Would to my stars my fate were so fortuna

e! I enclose you the above lines which Bristles says are better than any of Lord Byron's and will publish next week in the _Universal_. Mayest thou like them sweetest for they are dedicated to thee Thine ever--ALMANSOR."" What she might have done beyond reading the lines and letter six times over and crying ""beautiful beautiful!"" as fast as she could it is impossible to say for at that moment she was called by her venerable sire. She crumpled the note up after the manner of all other heroines and hid it in her bosom; and hurried to the drawing-room where she found her father in full dress pulling on a pair of new kid gloves. ""Well Soph I'm off for Miss Hendy's--don't give me any nonsense now about her being low and all that sort of thing; she don't move in the same circle of society certainly as we do but she has always distinguished people about her."" ""Oh papa!"" interrupted the young lady. ""I don't object to Miss Hendy in the least. I love her of all things and would give worlds to be going with you!"" ""That's right! You've heard of the new poet then? Tremendous they say; equal to Shakspeare--quite a great man."" ""Indeed! Oh how I long to see him!"" ""Well perhaps you may one of these days. Bristles--my friend Bristles of the _Universal_-says he's a perfect--what do they call that pretty street in Southampton?--Paragon--a perfect paragon Bristles says: I'll ask him to dinner some day."" ""What day?--Oh let it be soon dear papa!"" ""There's a dear delightful enthusiastic girl! We ought to encourage people of genius. Curious we never heard of him before for he was our neighbour I hear in Finsbury; but poor I suppose and did not mix with our set even then."" Mr Pitskiver looked at the opposite side of the street while he spoke as if to assure himself that he was in a still higher altitude above the poet now than some few years before. But as if feeling called on to show his increased superiority by greater condescension he said as he walked out of the room ""I shall certainly have him to dinner and Bristles and some more men of talent to meet him-- 'The feast of reason and the flow of soul!'"" the only quotation by the way in which Mr Pitskiver was ever known to indulge. CHAPTER III. Miss Hendy had formerly kept a school and her portrait would have done very well for a frontispiece to Mrs Trimmer. She was what is called prim in her manner and as delicate as an American. She always called the legs of a table its props--for the word legs was highly unfeminine. She admired talent and gave it vast quantities of tea and toast. Her drawing-room was a temple of the Muses and only open to those who were bountifully endowed with the gifts of nature or of fortune; for she considered it a great part of her duty to act as a kind of link between Plutus and Minerva. In the effort to discover objects worthy of her recommendation she was mainly aided by the celebrated Mr Bristles. Every month whole troops of Herschels and Wordsworths and Humes and Gibbons were presented to her by the great critic; and with a devout faith in all he told her she listened enraptured to the praises of those astonishing geniuses till she had begun to enter into Mr Bristles's own feelings of contempt for every body except the favoured few. And to-night was the grand debut of a more remarkable phenomenon than any of the others. A youth of twenty-three tall modest intellectual and long-haired--in short the ""Ticket""--was to read the opening of a tragedy; and sculptors painters mechanicians and city Croesuses were invited to be present at the display. Among these last shone our friend Mr Pitskiver radiant in white waistcoat and gold chains two rings on each finger and a cameo the size of a cheese-cake on his neckcloth. The other critic in right of his account at the bank was a tall silent gentleman a wood-merchant from the Boro' who nodded his head in an oracular manner when any thing was said above his comprehension; and who was a patron of rising talent on the same enlightened principles as his friend Mr Pitskiver. Mr Whalley also showed his patronage in the same economical manner as the other and expected immortality at the expense of a few roasts of beef and bottles of new wine. Mr Bristles was also of the dinner party--an arrangement made by the provident Miss Hendy that the two _millionaires_ might receive a little preliminary information on the merits of the rest of the company who were only invited to tea. Four maiden ladies (who had pulled on blue stockings in order to hide the increasing thickness of their ankles and considered Miss Hendy the legitimate successor of Madame de Staël and Mr Pitskiver in Harley Street the beau-ideal of love in a cottage) relieved the monotony of a gentleman party by as profuse a display of female charms as low gowns and short sleeves would allow. And about six o'clock there was a highly interesting and superior party of eight to whom Miss Hendy administered cod's-head and shoulders aphorisms and oyster sauce in almost equal proportion; while Mr Pitskiver like a ""sweet seducer blandly smiling "" made polite enquiries whether he should not relieve her of the trouble.--""Oh no!--it degrades woman from the lofty sphere of equal usefulness with the rougher sex. Why shouldn't a lady help fish?--Why should she confess her inferiority? The post assigned to her by nature--though usurped by man--is to elevate by her example to enlighten by her precepts and to add to the great aggregate of human felicity by a manifestation of all the virtues;"" saying this she inserted her knife with astonishing dexterity just under the gills--and looked round for approbation. Mr Pitskiver had recourse to his usual expedient and said something about the feast of reason; Mr Whalley shook his head in a way that would have made his fortune in a grocer's window in the character of Howqua; and Mr Bristles prepared himself to reply--while the four literary maidens turned their eyes on Aristarchus in expectation of hearing something fine. ""I decidedly am of opinion "" said that great man ""that woman's sphere is greatly misunderstood and that you maintain the dignity of your glorious sex by carving the fish.--Yet on being further interrogated I should be inclined to proceed with my statement and assert that you deprive us of pleasure in debarring us from giving you our assistance."" ""Then why don't you help us with our samplers? why don't you aid us in our knitting? why don't you assist us in hemming garments?""--exclaimed Miss Hendy digging her spoon into the oyster-boat. ""This is what I call the feast and flow "" said Mr Pitskiver; while Mr Whalley nearly shook his head off his shoulders on to the table-cloth. The young ladies looked slyly at Mr Pitskiver and laughed. ""It would be rather undignified "" said Mr Bristles ""to see the Lord Chancellor darning a stocking."" ""Dignity! the very thing I complain of. Why more undignified in a Lord Chancellor or a Bishop than in his wife? Oh will the time never come when society will be so regenerated that man will know his own position and woman--noble elevating surprising woman--will assume the rank to which her powers and virtues entitle her!"" Mr Bristles was very hungry and at that moment received his plate.--""Really Miss Hendy "" he said with his mouth prodigiously distended with codfish--""there's no arguing against such eloquence. I must give in."" But Miss Hendy who had probably lunched determined to accept no surrender.--""No "" she cried--""you shall _not_ give in till I have overwhelmed you with reasons for your submission. A great move is in progress--woman's rights and duties are becoming every day more widely appreciated. The old-fashioned scale must be re-adjusted and woman--noble elevating surprising woman--ascend to the loftiest eminence and sit superior on the topmost branch of the social tree."" Mr Whalley whose professional ear was caught by the last word broke through his usual rule of only nodding his remarks and ventured to say--""Uncommon bad climbers for the most part in general is women. Their clothes isn't adapted for it.--I minds once I see a woman climb a pole after a leg of mutting."" If looks could have killed Mr Whalley Mr Pitskiver's eyes would certainly have been tried for murder; but that matter-of-fact individual was impervious to the most impassioned glances. Miss Hendy sank her face in horror over her plate and celestial rosy red overspread her countenance; while a look of the most extraordinary nature rewarded Mr Pitskiver for all his efforts in her behalf. A look!--it went quite through his waistcoat and if it had gone straight on must have reached his heart. Mr Pitskiver was amazed at the expression of the look; for he little knew that his labours under the table in attempting to check Mr Whalley's oratory by pressing his toes had unfortunately been bestowed on the delicate foot of his hostess; and what less could she do than respond to the gentle courtesy by a glance of gratitude for what she considered a movement of sympathy and condolence under the atrocious reminiscences of the wood-merchant? Mr Whalley however was struck with the mournful silence that followed his observation. ""That was a thing as happing'd on a pole "" he said. ""In cooss it would be wery different on a tree--because of the branches as I think you was a-saying Miss Hendy?"" Mr Pitskiver grew desperate. ""Bristles "" he cried ""any thing new in sculpture? By the by you haven't sent me Stickleback's jack-ass as you promised. Is it a fine work?"" ""I have no hesitation "" replied the critic ""with a perfect recollection of Canova's Venus and even Moggs's Pandean Piper which I reviewed in last number of the _Universal_ in declaring that Stickleback's work (it is a female not a jack-ass) is the noblest effort of the English chisel; there is life about it--a power--a feeling--a sentiment--it is overwhelming! I shall express these ideas in print. Stickleback's fame is secured by a stupendous ass at once so simple and so grand."" ""A female I think you said?"" enquired Miss Hendy. ""A jeanie--miraculously soft yet full of graceful dignity "" replied Bristles bowing to the enquirer as if the description applied to her. ""I honour the sculptor for breaking through the prejudices of sex in this splendid instance!"" exclaimed the lady. ""The feminine star is in the ascendant. How much more illustrious the triumph! How greater the difficulty to express in visible types the soft subduing humanizing graces of the female disposition than to imprint the coarse outline of masculine strength! How rough the contour of an Irish hodman to the sweet flexibilities of the Venus of Canova!"" ""Canova was by no means equal to Stickleback "" said Mr Bristles magisterially. ""I have devoted much time to the study of the fine arts--I have seen many statues--I have frequently been in sculptors' studios; I prefer Stickleback to Canova."" ""I honour his moral elevation "" observed Miss Hendy ""in stamping on eternal marble the femininity of the subject of his chisel."" ""I must really have the first view "" whispered Mr Pitskiver. ""Can't you remind him Bristles? Don't send it to Whalley on my account."" But Mr Whalley who was a rival Mæcenas put in a word for himself ""Mr Bristles "" he said ""this must be a uncomming statty of a she-ass. I oncet was recommended to drink a she-ass's milk myself and liked it uncomming. I must have the private sight you promised; and if you'll fix a day I vill ask you and the artist to dine."" ""Certainly my dear sir--but Mr Pitskiver and Stickleback they are friends you know Mr Whalley and perhaps Mr P.'s interest may be useful in getting the great artist an order to ornament some of the new buildings. I have some thoughts of recommending him to offer the very statue we talk of for the front of the Mansion-house. A hint on the subject has already appeared in the _Universal_."" ""Miss Hendy "" said Mr Pitskiver for the tenth time ""this is the regular feast and flow; and nothing pleases me so much in my good friend Bristles as his candid praise of other men's talents. You seldom find clever people allowing each other's merits."" ""Or stupid ones either""--replied Mr Bristles before the lady had time to answer; ""the fact is we are much improved since former days. Our great men don't quarrel as they used to do--conscious of one's own dignity why refuse a just appreciation of others? Stickleback has often told me that Chantrey was not altogether without merit--I myself pronounce Macauley far from stupid; and my intellectual friend young Sidsby who will read us the first act of his tragedy to-night allows a very respectable degree of dramatic power to Lord Byron. Surely this is a far better state of things than the perpetual carpings of Popes and Addisons Smiths and Johnsons Foxes and Pitts."" ""And all owing to the rising influence of the female sex "" interposed Miss Hendy. ""But woman has not yet received her full development. The time will come when her influence is universal; when softened subdued purified and elevated the animal now called Man will be unknown. You will be all women--can the world look for higher destiny?"" ""In cooss "" observed Mr Whalley--""if we are all turned into woming the world will come to a end. For 'spose a case;--'spose it had been my sister as married Mrs Whalley instead of me--it's probable there wouldn't have been no great fambly; wich in cooss if there was no poppleation""-- But what the fearful result of this supposed case would have been has never been discovered; for Miss Hendy making a signal to the four representatives of the female sex started out of the room as if she had heard Mr Whalley had the plague and left the gentlemen to themselves. ""De Staël was no match for that wonderful woman "" said Mr Bristles resuming his chair. ""I don't believe so noble an intellect was ever enshrined in so beautiful a form before."" ""Do you think her pretty?"" enquired Mr Pitskiver. ""Pretty? no sir--beautiful! Here is the finest sort of loveliness--the light blazing from within that years cannot extinguish. I consider Miss Hendy the finest woman in England; and decidedly the most intellectual."" The fact of Miss Hendy's beauty had never struck Mr Pitskiver before. But he knew that Bristles was a judge and took it at once for granted. The finest woman in England had looked in a most marvellous manner into his face and the small incident of the foot under the table was not forgotten. Mr Pitskiver was inspired by the subject of his contemplations and proposed her health in a strain of eloquence which produced a wonderful amount of head-shaking from Mr Whalley and frequent exclamations of ""Demosthenes "" ""Cicero "" ""Burke all over!"" from the more enraptured Mr Bristles. ""I'm horrible afear'd "" observed the elder gentleman putting down his empty glass ""as my son Bill Whalley is a reg'lar fool."" ""Oh pardon me!"" exclaimed Bristles--""I haven't the honour of his intimacy but--"" ""Only think the liberties he allows himself in regard to this here intellectual lady Miss Hendy. He never hears her name without a putting of his thumb on the top of his nose and a shaking of his fingers in my face and a crying out for a friend of his'n of the name of Walker. Its uncomming provoking--and sich a steady good business hand there ain't in the Boro'. I can't fadom it."" ""Some people have positively no souls "" chimed in Mr Pitskiver looking complacently down his beautiful waistcoat as if he felt that souls were in some sort of proportion to the tenements they inhabited and that his was of gigantic size; ""but I did not think that your son William was so totally void of ideas. I shall talk to him next Sunday's dinner."" ""If you talks to him about Memel and Dantzic you'll find there ain't such a judge of timber in London "" said the father who was evidently proud of his son's mercantile qualifications; ""but with regard to this here pottery and scupshire and other things as I myself delights in he don't care nothin about 'em. He wouldn't give twopence to see Stickleback's statty."" ""Then he had better not have the honour "" said Pitskiver. ""Bristles you'll send it to Harley Street. First view is every thing."" ""Really gentlemen you are both such exquisite judges of the arts and such discriminating patrons of artists that I find it difficult to determine between you. Shall we let Stickleback settle the point himself?"" Both the Mæcenases consented each at the same time making resolutions in his own mind to make the unhappy artist suffer if by any chance his rival should get the preference. After another glass or two of the dark-coloured liquid which wore the label of port and which Bristles maintained was the richest wine he had ever tasted as it was furnished by a particular friend of his who in addition to being a wine merchant was one of the most talented men in Europe and a regular contributor to the _Universal_ under the signature ""Squirk ""--after another glass or two of this bepraised beverage which at the same time did not seem altogether to suit the taste of the two patrons of the arts and sciences the gentlemen adjourned to the drawing-room from which music had been sounding for a considerable time. CHAPTER IV. On entering the room they were nearly made fitting inmates of the deaf and dumb institution by the most portentous sounds that ever endangered a human ear. A large party was assembled ranged solemnly on chairs and sofas all round the wall every eye turned with intense interest to the upper end of the apartment where stood a tall stout man blowing with incredible effect into a twisted horn which to all outward appearance had not long ceased to ornament the forehead of a Highland bull. A common horn it was--and the skill of the strong-winded performer consisted in extracting a succession of roars and bellowings from its upper end which would have done honour to the vocal powers of its late possessor. A tune it certainly was for immense outbreaks of sound came at regular intervals and the performer kept thumping his foot on the floor as if he were keeping time; but as the intermediate notes were of such a very soft nature as to be altogether inaudible the company were left to fill up the blanks at their own discretion; and Mr Pitskiver who was somewhat warlike perceived at once it was Rule Britannia while Mr Whalley shook his head in a state of profound loyalty and thought it was God save the Queen. When the ingenious musician withdrew the bull's horn from his mouth and paused after his labours in a state of extreme calefaction murmurs of applause ran all round the room. ""Mr Slingo "" said Mr Bristles ""Mr Slingo you have immortalized yourself by evoking the soul of Handel from so common an instrument as an ox's horn. I have studied music as a science--I have reviewed an opera--and once met Sir Henry Bishop at the Chinese exhibition; and I will make bold to say that more genius was never shown by Rossini or Cherubini than you have displayed on this stupendous and interesting occasion. Allow me Mr Slingo to shake your hand."" Mr Bristles gave a warm squeeze to the delighted musician's enormous fingers--and all the company were enchanted with the liberality and condescension of the celebrated author and the humility and gratitude of the musical phenomenon who could not find words to express his gratification. Miss Hendy was also profuse in her praises. ""Pray Mr Slingo "" she said taking the horn and examining it very closely ""do you know what animal we are indebted to for this delicious instrument?"" ""I took it from the head of a brown cow."" ""A cow!--ha!""--exclaimed the lady--""but I could have told you so before. There is a sweetness a softness and femininization of tone in the slower passages that it struck me at once could only proceed from the milder sex. We shall not have to wait long for the answer to a question which has stirred the heart of mankind to its foundations--can Women etherealize society? I say she can--I say she will--I say she shall!"" Miss Hendy said this with considerable vehemence and darted a look of the same extraordinary nature as had puzzled Mr Pitskiver at dinner full in the face of that enraptured gentleman. ""Oh 'pon my soul she's a very fine woman!"" he said almost audibly; and again the commendations of Mr Bristles recurred to his thoughts--""and has such a fund of eloquence. I wish to heaven somebody would take a fancy to my girls! I will ask a lot of young men to dinner."" In the midst of these cogitations he drew near Miss Hendy--and if you were to judge by the number of elbows which young ladies in all parts of the room nudged into other young ladies' sides and the strange smiles and winks that were exchanged by the more distant members of the society--you might easily perceive that there was something very impressive in the manner of his address. He bowed at every word while the gold chains across his waistcoat glistened and jingled at every motion. Miss Hendy's head also was bent till the white spangles on her turban seemed affected with St Vitus's dance; and their voices gradually sank lower and lower till they descended at last to an actual whisper. There were seven female hearts in that assemblage bursting with spite and one with triumph. Mr Pitskiver had never been known to whisper it any body's ear before. In the mean time Mr Bristles as literary master of the ceremonies had made a call on Mr Sidsby to proceed with his reading of the first act of his play. A tall young gentleman very good-looking and very shy was with difficulty persuaded to seat himself in the middle of the room; and with trembling hands he drew from his pocket a roll of manuscript though to judge from his manner he did not seem quite master of his subject. ""Modesty always the accompaniment of true genius "" observed Mr Bristles apologetically to the expectant audience. ""Go on my good sir; you will gain courage as you proceed."" All was then silent. Mr Pitskiver at Miss Hendy's side near the door; Mr Whalley straining his long neck to catch the faintest echo of their conversation; the others casting from time to time enquiring glances towards the illustrious pair; but all endeavouring to appear intensely interested in the drama. Mr Sidsby began:-- It was a play of the passions. A black lady fell in love with a white general. Her language was fit for a dragon. She breathed nothing but fire. It seemed by a strange coincidence of ideas between Sidsby and Shakspeare to bear no small resemblance to Othello with the distinction already stated of the colour of the Desdemona. But breathless attention rewarded the reader's toil; and though he occasionally missed a word in which he was always set right by Mr Bristles and did not enter very warmly into the more vigorous parts of the declamation his efforts were received with overwhelming approbation and Bristles as usual led the chorus of admiration. ""A wonderful play! an astonishing effort! Certainly up to the finest things in Otway if not of Shakspeare himself--a power a life an impetus. I have never met with such a magnificent opening act."" ""I wish you would bring him to taste my mutting Mr Bristles "" said Mr Whalley; ""as he's a poet he most likely don't touch butcher meat every day and a good tuck-out of a Sunday won't do him no harm. But I say Mr Bristles I must railly make a point of seeing Stickleback's donkey first. Say you'll do it--there's a good fellow."" Mr Pitskiver also extended his hospitable invitation to the successful dramatist; and urged no less warmly his right to the first inspection of the masterpiece of the modern chisel. ""I have had a very particular conversation with Miss Hendy "" he said laying his hand confidentially on the great critic's shoulder. ""An extraordinary woman!"" chimed in Bristles ""the glory of the present times."" ""I must have an additional treasure to boast of in my house "" resumed Mr Pitskiver whose heart seemed more than ever set on cutting out Mr Whalley in priority of inspection of the unequaled statue. ""You'll help me I know--I may depend on you Mr Bristles."" ""You may indeed sir--a house such as yours needed only such an addition to make it perfect."" ""You'll procure me the pride the gratification--you'll manage it for me."" ""I will indeed "" said Mr Bristles seizing the offered hand of the overjoyed Pitskiver; ""since your happiness depends on it you may trust to me for every exertion."" ""And you'll plead my cause--you'll speak in the proper quarter?"" ""Certainly you may consider it all arranged."" ""But secretly quietly no blabbing--these matters are always best done without noise. I would even keep it from my daughters' knowledge till we are quite prepared to reveal it in all its charms."" ""It is indeed a masterpiece--a chef-d'oeuvre--beauty and expression unequaled."" ""I flatter myself I am a bit of a judge; and when I have had it in my possession for a short time I will let you know the result."" The party were now about to break up. ""Them's uncomming pleasant little meetings arn't them?"" said Mr Whalley to one of the middle-aged spinsters who had been present at dinner; ""and I thinks this one is like to have a very favourable conclusion."" ""Miss Hendy?"" enquired the spinster in breathless anticipation. ""Jist so "" responded the other--""there can't be no mystery no longer and they'll be off for France in a few days."" ""For France?--gracious! how do you know?"" ""I hear'd Mr Bristles which is their confidant say something about a chay and Dover. In cooss they will go that way to Boulogne."" Oh Mæcenas! is there no difference between the chef-d'oeuvre of the great Stickleback and the town of Dover and a post-chaise. CHAPTER V. In a week after these events six or seven gentlemen were gathered round a table in a room very near the skylight in the Minerva chambers. Our former acquaintance Mr Bristles whose name shone in white paint above the entrance door was evidently strongly impressed with the dignity of his position; and as in the pauses of conversation he placed the pen he was using transversely in his mouth and turned over the pages of various books on the table before him it will be seen that he presided not at a feast of substantial meat and drink but at one of those regular ""feasts and flows"" which the great Mr Pitskiver was in the habit of alluding to in describing the intellectual treats of which he was so prodigious a glutton. ""What success Sidsby?"" enquired Bristles with a vast appearance of interest. ""None at all "" replied the successful dramatist or in other words the long-backed Ticket to whom we were introduced at the commencement of the story. ""I have no invitation to dinner yet and Sophy thinks he has forgotten me."" ""That's odd--very odd "" mused Mr Bristles ""for I don't know that I ever praised any one half so highly before not even Stickleback; and the first act was really superb. It took me a whole week to write it."" ""But I did not understand some parts of it and I am afraid I spoiled it in the reading. But Sophy was enchanted with the poem you made me copy."" ""A sensible girl; but how to get at the father is the thing. I have mentioned a few of the perfections of our friend Miss Hendy to him in a way that I think will stick. If we could get _her_ good word."" ""Oh she's very good!"" replied Sidsby ""she says I'm far above Lord Byron and Thomas Moore."" ""Why not? haven't I told you to say wherever you go that she is above Corinne?"" ""Ah "" said Sidsby ""but what's the use of all this to me? I am a wine-merchant not a poet; my uncle will soon take me into partnership and when they find out that I know no more about literature than a pig what an impostor they'll think me!"" ""Not more of an impostor than half the other literary men of the day who have got praised into fame as you have by judicious and disinterested friends. No: you must still go on. I shall have the second act ready for you next week and you can make it six dozen of sherry instead of three. You must please the girl first and get at the father afterwards. She's of a decidedly intellectual turn and has four thousand pounds in her own right."" ""I don't believe she is more intellectual than myself; but that silly old noodle her father""-- ""Stop!"" exclaimed Bristles in great agitation ""this is against all rule. Mr Pitskiver is our friend--a man of the profoundest judgment and most capacious understanding. I doubt whether a greater judge of merit ever existed than Mr Pitskiver."" ""Hear hear!"" resounded in various degrees of intensity all round the table. ""Well all I can say is this--that if I don't get on by shamming cleverness I'll try what open honesty will do and follow Bill Whalley's advice."" ""Bill Whalley! who is he?"" asked Bristles with a sneer. ""Son of the old Tom Noddy you make such a precious fool of."" ""Mr Whalley of the Boro' is _our_ friend Mr Sidsby--a man of the profoundest judgment and most capacious understanding. I doubt whether a greater judge of merit ever existed than Mr Whalley of the Boro'."" ""Hear hear!"" again resounded; and Mr Sidsby shaking his head said no more but looked as sulky as his naturally good-tempered features would let him. ""And now Stickleback "" said Mr Bristles--""I am happy to tell you your fortune is made; your fame will rise higher and higher."" A little dark-complexioned man with very large mouth and very flat nose looked a little disdainful at this speech which to any one else would have sounded like a compliment. ""I always knew that merit such as I felt I possessed would force its way in spite of envy and detraction "" he said. ""We have an uphill fight of it I assure you "" rejoined Mr Bristles; ""but by dint of throwing it on pretty thick we are in hopes some of it will stick."" ""Now Mr Bristles "" resumed the artist ""I don't at all like the style you talk in to me. You always speak as if my reputation had been made by your praises. Now talents such as mine""-- ""Are very high my good sir; no one who reads the _Universal_ doubts that fact for a moment."" ""Talents I say such as mine "" pursued Mr Stickleback ""were sure to raise me to the highest honours; and it is too bad for you to claim all the merit of my success."" ""Not I; but all our friends here "" said Bristles. ""For two years we have done nothing but praise you wherever we went. Haven't we sneered at Bailey and laughed at the ancient statues? Who wrote the epigram on Thorwaldsen--was it not our friend now present Mr Banks? a gentleman I must say perfectly unequaled in the radiance of his wit and the delicious pungency of his satire. Without us what would you have been?"" ""Exactly what I am. The only sculptor worth a sixpence since the fine arts were invented "" replied the self-satisfied Mr Stickleback. ""No "" said Mr Bristles; ""since you force us to tell you what we have done for you I will mention it. We have persuaded all our friends we have even persuaded yourself that you have some knowledge of sculpture; whereas every one who follows his own judgment and is not led astray by our puffs must see that you could not carve an old woman's face out of a radish; that you are fit for nothing with the chisel but to smooth gravestones and cut crying cherubs over a churchyard door; that your donkey""-- ""Well what of my donkey as you call it?"" cried the enraged sculptor ""I have heard you praise it a thousand times."" ""Of course you have; but do you think I meant it?"" ""As much as I meant what I said when I praised some of your ridiculous rubbish in the _Universal_."" ""Oh indeed! Then you think my writings ridiculous rubbish?"" ""Yes--I do--very ridiculous rubbish."" ""Then let me tell you Mr Stickleback you are about as good a critic as a sculptor. My writings sir are universally appreciated. To find fault with _them_ shows you are unfit for our acquaintance; and with regard to Mr Pitskiver's recommendation to the city building committee and your donkey to adorn the pediment of the Mansion-house--you have of course given up all hopes of any interest _I_ may possess."" ""Gentlemen "" said a young man with small piercing eyes and a rather dirty complexion with long hair rolling over the collar of his coat--""are you not a little premature in shivering the friendship by a blow of temper which had been consolidated by several years of mutual reciprocity?"" ""Silence Snooksby!--I have been insulted. I was ever a foe to ingratitude and grievous shall the expiation be "" replied Bristles. ""I now address myself to you sir "" continued Snooksby turning to the wrathful sculptor whose wrath however had be

un to evaporate in reflecting on the diminished chance of the promotion so repeatedly promised by Mr Bristles for his donkey; ""and I feel on this momintous occasion that it is my impiritive duty to endeavour to reinimite the expiring imbers of amity and re-knit the relaxed cords of unanimity. Mr Stickleback you were wrong--decidedly powerfully undeniably wrong--in denominiting the splindid lucibritions of our illustrious friend by the name of ridiculous rubbish. Apoligise apoligise apoligise; and I know too well the glowing sympithies of that philinthripic heart to doubt for a moment that its vibrations will instantly beat in unisin with yours."" ""I never meant to call his writings rubbish "" said the subdued sculptor. ""I know he's the greatest writer in England."" ""And you my dear Stickleback the greatest sculptor the world has ever seen!"" exclaimed the easily propitiated critic. ""Why will you doubt my respect my admiration of your surpassing talent? Let us understand each other better--we shall both be ever indebted to the eloquent Mr Snooksby--(may he soon get on the vestry the object of his inadequate ambition;) for a speech more refulgent in simple pathos varied metaphor and conclusive reasoning it has not been my good fortune to hear. When our other friends leave me Stickleback I hope you will stay for half an hour. I have a most important secret to confide to you and a favour to ask."" The hint seemed to be sufficient. The rest of the party soon retired; and Bristles and Stickleback began their confidential conclave. CHAPTER VI. But another confidential conclave of rather a more interesting nature to the parties concerned took place three days after these occurrences in the shady walk in St James's Park. Under the trees sauntered four people--equally divided--a lady and a gentleman; the ladies brilliantly dressed stout and handsome--the gentlemen also in the most fashionable costume: one tall and thin the long-backed Ticket; and the other short and amazingly comfortable-looking Mr William Whalley--for shortness called Bill. Whether while he admired the trunks of the old elms he calculated what would be their value in deals this narrative disdains to mention; but it feels by no means bound to retain the same cautious reserve with regard to his sentiments while he gazed into the eyes of Emily Pitskiver. He thought them beautiful eyes; and if they had been turned upon you with the same loving trusting expression ten to one you would have thought them beautiful too. The other pair seemed equally happy. ""So you don't like me the worse "" said Mr Sidsby ""now that you know I am not a poet?"" ""I don't know how it is but I don't think I care for poetry now at all "" replied the lady. ""In fact I suppose my passion for it was never real and I only fancied I was enchanted with it from hearing papa and Mr Bristles perpetually raving about strength and genius. Is Miss Hendy a really clever woman?"" ""A genuine humbug I should say--gooseberry champagne at two shillings a bottle "" was the somewhat professional verdict on Miss Hendy's claims. ""Oh! you shouldn't talk that way of Miss Hendy--who knows but she may be my mamma soon?"" ""He can never be such a confounded jackass!"" said Mr Sidsby without giving a local habitation or a name to the personal pronoun _he_. ""He loses his daughters I can tell him "" said Miss Sophy with a toss of her head that set all the flowers on the top of her bonnet shaking--""Emily and I are quite resolved on that."" ""But what can you do?"" enquired the gentleman who did not appear to be very nearly akin to Oedipus. ""Do? Why don't we get possession of mamma's fortune if he marries; and can't we--oh you've squeezed my ring into my finger!"" ""My dear Sophy I was only trying to show you how much I admired your spirit. I hope he'll marry Miss Hendy with all my heart."" When a conversation has got to this point a chronicle of any pretensions to respectability will maintain a rigid silence; and we will therefore only observe that by the time Mr William Whalley and Emily had come to Marlborough House their conversation had arrived at a point where discretion becomes as indispensably a chronicler's duty as in the case of the other couple. ""We must get home "" said Sophy. ""Why should you go yet? There is no chance of your father being back from the city for hours to come."" ""Oh! but we must get home. We have been out a long time."" And so saying she led the way up the steps by the Duke of York's column followed by her sister and her swain--and attended at a respectful distance by a tall gentleman with an immense gold-headed walking-stick displaying nether integuments of the brightest red and white silk stockings of unexampled purity. The reader if he had heard the various whispered allusions to different dishes such as ""sheep's head "" ""calf's foot jelly "" ""rhubarb tart "" and ""toasted cheese "" would have been at no loss to recognise the indignant Daggles whose culinary vocabulary it seemed impossible to exhaust. He followed watching every motion of the happy couples. ""Well if this ain't too bad!--I've a great mind to tell old Pits how them disgusting saussingers runs after his mince-pies--meets 'em in the Park; gallivants with them under the trees as if they was ortolans and beccaficas; bills and coos with 'em as if they was real turtles and punch _à la Romaine_. How the old cucumber would flare up! Up Regent Street along Oxford Street through the square up to our own door. Well blowed if that ain't a good one! Into the very house they goes; up stairs to the drawing-room. O Lord! that there should be such impudence in beefsteaks and ingans! They couldn't be more audacious if they was Perigord pies."" CHAPTER VII. Half an hour passed--an hour--and yet the conversation was flowing on as briskly as ever. Mr Bill Whalley had explained the exact difference between Norway and Canada timber greatly to Miss Emily's satisfaction; and Miss Sophia had again and again expressed her determination to leave the house the moment Miss Hendy entered it; and both the young ladies had related the energetic language in which they had expressed this resolution to their father and threatened him with immediate desertion if he didn't cut that horrid old schoolmistress at once. The same speeches about happiness and simple cottages with peace and contentment had been made a dozen time over by all parties when the great clock in the hall--a Dutch pendule inserted in a statue of Time--struck three o'clock and at the same moment a loud rap was heard at the front door. ""Who can it be?"" exclaimed Miss Sophia. ""It isn't papa's knock;""--and hiding her face in the thick hydrangia which filled the drawing-room window she gazed down to catch a glimpse of the entrance steps. She only saw the top of a large wooden case and the white hat of a gentleman who rested his hand on the burden and was giving directions to the bearers to be very careful how they carried it up stairs. Mr Whalley started up as did Mr Sidsby in no small alarm. ""I wouldn't be found here for half-a-crown "" said the former gentleman: ""old father would shake his head into a reg'lar palsy if he knew I was philandering here when the Riga brig is unloading at the wharf."" ""Let us go into the back drawing-room "" suggested one of the young ladies ""and you can get out quite easily when the parcel whatever it is is delivered."" They accordingly retired to the back drawing-room and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of hearing heavy steps on the stairs and the voice of the redoubtable Mr Bristles saying ""Gently gently --I have no hesitation in stating that you were never entrusted with so valuable a burden before. Deposit it with gentleness on the large table in the middle; and you may now boast that your hands have borne the noblest specimen of grace and genius that modern ages have produced."" ""It's that everlasting donkey papa is always talking about!"" whispered Sophia. ""If it's Stickleback's statue "" said Mr William Whalley ""the little vagabond promised the first sight of it to old father. He'll be in a precious stew when he finds his rival has been beforehand!"" The porters now apparently retired and the youthful prisoners in the back drawing-room tried to effect their escape by the door which opened on the stairs; but alas! it was locked on the outside and it was evident from the soliloquy of Mr Bristles that their retreat was cut off through the front room. A knock--the well-known rat tat tat of the owner of the mansion--now completed their perplexity; and in a moment more they heard the steps of several persons rushing up stairs. ""Mr Pitskiver!"" exclaimed Bristles in intense agitation ""you have surely forgotten our agreement--Snooksby! Butters! Banks! Why I am quite overpowered with the surprise! It was to have been alone without witnesses; or at most in my presence. But so public!"" ""Never mind my dear Bristles. Why should I conceal my triumph--my happiness--the boast and gratification of my future days? Let us open the casket that enshrines such unequaled merits."" ""If you really wish for no further secresy "" replied Mr Bristles. ""Certainly! Don't I know that that case contains a masterpiece softly sweet and beautifully feminine as a talented friend of ours would say?"" ""An exquisite woman indeed!"" said Bristles; ""and a truly talented friend. The case as you justly observe "" proceeded the critic while he untied the cords ""contains the most glorious manifestation of the softening influences of sex."" ""It's a pity she's an ass "" suggested Mr Pitskiver. ""I can't help thinking that that's a drawback."" ""What?--what is a drawback my dear sir?"" ""That femininity as Miss Hendy calls it should be brought so prominently forward in the person of an ass."" ""An ass?--I don't understand! Are you serious?"" ""Serious! to be sure my dear Bristles. In spite of all efforts to assume an intellectual expression the donkey depend upon it preponderates--the long visage the dull eyes the crooked legs--it is impossible to perceive any grace in such a wretched animal. I can't help thinking that if it had been a young girl you had brought me--say a sleeping nymph--full of youth and beauty 'twould have been a vast improvement on the scraggy jeanie contained in this box. But clear away Bristles we are all impatience."" ""My dear sir--Mr Pitskiver--unaccustomed as I am his I can truly say is the most uncomfortable moment of my life."" ""Why what's the matter with you Bristles can't you untie the string?""--""Here "" continued Mr Pitskiver ""give me the cord "" and so saying he untwisted it in a moment--down fell the side of the case and to the astonished eyes of the assembled critics and also of the party in the back drawing-room revealed not the masterpiece of the immortal Stickleback but a female figure enveloped in a grey silk cloak and covering its face with a white muslin handkerchief. ""Why what the mischief is all this?"" exclaimed the bewildered Mr Pitskiver; ""this isn't the jeanie-ass you promised me a sight of. Who the deuce is this?"" The handkerchief was majestically removed and the sharp eyes of Miss Hendy fixed in unspeakable disdain on the assembled party. ""'Tis I base man! Are all your protestations of admiration come to this? Who shall doubt hereafter that it is the task of noble gentle self-denying woman to elevate society?"" A smothered but very audible laugh proceeding from the back drawing-room interrupted the further eloquence of the regenerator of mankind; and finding concealment useless the two young ladies threw open the door and advanced with their attendant lovers to the table. The female philosopher with the assistance of Mr Bristles descended from her lofty pedestal and looked unutterable basilisks at the open-mouthed Mæcenas who turned his eyes from the wooden box to Miss Hendy and from Miss Hendy to the wooden box without trusting himself with a word of either explanation or enquiry. ""We told you of our intentions papa "" said Miss Sophia ""if you brought that old lady to your house."" ""I didn't bring her; I give you my honour 'twas that scoundrel Bristles "" whispered the dismayed Pitskiver. ""You told me sir "" exclaimed Bristles ""that you would be for ever indebted to me if I brought this lady to your mansion--that she was the perfection of grace and innocence. By a friendly arrangement with Mr Stickleback the greatest sculptor of ancient or modern times I managed to secure to this illustrious woman an admission to your house which I understood she could not openly obtain through the opposition of your daughters. I considered that you knew of the arrangement sir; and I know that with a soft and feminine trustfulness this most gentle and intellectual ornament of her sex and species consented to meet the wish you had so ardently expressed."" ""I never had a wish of the kind "" cried Mr Pitskiver; ""and I believe you talking fellows and chattering women are all in a plot to make me ridiculous. I won't stand it any longer."" ""Stand what?"" enquired Mr Bristles knitting his brows. ""Your nonsensical praises of each other--your boastings of Sticklebacks and Snooksbys and Bankses; a set of mere humbugs and blockheads! And even this foolish woman with her femininities and re-invigorating society I believe to be a regular quack. By dad! one would think there had never been a woman in the world before."" ""Your observations are uncalled for""-- ""By no manner of means "" continued the senior waxing bolder from the sound of his own voice. ""I believe you're in a conspiracy to puff each other into reputation; and if possible get hold of some silly fellow's daughters. But no painting chiseling writing or sonneteering blackguard shall ever catch a girl of mine. What the deuce brings _you_ here sir?"" he added fiercely turning to Mr Sidsby. ""You're the impostor that read the first act of a play""-- ""I read it sir "" said the youth ""but didn't write a word of it I assure you. Bristles is the author and I gave him six dozen of sherry."" ""No indeed papa; he never wrote a line in his life "" said Sophia. ""Then he may have you if he likes."" ""Nor I except in the ledger "" modestly observed Mr Bill Whalley. ""Then take Emily with all my heart. Here Daggles "" he continue ringing the bell ""open the street-door and show these parties out!"" Amidst muttered threats fierce looks and lips contorted into all modes and expression of indignation the guests speedily disappeared. And while Mr Pitskiver still panting from his exertions related to his daughters and their enchanted partners his grounds for anger at the attempt to impose Miss Hendy on him instead of a statue Mr Daggles shut the front door in great exultation as the last of the intruders vanished and said-- ""Snipe old Pits may do after all. He ain't a bad round of beef; and I almost like our two mutton-chops since they have freed the house from such shocking sour-crouts and watery taties as I have just flinged into the street."" But it was impossible to convert the great Mr Bristles to the belief into which his quondam follower Mr Pitskiver had fallen as to the qualities of Miss Hendy. That literary gentleman had too just a perception of the virtues of the modern Corinne and of a comfortable house at Hammersmith with an income of seven hundred a-year to allow them to waste their sweetness on some indecent clown unqualified by genius and education to appreciate them. The result of this resolution was seen in a very few days after the interesting scene in Harley Street; and the following announcement in the newspapers will put our readers in as full a state of knowledge as we can boast of being in ourselves:-- ""Woman's value Vindicated as the teacher and example of Man by Mrs Bristles late Miss Hendy Hammersmith."" * * * * * IRELAND. An interdict has rested through four months on the discussion of Irish affairs--an interdict self-imposed by the English press in a spirit of honourable (almost of superstitious) jealousy on behalf of public justice; jealousy for the law that it should not be biased by irresponsible statements--jealousy for the accused that they should not be prejudiced by extra-judicial charges. At length the interdict is raised and we are all free once more to discuss the great interests so long sealed up and sequestered by the tribunals of Dublin. Could it have been foreseen or fancied pending this sequestration that before it should be removed by the delivery of the verdict nay two months before the trial should have closed in a technical sense by the delivery of the sentence the original interest (profound as it was) would be obliterated effaced practically superseded by a new phasis of the same unparalleled movement? Yet this has happened. A debate which (like a series of natural echoes) has awakened and revived all the political transactions of last year in Ireland should naturally have preserved the same relation to those transactions that any other shadow or reflection bears to the substance. And so it would: but unhappily with these rehearsals of the past have mingled tumultuous menaces of a new plot. And these menaces in the very act of uttering themselves advertise for accomplices and openly organize themselves as the principle of a new faction for refusing tranquillity once more to Ireland. Once more an opportunity is to be stifled for obtaining rest to that afflicted land. This ""monster"" debate therefore presents us in equal proportions with grounds of disgust and terror--a disgust which forces us often to forget the new form of terror--a terror (from a new conspiracy) which forces us to forget even the late conspiracy of Repeal and that glorious catastrophe which has trampled it under foot for ever. It is painful to the understanding--this iteration of statements a thousand times refuted; it is painful to the heart--this eternal neglect (in exchange for a _hear hear_) of what the speaker knows to be mere necessities of a poor distracted land: this folly privileged by courtesy this treason privileged by the place. If indeed of every idle word--meaning not trivial word but word consciously false--men shall hereafter give account Heavens! what an arrear in the single case of Ireland will by this time have gathered against the House of Commons! Perfectly appalled we are when we look into the formless chaos of that nine nights' debate! Beginning with a motion which he who made it did not wish[28] to succeed--ending with a vote by which one-half of the parties to that vote meant the flattest contradiction of all that was contemplated by the rest. On this quarter a section raging in the highest against the Protestant church--on that quarter a section (in terror of their constituents) vowing aid to this church and yet allying themselves with men pledged to her destruction. _Here_ men rampant against the Minister as having strained the laws in what regarded Ireland for the sake of a vigour altogether unnecessary; _there_ men threatening impeachment--as for a lenity in the same case altogether intolerable! To the right ""how durst you diminish the army in Ireland leaving that country up to March 1843 with a force lower by 2400 rank and file shall the lowest that the Whigs had maintained?"" To the left ""how durst you govern Ireland by martial strength?"" Question from the Minister--""Will you of the Opposition place popish bishops in the House of Lords?"" Answer from a premature sponsor of Lord John's--""We will."" Answer from Lord John--""I will not."" _Question retrospective_ from the Conservatives--""What is it not being already done that we could have done for Ireland?"" _Answer_ from the Liberals--""Oh a thousand things!"" _Question prospective_ from the Conservatives--""What is it then in particular that you in our places would do for Ireland? Name it."" _Answer_ from the Liberals--""Oh nothing in particular!"" Sir R. Peel ought to have done for Ireland whole worlds of new things. But the Liberals with the very same power to _do_ heretofore and to _propose_ now neither did then nor can propose at present. And why? partly because the privilege of acting for Ireland so fruitful in reproaches is barren in practice: the one thing that remained to be done --viz. the putting down agitators--_has_ been done; and partly because the privilege of proposing for Ireland is dangerous: first as pledging themselves hereafter; second because to specify though it were in so trivial a matter as the making pounds into guineas for Maynooth is but to put on record and to publish their own party incapacity to agree upon any one of the merest trifles imaginable. Anarchy of anarchies very mob of very mobs whose internal strife is greater than your common enmity _ab extra_--what shall we believe? Which is your true doctrine? Where do you fasten your real charge? Amongst conflicting arguments which is it that you adopt? Amongst self-destroying purposes for which is it that you make your election? [28] The reader may suppose that Lord John Russell had no motive for wishing his motion to fail because (as he was truly admonished by Sir Robert Peel) that motion pledged him to nothing and was ""an exercise in political fluxions on the problem of combining the _maximum_ of damage to his opponents with the _minimum_ of prospective engagement to himself."" True: but for all that Lord John would have cursed the hour in which he resolved on such a motion had it succeeded. What would have followed? Ministers would have gone out: Sir Robert Peel has repeatedly said they would in the event of parliament condemning their Irish policy. This would bring in Lord John and _then_ would be revealed the distraction of his party the chicanery of his late motion and the mere incapacity of moving at all upon Irish questions either to the right or to the left for _any_ government which at this moment the Whig-radicals could form. Doubtless Lord John cherishes hopes of future power; but not at present. ""Wait a little "" is his secret caution to friends: let us see Ireland settled; let the turn be taken; let the policy of Sir Robert Peel (at length able to operate through the last assertion of the law) have once taken root; and then having the benefit of measures which past declarations would not permit him personally to initiate nor his party even to propose Lord John might return to power securely--saying of the Peel policy ""Fieri non debuit _factum_ valet."" It might seem almost unnecessary to answer those who thus answer themselves or to expose the ruinous architecture of politicians who thus with mutual hands tear down their own walls as they advance were it not for the other aspect of the debate. But the times are agitated; the crisis of Ireland is upon us; now or not at all there is an opening for a new dawn to arise upon the distracted land; and when a public necessity calls for a contradiction of the enemy it is a providential bounty that we are able to plead his _self_-contradiction. In the hurry of the public mind there is always a danger that many great advantages for the truth should be overlooked: even things seen steadily yet seen but once and amongst alien objects are seen to little purpose. Lowered also in their apparent value by the prejudice that what passes in parliament is but the harmless skirmishing of partisanship dazzling the eye but innocuous as the aurora borealis demonstrations only too certain of coming evils receive but little attention in their earlier stages. Yet undoubtedly if the laws applicable to conspiracy can in any way be evaded we may see by the extensive cabal now organizing itself in England for aiding the Irish conspiracy to overthrow the Irish Protestant church that we have but exchanged one form of agitation for a worse. Worse in what respect? Not as measured simply by the ruin it would cause--between ruin and ruin there is little reason for choice; but worse as having all the old supporters that Repeal ever counted and many others beside. Especially with Repeal agitation recommending itself to the Irish priesthood and to those whom the priesthood can put in motion it will recommend itself also and separately to vast multitudes amongst ourselves. It is worse also--not because in the event more ruinous but because in its means less desperate. All the factious in politics and the schismatic in religion--all those who caring little or nothing about religion as a _spiritual_ interest seek to overthrow the present Ministers--all those who (caring little or nothing about politics as a trading interest) seek to overthrow the Church of England--all again who are distressed in point of patriotism as in Ireland many are hoping to establish a foreign influence upon any prosperous body of native prejudice against British influence are now throwing themselves as by a forlorn hope into this rearmost of their batteries (but also the strongest)--a deadly and combined struggle to pull down the Irish Protestant establishment. And why? because nothing else is left to them as a hopeful subject of conspiracy now that the Repeal conspiracy is crushed; and because in its own nature an assault upon Protestantism has always been a promising speculation--sure to draw support from England whilst Repeal drew none; and because such an assault strikes at the citadel of our strength. For the established church of Ireland is the one main lever by which Great Britain carries out the machinery of her power over the Irish people. The Protestant church is by analogy the umbilical cord through which England connects herself _materially_ with Ireland; through _that_ she propagates her milder influence; _that_ gone the rest would offer only coercive influence. Without going diffusively into such a point two vast advantages to the civil administration from the predominance of a Protestant church in Ireland meet us at the threshold: 1st that it moulds by the gentlest of all possible agencies the _recusant_ part of this Irish nation into a growing conformity with the two other limbs of the empire. The Irish population is usually assumed at about one fourth part of the total imperial population. Now the gradual absorption of so large a section amongst our resources into the temper sympathies and moral habits of the rest is an object to be kept in view by every successive government let their politics otherwise be what they may; and therefore to be kept in view by all Irish institutions. In Canada everybody is _now_ aware how much this country has been wanting to herself (that is wanting to the united interests equally of England and Canada ) in not having operated from the first upon the political dispositions of the old French population by the powerful machinery of her own language and in some cases of her institutions. Her neglect in this instance she now feels to have been at her own cost and therefore politically to have been her crime. Granting to her population a certain degree of education and of familiarity with the English language certain civic privileges (as those of voting at political elections of holding offices profitable or honorary &c. ) under such reasonable latitude as to time as might have made the transition easy England would have prevented the late wicked insurrection in Canada and gradually have obliterated the external monuments of French remembrances which have served only to nurse a senseless (because a hopeless) enmity. Now in Ireland the Protestant predominance has long since trained and moulded the channels through which flows the ordinary ambition of her national aristocracy. The Popery of Ireland settles and roots itself chiefly in the peasantry of three provinces. The bias of the gentry and of the aspiring in all ranks is towards Protestantism. Activity of mind and honourable ambition in every land where the two forms of Christianity are politically in equilibrium move in that same line of direction. Undoubtedly the Emancipation bill of 1829 was calculated or might have seemed calculated to disturb this old order of tendencies. But against that disturbance and in defiance of the unexampled liberality shown to Papists upon _every_ mode of national competition there is still in action (_and judging by the condition of the Irish bar in undiminished action_) the old spontaneous tendency of Protestantism to 'go ahead;' the fact being that the original independency and freedom of the Protestant principle not only create this tendency but also meet and favour it wherever nature has already created it so as to operate in the way of a perpetual bounty upon Protestant leanings. Here therefore is _one_ of the great advantages to every English government from upholding and fostering in all modes left open by the Emancipation bill the Protestant principle--viz. as a principle which is the pledge of a continual tendency to union; since as no prejudice can flatter itself with seeing the twenty-one millions of our Protestant population pass over to Popery it remains that we encourage a tendency in the adverse direction long since established and annually increasing amongst the six and a half Irish Papists. Thus only can our total population be fused; and without that fusion it will scarcely be hoped that we can enjoy the whole unmutilated use of our own latent power. Towards such a purpose therefore _as tending to union_ by its political effects the Protestant predominancy is useful; and secondly were it no otherwise useful it is so to every possible administration by means of its patronage. This function of a government--which being withdrawn no government could have the means of sustaining itself for a year--connects the collateral channels of Irish honours and remunerations with the great national current of similar distributions at home. We see that the Scottish establishment although differing essentially by church government yet on the ground that doctrinally it is almost in alliance with the Church of England has not (except by a transient caprice) refused to the crown a portion of its patronage. On the other hand if the Roman Catholic church were installed as the ruling church every avenue and access for the government to the administration of national resources so great would be closed at once. These evils from the overthrow of the Protestant church we mention _in limine_ not as the greatest--they are the least; or at any rate they are so with reference to the highest interests--but for their immediate results upon the purposes common to all governments; and _there_ they would be fatal for any Roman Catholic church where it happens also (like the Irish) to be a Papal church neither will nor _can_ confide privileges of this nature to the state. A Papal church not modified (as the Gallican church) by _original_ limitations of the Papal authority not modified (as even the bigoted churches of Portugal and Austria) by modern _conventional_ limitations of that alien authority gloomily refuses and must refuse to accept any thing from the state for the simple reason that she is incapacitated for giving any thing. Wisely according to the wisdom of this world she cuts away from below the footing of the state all ground on which a pretence could ever be advanced for interfering with herself. Consequently whosoever and by whatsoever organs would suffer from the overthrow of the Irish church as now established by law the administration of the land would feel the effects from such a change first and instantly. Let us not mistake the case. Mr O'Connell did not seriously aim at Repeal--_that_ he knew too well to be an enterprise which could not surmount its earliest stages without coming into collision with the armed forces of the land; and no man will ever believe that he dreamed of prevailing _there_. What was it then that he _did_ aim at? It was the establishment in supremacy of the Papal church. His meaning was in case he had been left quietly to build up his aspiring purpose so high as seriously to alarm the government then suddenly to halt to propose by way of compromise some step in advance for his own church. Suppose that some arrangement which should have the effect of placing that church on a footing of equality as a privileged (not as an endowed) church with the present establishment; this gained he might have safely left the church herself thenceforwards from such a position of advantage to fight her way onwards to the utter destruction of her rival. Thus it was that the conspirators hoped to terrify the minister into secret negotiation and compromise. But that hope failed. The minister was firm. He watched and waited his opportunity; he kept his eye settled upon th

m to profit by the first opening which their folly should offer to the dreadful artillery of law. At last said the minister we will put to proof this vaunt of yours. We dare not bring you to trial is your boast. Now we will see that settled; and at the same time we will try whether we cannot put you down for ever. That trial was made and with what perfection of success the reader knows; for let us remind him that the perfection we speak of lay as much in the manner of the trial as in its result--in the sanctities of abstinence in the holy forbearance to use any one of many decent advantages in the reverence for the sublime equities of law. Oh mightiest of spectacles which human grandeur can unfold to the gaze of less civilized nations when the ermine of the judge and the judgment-seat belted by no swords bristling with no bayonets--when the shadowy power of conscience citing as it were into the immediate presence of God twelve upright men accomplishing for great kingdoms by one day's memorable verdict that solemn revolution which elsewhere would have caused torrents of blood to flow and would perhaps have unsealed the tears of generations. Since the trial of the seven bishops[29]--which inaugurated for England the certainty that for _her_ the ""bloody writing"" was torn which would have consigned her children to the mercies of despotism--there has been no such crisis no such agitation no such almighty triumph. Here was the _second_ chapter of the history; and lastly that the nine nights' debate attached itself as the _third_ is evident from its real purpose which may be expressed strictly in this problem: Given as a fact beyond all doubt that O'Connell's Repeal conspiracy is for ever shattered; let it now be proposed as a thing worthy of the combined parties in opposition to find out some vicarious or supplementary matter for sedition. A new agitation must be found gentlemen--a new grievance must be had or Ireland is tranquillized and we are lost. Was there ever a case illustrating so strongly the maxim that no man can be effectually ruined except by himself? Here is Lord John Russell taxed a thousand times with having not merely used Mr O'Connell as an ally but actually as having lent himself to Mr O'Connell as an instrument. Is that true? A wise man kind-hearted and liberal in the construction of motives will have found himself hitherto unwilling to suppose a thing so full of disgrace; he will have fancied arguments for scepticism. But just at this moment of critical suspense forth steps Lord John himself and by his own act dissipates all doubts frankly subscribing the whole charge against himself; for his own motion reveals and publishes his wrath against the ministers for having extinguished the only man viz. a piratical conspirator by whose private license there was any safety for navigating the sea of Irish politics. The exact relation in which Lord John had hitherto stood to Mr O'Connell was that of a land-owner paying black-mail to the cateran who guaranteed his flocks from molestation: how naturally must the grazier turn with fury on the man who by suppressing his guardian has made it hopeless for the future to gain private ease by trafficking in public wrongs! The real grievance was the lopping Dagon of all power to stand erect and thus laying the Whig-radical under the necessity of ""walking in the light of the constitution"" without aid from Irish crutches. The real _onus_ imposed on Lord John's party is where to look for and how to suborn some new idol and some fresh idolatry. Still to dispense with the laws in Ireland in the event of their own return to power still to banish tranquillity from Ireland in the event of Sir Robert's power continuing required that some new conspiracy should be cited to the public service possibly (after the 15th of April) some new conspirator. The new seditious movement could not be doubtful: by many degrees of preference the war upon the Irish church had the ""call."" This is to be the war now pursued and with advantages (as we have already said) never possessed by the Repeal cause. The chief advantage of _that_ lay in the utter darkness to the Irish peasantry of the word ""Repeal."" What it meant no wizard could guess; and merely as a subject to allure by uncertain hopes on the old maxim of ""omne ignotum pro magnifico "" the choice of that word had considerable merit. But the cause of Popery has another kind of merit and (again we remind the reader) reposes upon another kind of support. In that cause the Irish peasantry will be unaffectedly and spontaneously zealous; in that cause there will be a confluence from many quarters of English aid. Far other phenomena will now come forward. Meetings even of the kind convened by Mr O'Connell are not we must remember found to be unlawful by the issue of the late trials. Had certain melodramatic features been as cautiously banished from Mr O'Connell's parades as latterly they were affectedly sought it is certain that to this hour he and his pretended myriads would have been untouched by the petrific mace of the policeman. Lay aside this theatrical costuming of cavalry of military step &c. and it will be found that these meetings were lawful. Most certainly a meeting for the purpose of petitioning is not and (unless by its own folly) never can be found unlawful. [29] The trial of the seven bishops for declining to obey the king's order in council against what in conscience they believed to be the law of the land is the more strictly a parallel case because as in Ireland the whole Popish part of the population--in effect therefore the whole physical strength of the land--_seemed_ to have arrayed itself on the side of the conspiracy; so in England the only armed force and that close to London was supposed to have been bought over by the systematic indulgence of the king. Himself and the queen (Mary of Modena) had courted them through the summer. But all was fruitless against the overwhelming sympathy of the troops with an universal popular feeling. Bishop Burnet mentions that this army (about 10 000 men and then encamped beyond Hounslow) broke into tremendous cheers at the moment when the news of the acquittal reached them. Whilst lauding their Creator his majesty was present. But a far more picturesque account of the case is given by an ancestor of the present Lord Lonsdale's whose memoirs (still in MS.) are alluded to in one of his Ecclesiastic Sonnets by Mr Wordsworth our present illustrious laureate. One trait is of a nature so fine and so inevitable under similar circumstances of interest that but for the intervention of the sea we should certainly have witnessed its repetition on the termination of the Dublin trials. Lord Lowther (such was the title at that time) mentions that as the bishops came down the Thames in their boat after their acquittal a perpetual series of men linked knee to knee knelt down along the shore. The blessing given up rose a continuous thunder of huzzas; and these by a kind of natural telegraph ran along the streets and the river through Brentford and so on to Hounslow. According to the illustration of Lord L. this voice of a nation rolled like a _feu-de-joie_ or running fire the whole ten miles from London to Hounslow within a few minutes; or like a train of gunpowder laid from London to the camp this irresistible sentiment finally involved in its torrent evenits professional and hired enemies. Cæsar mentions that such a transmission telegraphically propagated from mouth to mouth of a Roman victory reached himself at a distance of 160 miles within about four hours. But may not this new conspiracy which is now mustering and organizing itself be put down summarily by force? We may judge of _that_ by what has happened to the old conspiracy. Put down by martial violence or by the police Repeal would have retired for the moment only to come forward and reconstruct itself in successive shapes of mischief not provided for by law or not shaped to meet the grasp of an executive so limited as in these days any English executive must find itself. On the other hand once brought under the cognizance of law it has been crushed in its fraudulent form and compelled to transmigrate at once into that sincere substantial and final form towards which it was always tending. Whatever of extra peril is connected with a movement so much more intelligible than Repeal and so much more in alliance with the natural prepossessions of the Irish mind--better it is after all that this peril should be forced to show itself in open daylight than that it should be lurking in ambush or mining underground; ready for a burst when other mischief might be abroad or evading the clue of our public guardians. Besides that Repeal also had its own peculiar terrors notwithstanding that it did not grow up originally upon any stock of popular wishes but had been an artificial growth propagated by an artificial inoculation. That flame also could burn fiercely when fanned by incendiaries although it did not supply its own combustibles. And think as we may of the two evils valued as mischief against mischief Repeal against Anti-protestantism certain it is that one most important advantage has accrued to Government from the change. Fighting against Repeal they had to rely upon one sole resource of doubtful issue; for after all the law stood on the interpretation of a jury and therefore too much on the soundness of individual minds; whereas in meeting the assaults of Anti-protestantism backed as it is by six millions of combatants ministers will find themselves reposing on the whole strength of two nations and of that section even amongst the Irish which is socially the strongest. An old enemy is thus replaced by a new one many hundred-fold more naturally malignant; true but immediately the new one will call forth a natural antagonism many thousand-fold more determined. Such is the result; and though alarming in itself for ministers it remains an advantage and a trophy. How was this result accomplished? By a Fabian policy of watching waiting warding and assaulting at the right moment. Three times within the last twelve months have the Government been thrown upon their energies of attack and defence; three times have they been summoned to the most trying exercise of skill--vigilantly to parry and seasonably to strike: _first_ when their duty was to watch and to arrest agitation; _secondly_ when their duty was by process of law to crush agitation; _thirdly_ when their duty was to explain and justify before Parliament whatsoever they had done through the two former stages. Now then let us rapidly pursue the steps of our ministers through each severally of these three stages; and by seasonable _resumé_ or recapitulation however brief let us claim the public praise for what merits praise and apply our vindication to what has been most misrepresented. The first charge preferred against the Government was that it did not instantly attack the Repealers on their earliest appearance. We must all recollect this charge and the bitterness with which it was urged during the whole of last summer; for in fact the difference of opinion upon this question led to a schism even amongst the Conservative party and press. The majority headed by the leading morning paper have treated it to this day as a ground of suspicion against Government or at least as an impeachment of their courage that they should have lingered or hesitated upon the proper policy. Our Journal was amongst the few which after considerable reflection and perhaps doubt defended the course adopted; and specifically upon the following suggestion _inter alia_ viz. that Peel and the Wellesley were assuredly at that moment watching Mr O'Connell not at all therefore hesitating as to the general character of the policy to be observed but only waiting for the best mode (best in effect best in popularity) of enforcing that policy. And we may remind our readers that on that occasion we applied to the situation of the two parties as they stood watching and watched the passage from Wordsworth-- ""The vacillating bondsman of the Pope Shrinks from the verdict of that steadfast eye."" There was no great merit in being right; but it is proper to remind our readers that we _were_ right. And there is considerable merit more merit than appears in not having been wrong; for in that we should have followed not only a vast leading majority amongst public authorities but we should have followed an instinct of impassioned justice which cannot endure to witness the triumph though known to be but fugitive of insolence and hyperbolical audacity. Not as partisans which was proved by the caution of our manner but after some deliberation we expressed our conviction that Government was not slumbering but surveying its ground taking up its position and trying the range of its artillery in order to strike surely to strike once but so that no second blow should be needed. All this has been done; so far our predictions have been realized; and to that extent the Government has vindicated itself. But still it may be asked to _what_ extent? Doubtless the thing has been done and done completely. Yet _that_ will not necessarily excuse the Government. To be well done is in many cases all that we require; but in questions of civil policy often there is even more importance that it should be _soon_ done done maturely (that is seasonably done with a view to certain evils growing up concurrently with the evil ) done even prematurely with respect to immediate bad consequences open to instant arrest. At this moment amongst the parliamentary opponents of ministers though some are taxing them with unconstitutional harshness (or at least with that _summum jus_ which the Roman proverb denounces as _summa injuria_ ) in having ever interfered at all with Mr O'Connell others of the same faction are roundly imputing to them a system of decoy a ""laying of traps "" (that was the word ) in waiting so patiently for the ripening of the Repeal frenzy. Upon the same principle a criminal may have a right to complain that her Majesty when extending mercy to a first crime or a crime palliated by its circumstances and that a merciful prosecutor who intercedes effectually on his behalf with the court have both been laying a trap for his future conduct; since assuredly there is one motive the less to a base nature for abstaining from evil in the mitigated consequences which the evil drew after it. On the same principle the Repealers having found Sir R. Peel so anxious in the first stages of their career to spare them altogether were seduced into thinking that surely he never would strike so hard when at length he had made ready to strike. Still with submission we think that to found false expectations upon a spirit of lenity and upon that mistake to found an abuse of goodness that was really sincere was not the fault of Sir R. Peel but of the Repealers. Any man's goodness becomes a trap to him who is capable of making it such; since the most noble forbearance misinterpreted as fear will probably enough operate as a snare for such a person by tempting him into excesses calculated to rouse that courage with which all genuine forbearance is associated. If the early moderation of Government did really entrap any man that man has himself and his own meanness of heart to thank for his delusion. But were it otherwise and the Government became properly responsible for any possible misinterpretation of their own lenity--even in that case it will remain to be enquired whether Government _could_ have acted otherwise than it did. For else though Government could owe little enough to the conspirator; yet with respect to the ill-educated and misled labouring man whose honest sensibilities were so grievously played upon by traitors we do ourselves conceive that Government had a clamorous duty. If such men by thousands believed that the cause of Repeal was patriotic that we consider a delusion not of a kind or a class to challenge exposure from Government; they have neither such functions assigned to them nor could they assume any office of teaching without suspicion. But when the credulity of the poor was shown also in anticipating impunity for the leader of Repeal and upon the ground that ministers feared him when for this belief there was really much plausible sanction in the behaviour of the Whig ministers--too plainly it became a marked duty of Sir Robert Peel to warn them how matters stood; to let them know that sedition tended to dangerous results and that _his_ Government was bound by no secret understanding with sedition for averting its natural penalties. So much we all agree was due from the present Government to the poorer classes; and exactly because former governments had practically taken another view of sedition. If therefore Sir R. Peel had left unpaid this great debt he failed grievously in the duties of his high office; but we are of opinion that he did _not_. We have an obscure remembrance that the Queen's speech uttered a voice on this point--a solemn a monitory a parental voice. We seem to recollect also that in his own parliamentary place he warned the deluded followers of Repeal--that they were engaged in a chase that must be fruitless and might easily become criminal. What was open to him therefore Sir Robert did. He applied motives such as there were within his power to lure men away from this seditious service. The ""traps"" he laid were all in that direction. If more is required of him by people arguing the case at present it remains to ask whether more was at that time in his power. The present administration came into power in September 1841. Why the Repealers did not go to work instantly is more than we can explain; but so it was. In March of 1843 and not sooner Mr O'Connell opened a new shop of mercenary agitation and probably for the last time that he will ever do so. The _surveillance_ of Government it now appears commenced almost simultaneously; why not the reaction of Government? Upon that it is worth spending a few words. It is now made known to the public that from the very first Sir R. Peel had taken such measures of precaution as were really open to him. In communicating officially with any district whatsoever in any one of the three kingdoms the proper channel through which the directions travel is the lord-lieutenant of the particular county in which the district lies. He is the direct representative of the sovereign--he stands at the head of the county magistrates and is officially the organ between the executive and his own rural province. To this officer in every county Sir R. Peel addressed a letter of instructions; and the principle on which these instructions turned was--that for the present he was to exercise a jealous neutrality; not interfering without further directions in ordinary cases that is where simply Repeal was advocated or individuals were abused; but that on the first _suggestion_ of local outrages the first _incitement_ to mischief arrests and other precautionary measures were to take place. Not much more than twenty years are gone by since magistrates moved on principles so wholly different that now and to the youthful of this generation they would seem monstrous. In those days let any man be found to swear that he apprehended danger to his property or violence to his person from the assembling of a mob in a place assigned and the magistrate would have held it his duty to disperse or prevent that meeting. But now _on a changé tout cela_; and as easily might a magistrate of this day commit Fanny Elssler as a vagabond. Yet even in these days we have heard it mooted-- 1. On the mere ground of _numerical amount_ and as for that reason alone an uncontrollable mass might not such a meeting have been liable to dispersion? _Answer_--this allegation of monstrous numbers was uniformly a falsehood; and a falsehood gross and childish. Was it for the dignity of Government to assume as grounds of action fables so absurd as these? _Not_ to have assumed them will never be made an argument of blame against the Executive; and indeed it was not possible to do so since Government had employed qualified persons to estimate the numbers and in some instances to measure the ground. The only real charge against Government in connexion with these fables is (and we grieve to say it) that of having echoed them in an ambiguous way at one point of the trials; not exactly assuming them for true and resting any other truth upon their credit but repeating them as parts _inter alia_ of current popular hearsay. Now this though probably the act of some subordinate officer does a double indignity to Government; it is discreditable to the understanding if such palpable nursery tales are adopted for any purpose; and openly to adulterate with falsehood even in those cases where the falsehood is not associated with folly still more deeply wounds the character of an honourable government. But besides had the numerical estimates stood upon any footing of truth mere numbers could not have been pleaded as an argument for reasonable alarm. The false estimate was not pleaded by the Repealers until _after_ the meetings and as an inference from facts. But the use of the argument was _before_ the meeting and to prevent the meeting. And if the experience of past meetings were urged as an argument for presuming that the coming one would be not less numerous concurrently would be urged this same experience as a demonstration that no danger was to be apprehended. Dangerous the meetings certainly were in another sense; but in the police sense so little dangerous that each successive meeting squared cubed &c. in geometrical progression the guarantee in point of safety for all meetings that were to follow. 2. On the ground of _sedition_ and disaffection to the Government might not these assemblages have been lawfully dispersed or prevented? Unfortunately not under our modern atmosphere of political liberality. In time of war when it may again become necessary for the very salvation of the land to suspend the _habeas corpus_ act sedition would revive into a new meaning. But at all times sedition is of too unlimited a nature to form the basis of an affidavit sworn before a police magistrate; and it is an idea which very much sympathizes with the _general_ principles of political rights. When these are unusually licentious sedition is interpreted liberally and laxly. Where danger tightens the restraints upon popular liberty the idea of sedition is more narrowly defined. Sedition besides very much depends upon overt acts as expounding it. And to take any controversial ground for the basis of restraint upon personal liberty would probably end in disappointment. At the same time we must make one remark. Some months ago in considering what offence was committed by the public avowal of the Repeal doctrine we contended that it amounted constructively to treason; and on the following argument--Why had any body supposed it lawful to entertain or to propagate such a doctrine? Simply on the reflexion that up to the summer of 1800 there _was_ no union with Ireland: since August of that 1800 this great change had been made. And by what? By an act of Parliament. But could there be any harm in seeking the repeal of a parliamentary act? Is not _that_ done in every session of the two Houses? And as to the more or less importance of an act _that_ is a matter of opinion. But we contended that the sanctity of an act is to be deduced from the sanctity of the subjects for which it legislates. And in proof of this we alleged the _Act of Settlement_. Were it so that simply the term _Act of Parliament_ implied a license universally for undoing and canceling it then how came the Act of Settlement to enjoy so peculiar a consecration? We take upon us to say--that in any year since the Revolution of 1688-9 to have called a meeting for the purpose of framing a petition against this act would have been treason. Might not Parliament itself entertain a motion for repealing it or for modifying it? Certainly; for we have no laws resembling those Athenian laws which made it capitally punishable to propose their repeal. And secondly --no body external to the two Houses however venerable can have power to take cognizance of words uttered in either of those Houses. Every Parliament of necessity must be invested with a discretionary power over every arrangement made by their predecessors. Each several Parliament must have the same power to _undo_ which former Parliaments had to _do_. The two Houses have the keys of St Peter--to unloose in the nineteenth century whatever the earliest Parliament in the twelfth century could bind. But this privilege is proper and exclusive to the two Houses acting in conjunction. Outside their walls no man has power to do more than to propose as a petitioner some lawful change. But how could that be a lawful change which must begin by proposing to shift the allegiance into some other channel than that in which it now flows? The line of succession as limited in the act is composed of persons all interested. As against _them_ merely contingent and reversionary heirs no treason could exist. But we have supposed the attempt to be against the individual family then occupying the throne. And it is clear that no pretence drawn from the repealable nature of an English law can avail to make it less or other than treason for a person outside of Parliament to propose the repeal of _this_ act as to any point affecting the existing royal family or at least so many of that family as are privileged persons known to the constitution. Now then this remark instantly points to two classes of acts; one upon which to all men is open the right of calling for Repeal; another upon which no such right is open. But if this be so then to urge the legality of calling for a Repeal of the Union on the ground that this union rests only upon an act of Parliament is absurd; because that leaves it still doubtful whether this act falls under the one class or the other. Why do we mention this? Because we think it exceedingly important that the attention of parliament should be called to the subject and to the necessity of holding certain points in our constitution as absolutely sacred. If a man or party should go about proclaiming the unlawfulness in a religious sense of _property_ and agitating for that doctrine amongst the lower classes by appropriate arguments--it would soon be found necessary to check them and the sanctity of property would soon be felt to merit civil support. Possibly it will be replied--""Supposing the revolutionary doctrines followed by overt acts then the true redress is by attacking these acts."" Yet every body feels that if the doctrine and the acts continued to propagate themselves very soon both would be punished. In the case where missionaries incited negro slaves to outrages on property or were said to do so nobody proposed to punish only the overt outrages. So again in the event of those doctrines being revived which denounced all differences of rank and the official distinctions of civil government it would be too late to punish the results after the bonds of society were generally relaxed. Ministers are placed in a very false position continually taxing a man with proposing the repeal of a law as if _that_ were an admitted crime and yet also pronouncing the proposed repeal of any law to be a privilege of every citizen. They will soon find it necessary to make their election for one or other of these incompatible views. Meantime in direct opposition to this uncertainty of the ministers the Irish Attorney-General has drawn the same argument from the Act of Settlement which we have drawn. In February 1844 the Irish Attorney-General pronounced his views; _Blackwood's Magazine_ in August or September 1843. A fact which we mention--not as imputing to that learned gentleman any obligation to ourselves; for on the contrary it strengthens the opinion to have been _independently_ adopted by different minds but in order to acquit ourselves from the natural suspicion of having in a legal question derived our own views from a high legal authority. 3. Might not the Repeal Association have been arrested and prosecuted at first viz. in March 1843 as six months afterwards they were on a charge of conspiracy? That was a happy thought by whomsoever suggested; and strange that an idea so often applied to minor offences as well as to political offences should not at once have been seen to press with crushing effect upon these disturbers of the public peace. Since the great change in the combination laws this doctrine of conspiracy is the only means by which masters retain any power at all. Wheresoever there are reciprocal rights for one of the two antagonist interests to combine in defence of their own presupposes in very many cases an unfair disturbance of the legal equilibrium. Society as being an inert body in relation to any separate interests of its own and chiefly from the obscurity of these interests cannot be supposed to combine; and therefore cannot combine even to prevent combinations. Government is the perpetual guardian and organ of society in relation to its interests. Government therefore prosecutes. This however left the original question as to the Repeal of the Irish Union act whether a lawful attempt or not lawful untouched. And necessary it was to do so. Had the prosecutor even been satisfied on that point no jury would have regarded it as other than a delicate question in the casuistry of political metaphysics. But the offence of combining by means of tumultuous meetings and by means of connecting with this obscure question rancorous nationalities or personalities so as to make _that_ a matter of agitating interest to poor men which else they would have regarded as a pure scholastic abstraction--this was a crime well understood by the jury; and thence flowed the verdict. But could not the same verdict have been obtained in the month of March? Certainly not. For the act of _conspiracy_ must prove itself by collusion between speeches and speeches between speeches and newspapers between reporters and newspapers between newspaper and newspaper. But in the infancy of such a concern these links of concert and mutual reverberation are few hard to collect and unless carelessly diffused (as in the palmy days of the Repeal Association they were ) difficult to prove. In short no indictment could have availed that was not founded on the offence of conspiracy; and _that_ would not have been available with certainty much before the autumn when in fact the conspirators were held to bail. To have failed would have been ruinous. We have seen how hardly the furious Opposition have submitted to the Government measure under its present principle of simple confidence in the law as it is: had new laws or suspension of old ones been found requisite--the desperate resistance of the Liberals would have reacted contagiously on the excitement in Ireland so as to cause more mischief in a secondary way than any measure of restraint upon the Repealers could have healed directly. It is certain meantime that Sir R. Peel did not wish to provoke a struggle with the Repealers. Feeling probably considerable doubts upon the issue of any trial moving upon whatsoever principle--because in any case the composition of the jury must depend a good deal upon chance and one recusant juror or one juror falling ill at a critical moment might have reduced the whole process to a nihility--Sir Robert like any moderate man hoped that his warnings might meet with attention. They did not. So far from _that_ the Repealers kindled into more frenzy through their own violence irritated no doubt by public sympathy with their worst counsels in America and elsewhere. At length the case indicated in the minister's instructions to the lords-lieutenant of counties the _casus fæderis_ actually occurred. One meeting was fixed ostentatiously on the anniversary of the rebellion in 1798; and against the intended meeting at Clontarf large displays of cavalry and of military discipline were publicly advertised. These things were decisive: the viceroy returned suddenly to Ireland: the Privy Council of Ireland assembled: a proclamation issued from government: the conspirators were arrested: and in the regular course the trials came on. Such is our account of the first stage in this great political transaction; and this first stage it is which most concerns the reputation of Government. For though the merit of the trials or second stage must also belong to Government so f

r as regards the resolution to adopt this course and the general principle of their movement; yet in the particular conduct of their parts these trials naturally devolved upon the law-officers. In the admirable balance of firmness and forbearance it is hardly possible to imagine the minister exceeded. And here where chiefly he stood between a double fire of attacks irreconcilable in themselves and proceeding not less on friends than foes it is now found by official exposures that Sir Robert's conduct is not open to a trivial demur. He made his preparations for vindicating the laws in such a spirit of energy as though he had resolved upon allowing no escape for the enemy; he opened a _locus penitentiæ_ noiseless and indulgent to the feelings of the offenders with so constant an overture of placability as if he had resolved upon letting them _all_ escape. The kindness of the manner was as perfect as the brilliancy of the success. Next as regards the trials there is so very much diffused through the speeches or the incidents of what is noticeable on one ground or other--that we shall confine ourselves to those points which are chiefly concerned in the one great factious (let us add fraudulent) attempt within the House of Commons to disparage the justice of the trial. In all history we remember nothing that ever issued from a baffled and mortified party more audacious than this. As on the other hand in all history we remember nothing more anxiously or sublimely conscientious than the whole conduct of the trial. More conspicuously are these qualities displayed as it was inevitable they should in the verdict. Never yet has there been a document of this nature more elaborate and fervent in the energy of its distinctions than this most memorable verdict; and the immortal twelve will send down their names to posterity as the roll-call of those upright citizens who in defiance of menaces purchased peace to their afflicted country at the price of peril to themselves. With partisans of course all this goes for nothing; and no cry was more steadily raised in the House of Commons than the revolting falsehood--that the conspirators had not obtained a fair trial. Upon the three pretences by which this monstrous allegation endeavoured to sustain itself we will say a word. Two quarrels have been raised with incidents occurring at separate stages in the striking of the jury. What happened first of all was supposed to be a mere casual effect of hurry. Good reason there has since appeared to suspect in this affair no such excusable accident but a very fraudulent result of a plan for vitiating the whole proceedings. Such things are likely enough to be attempted by obscure partisans. But at all events any trick that may have been practised is traced decisively to the party of the defendants. But the whole effect of the trick if such it were was to diminish the original fund from which the names of the second list were to be drawn by about one twenty-ninth part. But this inconsiderable loss was as likely to serve the defendants as not; for the object as we have said was--simply by vitiating the proceeding to protract the trial and thus to benefit by a larger range of favourable accidents. But why not cure this irregularity however caused by the means open to the court? Simply for these reasons explained by the Attorney-General:--1st that such a proceeding would operate injuriously upon many other trials; and 2d as to this particular trial that it would delay it until the year 1845. The next incident is still more illustrative of the determination taken beforehand to quarrel with the arrangements on whatever principle conducted. When the list of persons eligible as jurors has been reduced by the unobjectionable process of balloting to forty-eight from that amount they are further reduced by ultimate challenges; and the necessity resting upon each party to make these challenges is not discretional but peremptory. It happened that the officer who challenged on behalf of the crown struck off about ten Roman Catholics. The public are weary of hearing it explained--that these names were not challenged _as_ Catholics but as Repealers. Some persons have gone so far as to maintain--that even Repealers ought not to have been challenged. This however has been found rather too strong a doctrine for the House of Commons--to have asked for a verdict of guilty from men glorying in the very name which expresses the offence. Did any man ever suggest a special jury of smugglers in a suit of our lady the Queen for the offence of ""running"" goods? Yet certainly they are well qualified as respects professional knowledge of the case. We on our part maintain that not merely Repealers were inadmissible on the Dublin jury but generally Roman Catholics; and we say this without disrespect to that body as will appear from what follows. It will often happen that men are challenged as labouring under prejudices which disqualify them for an impartial discharge of a juror's duty. But these prejudices may be of two kinds. First they may be the natural product of a certain birth education and connexion; and these are cases in which it will almost be a _duty_ for one so biased to have contracted something of a permanent inability to judge fairly under circumstances which interest his prejudices. But secondly there are other prejudices as for instance of passions of blind anger or of selfish interest. Such cases of prejudice are less honourable; and yet no man scruples to tell another under circumstances of this nature that he cannot place confidence in his impartiality. No offence is either meant or taken. A trial is transferred from Radnorshire to Warwickshire in order to secure justice: yet Radnorshire is not offended. And every day a witness is told to stand down when he is acknowledged to have the slightest pecuniary interest in the case without feeling himself insulted. Yet the insinuation is a most gross one--that because he might be ten guineas richer or poorer by the event of the trial he is not capable of giving a fair testimony. This would be humiliating were it not seen that keen interests compel men to speak bluntly and plainly: men cannot sacrifice their prospects of justice to ceremony and form. Now when a Roman Catholic is challenged as a juryman it is under the first and comparatively inoffensive mode of imputation. It is not said--you are under a cloud of passion or under a bias of gross self-interest. But simply--you have certain religious opinions: no imputation is made on your integrity. On the contrary it is honourable to you that you should be alive to the interests of your class. Some think and so may you that separation from England would elevate the Catholics; since in such a case undoubtedly your religion would become predominant in Ireland. It is but natural therefore that you should lean to the cause of those who favour yours. In setting aside a Catholic as a juryman on the trial of Repealers this is the imputation made upon him. Now what is there in that to wound any man's feelings? Lastly it is alleged that the presiding judge summed up in terms unfavourable to the Repealers. Of course he did; and as an upright judge how could he have done otherwise? Let us for one moment consider this point also. It is often said that the judge is counsel for the prisoner. But this is a gross misconception. The judge properly speaking is counsel for the law and for every thing which can effect the right understanding of the evidence. Consequently he sometimes appears to be advocating the prisoner's cause merely because the point which he is clearing up happens to make for the prisoner. But equally he would have appeared to be against the prisoner if he found it necessary to dissipate perplexities that would have benefited the prisoner. His business is with no personal interest but generally with the interest of truth and equity--whichever way those may point. Upon this principle in summing up it is the judge's duty to appraise the entire evidence; and if any argument lurks obscurely in the evidence he must strip it of its obscurity and bring it forward with fuller advantage. That may happen to favour the prisoner or it may weigh against him. But the judge cannot have any regard to these consequences. His concern is simply with the pressure and incidence of the testimony. If therefore a prisoner has brought forward witnesses who were able to depose any thing in his favour be assured that the judge will not overlook that deposition. But if no such deposition were made is it meant that the judge is to invent it? The whole notion has grown out of the original conceit--that a defendant in relation to the judge is in the relation of a client to an advocate. But this is no otherwise true than as it is true of every party and interest connected with the case. All these alike the judge is to uphold in their true equitable position and rights. In summing up the judge used such facts as had been furnished to him. All these happened to be against the Repealers; and therefore the judge appeared to be against then. But the same impression would have resulted if he had simply read his notes of the evidence. Such are the desperate attempts to fasten charges of unfairness on this fairest of all recorded trials. And with an interest so keen in promoting the belief of some unfairness was there ever yet a trial that could have satisfied the losing party? Losers have a proverbial privilege for being out of temper. But in this case more is sought than the mere gratification of wrath. Fresh hopes spring up in every stage of this protracted contest and they are all equally groundless. First Mr O'Connell was not to be arrested: it was impossible and absurd to suppose it. Next _being_ arrested he was not to be tried. We must all remember the many assurances in Dublin papers--that all was done to save appearances but that no trial would take place. Then when it was past denial that the trial had really begun it was to break down on grounds past numbering. Finally the jury would never dare to record a verdict of guilty. This however being actually done then was Mr O'Connell to bring writs of error; he was to ""take the sense"" of the whole Irish bench; and having taken all that he was to take the sense of the Lords. And after all these things were accomplished finally (as we then understood it) he was to take himself off in the direction pointed out by the judges. But we find that he has not yet reconciled himself to _that_. Intimations come out at intervals that the judges will never dare to pass any but a nominal sentence upon him. We conclude that all these endless conflicts with the legal necessities of his case are the mere gasconades of Irish newspapers addressing themselves to provincial readers. Were there reason to suppose them authorized by the Repealers there would be still higher argument for what we are going to say. But under any circumstances we agree with the opinion expressed dispassionately and seasonably by the _Times_ newspaper--that judgment must be executed in this case. We agree with that journal--that the nation requires it as a homage rendered necessary to the violated majesty of law. Nobody wishes that at Mr O'Connell's age any _severe_ punishment should be inflicted. Nobody will misunderstand in such a case the mitigation of the sentence. The very absence of all claim to mitigation makes it impossible to mistake the motive to lenity in _his_ case. But judgment must be done on Cawdor. Two aggravations and heavy ones of the offence have occurred even since the trial. One is the tone of defiance still maintained by newspapers under his control. Already with one voice they are ready to assure the country in case of the sentence being incommensurate to the case that Government wished to be severe but had not courage for the effort; and that Government dares not enforce the sentence. The other aggravation lies in this--that he a convicted conspirator has presumed to take his seat amongst the senators of the land--""Venit in senatum fit particeps consilii."" Yet Catiline here denounced to the public rage _was_ not a _convicted_ conspirator; and even his conspiracy rests very much on the word of an enemy. It is true that in some formal sense a man's conviction is not complete in our law until sentence has been pronounced. But this makes no real difference as to the scandalous affront which Mr O'Connell has thus put upon the laws of the land. And in that view it is viz. as an atonement for the many outrages offered to the laws that the nation waits for the consummation of this public example. * * * * * Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne and Hughes Paul's Work_ "

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Ingram and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Library of Early Journals.) BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. No. CCCXLIII. MAY 1844. VOL. LV. Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved to the end of each article. CONTENTS. IMPRISONMENT AND TRANSPORTATION NO. 1. THE INCREASE OF CRIME 533 RHINE AND RHINELANDERS 546 THE MONSTER-MISERY OF LITERATURE. BY A MOUSE BORN OF THE MOUNTAIN 556 MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART XI. 561 INDIAN AFFAIRS--GWALIOR 579 THE FREETHINKER 593 THE SNOW. BY DELTA 617 LOVE IN THE WILDERNESS 620 IRELAND--THE LANDLORD AND TENANT QUESTION 638 * * * * * IMPRISONMENT AND TRANSPORTATION. NO. 1. THE INCREASE OF CRIME. Among the many causes of anxiety which the present state of society in the British empire must occasion to every thoughtful or reflecting mind--one of the most extraordinary and alarming is the _constant and uninterrupted increase of crime_. The Liberals shut their eyes to this because it affords a sad illustration of the effect of their favourite theories which for a quarter of a century have been under the direction of his Majesty's Ministry or his Majesty's Opposition in almost ceaseless operation. The selfish and inconsiderate (and they form the vast majority of men) give themselves no sort of trouble about the matter: they care not though their neighbours are murdered or robbed plundered or swindled so as they escape unscathed themselves; and without either thinking on the subject or suggesting one remedy for its evils interfere only with stentorian lungs to resist any project to arrest them having the remotest tendency to terminate in an assessment. Their principle is to take of civilisation only its fruits and steadily to withstand the concomitant evils; and the simple way by which they think this is to be effected--is quietly and without saying a word to reap the benefit of manufacturing industry in the doubling or tripling of their incomes; but to roar out like madmen if the smallest per centage is proposed to be laid on them to arrest or mitigate the evils which that industry brings in its train. Government meanwhile albeit fully aware of the danger is not sufficiently strong to do any thing to avert it; its own majority is paralysed by the inherent selfishness of mankind; and nothing but some great and stunning public calamity can it is universally felt awaken the country to a sense of the evils growing out of its greatness but threatening in the end to endanger its existence. Thus nothing is done or at least nothing effectual is done to avert the dangers: every one shuts his eyes to them or opens them only to take measures to avert an assessment; and meanwhile crime advances with the steps of a giant sweeping whole classes of society into its vortex and threatening to spread corruption and vice in an incredible manner through the densest and most dangerous classes of the community. Authentic and irrefragable evidence of the magnitude of this danger exists in the statistical tables of committals which have now for a very considerable time been prepared in all parts of the British empire. Since the year 1805 when regular tables of commitments first began to be kept in England commitments have increased _sixfold_: they have swelled _from five to thirty-one thousand_. During the same period population has advanced about sixty per cent: in other words detected crime has advanced FOUR TIMES AS FAST AS THE NUMBERS OF THE PEOPLE. Unwilling as we are to load our pages with statistical tables--which attractive to the thinking few are repulsive to the unthinking many--we must yet request our readers to cast their eyes to the bottom of the pages where these appalling truths are demonstrated by the parliamentary returns. In Scotland and Ireland the returns of commitments have not been kept until within the last twenty years with such accuracy as can be relied on; but they exhibit an increase still more alarming. Ireland as might be expected exhibits a growth of crime which has fully kept pace with that of England during the same period: but Scotland exhibits a change which fairly outstrips all the others in the race of iniquity. In 1803 Lord Advocate Hope said in Parliament that more crime was tried at one Quarter Sessions at Manchester than over all Scotland in a whole year; and the proceedings of the criminal courts to the north of the Tweed at that period amply demonstrated the truth of his assertion. In the year 1805 eighty-nine criminals were brought before the whole tribunals supreme and inferior in Scotland; but in the year 1842 the committals for serious offences were nearly four thousand--in other words serious crime in less than forty years had augmented in Scotland above THIRTY-SIX FOLD. During the same period population has advanced about fifty per cent viz. from 1 800 000 to 2 660 000; so that in moral staid and religious Scotland serious crime during the last forty years has risen TWENTY-FIVE TIMES as fast as the number of the people.[1] Overlooked as this prodigious change has been as all things are which arise gradually in this country it has yet attracted as well it might the astonishment of writers on the Continent. Nine yeas ago M. Moreau observed speaking of the increase of crime in Scotland--"In the year 1805 the criminal commitments in Scotland were eighty-nine: they are now 2864--that is they have increased in thirty years thirty-fold. It would appear that Scotland in becoming a manufacturing state has in a great degree lost the virtue and simplicity of character by which she was formerly distinguished."[2] What renders this prodigious increase of crime in so short a period in all parts of the British Empire in a peculiar manner extraordinary and alarming is that it has taken place at the very time when unheard-of efforts were made in every part of the country for the moral and religious instruction of the people. We are very far indeed from saying that enough has been done in this way: no one is better aware that the vast debt which the prosperous wealth of Britain owes in this respect to its suffering indigence is still in great part undischarged and that till it is taken up and put on a proper footing _by the state_ it never can be completely liquidated;--still more has been done to discharge it during the last thirty years than in the whole previous centuries which have elapsed since the Reformation. The churches of England and Scotland during that period have improved to an astonishing degree in vigour and efficiency: new life a warmer spirit a holier ambition has been breathed into the Establishment; the dissenters of all denominations have vied with them in zeal and effort; churches and chapels have been built and opened in every direction; and though they have by no means in the manufacturing districts kept pace with the increase of population yet they have advanced with a rapidity hitherto unheard of in British history. The laity of all denominations have made extraordinary efforts to promote the cause of education. In this great and good work persons of all descriptions have though from very different motives laboured together; but much remains to be done. We well know how many tens and hundreds of thousands in the manufacturing districts are now wandering in worse than heathen darkness in the midst of a Christian land;--we well know what insurmountable obstacles mere voluntary zeal and exertion meet with in the most praiseworthy efforts from the selfish resistance of property and the reckless dissipation of indigence. But still no one acquainted with the subject can deny that during the last thirty years incomparably more has been done to promote education among the poor than in the preceding three centuries. Yet this period of anxious solicitude awakened fear and general effort to stem by all the known methods the deluge of profligacy and depravity with which the country has been flooded has been characterized by an increase of crime and a general loosening of morals among the labouring classes hitherto unprecedented in the country--certainly not equaled during the same period in any other European state and so far as we know without an example in the previous history of mankind. Struck with astonishment at this extraordinary and painful phenomenon and wholly at a loss to explain it on any of the principles to which they have been accustomed to give credit the Liberals have generally endeavoured to deny its existence. They say that the returns of commitments do not afford a correct measure of the crime that really exists in the country; that a police force is now more generally established and is incomparably more vigilant than heretofore; that crimes are classified in a different way from what they formerly were; and that though the figures do not err yet the results to which they point are not the real ones. There is some truth in these observations. It is true that a police force is more extensively established and is more efficient than it formerly was;--it is true that crimes are now differently classified and enter different columns and appear in different returns from what they formerly did;--it is true that there are specialties in the case;--but it is not true that those specialties tend to make the returns of crime appear greater than the reality; on the contrary they all tend the other way. They show that the returns as now constructed and the police force as it at present exists do not by any means exhibit the growth of crime in its true colours; that it is in reality _incomparably greater_ than these returns or this agency has brought to light; and that great as the evil appears from an examination of the Parliamentary returns it is in truth far more colossal and alarming. How is a police force established in any part of Great Britain? If we except the metropolis where the vast concourse from all parts of the empire unavoidably forced upon government fourteen years ago the establishment of a central police since found to be attended with such admirable effects it is every where set on foot by the _voluntary act_ of the inhabitants or a certain portion of them in a peculiar manner cognizant of the necessity which exists for such an addition to the means of public defence. In boroughs it is generally the magistrates elected by a suffrage little superior to household suffrage who introduce such a measure. In counties it can only be proposed by the justices of peace in England or commissioners of supply in Scotland--both of which bodies are thoroughly imbued with and fairly represent the general voice of the community. In all cases whether in the metropolis or in the provinces a police imposes _an immediate and heavy burden on all householders_. In London L40 000 a-year is given by government to aid in the support of the police; but the whole remainder of the cost amounting to four times as much falls on the ratepayers. In the provinces the whole cost of every police force falls on the householders; and our readers need not be told how heavy it sometimes is and how universally it is every where complained of. Now if there is any one peculiarity more than another by which this generation is distinguished it is aversion to assessment. People may differ in other respects as to the designation by which the age should be characterized; but we believe all will agree that it is a _tax-hating age_. What did this nation first do on being liberated from danger by the battle of Waterloo? Throw off the income-tax. What alone induced them to submit to it again on the modified scale of three per cent? The disasters in Affghanistan; the perils of our Indian empire; the rocking of Britain to its foundation. When therefore in such a country and in such an age we see numerous bodies of men--popularly elected in some cases in all swayed by the popular voice--concurring in a great many places in the taxation of themselves for the establishment of a police we may rely upon it that some very general and grinding sense of necessity has been at work to produce the effect. Nothing but this could overcome in men really and practically invested in this particular with the power of self-government the universal and almost invincible repugnance to assessments. Rely upon it for every crime which is brought to light and made the subject of commitment and trial by the institution of a police force ten previously existed undetected and unpunished before men were driven to the _flebile remedium_ the _ultimum malum_ of taxing themselves for the establishment of a force to repress them. To illustrate the strength of this resistance and the important bearing it has upon the present question we shall refer only to two instances--one in England and one in Scotland. It is well known what a scene of confusion and disorder South Wales has for years past been. The bloodshed at Merthyr-Tydvil the strikes in Glamorganshire the attack on Newport and the Rebecca riots had for a series of years fixed the attention of all parts of the empire upon this as one of the most inflammable and dangerous portions of the community. Nor did these disorders appear surprising to those who were practically acquainted with the state of the country overrun as it is in many places by vast iron-works which have brought together a great and reckless population and inhabited in all by a discontented and ill-instructed peasantry. Population had advanced with unexampled rapidity--having increased from 1831 to 1841 _thirty-six and a tenth_ per cent in Monmouthshire; the greatest increase during the same period of any county in the British empire.[3] Here then if anywhere it might have been expected that a general feeling of insecurity the sense of an overbearing necessity would have overcome the general repugnance of men towards local assessment and led to the establishment of a police force in all the counties of South Wales on a scale adequate to the magnitude of the danger with which they were threatened. Was it so? Had the counties taken the requisite steps to avoid the calamity? Quite the reverse; the aversion to a police assessment was so strong that nothing whatever had been done. Glamorganshire had only established one on a small scale after repeated and earnest efforts on the part of its able and public-spirited lord-lieutenant the Marquis of Bute; and the Rebecca riots surprised the adjoining counties without any preparation whatever. And even after those disgraceful disorders had continued several weeks and rendered South Wales the scandal of the empire and the astonishment of Europe; still the repugnance to assessment was such that it was only after a severe struggle and by no small exertions that it was at length carried; and the public-spirited member for the county who to his infinite credit brought forward the measure stated at the county meeting on the subject that he was aware he endangered his seat by so doing! The Scotch have shown themselves not a whit behind their southern compatriots in repugnance to a police assessment. In Lanarkshire as it is well known the iron and coal trades have made unexampled progress during the last ten years. Its population in consequence has enormously increased; having risen from 316 000 to 434 000 in ten years from 1831 to 1841--an increase of thirty-six per cent in that short time--the next to Monmouthshire of the whole empire. Crime had of course enormously increased. In 1835 the committals for serious offences were 401: in 1842 they had risen to 696--being an increase of seventy-five per cent in seven years.[4] Serious crime therefore so far as detected was doubling in ten years while population was doubling in thirty--in other words detected crime was increasing _three times as fast as the numbers of the people_. Disturbances as a matter of course of a very serious nature had arisen. In 1837 the great cotton-spinners' conspiracy which led to the memorable trial had kept above twenty thousand persons in Lanarkshire for four months in a state of compulsory destitution. In 1842 the colliers' strike threw a still greater number into a state of idleness for five months which led to a general system of plunder and forcible seizure of the farmers' produce in the fields; only repressed with infinite difficulty by the introduction of a large military force aided by the yeomanry of the county who were on permanent duty for six weeks and the establishment for a few months by subscription of a powerful police. In October 1842 twenty policemen who had some prisoners in charge for combination offences were assaulted by a furious mob of two thousand persons on the streets of Airdrie in the centre of the mining district of the county the house in which they had taken refuge set on fire and the prisoners by main force rescued from the hands of the law.[5] These facts were known to the whole county and the terror which in consequence pervaded the agricultural inhabitants of the mining districts was so great that in a petition to government praying for protection they stated--that they would be better if law were altogether abolished and every man were allowed to defend himself by fire-arms than they were now; for that if they used lethal weapons in defence of their property they ran the risk of being transported for culpable homicide--if they did not they were certain of being plundered by the combined workmen. And what did the county do to arrest this disgraceful and perilous system of outrage and plunder? Why in the full knowledge of all these facts they passed a solemn resolution at Lanark on 30th April 1843 that _they never would again on any occasion or under any circumstances of necessity whatever sanction the employment of any police or defensive force raised at their expense_. We do not suppose that the inhabitants of South Wales or the banks of the Clyde are particularly short-sighted or selfish or more inclined to resist assessment for objects of public utility or necessity than those of other parts of the empire. On the contrary we know that they are in a remarkable degree the reverse; and that in no part of the world are undertakings in public improvement or charity entered into with more alacrity and supported with more liberality. We suppose the Scotch and Welsh are what other men are--neither better nor worse. We adduce these facts not as tending to fasten any peculiar charge on them but as indicating the general character of human nature and the universal repugnance to taxation which when men are really and practically and not in form only invested with the power of self-government appears the moment that any proposition of subjecting them to assessment for the purpose of local defence and protection even under the most aggravating circumstances is brought forward. How great then must have been the mass of experienced but undetected and unpunished crime which pervades the state when this all but invincible repugnance has been generally overcome and men in so many cities and counties have been induced to submit to the certainty of the visit of the tax-gatherer rather than the chance of a visit from the thief or the burglar! And for decisive evidence that the new establishment of a police force is not by the crimes which it is the means of binging to light the cause of the prodigious increase of crime of late years in the British empire we refer to the contemporary examples of two other countries in which a police force on a far more extensive scale has been established and has been found the means of effecting a signal _diminution_ of crime and commitment. In Hindostan as is well known a most extensive and admirably organized system of police has been found absolutely indispensable to repress the endless robberies of which its fertile plains had long been the theatre; and the force employed permanently or occasionally in this way amounts to _a hundred and sixty thousand_! The consequence has been a _diminution_ of crime and commitments during the last forty years fully as remarkable as this simultaneous increase in the British islands. The official reports which have been compiled in India by the British authorities exhibit of late years the pleasing prospect of a decrease of serious crime to a third or fourth part of its former amount.[6] Look at France during the same period. That there is in that great country a numerous and well-organized police force will not probably be denied by those who know any thing either of its present circumstances by observation or its past from history. Unlike Great Britain it is universally established and raised not by separate acts of Parliament local effort and contribution but by a _general_ assessment under the name of "Centimes Additionels " yet varying in particular districts according to the necessity and amount of the defensive force but in all imposed by the authority and levied by the officers of government. And what has been the result? Is it that crime from being generally brought to light evinces the same steady and alarming increase which is conspicuous in all parts of the British islands? Quite the reverse: criminal law and a powerful system of police appear there in their true light as checking and deterring from crime. Population is advancing steadily though slowly in that country crime is stationary or declining;[7] and while the most powerful and efficient police in Europe only bring to light about 7000 serious criminals annually out of 34 000 000 souls--that is 1 in 6700--in Great Britain out of a population including England and Scotland of 18 000 000 in round numbers there were in 1842 no less than 34 800 persons charged with serious crimes before the criminal tribunals or 1 in 514--in other words serious crime is _fourteen times_ as prevalent in Great Britain as it is in France. Nothing can more clearly demonstrate the deplorable fallacy of those who ascribe the present extraordinary frequency and uninterrupted growth of crime in this country as attested by the criminal returns to the vigilance of the police in bringing it to light. In truth so far from its being the case that crime is now better looked after and therefore more frequently brought to light than formerly and that it is that which swells our criminal returns the fact is directly the reverse. So weak feeble and disjointed are the efforts of our various multiform and unconnected police establishments over the country generally [8] that we assert without the fear of contradiction by any person practically acquainted with the subject that the amount of undetected and unpunished crime is rapidly on the increase and is now greater than it was in any former period. We would recommend any person who doubts this statement to go to any of the criminal establishments in the country and compare the list of informations of serious crimes lodged with those of offenders committed; he will find the latter are scarcely ever so much as a third of the former. These facts do not appear in the criminal returns because they are not called for; and the police-officers are in no hurry to publish facts which proclaim the insufficiency of the means of repressing crime at their disposal. But occasionally and under the pressure of immediate danger or a strong sense of duty on the part of the public functionaries they do come out. For example it was stated by Mr Millar the head of the Glasgow police (a most able and active officer ) in a letter read at the county meeting of Lanarkshire on 21st January 1843 on the subject of a police for the rural district of that and the adjoining counties that in the three months immediately preceding that date _ninety-one_ cases of theft chiefly by housebreaking had been reported at the Glasgow police-office committed in the neighbourhood of Glasgow but beyond the police bounds; and that from his own information and that of the other officers of his establishment this number great as it was was not _a third_ of the crimes of that description which had actually been committed during that period. On the other hand it was stated by the sheriff of the county at the same meeting that in only fourteen of these ninety-one cases had any trace whatever been got of the delinquents. In other words the number of instances in which any clue was obtained to the criminals was only fourteen out of 273 or _one in twenty nearly_. And yet this miserable driblet of one in twenty exhibits in the criminal returns for Lanarkshire an increase of 75 _per cent_ in seven years or a duplication in ten. This instance to which hundreds of others might be added from all parts of the country shows how extreme is the illusion of those who lay the flattering unction to their souls that serious crime is not now more prevalent than it was formerly but only better brought to light. In truth it has long been known that in consequence of the relaxation of the severity of our criminal code and the astonishing increase of serious crimes which cannot be passed over a vast number of criminals are now disposed of in the police courts and never appear in the criminal returns at all who twenty years ago were deemed felons of the very highest class and visited often with death always with transportation. It was stated in parliament as a subject of complaint against the Lancashire magistrates that during the insurrection of 1842 in that county nearly ten thousand persons were imprisoned and let go after a short confinement without ever being brought to trial. During the disturbances in the same year in Lanarkshire and many other counties of Scotland (especially Ayrshire Fife and Mid-Lothian ) the accumulation of prisoners was so great that not only were none detained for trial but those against whom the evidence was altogether conclusive; but that great numbers were remitted for trial before the summary tribunals and escaped with a month or two of imprisonment who had committed capital crimes and a few years before would infallibly have been transported for fourteen years. We are getting on so fast that nothing is more common now than to see hardened criminals both in England and Scotland disposed of by the police magistrates and for capital crimes receive a few months imprisonment. Their names and crimes never appear in the returns at all. There is no fault attached to any one for this seeming laxity. The thing is unavoidable. If the class of cases were all sent to the higher tribunals which formerly were considered privative to them the judges were they twice as numerous as they are would sit in the criminal courts from one year's end to another and the jails would still be choked up with untried criminals numbers of whom would linger for years in confinement. The Liberal party in the beginning of the present century were unanimous in imputing the vast increase of crime to the defects of our criminal law. The nominal severity of that system it was said and said justly with its uncertain punishments and frequent opportunities of escape afforded in fact a bounty on the commission of crime. Injured parties declined to give information for fear of being bound over to prosecute; witnesses were reluctant to give evidence judges caught at legal quibbles juries violated their oaths in order to save the accused from a punishment which all felt was disproportioned to the offence; and thus the great object of criminal jurisprudence certainty of punishment was entirely defeated. There was much truth in these observations but much fallacy in the hope that their removal would effect any reduction in the number of offences. The object sought for was carried. Humane principles were triumphant. The labours of Sir Samuel Romilly and Sir James Mackintosh aided by the cautious wisdom and experienced ability of Sir R. Peel produced a total revolution in our criminal jurisprudence. The old stain has been removed: we need no longer fear a comparison With the laws of Draco. For the last fifteen years so many offences formerly capital have had that dreadful penalty removed that the law in Great Britain as now practically administered is probably the mildest in Europe. Death is scarce ever inflicted except for murder; in cases of housebreaking even when attended with personal violence it is never thought of. The executions in Great Britain now range from twenty-five to thirty-five only a-year instead of a hundred and fifty or two hundred which they formerly were. And what has been the result? Has the promised and expected diminution of crime taken place in consequence of the increased certainty of punishment and the almost total removal of all reasonable or conscientious scruples at being concerned in a prosecution? Quite the reverse. The whole prophecies and anticipations of the Liberal school have been falsified by the result. Crime so far from declining has signally increased; and its progress has never been so rapid as during the last fifteen years when the lenity of its administration has been at its maximum. An inspection of the returns of serious crimes already given will completely demonstrate this. Next it was said that education would lay the axe to the root of crime; that ignorance was the parent of vice; and by diffusing the school-master you would extinguish the greater part of the wickedness which afflicted society; that the providing of cheap innocent and elevating amusements for the leisure hours of the working-classes would prove the best antidote to their degrading propensities; and that then and then only would crime really be arrested when the lamp of knowledge burned in every mechanic's workshop in every peasant's cottage. The idea was plausible it was seducing it was amiable; and held forth the prospect of general improvement of morals from the enlarged culture of mind. The present generation is generally it may almost be said universally imbued with these opinions; and the efforts accordingly made for the instruction of the working-classes during the last twenty-five years have been unprecedented in any former period of our history. What have been the results? Has crime declined in proportion to the spread of education? Are the best instructed classes the least vicious? Has eating of the fruit of the tree of knowledge diminished the power of the Tempter? So far from it the consequences hitherto at least have been melancholy and foreboding in the extreme. The criminal returns of Great Britain and Ireland for the last twenty years demonstrate that the uneducated criminals are about a third of the whole: in other words the educated criminals are to the uneducated as two to one.[9] In Scotland the educated criminals are about _four times_ the uneducated; in England just double; in Ireland they are nearly equal. Nay what is still more remarkable while the number of uneducated criminals especially in Scotland is yearly diminishing that of educated ones is yearly increasing.[10] In France the criminal returns have for long demonstrated that the amount of crime in all the eighty-four departments of the monarchy is just in proportion to the number of educated persons which each contains; a fact the more remarkable as three-fifths of the whole inhabitants of the country have received no education whatever.[11] Of the criminals actually brought before the Courts of Assize which correspond to our Old Bailey and Circuit Courts it appears that about four-sevenths are educated and three-sevenths destitute of any instruction; which gives a greater proportion of criminals to the educated than the uneducated class as three-fifths of the people are wholly uninstructed.[12] But what is most marvellous of all the criminal returns of Prussia the most universally educated country in Europe where the duty of teaching the young is enforced by law upon parents of every description and entire ignorance is wholly unknown the proportion of criminals to the entire population is TWELVE TIMES greater than in France where education of any sort has only been imparted to _two-fifths_ of the community.[13] These facts are startling--they run adverse to many preconceived ideas--they overturn many favourite theories; but they are not the less facts and it is by facts alone that correct conclusions are to be drawn in regard to human affairs. In America too it appears from the criminal returns many of which in particular towns and states are quoted in Buckingham's _Travels_ that the educated criminals are to the uneducated often as three generally as two to one. These facts completely settle the question; although probably the whole present generation must descend to their graves bef

re the truth on the subject is generally acknowledged. But to any one who reflects on the principles of human nature and the moving powers by which it is impelled whether towards virtue or vice such a result must appear not only intelligible but unavoidable. It is our desires which are our tempters. All the statistical returns prove that the great majority of educated persons generally at least three-fourths of the whole have received an _imperfect_ education. They have just got knowledge enough to incur its dangers; they have not got enough either to experience its utility or share in its elevation. Their desires are inflamed their imaginations excited their cravings multiplied by what they read; but neither their understandings strengthened their habits improved nor their hearts purified. The great bulk of mankind at all times and especially in all manufacturing communities can only receive an imperfect education. It is not in the age of twelve hours' labour at factories and of the employment of children without restraint in coal and iron mines that any thing approaching to a thorough education can be imparted to the working classes at least in the manufacturing districts. The conclusion to be drawn from this is not that education is hopeless and should be abandoned in relation to the great bulk of men--for we every day in detached instances have proof of its immense and blessed influence; the conclusion is that it is by the active not the intellectual powers the desires not the understanding that the great majority of men are governed; that it is the vast addition civilisation and commerce make to the wants and passions of men which constitutes the real cause of its demoralizing influence; and that these dangers never will be obviated till means are discovered of combating sin with its own weapons and by desires as extensively felt as its passions. We must fight it not only with the armour of reason but the fire of imagination. It is by _enlisting the desires on the side of virtue and order_ that we can alone generally influence mankind. It is astonishing how many ways men will turn before they can be brought to admit the simple truth unfolded in the book of Jeremiah and enforced in every page of the gospel that the heart is ""deceitful above all things and desperately wicked."" Driven from the chimeras of mild punishment and general education as antidotes against the antagonist power of sin philanthropists have at last taken refuge in the infallible effects of _solitary confinement_. Punishment it was said is the real demoralizer of society; it is our jails which are the hotbeds and nurseries of crime. Reform them--separate the hardened criminal from the apprentice to crime--let solitary confinement teach its impressive lessons and confer its regular habits; and vice with all its concomitant evils will disappear from the land. At the same time a great impression was made on the legislature by a graphic and in some respects just description of the suffering in the penal colonies of New South Wales; and the result has been a general adoption over the whole empire of the system of long imprisonment instead of transportation to an extent previously unknown since the system of forced convict-labour in the colonies was introduced. All persons practically acquainted with the subject were aware of the result in which their experiment would terminate and the fearful multiplication of irreclaimable criminals to which it would lead in the heart of the empire. But unfortunately the persons practically acquainted with the subject had scarcely a voice in the legislature--the current ran strong in favour of lengthened imprisonment and the abolition except in very bad cases of transportation. The judges gave ample scope to the new system and it received in every point of view a fair experiment. Highway robbers housebreakers and habitual thieves received in great numbers of cases sentences of imprisonment instead of transportation for life or fourteen years. The jails at the same time were every where improved; a general system of prison discipline was adopted and enforced; and solitary confinement with hard labour became almost universal. And what has been the result? Why that it has been now demonstrated by experience that even the longest imprisonments and the best system of prison discipline have no effect or scarce any in reclaiming offenders; and that the only effect of the new system has been to crowd the jails with convicts and the streets with thieves; to load the counties with assessments and the calendars with prisoners; to starve New South Wales for want of compulsory labour and oppress Great Britain by the redundance of hardened idleness. We speak of a matter the subject of universal notoriety: ample proof of it will be furnished in a future Number. But what is most alarming of all it has now been completely demonstrated that we are not to look even to the general spread of religious instruction for any immediate or even rapid diminution of crime or amelioration of the habits of the labouring classes. We say _immediate or rapid_ because none can be more sensible than we are that it is thus alone that crime in the end is to be arrested and that the efforts now making in this respect in all parts of the British empire are laying the only foundation whereon in future times the superstructure of a moral and orderly society are to be laid. But as every system must be tested by its fruits and these fruits in the present forced and artificial state of society are so rapidly brought forth--it is worse than useless to go on encouraging expectations of an _early_ reformation of society from the extension of church establishments the zeal of dissenters or the efforts of clerical instructors. Depend upon it half a century must elapse before these praiseworthy and philanthropic efforts produce any _general_ effect on the frame of society. We shall be fortunate indeed if in a whole century the existing evils are in any material degree lessened and society has gone on so long without one of those terrible convulsions like the French Revolution which at once destroy the prospects of the present generation and the hopes of the next. The reason is that degraded and sensual men have an instinctive aversion to religious truth and a still greater distaste for religious restraint. The carnal man is at war with God. When will this great truth so loudly proclaimed in every page of the gospel be practically acknowledged and acted upon? To those who are acquainted with the anatomy of crime and who see exemplified in real life the courses of the wicked its truth becomes not only evident but of overwhelming importance. The strength of the world consists in its pleasures and enjoyments. It is the vehemence of the desire for these pleasures and enjoyments which constitutes the fearful force of its temptations. The whole progress of society the whole efforts of man the whole accumulations of wealth are directed in its later stages to augment these desires. Necessities in a large portion of society being provided for pleasures only are thought of. Civilisation increases them for it augments enjoyment: commerce for it multiplies the wealth by which it is purchased: ingenuity for it adds to the instruments of luxury: knowledge for it spreads an ardent and often exaggerated picture of its gratifications. The whole efforts of man in civilized life are directed to the increase of human enjoyment the incitement of human desire. Need we wonder then if religion which prescribes an _abstinence_ from the pleasures of sin which enjoins continence to the sensual sobriety to the drunkard reflection to the unheeding gentleness to the irascible restraint to the voluptuous probity to the avaricious punishment to the profligate meets in such an age with very few votaries? Some doubtless will always be found who disgusted with the profligacy with which they are surrounded are led only the more rapidly to a life of rectitude and duty by such vice; but how many are they amidst the crowd of sensual and unreflecting? Perhaps one in twenty. The great mass pass quietly by on the other side; they do not say there is no God but they live altogether without God in the world. In vain are efforts made to reclaim the vicious to bring up their children in the way they should go in the hope that when they are old they will not desert it. The grown-up will not go to church; in manufacturing towns they will not even put on Sunday's clothes but revel in intoxication or sloth in their working-dresses all the Lord's day; except when softened by misfortune or roused by calamity they will not listen even at home to the voice of religious counsel. Children may learn their catechism and repeat their responses at school; but when they become men and women will they resist the temptations by which they are surrounded? Numerous congregations are often suddenly formed by the planting of an eloquent and earnest divine into a densely peopled and neglected locality; but where does the congregation in general come from? Go into the thinned or deserted churches or chapels in its vicinity and you will find you have only _transferred_ the serious and Christian community from one place of worship to another. Nor let it be said that these dangers affect only a limited portion of the community and that provided only society holds together and property is upon the whole secure it is of little consequence to the great bulk of the nation whether its criminals are doubling or tripling every ten years whether its convicts are hanged imprisoned or transported. Doubtless that is the view taken by the majority of men and which ever makes them resist so strenuously any measures calculated to arrest the general evils by a forced contribution from all classes of the state. But is such a view of so very serious a matter either justified by reason or warranted by a durable regard to self-interest? Considered in reference only to immediate advantage and with a view to avert the much-dreaded evil of an assessment is it expedient to allow crime to go on increasing at the fearful rate which it has done in this country during the last forty years? Can we regard without disquietude the appalling facts demonstrated by the Parliamentary returns of population and commitments--that the people are augmenting three times as fast in the manufacturing as the agricultural districts--that detected and punished crime is multiplying in the former three times as fast as the people--and crime really committed three times as much as that which is brought to light? What can be expected from a state in which crime in the manufacturing districts is thus increasing TWENTY-SEVEN TIMES _as fast as mankind in the rural_? From what sources does this overflowing stream of recklessness profligacy and misery which overflows our workhouses and fills our jails mainly spring but from this prodigious and unrestrained increase of crime and depravity among the working classes in the manufacturing districts? Must not such a state of things lead to a constant augmentation of poor-rates county rates and jail assessments? And how short-sighted is the policy which allows these oppressive burdens to go on constantly increasing merely from terror of incurring additional expense in striving to arrest them and hopes to avoid danger like the partridge by putting its head in the bush and ceasing to look it in the face? But most of all in a public and political view is this extraordinary increase of crime in our manufacturing districts a subject of serious and anxious consideration to all classes in the state. It is in vain to seek to conceal it is folly to attempt to deny that in the dense masses of the manufacturers the real danger of Great Britain is to be found. Though not amounting upon the whole to more than a tenth part of the nation they are incomparably the most alarming from their close proximity to each other the fierce passions which the revolutionary press has long nourished among them and the perfect organization which under the direction Of the leaders of their trades' unions they have long attained. The insurrection in the manufacturing districts of England and violent strikes in Scotland in 1842 may warn us of the danger of such an outbreak especially when combined as the next will almost certainly be with a general rebellion of the Irish Repealers. Infinite local mischief incredible destruction of life and property would inevitably follow any serious and general insurrection among them; even though crushed as in the end it certainly would be by an united effort of the other classes in the state. But is the shock to credit the destruction of capital the breaking of the bread of hundreds of thousands nothing in a national point of view? And what can augment the dangers of such local insurrections so much as the acknowledged fact that crime is making unprecedented progress amongst them; that so general have the causes of dissoluteness become that whole masses are brought up in depraved and reckless habits on the verge of if not actually committing crime; and that ""_les classes dangereuses_"" are daily receiving additional accessions on the depraved the dissolute and abandoned from all the other ranks in the state. Let us therefore no longer deceive ourselves or attempt to deceive others. Crime is making extraordinary and unprecedented progress amongst us; it is advancing with a rapidity unparalleled in any other European state: if not arrested it will come to render the country unbearable; and will terminate in multiplying to such an extent ""_les classes dangereuses_ "" as they have been well denominated by the French as on the first serious political convulsion may come to endanger the state. It has advanced with undeviating and fearful rapidity through all the successive delusions which have been trusted to in the country to check its progress. With equal ease it has cast aside the visions of Sir Samuel Romilly and the advocates of lenient punishment--the dreams of Lord Brougham and the supporters of general education--the theories of the Archbishop of Dublin and the enemies of transportation--the hopes of Lord John Russell and the partizans of improved prison discipline at home. Even the blessed arm of the gospel has hitherto failed in checking its advance amongst us; and it nowhere appears in more appalling colours than in the districts where the greatest and most strenuous efforts have been made for the moral and religious instruction of the people. ""Nous avons donnés à penser "" as the French say. Ample subject for serious reflection has been furnished to our readers till a future occasion when the cause of this general failure and the means requisite for the diminution of crime will be considered. FOOTNOTES: [1] Table showing the progress of crime in the British islands since 1805 in so far as can be ascertained. Years. England. Scotland. Ireland. 1805 4605 89 3600 1806 4346 101 3781 1807 4446 97 3522 1808 4735 124 3704 1809 5330 Chasm. 3641 1810 5146 3799 1811 5337 4162 1812 6576 4286 1813 7164 Chasm. 1814 6390 1815 7818 1816 9091 1817 13 932 1818 13 567 1819 14 254 1820 13 710 1486 1821 13 115 1522 1822 12 241 1691 13 251 1823 12 263 1733 14 632 1824 13 698 1802 15 258 1825 14 437 1876 15 515 1826 16 164 1999 16 318 1827 17 924 2116 18 031 1828 16 564 2024 14 683 1829 18 675 2063 15 271 1830 18 107 2329 15 794 1831 19 647 2451 16 192 1832 20 829 2431 16 056 1833 20 072 2564 17 819 1834 22 451 2691 24 381 1835 20 731 2867 21 205 1836 20 984 3922 23 891 1837 23 612 3126 24 804 1838 23 094 3418 25 723 1839 24 443 3409 26 392 1840 27 187 3872 23 833 1841 27 760 3562 20 796 1842 31 309 3884 --PORTER's _Progress of the Nation_ iii. 172 227. [2] MOREAU _Stat. de la Grande Bretagne_ vol. ii. p. 317. [3] Census of 1841. [4] PORTER'S _Parliamentary Tables_. [5] These facts were all proved in the subsequent trial of the leaders of the riot at Edinburgh. [6] Table showing the diminution of crime in British India:-- CIRCUIT COURT OF BENGAL. Burglary. Cattle-stealing. Fraud. Larceny. Total. 1816 to 1818 2853 203 150 1516 3722 1825 to 1827 1036 31 49 223 1339 LOWER AND WESTERN PROVINCES OF BENGAL. LOWER WESTERN Sentenced. Gang Robberies. Murder. 1816 13 869 1807 1481 406 1827 8075 1824 234 30 --MARTIN'S _British Colonies_. 12mo Edin. IX. 322 329 [7] Table showing the persons accused at the Assize Courts of France in the under mentioned years:-- 1828--6922 1832--7565 1836--6289 1840--6117 1829--7359 1833--6694 1837--7164 1841-- 1830--6962 1834--6952 1838--6872 1842-- 1831--7604 1835--6371 1839--6271 --PORTER'S _Parl. Tables_ vi. 346. [8] We except the police of London which is admirable and also that of Liverpool Glasgow Manchester and Edinburgh; where though there is great room for improvement much has been done in this way to repress crime. [9] Table showing the instruction of criminals over the British Empire in 1841. Neither read Total. nor write. Imperfectly. Well. Superior. Educated. Uneducated. England 9220 13 732 2 253 126 18 171 9 220 Scotland 696 2 248 554 42 2 834 696 Ireland 7152 3 084 5 631 0 8 733 7 152 ------ ------- ------ ----- ------- ------- 17 068 19 064 8 438 168 29 738 17 068 --PORTER'S _Progress of the Nation_ iii. 201 214 215 232. [10] Table showing the centesimal proportion of crime in relation to education in the under-mentioned years. Unable to read Not or write. Imperfectly. Well. Superior. ascertained. Total. 1836 33.52 52.53 10.36 0.91 2.68 100 1837 35.85 52.08 9.45 0.43 2.18 100 1838 34.42 53.41 9.77 0.34 2.08 100 1839 33.53 53.48 10.07 0.32 2.60 100 1840 33.32 55.57 8.29 0.37 2.45 100 1841 33.21 56.67 7.10 0.43 2.27 100 1842 32.33 58.52 6.77 0.22 2.34 100 --_Parl. Papers_ 5th May 1843. M'CULLOCH _Stat. of Great Britain_ i. 476-7. [11] See GUERRY'S _Stat. Tables of France_. [12] Uneducated. Imperfectly educated. Good do. Superior do. Total educated. 1828 4 116 1 858 780 118 2 756 1831 4 600 2 047 767 190 3 004 1834 4 080 2 061 608 203 2 872 --PORTER'S _Parl. Tables_ ii. 346. [13] In France and Prussia there were in 1826.-- Prussia. France. Crimes against the person 1 in 34.122 1 in 32.411 Do. property 1 in 597 1 in 9.392 Do. on the whole 1 in 587 1 in 7.285 RHINE AND RHINELANDERS ""On the Rhine I am never more than twenty years old!"" says the Countess Ida Hahn Hahn in her _Erinnerungen_. ""There only do I feel myself quite at home. Whether arriving from the Baltic or the Guadalquivir I have always a recurrence of the same nameless home-feeling which renders me at once happy and tranquil. O the Rhine! the Rhine! What are other rivers--your Seine and Garonne and Tagus--compared with him? But small and secondary streams beside the mighty Rhine. There are certain rivers which represent nations and ideas and periods of history--the Scamander for instance bringing to our thoughts the days of Grecian heroism; when men fought with gods and in so doing seemed to wrest from them a portion of their supernatural strength and beauty--the Nile the priestly Nile mysterious as a dogma but rich in blessings as the agency of a divine spirit; concealed in its source but manifest in its operation--then the Jordan the stream of revelation on whose banks is heard the rushing of the wings of the dove while a voice other than that of man murmurs over the waters--and the Tiber a small and muddy stream but the gigantic and sparkling reflex of Rome's immortal turrets. But the Rhine that heroic river which nations never cross without buckling on their armour for the fight; and yet on whose banks life is so free so safe and so delightful. Hark to the clatter of wine-cups the echoes of music the whispered legends and the clash of weapons! while the old river flows on so cheerily murmuring as he goes words of encouragement to his children. ""I embrace thee O Rhine! and wherever I go I will not cease to love thee. * * * * * ""When I pass in review all the beautiful scenes I have visited and then ask myself the question Where I would fain see the sun set for the last time? the answer is unhesitating and heartfelt and invariably the same--'Behind Stobzenfels on the Rhine.'"" It would be difficult better to illustrate German veneration and affection for the Rhine than by the above passages from one of the most intellectual female writers of the day--a writer whose works will bear comparison with those of George Sand for genius and masculine vigour of style (exempt however from much that is objectionable in the French-woman;) while for elegance taste and a fine feeling for art and poetry they may be placed on the same line with those of our own ""Ennuyée."" What the Countess Hahn Hahn feels and expresses with all the fervour of a poetical imagination--the sort of exhilarating and exulting love for the most classical stream of modern story--is felt in a greater or less degree by all intellectual classes of Germans. Their veneration for the old river that waters one of the sunniest and fairest districts of the Vaterland is profound; their admiration of the natural beauties and of the vestiges of days gone by that abound upon its banks unceasing. German patriotism is comprehensive: it hails as one country all the wide lands in which the Teuton tongue is spoken; and in nearly all those lands is the Rhine thought and talked of with an admiration amounting to enthusiasm. By a contradiction however of not unfrequent occurrence the people who seem least capable of sharing this feeling are those who ought to be most under its influence--the inhabitants of the Rhine-country itself. The well known and often quoted passage of Jean Jacques applied by him to the dwellers on the shores of Lake Leman is equally applicable to the denizens of the Rhineland. ""Je dirois volontiers à ceux qui ont du goût et sont sensibles--allez à Vevey visitez le pays examinez les sites promenez vous sur le lac; et dites si la nature n'a pas fait ce beau pays pour une Julie pour une Claire et pour un St Preux; mais---- ne les y cherchez pas."" In like manner we would say--Visit the Rhine not as most tourists do by rushing in a steam-boat from Rotterdam or Cologne to Basle or Baden but deliberately on shore as well as on the water climbing the mountains and strolling through the valleys seeking out the innumerable and enchanting points of view and contemplating them by sunset and sunrise in the broad glare of noon and by the subdued evening light; and then say whether such a country is not worthy of different inhabitants from the mongrel race part German part Flemish part French which it now possesses--a population which when it has consumed its five or six heavy meals smoked a dozen or two pipes and slept its long sleep of repletion considers it has done its duty to God and man and troubles itself little with such intangible matters as poetical reveries or mental cultivation. But we are running away from our subject and losing sight of the intention we had in commencing this paper which was to hook ourselves on to the dexter arm of that indefatigable rambler M. Alexander Dumas and accompany him in an excursion up the Rhine. He thinks proper to proceed thither by way of Belgium and we must conform to his arrangements. In due time we shall return to our Rhenish friends. M. Dumas's earliest care on arriving at Brussels was to deliver to King Leopold a letter of recommendation with which he had provided himself for that monarch; and he hastened to the palace where he obtained admission he tells us more easily than he could have done at Paris at the house of a second-rate banker. We were not aware that the French _bureaucratie_ of the day were of such difficult access and would strongly advise them since it is so to take pattern by his Belgian majesty; who in this instance however was not at Brussels at all but at his country palace of Lacken whither M. Dumas proceeds. Here he is immediately ushered into the king's presence. ""After a quarter of an hour's conversation "" says our traveller ""which his Majesty was pleased to put at once upon a footing of familiar chat I became convinced that I was speaking with the most philosophical king who had ever existed not excepting Frederick the Great."" We congratulate M. Dumas sincerely upon the exquisite keenness of perception which enabled him to make this discovery and from so decided an opinion in the course of a quarter of an hour's familiar chat. At the same time we cannot repress a fear that he is apt to be a little dazzled by the sparkling halo that surrounds a diadem. This we do not say so much with reference to the King of the Belgians who may be a very philosophical as he has proved himself to be a very judicious sovereign; but it has struck us more than once during the perusal of M. Dumas's wanderings in various lands that he exhibits a slight an inconceivably small tendency to tuft-hunting hardly consistent with his ultra-liberal principles and difficult to reconcile with the cynical tone that he habitually adopts in speaking of most existing governments and institutions. To say the truth we have conceived a great affection for our friend Alexander and feel every disposition to glide lightly over his faults and exalt his virtues; to treat him tenderly in short even as one we love. We do not expect perfection from him although we are anxious to believe that he approaches as near to that angelic state as it is given to a child of clay to do. We would pardon his recording in some detail the gracious words spoken to him by the King of this and the Prince of that--showing how he was treated on a footing of perfect equality and familiarity by the mighty ones of the earth--how they caressed and complimented him and wore out the boots of their aides-de-camp and chamberlains by sending after him--and how they told him to ""Venez me demander à diner "" or in other words to go and take a chop with them whenever he could make it convenient. At all these interesting and carefully recorded incidents we should indulgently smile were they narrated by any one but our much-esteemed Alexander--the confirmed democrat the political Utopian the declared disciple of the subversive school the worthy representative when he gets upon the chapter of politics of that recently discovered zoological curiosity the _tigre-singe_. It is the inconsistency of the thing that strikes and afflicts us. Of M. Dumas's very ultra views on political subjects we have abundant proof in the section headed ""Waterloo "" which is an amusing specimen of the rabid style. The tone is pretty much the same as that of the most violent of the French democratic and anti-English journals. We should like to extract it all but it is too lengthy and we must content ourselves with the last ten lines. Here they are breathing saltpetre and bayonets:-- ""A quarter of a century has elapsed since that date (June 1815 ) and France is only now beginning to understand that the defeat of Waterloo was necessary for the liberty of Europe; but she not the less cherishes at the bottom of her heart a poignant grief and rage at having been marked out for a victim. On that plain where so many Spartan-like warriors fell for her sake--where the pyramid of the Prince of Orange the tomb of Colonel Gordon and the monument of the Hanoverians serve as mementoes of the fight--no stone or cross or inscription recalls the name of France. But the day shall come when God will bid her (France) recommence the work of universal liberation--the work begun by Bonaparte and interrupted by Napoleon; then when that work is done we will turn the lion of Nassau with its head towards Europe _et tout sera dit_."" As this rather high-flown passage might not be generally intelligible to our readers we will put it into plain English. It will then run thus:-- ""When France shall again become a republic or when she shall find a king mad or wicked enough to give in to her worst propensities she will pour her legions across every frontier sweep all opposition before her revolutionize and emancipate Europe and hoist the triumphant and blood-stained tricolor over the ashes of sovereignties and the ruins of every old and time-honoured institution."" It is strange to see a man of undoubted talent and who ought to be amongst the enlightened ones of his country and his age indulging in such absurd visions and insane prophecies. Rhapsodies of this kind would be merely laughable were it not for the weight which they unquestionably have with the younger and less reflecting classes of Frenchmen especially when proceeding from a writer of M. Dumas's abilities and reputation. It is by this style of writing which abounds in French periodical literature and in the works of some fortunately a minority of the clever _littérateurs_ of the day that the attacks of war fever to which France is subject are aggravated if not frequently brought on. We do not intend following M. Dumas step by step through Belgium to which country he devotes a volume. We prefer passing at once to the Rhine which he ascends from Cologne to Strasburg making continual pauses and enlivening the description of what he sees by agreeable and spirited versions of what he has read and heard. Much of what he tells us has been already printed in the numerous tours and guide-books which in conjunction with steam-boats and railways have familiarized most Englishmen with the Rhine and its legends. It acquires a fresh charm however from the present narrator's agreeable and pointed style and from his calling in the aid of his imagination to supply any little deficiencies; rounding and filling up stories that would otherwise be angular and incomplete. He also gives some agreeable caricatures if caricatures they may be called of certain German eccentricities. Yet we should have thought that so keen an observer of men and manners might have made more than he has done of the peculiarities of German society and habits; but unfortunately M. Dumas appears to understand little if any of the language and this has doubtless been a great hindrance to him and has prevented him from making his book as characteristic as his Italian sketches. Nevertheless he is piquant enough in some places. We will give his droll account of his entrance into Rhenish Prussia. After being robbed by the innkeeper at Liege he gets into the Aix-la-Chapelle diligence; and on reading the printed ticket that has been given to him at the coach-office finds that he has the fourth seat and that he is forbidden to change places with his neighbours even by mutual consent. ""This military sort of strictness still more than the abominable jargon of the postilion made me aware that I was about to enter the dominions of King Frederick William. As I had a corner of the coach the tyranny of his Prussian majesty was tolerably endurable and I soon fell fast asleep. About three in the morning just as day was breaking I awoke and found that the diligence was standing still. I at first thought there was an accident and put my head out of the window to see what was the matter. No accident had happened; no other coach was near--the road was excellent. We were alone and motionless. I took my ticket out of my pocket read it from one end to the other and having satisfied myself that it was not forbidden to _speak_ in the diligence I asked my neighbour if we had been standing there long. ""'About twenty minutes ' was the answer. ""'And pray ' continued I 'can you tell me what we are doing here?' ""'We are waiting.' ""'Ah! we are waiting. And for what?' ""'For the time.' ""'What time?' ""'The time at which we are allowed to arrive.' ""'There is a time fixed for arriving then?' ""'Every thing is fixed in Prussia.' ""'And if we arrived before the time?' ""'The conductor would be punished.' ""'And if after?' ""'He would also be punished.' ""'Ah! that is very well arranged.' ""'Every thing is well arranged in Prussia.' ""I bowed assentingly. Not for worlds would I have contradicted a gentleman possessed of such an exalted opinion of his country and its institutions and who answered my questions so courteously and laconically. My acquiescence appeared to gratify him. I felt encouraged and continued my enquiries. ""'Pardon me sir but at what hour ought the diligence to arrive at Aix-la-Chapelle?' ""'At twenty-five minutes to five.' ""'But if the conductor's watch were slow?' ""'His watch can never be slow.' ""'Indeed! And why so?' ""'Opposite to where he sits and under lock and key there is a watch which is regulated before starting by the clock at the coach-office. The conductor knows at what hour he should pass through each town and village on his route and he makes

he postilions hurry or slacken their pace accordingly so as to arrive at Aix-la-Chapelle exactly at the right time.' ""'But with those precautions how is it that we are obliged to wait upon the road?' ""'The conductor has doubtless followed your example and slept and the postilions have taken advantage of that to go quicker.' ""'Well since we have still some time to remain here I will get out and stretch my legs a little.' ""'It is not allowed to get out of the diligence in Prussia.' ""'Indeed! That is very agreeable. I wished particularly to look at that castle on the other side of the road.' ""'That is Emmaburg. It is the scene of the famous legend of _Eginhard and Emma_.' ""'Really! Be so obliging as to change places with me for a moment that I may look at it through the window.' ""'I should be most happy sir; but in Prussia it is not allowed to change places.' ""'True true! How could I forget it? I beg your pardon sir.' ""'These tamned Frenchmans they do noting but shatter and talk!' said a fat German sitting opposite to me opening his mouth for the first time since we had left Liege but still keeping his eyes shut. ""'You were saying sir----?' said I not particularly gratified by the remark. ""'I say noting--I shleep.' ""'_Shleep_ as much as you like but try not to dream aloud eh? Or if you dream dream in your mother tongue.' ""The German began to snore. ""'Postilion _vorwarts!_' shouted the conductor. ""We were off at a gallop. I put my head out of the window to try to get a view of the ruins but it was vain; they had disappeared behind an angle of the road. At twenty-five minutes to five not a second later or earlier we drove into the coach-yard at Aix-la-Chapelle."" At Cologne M. Dumas pauses and fills a hundred pages with the cathedral and the legend attaching to it. Most of our readers are probably aware that the above-named church was commenced by an architect whose name has been forgotten and who procured the design for the building from Satan himself upon the usual condition of giving a promissory note for his soul. A certain Father Clement however a very knowing priest of whom the arch-tempter stood in almost as great awe as he had ever done of St Dunstan of nose-pulling celebrity came to the assistance of the builder and put him up to a stratagem by which he avoided signing away his spiritual part although he still obtained possession of the plan for the cathedral. Satan confessed himself outwitted but prophesied that the building should never be finished and that its builder's name should not go down to posterity. The latter part of the prediction has been accomplished; but as the present King of Prussia has declared his intention of finishing the work that has been so magnificently begun it seems probable Beelzebub may prove mistaken in one portion of his prophecy. Cologne being a large city somewhat Frenchified in its ways M. Dumas manages pretty well as regards eating and drinking; but as he ascends the river matters get worse. He arrives at Bonn at the hour of the one o'clock meal called the first dinner and we find him expatiating on the subject of German appetites and feeding. ""The Germans eat from morning till night. On opening their eyes at seven o'clock in the morning they take their coffee--at eleven breakfast--at one the little dinner (a sort of luncheon)--at three dinner--at five another meal nondescript nameless and abundant--at nine a tremendous supper preparatory to going to bed. Tea cakes and sandwiches fill up the intervals."" This is really only a moderate exaggeration on the part of M. Dumas. Five meals a-day three of them solid meat-devouring wine-bibbing feeds are the regular allowance of every well-conditioned well-to-do comfortable Rhinelander. We do not consider Frenchmen small eaters whatever they may consider themselves--if they eat little of each dish they eat of a vast number; but for examples of positive voracity commend us to a German table-d'hôte. A coachful of French _commis voyageurs_ assembled after a ten hours' fast round the luxurious profusion and delicacies of a Languedocian dinner would appear mere babes and sucklings in the eating way compared to a party of Germans at their one o'clock feed. The difference is nearly as great as between the Lady Amine eating rice with a bodkin and the same fair one battening ghoulishly upon the cold meat in the cemetery. Nothing can equal the persevering industry with which a German crams himself at a public table where having to pay a fixed sum for his dinner he always seems desirous to get as much as he can for his money. The _obligato_ bowl of soup is followed by sundry huge slices of boiled beef sufficient of themselves for an ordinary man's dinner but by no means sufficing for a German's; then come fowl and meat fish puddings and creams and meat again; sweet sour and greasy--greasy sweet and sour alternating and following one another in inextricable and interminable confusion. Every body eats of every thing largely and voraciously and the short pauses between the appearance of the dishes are filled up by nibblings at such salutary and digestible _extremets_ as raw hams and herrings pickled cucumbers and pickled grapes! German cookery is famous for odd mixtures. M. Dumas is rather amusing on this head. ""At Bonn the dinner they served me consisted of an unintelligible sort of soup full of round balls of a pasty substance; beef stewed with prunes hare dressed with preserves wild boar with cherries; it was impossible to take more pains to spoil things which separately would have been very commendable eating. I tasted them each in turn and each time sent away my plate. When I sent away the wild boar the waiter could stand it no longer. ""'Does not monsieur like wild boar with cherries?' ""'I detest it!' ""'That is singular; a great poet like monsieur.' ""'You are mistaken my man: I make verses perhaps; but that is no reason for calling me a great poet nor for ruining the coats of my stomach with your infernal fricassees. Besides supposing I were a great poet what has poetry got to do with pig and cherry sauce?' ""'Our great Schiller adored that dish.' ""'Our tastes differ then. I have no objection to William Tell or Wallenstein but---- take away your pig.' ""The waiter carried off the wild boar: meantime I tasted the beef and prunes but to do more than taste it was out of the question; and when the man returned I bid him change my plate. His astonishment was greater than ever. ""'What!' cried he 'does not monsieur like beef and prunes?' ""'No.' ""'M. Goethe was passionately addicted to it.' ""'I am sorry not to have the same addictions as the author of Faust. Make me an omelet.' ""In a few minutes back came the waiter with the omelet. It looked uncommonly nice and I was uncommonly hungry. Nevertheless I could not swallow the first mouthful. ""'What the devil have you put into your omelet? An omelet should be made with butter eggs salt and pepper.' ""'Certainly sir. It _is_ made with butter eggs salt and pepper.' ""'And what else?' ""'A little flour.' ""'And besides?' ""'A little cheese.' ""'Go on.' ""'Some saffron.' ""'And then?' ""'Cloves nutmeg and a little thyme.' ""'Enough enough! Take away your omelet.'"" The master of the hotel who is an intelligent personage now makes his appearance and M. Dumas at last finds that by ordering a dinner _à la Française_ he can get something eatable. Encouraged by this success he ventures when bedtime comes to petition for a bed in which a Frenchman can sleep. This requires a little explanation which will be best given in his own words. ""In France we are pretty much accustomed to sleep in a bed; that is to say on a couch consisting of a frame some three and a half or four feet wide and some six or six and a half feet long. On this frame or bedstead we place two or three mattresses and a feather bed a pair of sheets a counterpane a pillow and bolster; we then tuck in the edges of these coverings the person for whom the bed is intended slips in between the sheets and if his health is good and his conscience clear and he has not been drinking too much green tea or strong coffee he goes to sleep. In a bed of this description any body can sleep whether German Spaniard Italian Hindoo or Chinese unless he makes up his mind not to do so. But in Germany things are very different. A German bed is composed as follows:-- ""First a bedstead two or two and a half feet wide and five to five and a half feet long. Procrustes must decidedly have been a German. On the bedstead they place a sack of shavings on the sack of shavings an enormous feather bed and then a sheet shorter and narrower than the feather bed and which we should call a towel. Upon this sheet or towel comes a quilted coverlet of the same size and a sort of cushion stuffed with feathers. Two or three pillows piled up at the head of the bed complete this singular edifice. ""When a Frenchman gets into a bed of this kind as he does not think of taking any particular precautions in about five minutes the pillows fall on one side the coverlet on the other; the sheet rolls itself up and disappears; so that the aforesaid Frenchman finds himself with one side of his body uncovered and frozen and the other side sunk in the feather bed and perspiring profusely. This arises say the Germans from the circumstance of the French being so impetuous and lively. With a calm and phlegmatic German the case is quite different. The latter raises the counterpane very cautiously creeps underneath and places himself with his back against the pillows and his feet against the bottom of the bed screwing himself up into the shape of the letter Z: he then draws the covering over his knees shuts his eyes goes to sleep and awakes the next morning in the same position. To do this it is necessary to be a German and as I am not one I had not slept a wink since I had been in the country; I was growing as thin as a lath and I had a cough that seemed to tear my chest open. This is why I asked for a bed _à la Française_. Mine host had fortunately six of them. When I heard that I could have embraced him with pleasure."" The villages of Winnebourg and Metternich near Coblentz the former the birthplace the latter the property of Prince Metternich lead M. Dumas into a little digression on the subject of the celebrated diplomatist. The family name we are informed was originally Metter but received the addition of the last syllable in the following manner:-- ""In one of the great battles of the fifteenth century the emperor of Germany saw an entire regiment take to flight with the exception of one man who stood his ground and defended himself gallantly till he fell covered with wounds. The emperor enquired his name. It was Metter."" That night at supper the emperor said talking of the regiment in question--""They all fled but Metter _nicht_."" Every body knows that ""nicht"" is the German for not. The family adopted the additional syllable and hence the origin of the name of Metternich. M. de Metternich it appears is a great collector of autographs and of course his position has facilitated the gratification of this taste. His collection is rich in royal imperial and princely letters; nor is there any lack of odes from German poets and sonnets from Italian _improvisatori_. One day however it occurred to him that now the public press had become a power in many countries he ought to have the autographs of a few journalists in order to complete his collection; and as in Italy and Germany thanks to the censorship there are plenty of journals but no journalists he was obliged to send to France. Amongst others M. Jules Janin (one of the editors of the _Journal des Debats_) received a most polite request for an autograph from the rival of M. de Talleyrand. Janin immediately took up his pen and wrote as follows:-- ""Received from his Excellency Prince Metternich twenty-four bottles of Johannisberg first quality. ""Paris 15th May 1838."" A month afterwards there arrived at Paris the twenty-four bottles of wine of which Janin with a confidence that the prince no doubt knew how to appreciate had acknowledged receipt beforehand. M. de Metternich has preserved Janin's witty autograph with the greatest care. I doubt very much if Janin has preserved M. de Metternich's wine. M. Dumas finds some compensation for the badness of German beds in the excellence of German roads. His soundest sleep is always obtained in the diligence. He takes a nap from Mayence to Frankfort; but on entering the latter city is shaken out of his slumbers by an Austrian soldier who demands his passport. In consequence of an incident that had lately occurred the soldiery were particularly on the alert with regard to passports. M. Dumas relates the anecdote in his usual pointed and effective manner. ""The free city of Frankfort which in its capacity of a free city is garrisoned by an Austrian and a Prussian regiment had been laid under contribution during the spring fair by a most expert pickpocket whom the police had in vain endeavoured to detect and capture. The fair was nearly at an end; and in order that the thief might not escape the sentries at the gates were directed to allow no man to leave the town without sending him into the guard-house to have his passport examined and to see if his height features and appearance corresponded with the description on the paper. This order given the authorities did not trouble their heads any more about the matter feeling quite certain that the offender could not escape. ""On the other hand the unfortunate thief felt very uncomfortable. Nature had endowed him with rather a remarkable physiognomy and it was difficult to find a passport to fit him unless it were made on purpose; so that out of five or six which he had in his possession not one would do. At last he made up his mind to walk out of the town without a passport as if he were one of the town's-people going for a stroll. He accordingly took a cane in his hand and lounging along with an affectation of great indifference approached a gate at which the Austrians were on guard. But the sentry had his orders and when the stranger drew near-- ""'Who goes there?' he vociferated. ""'A friend ' answered the thief. ""'Advance friend!' said the sentry with a significant rattle of his musket--a sort of intimation that non-compliance might be rewarded by a bullet. ""The thief walked up to the soldier. ""'Your passport ' demanded the latter. ""'My passport!' repeated the thief in tone of infinite astonishment 'I have none.' ""'All the better for you ' said the sentry shouldering his musket. 'If you had _had_ one I should have been obliged to send you into the guard-house to have it examined and that would have detained you a good half hour. But since you have no passport you can't show one so you may pass.' ""And the intelligent warrior recommenced his monotonous promenade; while the thief profiting by his obliging permission walked out of the town."" Mannheim the scene of Kotzebue's death and his assassin's execution could hardly fail to detain M. Dumas. At Frankfort he applies to a friend for an introduction to some person likely to give him details concerning Kotzebue and Sand and his friend procures him a letter addressed to Mr Widemann surgeon Heidelberg. He has no letter for any body at Mannheim and after visiting Kotzebue's house leaves that town to proceed to Heidelberg. Just outside Mannheim he causes the postilion to stop while he contemplates the place of the mad student's execution which goes by the name of ""_Sand's Himmelfahrtwiese_ "" or the meadow of Sand's ascension to heaven. It is a green meadow intersected by a rivulet and situated within a few hundred yards of the town. While gazing at this field and trying to conjecture the exact spot where the scaffold had stood a stranger approaches of whom our traveller makes an enquiry. They fall into conversation and the newcomer proves to be the governor of the prison in which Sand had been confined. Delighted at this rencontre M. Dumas turns back and stops a day or two longer at Mannheim copying some letters of Sand's and collecting materials which fill several chapters of his book. He learns from his new friend that the Mr Widemann at Heidelberg for whom he has a letter is not only a surgeon but also the public executioner although as yet his services have not been called into request in the latter capacity. It was his father who decapitated Sand. The Heidelberg executioner is noble by right of descent. The origin of his family's nobility is given by M. Dumas as follows:-- ""The evening of the day on which King Louis of Bavaria was crowned emperor there was a splendid ball at the town-hall at which the empress was present. Amongst the guests was a cavalier dressed entirely in black and having his face covered with a black mask. He invited the empress to dance: she accepted and whilst they were dancing together another mask approached the emperor and asked him if he knew who his wife's partner was. 'No ' replied the emperor 'but I suppose it is some sovereign prince.' ""'Lower than that ' said the mask. ""'Some nobleman then--a count or baron.' ""'Lower than that.' ""'Perhaps with a knight.' ""'Lower still.' ""'With an esquire?' ""'Less than that.' ""'A page?' ""'You have not guessed it--lower still.' ""The emperor flushed crimson with anger. ""'A groom?' ""'If that were all!' answered the unknown with a strange laugh. ""'But who is it then?' cried the emperor. ""'Tear off his mask and you will see.' ""The emperor approached the sable cavalier and tore off his mask. It was the headsman. ""'Miscreant!' shouted the emperor as his sword flashed from the scabbard 'commend thy soul to God before thou diest.' ""'Sire!' replied the headsman falling on his knees 'you may kill me if you will; but the empress has not the less danced with me and the dishonour if dishonour there be is already incurred. Do better than that: knight me; and if any one dares to speak evil of her majesty the same sword that executes justice shall vindicate her fame.' ""The emperor reflected for a moment. ""'The advice is good ' said he at last. 'Henceforward you shall no longer be called the headsman but the last of the judges.' Then giving him three blows on the shoulder with his sword flat ""'Rise!' he continued; 'from this hour you are the lowest among nobles and the first amongst burghers.' ""And accordingly since that day in all public processions and ceremonies the executioner walks by himself in rear of the nobles and in front of the commoners."" Truly a most fantastical history and one which leaves us in some doubt whether it be a genuine legend of Heidelberg or one of M. Dumas's dreams in the diligence after dining upon pig and cherry sauce. At any rate if not true it is _ben trovato_. Heidelberg whither M. Dumas next proceeds is to our mind one of the pleasantest places near the Rhine from which river it is now thanks to the railroad within half an hour's journey. The country around is delightful and the town itself owing to its possessing an university and to the vast number of strangers who visit and pass through it during the summer months is far more lively than most small German towns. The kind of liveliness however caused by the presence of seven or eight hundred students is not always of the most agreeable character. It has been the fashion in England to talk and write a vast deal about German universities; and sundry well filled or at least bulky tomes have been devoted to accounts of the students' mode of life their duels and drinkings and peculiarities of all kinds. Friend Howitt favoured us a year or two ago with a corpulent volume--translated in part from the MSS. of some _studiosus emeritus_--a sort of life in Heidelberg entering into great detail concerning university doings and with illustrations of a very sportive description; wherein mustached and bespurred cavaliers are slashing at each other with broad swords or cantering over the country mounted upon gallant steeds and looking something between Dick Turpins and field-marshals in muftee. 'Tis a sad thing to have too much imagination--it tempts a man to mislead his neighbours; and no one who has read friend William's picturesque descriptions of _Student Leben_ but would feel grievously disappointed when he came to investigate the subject for himself. Nothing can be more puerile and absurd and in many instances disgusting than the habitual pastimes and amusements of the students; or at least of that large majority of them who attend no lectures and study nothing that they can possibly avoid but look upon their residence at the university as three or four years to be devoted to smoking beer-drinking and scratching one another's faces in duels. These duels by the by are pieces of the most intense humbug that can be imagined. They take place now in the large room of the inn at Ziegelhausen a village on the banks of the Neckar about two miles from Heidelberg and are fought with straight swords square but sharp at the extremity and having guards as big as a soup-plate. Before the fight begins the combatants don their defensive arms consisting of a strong and broad-brimmed hat protecting the head and eyes an immense leathern breastplate defending the chest and stomach a padded case also of leather which shields the arm from wrist to shoulder and an impenetrable cravat which protects the neck up to the ears. The nose and a bit of each cheek is all that can be possibly wounded. Thus equipped the heroes set to work slashing away at each other (it is forbidden to thrust ) shaving off pieces of their padded armour and looking exceeding fierce and valiant the while; until after a greater or less time according as the combatants are equal in skill or not one of them gets a scratch across the nose or small eyelet hole in the cheek which terminates this caricature of a duel. Since ""young Germany"" finds amusement in so harmless a practice it might very well be allowed them; provided they afterwards like good boys took their books and learned their lessons. But such a proceeding would be by no means consistent with the _Burschen-Freiheit_--the academic freedom of which these hopeful youths make their boast. To celebrate the valour of the victory and show sympathy with the sufferings of the vanquished--whose wound is by this time dressed with an inch of sticking plaster--the party repairs to a tavern to breakfast; and there the morning is killed over beer and Rhine wine till one o'clock by which time some of them are usually more than half tipsy. They then repair to the table-d'hôte dine drink more and finally stagger home to sleep off their libations. We have more than once in German university towns seen students reeling-drunk at four in the afternoon. About seven in the evening the _kneipes_ or drinking-houses begin to fill. In all of these there are rooms set apart for the different clubs of students to assemble in; and in those sanctuaries they put on the caps and colours of their communities which they have of late years been forbidden to wear in public. On the ribands which they wear round their necks are inscribed the date of their various duels. A barrel of beer is now broached pipes are loaded and lighted and they sit the whole evening sotting smoking and singing songs about the Rhine liberty and fatherland with ear-splitting and interminable choruses of _Viva lera lera_. A German student's song generally consists of couplets of two lines with a chorus that lasts a quarter of an hour. The quantity of beer consumed by some of these heroes is almost incredible. They become actually bloated with it. One of the most important and respected persons at a German university is the Beer King who ought to be able to drink not any given quantity but an unlimited one; to be perpetually drinking in short. M. Dumas tells us that the reigning monarch of malt at Heidelberg is able to absorb twelve schoppens of beer or six of wine while the clock strikes twelve. A Heidelberg schoppen is very nearly an English bottle. This is rather hard to swallow M. Dumas. Either the drinker is very fast or the clock very slow. We can vouch however for the scarcely less astonishing fact of there being drinkers at the universities who will imbibe twenty-five bottles of beer at a sitting. The German beer is of course not of a very intoxicating nature. From beer to tobacco the transition is natural enough; and we cannot conclude our gossip about the Rhine without a word or two as to the frightful abuse made by the Germans of the Indian weed. We are not of the number of those who condemn the moderate use of tobacco but on the contrary know right well how to appreciate its soothing and cheering effects; but the difference is wide between a limited enjoyment of the habit and the stupefying besotting excess to which it is carried by the Germans. The dirty way too in which they smoke renders the custom as annoying to those who live amongst them as it must be unwholesome and detrimental to themselves. It is possible to smoke much and yet cleanly: take the Spaniard for instance--unquestionably a great smoker; yet the difference between smoking on the Rhine or Elbe and on the Manzanares or Ebro is immense--the one the gluttony and abuse the other the refinement of the practice. While Don Español with his fragrant _puro_ or straw or paper covered cigarrito smoketh cleanly spitteth not uses his tobacco as he uses most things like a gentleman; the _werther Deutscher_ takes his huge pipe rarely cleaned and with the essence of tobacco oozing from every joint and filling it from a bag or rather sack of coarse and vile-smelling tobacco puffs forth volumes of smoke expectorating _ad nauseam_ at intervals of a minute or less. No considerations of place or person hinder him from indulging in his favourite pastime. In steam-boats in diligences in the public walks and promenades into the dining-rooms of hotels every where does the pipe intrude itself; carried as habitually as a walking-cane; and even when not in actual use emitting the most evil odour from the bowl and tube saturated as they are with tobacco juice. However unpleasant all this may be to foreigners especially to English ladies accustomed to the more cleanly habits of their own countrymen the German dames are perfectly reconciled to it. Had we to draw a picture of domestic felicity on the Rhine we would sketch it thus:--a summer evening--a flower garden--a table with tea or coffee--a dozen chairs occupied by persons of both sexes--the women big-feeted blue-eyed placid creatures knitting stockings--the men heavy and awkward each with a monstrous signet-ring on the dirty forefinger of his right hand smoking unceasingly and puffing the vapour into the faces of their better halves who heed it not and occasionally may even be seen replenishing with their own delicate digits the enormous porcelain or meerschaum bowls of the pipes. If you doubt the accuracy of our description reader go and judge for yourself. The distance is short and summer is at hand. Put yourself on board a steamboat whisk over to Ostend or Antwerp and thence rail and rattle it down to the Rhine. You shall not be three days on German soil without encountering a score such groups as the one we have just sketched. THE MONSTER-MISERY OF LITERATURE. BY A MOUSE BORN OF THE MOUNTAIN. Be under no apprehension gentle public that you are about to be kept in suspense touching the moral of our argumentation as too often in the pamphlets addressed in Johnsonian English to Thompsonian understandings wherein a pennyworth of matter is set forth by a monstrous quantity of phrase. We mean to speak to the point; we mean to enlighten your understanding as by the smiting of a lucifer-match. Refrain therefore from running your eye impatiently along the page as you are doing at this moment in hopes of discovering italicized the secret of the enigma; for we have no intention of keeping you another moment ignorant that the monster-misery of literature is--guess! Which of you hath hit it? The monster-misery of literature is--THE CIRCULATING LIBRARY! In this devout conviction devote we to the infernal gods the memory of the Athenian republic--the first keeper of a circulating library. Every tyro is aware that this Sams or Ebers of antiquity lent out to Ptolemy of Egypt for a first-rate subscription of fifteen talents the works of Euripides Eschylus and Sophocles; thereby affording a precedent for the abominable practice fatal to bookmakers and booksellers which has converted the waters of Castalia into their present disgraceful puddle! Every scribbler of the day who has a Perryian pen in hand is pleased to exercise it on the decline of the drama; one of the legitimate targets of penny-a-liners. But how inadequately are the goose quills and ostrich quills phoenix quills and roc quills of the few standard critics of the age directed towards the monstrous abuse of public patience which will render the Victorian age the sad antithesis of the Elizabethan in the literary history of the land! Content so long as they can get a new work _tale quale_ as a peg whereon to hang the rusty garments of their erudition not a straw care they for the miserable decline and fall of the great empire of letters; an empire overrun by what Goths--what Huns--what Vandals!--by the iniquitous and barbarous hosts of circulating libraries! It has been agreed for some centuries past that the only modern Mæcenas is the publisher. The days of patrons are past; and the author is forced to look for the reward of his labour to the man who by selling the greatest number of copies to the public can bestow the greatest number of pounds upon his pains. In order to augment this amount the bibliopole naturally consults the taste of his customers; and nearly the sole remaining customers of the modern bookseller are--the circulating libraries. For what man in his senses who for an annual mulct of half-a-dozen sovereigns commands the whole range of modern literature would waste his substance in loading his house with books of doubtful interest? Who that by a message of his servant into Bond Street procures the last new novel cut and dry instead of wet from the press and demanding the labour of the paper-knife would proceed to the extremity of a purchase? And the result is that Messrs Folio and Duodecimo in order to procure satisfactory orders from the circulating libraries of the multitudinous cities of this deluded empire issue orders to their helots Mr Scribblescrawl and Mrs Wiredrawn requiring them to produce per annum so many sets of three volumes adapted to the atmosphere wherein they are fated to flourish. It is an avowed fact that the publishers of the day will purchase the copyrights of only such works as ""the libraries will take;"" which libraries besotted by the mystic charm of three volumes immutable as the sacred triad of the Graces or Destinies would negative without a division such a work as the ""Vicar of Wakefield"" were it now to undergo probation. ""Robinson Crusoe"" or ""Paul and Virginia"" would be returned unread to their authors with a civil note of ""extremely sorry to decline "" &c. ""The Man of Feeling"" would be made to feel his insignificance. ""Thinks I to Myself"" might think in vain; and the ""Cottagers of Glenburnie"" retain their rural obscurity. So much for the measure of the maw of the circulating library. Of its taste and palate it is difficult to speak with moderation; for those of Caffraria or Otaheite might be put to the blush. The result however of this fatal ascendancy is that not a publisher who has the fear of the _Gazette_ before his eyes presumes to hazard a guinea on speculations in the belles-lettres. Poetry is seldom if ever published except at the cost of the poet; and the foreman of one of the leading London houses is deputed to apprize aspiring rhymesters that ""his firm considers poetry a mild species of insanity""--_Anglice_ that it does not suit the appetite of the circulating library! For behold! this despot of bookmakers must have length breadth and thickness to fill the book boxes dispatched to its subscribers in the country as well as satisfy in town the demands of its charming subscriber Lady Sylvester Daggerwood and all her daughters. It happens that the said Lady Sylvester does not like Travels unless ""nice little ladylike books of travels "" such as the Quarterly informed us last year in a fit of fribbledom were worthy the neat little crowquills of lady-authors. Nor will she hear of Memoirs unless light sparkling and scandalous as nearly resembling those of Grammont as decency

will allow. Essays she abominates; nor can she exactly understand the use of quartoes unless as Swift describes the merit of ""A Chrysostom to smooth his band in""-- to serve for flattening between the leaves her rumpled embroidery or netting! Now you are simply and respectfully asked beloved public what must be the feelings of a man of genius or of any sensible scholarly individual when after devoting years of his life to a work of standard excellence--a work such as in France would obtain him access to the Academy or in Russia or Prussia a pension and an order of merit--he is told by the publisher who in Great Britain supplies the place of these fountains of honour and reward that ""the public of the present day has no taste for serious reading;"" for Messrs Folio and Duodecimo cannot of course afford to regard a few dons of the universities or a few county bookclubs parsonically presided as representatives of the public! What the disappointed man thus enlightened must think of ""glorious Apollo"" when he goes to bed that night we should be sorry to conjecture! ""The public of the present day""--_Ang._ the subscribers to the circulating libraries--constitute to his cultivated mind a world unknown. The public _he_ has been wasting his life to address is such a public as was addressed by Addison by Swift by Steele or by the greater writers of the days of Elizabeth. ""Bless his fine wits "" we could laugh at his misconception were we not rather inclined to cry! In instances easy to be cited (but that there were miching malecho in the deed ) insult has been added to injury and the anguish depicted in the face of the mortified man of letters been assuaged by friendly advice to ""try his hand at something more saleable--something in the style of Harrison Ainsworth or Peter Priggins!"" O ye Athenians! to what base uses have we come by the influence of your malpractices of old! But all this is far from the blackest side of the picture. You have seen only the fortunes of the rejected of the circulating libraries; wait till you have studied the fate of their favourites--victims whom like the pet-dogs of children the publishers force to stand on their hind-legs and be bedizened in their finery; or pet pussy-cats whom they fondle into wearing spectacles and feeding on macaroones instead of pursuing their avocations as honest mousers. The favourite author of the circulating libraries has a great deal to envy in the treadmill! In the days when there existed a reading in place of a skimming public--in the days when circulating libraries were not--the writer who followed his own devices in the choice of the subject plot title treatment and extent of his book and made his labour a labour of love had some chance of being cherished as the favourite of the fireside; installed on the shelf and taken down like Goldsmith or Defoe or Bunyan for an hour's gossip; cried over by the young girl of the family diverting the holiday of the schoolboy and exercising the eyesight of the good old grandmother. But how is this ever to be achieved nowadays? Who will be ever thumbed over and spelled over as these have been? ""Invent another Vicar or another Crusoe "" say the critics ""and you will see."" We should NOT see! No bookseller would publish them because ""no circulating library would take them;"" for these bibliopoles know to a page what will be taken. Several of them have got and several others have had the conduct of a circulating library on their hands; and so far from venturing to present a single-volumed or double-volumed work to their subscribers they would insist upon the dilution of the genius of Oliver or Daniel into the adequate number of pages ere they risked paper and print. O public! O dear ingenuous public! Think how you might have ceased to delight in even the cosmogony-man if his part had been a hundred times rehearsed in your ears; or what the matchless Lady Blarney and the incomparable Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs (I love as old Primrose says to repeat the whole name) might have become as the ""light conversationists"" of three octavo volumes! Shakspeare was forced to kill Mercutio early in the play lest Mercutio should kill _him_. We feel a devout conviction that Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs would have burked Goldsmith! And then the incomparable Robinson! Conceive the interlarding of a funny Mrs Friday to eke out the matter with a comical king of the Cannibal islands ""to lighten the story""--according to circulating library demand! Unhappy Defoe! thy standing in the pillory had been as nothing compared with such a condemnation! We beseech you therefore deluded public when assured by critical misleadment that such writers no longer exist do as you are often requested to do by letters in the newspapers--from parties remanded by the police-offices for some hanging matter--""suspend your judgment "" or you will deserve credit for very little. We promise you that there _are_ giants on the earth in these days ay and famous giants of their cubits! But when a giant is made to drivel his drivelings are very little better than those of a pigmy. And we swear to you (under correction from the parish vestry which is entitled to half-a-crown an oath ) that the circulating libraries would make a driveler of Seneca! Under the circulating library tyranny Johnson himself would have been forced to break up his long words into smaller pieces to supply due volume for three volumes. Above all we have no hesitation in declaring that the circulating libraries are indictable for manslaughter in the matter of the death of Scott. They killed him body and soul! In better times when books were bought not hired the sale of the first half dozen of his mighty novels would have sufficed both the public and the author for thrice as many years. They would have been purchased by all people of good condition as the works of Richardson were purchased and read and conned and got by heart. But behold! the circulating libraries ""wanted novelty."" It suited them better to invest their capital in half a dozen new and trashy books--such as extend their catalogue from No. 2470 to 2500--instead of half a dozen copies of the one sterling work which increases their stock in trade and diminishes their stock in consols but leaves the catalogue which is the advertisement of their perfections halting at No. 2470. Now as it happened that the same boss of constructiveness which has endowed our language with such a world of creations from the pen of Scott betrayed him also into inventiveness _per_ force of brick and mortar--just as the same bent of genius which created the _Castle of Otranto_ created also that other colossus of lath and plaster _Strawberry Hill_--the author of the Scotch novels was fain to sacrifice to the evil genius of the times; and behold! as the assiduous slave of the circulating libraries he extinguished one of the greatest spirits of Great Britain. But for the hateful factory system of the twice three volumes per annum he would have been still alive among us--happy and happy-making in a green old age--watching over the maturity of his grandchildren and waited upon by the worship of the land. Therefore again we say as we said a short time ago --O ye Athenians! what have ye not to answer for in the consequence of your malpractices of old! The only great success of the day in works of fiction (for the laurels of Bulwer have been spindled among the rest by the factitious atmosphere of the circulating libraries) is that of Boz. And we attribute in a great measure the enormous circulation of his early works to their having set at defiance the paralysing influence of the monster-misery. Shilling numbers were as the dragon's teeth. They rose up like armed men and slew the circulating librarians. People were forced to buy them if they wanted to read them; and they were bought. Those who desired to read ""Night and Morning "" were not forced to purchase it and it was not bought; and the circulation of the two works consequently remains as 2000 to 35 000 copies. The state and prospects of authors however concerns you less dear public than the state and prospects of literature. You are a contemplative body of men and can see into a millstone as far as most nations. You make leagues and anti-leagues for the sake of your morsel of bread; and teach the million to sing to your own tune; and weary of keeping your heads above water tunnel your way below it; nor will you allow the suffering shirtmakers of your metropolis to be put upon nor Don Carlos nor Queen Pomaré nor any other victim of oppression. You applauded Alice Lowe and shook hands with Courvoisier at the gallows; and it is clear you stand no nonsense and bear no malice. Be so good therefore as seriously to consider what sort of figure you will cut in the eyes of posterity if this kind of thing is suffered to go on. There is not one publisher in the three kingdoms (we throw down the gauntlet) who would give an adequate sum of money for any new historical work. There is not one publisher in the three kingdoms who would give even a moderate sum for a poem. We state the case liberally; for our conviction is that they would refuse one poor half-crown. So much for the _prospects_; for without a premium production is null. As regards the state of literature take out your pencils (you all carry pencils to calculate either the long odds or the odds on 'Change ) and make out a list of the works published during the last five years likely to be known _even by name_ a hundred years hence! It is some comfort to feel that _by sight_ they cannot be known--that few of them will survive to disgrace us--that the circulating libraries possess the one merit of wear and tear for the destruction of their filthy generation like Saturn of old; for it would grieve us to think of even the trunks of the two thousandth century being lined with what lines the brains of our contemporaries. So that in the year of grace two thousand and forty-four we shall have the Lady Blarney of Kilburn Square (the Grosvenor Square of that epoch ) enquiring of the Miss Carolina Wilhelmina Amelia Skeggs of Croydon Place (the Belgium Square)--""My dear soul what _could_ those poor people do to amuse themselves? They had positively _no_ books! After Scott's time till the middle of the nineteenth century not a single novelist; after the death of Byron not a poet! I believe there was an historian of the name of Hallam not much heard of; and the other day at a book-stall I picked up an odd volume of an odd writer named Carlyle. But it is really curious to consider how utterly the belles-lettres were in abeyance."" To which of course Miss C. W. A. S.--(even Dr Panurge could not get through the whole name again!)--""My dear love! they had Blackwood's Magazine which like the Koran after the burning of the Alexandrian library supplied the place of ten millions of volumes!"" But alas! some Burchell may be sitting by to exclaim ""FUDGE!"" Some groper into archives will bring forth one of those never-to-be-sufficiently-abominated catalogues of Bond and other streets showing that on a moderate calculation twenty books were published per diem which at the end of three months possessed the value of so many bushels of oyster-shells! And then pray what will you have to say for yourselves O public! from your tombs in Westminster Abbey or your catacombs at Kensal Green? Which among you will dare come forward with blue lights in his hand and accompanied by a trombone like the ghost of Ninus in Semiramide and say--""We warned these people to write for immortality. We told them it was their duty to stick in a few oaks for posterity as well as their Canada poplars and Scotch firs. It was not our fault that they chose to grow nothing but underwood. It was the fault of the circulating libraries which instead of allowing the milk of human genius to set for cream diluted it with _malice prepense_ and drenched us with milk and water even to loathing!"" No dear public! you will put your hand in your breeches' pocket like a crocodile as you do now and say nothing. Yon are fully aware how much of the fault is your own; but you are stultified and hardened to shame. With the disgrace of your National Gallery and National Regency Buildings and Pimlico Palace and all your other vulgarisms and trivialities on your shoulders you bully your way out of your disgrace of duncehood like Mike Lambourne on forgetting his part in the Kenilworth pageant. ""For your part you can do very well without book-learning. You've got Shakspeare and if with that a nation can't face the literature of Europe the deuce is in it! With Cocker's arithmetic and Shakspeare any public that knows what it's about may snap its fingers at the world!"" Such such are the demoralizing results of the ascendancy of the circulating libraries! Such is the monster-misery of literature! Again therefore we say confound those fifteen talents! What have ye not to answer for O ye Athenians! in the consequences of your malpractices of old! MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART XI. ""Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea puft up with wind Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field And Heavens artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in the pitched battle heard Loud 'larums neighing steeds and trumpets clang?"" SHAKSPEARE. Our procession had more than the usual object of those dreadful displays: it was at once an act of revenge and an act of policy. During the period while the gates of the convent shut out the living world from us a desperate struggle had been going on between the two ruling factions. In this contest for life and death the more furious of course triumphed; such is the history of rabble revolution in all ages. The Girondist with his eloquence naturally fell before the Jacobin with his libel; the Girondist affecting a deference for law was trampled by the Jacobin who valued nothing but force; the tongue and the pen were extinguished by the dagger; and this day was the consummation. A debate in the Convention of singular talent and unexampled ferocity had finished by the impeachment of the principal Girondists. Justice here knew nothing of the ""law's delay;"" and the fallen orators now headed our melancholy line bound bareheaded half naked and more than half dead with weariness shame and the sense of ruin;--there could scarcely be more in the blow which put an end to all their perturbations on this side of the grave. We had frequent halts and I had full leisure to gaze around; for rapidly as the guillotine performed its terrible task our procession had been extended by some additional victims from every prison which we passed; and we passed so many that I began to think the city one vast dungeon. What strange curiosity is it that could collect such myriads to look upon us? Every street was crowded with a living mass; every casement was filled; every roof presented a line of eyes straining for a glance below. Instead of the crowd of a populous city I could have believed that I saw the population of a kingdom poured in and compressed into the narrow streets through which we wound our slow way. From time to time a shout arose as some conspicuous member of the Convention made his appearance in the vehicle of death: then execrations scoffs and insults of every bitterness were poured upon the unfortunate being; who seldom attempted to retaliate or make any other return but a gesture of despair or a supplication to be suffered to die in peace. Yet all was not cruelty nor insensibility. I saw instances where friends bold enough to brave the vengeance of the government rushed forward to take a last grasp of the hand that must so soon be cold; and my heart was wrung by partings between still dearer objects and the condemned;--wives rushing forward through the multitude; children held up to their father's arms; beautiful and graceful young women forcing their wild way through the line of troops to take a last look and exchange a last word with those whom they would have rejoicingly followed to the tomb. Our progress lasted half the day and the sun was already near its setting when the waggon in which I sat turned into the Place de Grève. But I must I dare describe no more. I shall not say what I saw in that general receptacle of the day of horror--the range of low biers which lay surrounding the scaffold now the last resting-place of men who had but a few hours before flourished in the full possession of every faculty of our being; and still more with all those faculties in the full ardour of public life--with brilliant ambition to stimulate with prospects of boundless power to reward and with that most exhilarating and tempting spell of human existence popular acclamation resounding in their ears. I had known some of them I had seen then all; and now I saw those highly gifted vigorously practised and fiery-souled men shaken down in an instant like a shock of corn; swept to death as if they were but so many weeds; extinguished in a moment and in another moment flung aside a heap of clay to make room for other dead. And this was Republicanism--this the reign of knowledge the triumph of freedom the glory of political regeneration! Even in that most trying moment when I saw the waggon in which I remained the last survivor but one give up my unfortunate companion to the executioner my parting words to him as I shook his cold hand were--""Better the forest and the savage than republicanism! Doubly cursed be murder when it takes the name of freedom!"" I then resolved to see and hear no more; gave a brief and still a fond recollection to England; and committing my spirit to a still higher care I bowed my forehead on my hands like one laying down his head for the final blow! But while I was still thus absorbed I heard a sudden shout the trampling of cavalry and the sound of trumpets. I again raised my eyes. A strong body of French troopers covered with the dust of the high-road and evidently exhausted by a long journey were passing along the _quai_ which bordered the scene of execution. In the midst of these squadrons were seen Austrian standards surmounted by the tricolor and evidently carried as trophies. The rumour now ran quickly through the spectators that Flanders had been entered that the enemy had been routed and that a column of Austrian prisoners was passing through the streets of which those squadrons formed the escort. What could now detain the multitude? The public curiosity would probably have defied grape-shot; with one burst they poured from the square. When the populace went why should the National Guard stay behind?--were they not as much entitled to satisfy their curiosity? Three-fourths of the guard instantly piled their muskets leaving them in care of their less zealous or more lazy fellow warriors and ran after the multitude. The executioners were like other men; equally touched by their ""country's glory "" and fond of a spectacle. They dropped by twos and threes quietly from the sides of the scaffold and made their way to the _quai_. In the mean time I was left disregarded; but I was still fettered or I should have jumped from the waggon and taken my chance for escape. All had evidently come to a full stop and even that horrible machine above my head had ceased to clank and crush; for what is a spectacle in France without an audience? The chief headsman with two or three of his assistants true to their post alone remained--waiting for the return of the people; yet even they cast many a lingering glance towards the pageant whose plumes flags and kettledrums passing across the entrance of the square made their patriotism more difficult from minute to minute. At length the trumpets died away and to my renewed despondency I saw the crowd again thicken towards me and the few remaining vehicles which that day now sinking into twilight was to empty of their victims. But I was again respited. While I awaited the summons to mount the fatal steps a party of dragoons rode into the square seized every waggon without a moment's delay and ordered the whole to be driven out for the reception of a column of wounded both French and Austrians; who having been brought to the city gates now waited the means of transport to the great military hospital at Vincennes. In this country of expedients the first suggestion is always the best. The colonel of dragoons in charge of the column had applied to the government for the means of carriage; they referred him to the municipality who referred him to the staff of the National Guard; who referred him to the subprefect; who referred him to his subordinate functionaries; who knew nothing on the subject; until the colonel indignant at the impertinences of office accidentally heard that the requisite conveyances were to be seen in front of the Hotel de Ville. Regarding it as the natural right of the soldier to be first served in all cases he sent off a squadron at full speed to make his seizure. Nothing could be more complete. The affair was settled at once. The remonstrances of the civil officers against our being thus withdrawn from their grasp were answered by bursts of laughter at their impudence and blows with the flat of the sabre for their presumption; for next to the open reprobation of the army for the civic cruelties was their scorn of the civic functionaries. The National Guard made some feeble display of resistance but soon showed that they had no wish to try their bayonets against those expert handlers of the sword; and the event was that the whole train of fifty or sixty waggons of which about a tenth remained full were hurried away at full gallop down to the Boulevard leaving the scaffold a sinecure. At the barrier a new arrangement took place; the wounded were piled into the carriages along with us and the whole were marched under escort to the grand depot of the garrison of Paris. I had seen Vincennes before and under trying circumstances; its frowning physiognomy had not been altered nor as a prison was it more congenial to my feelings than before. Yet on hearing the hollow tread of our horses' feet over its drawbridge and seeing myself actually within its massive walls I experienced a feeling of satisfaction which I had never expected to enjoy within bolts and bars. In this world contrast is every thing. I had been so fevered with alternate peril and escape so sick of doubt and so perplexed with the thousand miseries of flight; that to find myself secure from casualty for the next twenty-four hours and relieved from the trouble of thinking for myself or thinking of any thing was a relief which amounted almost to a pleasure. I never laid myself down to sleep with greater thankfulness than when stretched on the wooden guard-bed of the barrack-room where the whole crowd of prisoners were packed together I listened to the beat of the night-drum and the changing of the guard. They told me that for once at least I might sleep without a police-officer to bid me like Master Barnardine ""arise and be hanged."" Time in a garrison is the most lingering of all conceivable things except time in a prison. I had it loaded with the double weight. There was no resource to be found in the fractured and bandaged portion of human nature round me. The Austrians were brave boors who spoke nothing but Styrian or Carinthian or some border dialect which nothing but barbarism had ever heard of and which nothing but Austrian organs could have ever pronounced. The French recruits were from provinces which had their own ""beloved patois "" and which to the Parisian held nearly the same rank of civilized respect as the Kingdom of Ashantee. Besides it was to be remembered that all round me was a scene of suffering--the dismal epilogue of a field of battle; or rather the dropping of the curtain on the royal stage when the glitter and the noise were gone by and the actors reduced from their pomps and vanities and sent home to the shivering necessities of poor human existence. Life to me was now as stagnant as the ditch round the fortress; all feeling was as languid as the heavy air of our casemates. The mind lost all curiosity relative to the external world; and beyond the casual knowledge which dropped with all official mystery from the lips of our worthy governor and which told us that the war still continued and that the armies of the Republic were ""invincible beyond all power of human resistance;"" we could not have been much more separated from sympathy even with the capital itself if we had been transported to one of the belts of Jupiter. But a new alarm now seized me. The extreme indifference with which I had begun to regard all things at length struck the eye of one of the military surgeons who had been sent from Paris in consequence of the influx of prisoners. He seemed to take some interest in my consumptive visage and lack-lustre eye; asked me whether ""some of my family had not died early in life "" and offered to dictate my pursuits and regimen. The French are by nature a kindly people with this one proviso that though every Frenchman on earth is more or less a _persifleur_ you must never practise the art upon himself. M. Rossignol Perigord Pantoufle would have been an incomparable subject for the exercise for he was eccentricity from top to toe. But the state of my spirits prevented my taking any share in the burlesque which too frequently befell this worthy person; and he attached himself to me as a sort of refuge from the sly but stinging persecution of his fellow-officers. When the hen-wife plucks the goose's bosom it makes her nestle more closely to her goslings. It was the calamity of my friend Pantoufle to be born with what the novelists call a ""too feeling heart;"" he was always in love with some one or another and always jilted. But misfortune was thrown away upon him; he was still a complete sensitive plant shivering and shrinking at every new touch: a dish of _blancmange_ could not have shaken with a slighter impulse nor a shape of jelly more easily dissolved. He was now past fifty; and never much indebted to nature in his youth time the foe to beauty had been more than a foe to the doctor. I never recollect to have seen a figure or physiognomy less fitted to disturb the female soul. But he made me the confidant of his woes; and if I did not like Desdemona ""to him seriously incline "" at least I never laughed amusing as were his agonies and diverting as was his despair. I had either the presence of mind or the feebleness of pulse to look and listen;--the art has succeeded in higher places than prisons. Yet all was not sentimentality with him. He was an honest and high-spirited man in the main. He questioned me--and no question could then be a bolder one at the time--in what manner he could best serve me. My answer was immediate--""Find out the commercial house of Elnathan and tell the head of the family that I am here."" The service was done and I received for answer on my friend's return from his ride to the Rue Vivienne--""That the firm kept no account with any person of my name; and that they had no desire to have any further application on the subject."" The doctor too had been received with such gathering of black brows and such murmurs between indignation and astonishment; that if Rabbi Elnathan had not been deemed altogether beneath the vengeance of ""an officer in the service of the Republic "" the consequence would have been a proposal to choose his own time to be run through the body in the Champs Elysées. It was late when my ambassador had returned and I had begun to feel some alarm for his peril by other than the shafts of Cupid in the rashness of exposing him to the jealous eye of his government or perhaps to the denunciation of the Jewish firm who to screen themselves might hasten with the intelligence to the first police-office. And I had an uneasy walk of a couple of hours gazing from the ramparts for every movement in the direction of the capital. The night was calm and the glow of the lamps in the streets strikingly marked their outline; when on a sudden the sky was filled with flame of every colour shot up in all directions the cannon round the barriers began to roar and Montmartre was in a perpetual blaze. It was plain that some extraordinary event had occurred; but whether this were the fall of the triumvirate or of their enemies a new revolution or a new monarch was beyond our knowledge; we were all hermetically sealed up in Vincennes; and if Paris had been buried in its own catacombs at the moment the news would have been doled out to us only in the segments which suited the dignity of the governor. But Pantoufle for once was popular in the fortress. If he had brought nothing to raise my spirits his tidings threw the garrison into ecstasy. The Republic ""had gained a great victory "" whose value was enhanced by the previous disasters of the campaign. The favourite of the French armies too had gained that victory. This was another feature of the rejoicing. Dumourier was one of the people; ""no noble no aristocrat no son of landed wealth no lord of forests and feeder on privileges."" He had been a simple captain of engineers; he was now conqueror of those Austrian provinces on which France had cast an eager eye for centuries. That prize which all the monarchs of France with all their titled marshals had never been able to seize ""the Republic with a republican army and a republican general had won in the first month of her first invasion."" The garrison of course had its fireworks its salute from the ramparts and its _feu de joie_. But in the midst of the festivity I observed Pantoufle's countenance loaded with some mighty secret. He broke it to me with the air of a man revealing a conspiracy. Taking me on one side while the ramparts were blazing with blue-lights and every man woman and child of the garrison were chattering huzzaing and waltzing round us; he communicated to me the solemn fact that his heart had been pierced again. This execution had been done while he was waiting in Elnathan's counting-house: a young Rachel or Rebecca had accidentally glanced across his sight with such inimitable eyes that his fate was decided for life. The world was valueless without her; and my particular advice was requested as to the way in which he was to make his approaches. I advised a sonnet. He smiled and acknowledged that he had anticipated my advice and had spent an hour of that twilight dear to love and the muses during which he had kept me in all the discomforts of suspense devoting all the energies of his soul to the composition of a song to the beauties of the irresistible Israelite. Boileau has told the world that a poet once insisted on his listening to an ode of his composition while they were kneeling together at high mass. Our situation might not be quite as solemn but the doctor was quite as pressing; and seated on the corner of a bastion while the guns were roaring above our heads I listened to an effusion in the most established style of sexagenarian poetry. ""Rachel est sans désirs C'est un bouton de rose Que la nature arrose Et dispose à s'ouvrir. Dans son cour sans detour Il n'est pas jour encore; Il attend pour eclore Un rayon de l'amour!"" I listened without a laugh and won the eternal gratitude of the writer. Nothing could be clearer than that whatever the effusion might owe to the inspiration of Cupid Apollo had no share in its charm. On my part it would probably have been an act of the truest friendship to have bid him burn his tablets forswear poetry for ever and regard himself as forbidden the temptations of the maids of Parnassus. But I should have broken his heart. I took the simpler but more effectual cure--I bade him find out this idol and marry her. Before I forget him and his sorrows let me mention that he took my advice and that on my return to the Continent some years after I found the poet transferred into the benedict with a pretty wife at his side and a circle of lively children at his knee--an active thriving and rational member of the community. I always quote the doctor for the superiority of the soothing system. The vinegar of criticism would have festered the wounds of his vanity; the art of (must I call it) flattery healed them. It left a scar I acknowledge; for the doctor still wrote verses and still had a lurking propensity for climbing the slippery slope of poetic renown. But the realities of life are fortunate correctives to this passion and like Piron luckily ""Il ne fut rien Pas même academician."" But on this night our ""intercour

e of souls"" was interrupted by one of those painful evidences of the renewal of hostilities which shows war in its truest aspect. A long column of vehicles which we had seen moving for some time across the plain and whose movement by the torches of the escort looked from the ramparts like the trailing of an immense phosphoric serpent approached the gates. The announcement was soon made that it was a large detachment of prisoners and wounded who had arrived from the desperate but decisive battle in Flanders. All the medical officers of the garrison were immediately in requisition; and the sights which I saw even when standing at the gate as the carts and cars rolled over the drawbridge were sufficient to startle feelings more used to such terrible demonstrations of the folly or the frenzy of the world. But this was no time to indulge indolent sensibilities. Of course I have no desire to enter into the startling details of that spectacle. But mastering myself so far as to volunteer my attendance for the time in the hospital the thought often occurred to me that there could be no better lesson for the love of conquest than a walk through a military hospital after the first battle. This anxious service lasted during the greater part of the night; for the wounded amounted to little less than a thousand both French and foreign. But as I was returning to my mattress I recollected the countenance of a prisoner standing at the door of one of the chambers set apart for officers of the higher rank. The man put his hand to his shako and addressed me in German;--he was one of the squadron of Hulans whom I had commanded in the Prussian retreat and who had rejoined his regiment after the skirmish with the French dragoons. He expressed great delight in finding that I was a survivor. But ""on whom was he now in attendance?"" ""On Major-General Count Varnhorst."" He told me that the general had volunteered to join the Austrian army in the Netherlands and taking the Hulan with him had been wounded in covering the retreat been found on the field and was now in the hands of the surgeons in that chamber! I pass briefly over this scene. I found my brave friend apparently at the point of death; he had been wounded by the sabre trampled under horses' hoofs and crushed in every imaginable way in the course of the desperate defence which he made against an overwhelming force of the enemy's cavalry. The officers of the escort were loud in reports of his almost frantic gallantry; but he was now so exhausted by the length of the march as to be almost insensible: he knew no one; and his case after a day or two was pronounced beyond all cure. It was then that I obtained permission to watch over him and at least provide that he should not be disturbed in his closing hours. Care is often more than science and care succeeded in this instance against all the ominous looks of the medical staff. I so much delighted Pantoufle by having thus overthrown the authority of a pragmatical _confrère_ who had been peculiarly stern in his prognostics; that he made the proposal to me of joining him in the chances of his profession. ""I shall fix myself in Paris "" said he; ""fame will be the inevitable consequence and fortune will follow; here you shall be my successor."" I fought off the prospect as well as I could and pleaded my want of professional knowledge. His countenance at the words would have been an incomparable study of mingled burlesque and scorn. He instanced a whole crowd of leading men whom he unceremoniously designated as having made fortunes not by knowledge but simply by its absence. ""Their ignorance "" said he ""gives them effrontery and effrontery is the grand secret of fame. You are an Englishman and a philosopher ""--the latter expression uttered with a curl of the lip and an elevation of the brow which evidently translated the word a fool. ""You take things circuitously while success lies in the straight line; thus you fail we triumph."" I admitted the rapidity of his countrymen. ""In France "" said he or rather exclaimed ""two things conduct to renown; and but two--to stop at nothing and never to admit ignorance in any thing; in medicine to cure or kill without delay; in surgery to operate at all risks. If the patient dies there are fifty reasons for it; if the surgeon hesitates the public will allow of but one. Politics are not within my line and the subject is just now a delicate one; but you see that the secret of renown is to run on the edge of the scaffold. In soldiership the principle is the same--always to fight whenever you can find any body to fight with; you will deserve to be famous or deserve to be guillotined.' ""Perhaps both "" I remarked. ""Nothing more probable. But still something is done; inaction does nothing. Look at Dumourier; he has had no more necessity for fighting this battle than for jumping from the parapet of Notre-Dame. But he has fought he has conquered; and instead of throwing himself from the parapet of Notre-Dame which he probably would have done in the next fortnight's _ennui_ in Paris all Paris is placarded with his bulletins."" ""But he _might_ have been beaten; he might have been ruined or brought to trial for rashness; or to an Austrian prison like La Fayette."" ""Of course he might. But the question is of the fact--let prophets deal with the future. He _has_ beaten the Austrians; he _has_ conquered Flanders; he _has_ made himself the first man of France by the act for which if he had been an Austrian general he would have been brought to a court-martial his victory pronounced contrary to rule his bravery a breach of etiquette and the rest of his days if he was not shot on the ramparts of Vienna spent in a dungeon in Prague. Take my advice; dash at every thing; risk is the grand talent--adventure the philosopher's stone. So listen to me; you shall be admitted to the Hotel Dieu as an _élève_; become my assistant and make your fortune."" I stared at this sudden explosion of the doctor's rhetoric; but I should have remembered that he was under the double inspiration of new-born love and reluctant rhyme. Varnhorst at length attempted to walk as far as the ramparts and I was enjoying the pride of being able to exhibit my patient to the garrison; when just as we were issuing from the long and chill corridors into the fresh air and sunshine I observed the commandant coming towards me with a peculiar air of gravity attended by several of his officers. Bowing to Varnhorst with military etiquette he took him aside and communicated to him a few words which made his pale countenance look paler still. ""My friend is brave "" was the Prussian's reply turning a glance to where I stood. ""I have seen him in the field. I am satisfied that wherever he is he will do his duty."" The commandant now walked up to me and with an air of embarrassment put a sealed letter into my hands. It was from the minister of foreign affairs and was marked _secret and immediate_. I opened it and I shall not say with what feelings I saw--an order for my attendance at the office of the minister signed ROBESPIERRE. If the grim majesty of death had put his signature in person to this order it would not have borne a more mortal aspect. It was a pang! yet the pang did not continue long. Inevitable things are not the hardest to be borne. At all events there was no time for pondering on the subject. The carriage which had brought the order and the government _huissier_ was at the gate. Varnhorst gave me one grasp of his honest hand as I left him; the commandant wished me ""good fortune."" I hurried into the carriage and we flew on the road to Paris. On reaching the barrier we turned off to the quarter of the Luxembourg and stopped at the gate of a moderate-sized house where my conductor and I entered. I was shown into a small and simple room; where I found a man advanced in years and of a striking aspect. He said not a word; I had no inclination to speak. The one or two hesitating syllables which I addressed to him were answered only by a bow and a look as if he did not understand the language; and I awaited the approach of the terror of France the horror of Europe during half an hour which seemed to me interminable. The door at last opened a valet came in and the name of ""Robespierre"" thrilled through every fibre; but instead of the frowning giant to which my fancy had involuntarily attached the name I saw a slight figure highly dressed and even with the air of a fop on the stage. Holding a perfumed handkerchief in one hand which he waved towards his face like one indulging in the fragrance and a diamond snuff-box in the other he advanced with a sliding step; and after a sallow smile to me and a solemn bow to the old man congratulated himself on the ""honour of the acquaintance which he had been indebted to his friend Elnathan for making in my person."" I was all astonishment: I had come in expectation of receiving my death-warrant--I had a reception like an ambassador. I now perplexed myself with the idea that I had been mistaken for some stranger in the foreign diplomacy; but I was instantly set right by his pronouncing my name and making some allusions to ""the influence of my family in the British Parliament."" Yet I was still in the tiger's den and I expected to feel the talons. I was happily disappointed; the claw was sheathed in velvet. A slight refection was brought in by an embroidered domestic and it was evidently the wish of this tremendous demagogue to appear the man of refinement at least in my instance. ""My friend Elnathan "" said he ""has informed me that you wish to return to England?"" This was pronounced in the meekest tone of interrogatory; and with eyes scarcely raised to either of us he awaited my confirmation of his idea. It was given unhesitatingly; and my glance at the countenance of the old man was answered by another which told me that I saw the correspondent of my friend Mordecai. ""The circumstances are simply these "" said the dictator in the same delicate tone; ""the government has occasion to arrange some matters of importance with the British cabinet. The successes of the Republic have raised jealousies which it is for the advantage of human nature that we should reconcile if possible. France and England are the only free countries: their hostility can only be injurious to freedom."" He paused and his cold grey eye after traversing the floor was slowly raised to me. I admitted my perfect agreement in the opinion that ""wherever national conflict could be avoided it was the business of all rational men to maintain peace."" I saw a grim smile pass over his sallow features probably at having found another dupe. Elnathan sat in profound silence without a muscle moved. Robespierre rising took from a portfolio a letter and put it into the Jew's hand. He now had got over that strange embarrassment with which his habitual nervousness had marked his first address and spoke largely and with a considerable expression of authority. ""The English government "" said he ""have expressed some unnecessary uneasiness at the progress of opinion in Europe. The late victory which has decided the fate of the Austrian Netherlands will probably increase that uneasiness. Communications through the usual channels are slow imperfect and open to espionage on all sides. I have therefore applied to my friend Elnathan to point out some individual in whom he has perfect confidence and through whom the communication can be made. He has named you."" Elnathan with his huge hands clasped on his breast and his bushy brows drawn deep over his eyes bent forward with almost oriental affirmation. ""When will you be ready to set out for Calais?"" ""This moment "" was my willing answer. ""No we are not quite prepared."" He walked for a while about the room pondering on the subject; then turning to Elnathan he directed the Jew to get ready some papers connected with the financial dealings which his English brethren were then beginning to carry on extensively throughout Europe. Those were to be arranged by next day and for those I must wait. ""You shall be under the care of Elnathan "" said the master of my fate. ""He will obtain your passports from the Foreign Office and you will leave Paris to-morrow evening at furthest. We must avoid all suspicion Elnathan "" said he turning to the Jew. ""Paris is a hot-bed of spies. Apropos where do you propose to spend the evening?"" My mind glanced at Vincennes and his eye cold as it was caught my startled conception. ""No your return to-night to the fortress would only set all the tongues of Paris in motion to-morrow. You must be seen in public to-night at the opera the theatre or where you will. You must figure as an Englishman travelling at his pleasure and his leisure--_a Milor_."" ""Madame Roland gives a soiree to-night "" humbly interposed the Jew. ""Ha!--that is the best of all. You must go there. You will be seen by all the world. Elnathan will introduce you to the 'philosophic lady' of the circle."" He then resumed his pacing round the room. I could observe the vulpine expression of his visage the twitching of his hands the keen sidelong look of a man living in perpetual alarm. We prepared to take our leave; but he now suddenly resumed the _petit-maître_ flourished his perfumed handkerchief again gave a passing smile at the mirror and offered me the honours of his snuff-box with the affectation of the stage. But as we reached the door of the apartment he made a long single stride which brought him up close to me. ""Remember sir "" said he in a stern voice wholly unlike the past--""You have it in charge from me to inform the government of your country of the actual feeling of France. It is true that there are madmen among us--Brissotins Girondists and other enthusiasts--who talk of war. I tell you that they _are_ madmen and that _I_ will have no war.--There may be conspirators who think to shake the existing _régime_ of the republic and look to war as the means of raising themselves on its ruins.--_I_ tell you and you may tell your cabinet that they will not accomplish their objects here; and that if they accomplish them it will be the fault and the folly alone of England. Impress those truths on the minds of your countrymen: the Republic desires no war; her principle is peace her purpose is peace her prosperity is peace. There will be there shall be there _can_ be no war."" He folded his arms and stood like a pillar till we withdrew. I happened to ascertain shortly afterwards that on this very day Robespierre had presided at a council which has sent off orders to Dumourier to open the Scheldt the notorious and direct preliminary to war with England. Such is the sincerity of diplomacy! I remained during the rest of the day with Elnathan. His hotel was splendid and all that surrounded him gave the impression of great opulence; but it was obvious that he lived like a man in a gunpowder magazine. He had several sons and daughters whom in the terrors of the time he had contrived to send among his connexions in Germany; and he now lived alone his wife having been dead for some years. All his wealth could not console him for the anxiety of his position; and doubtless he would have perished long before in the general massacre of the opulent except for the circumstance of being the chief channel of moneyed communication between the government and Germany. In the course of our lonely but most _recherché_ dinner he explained to me slightly the means of my recent preservation. The police-officer had acquainted him with my being the bearer of a letter from Mordecai. The intelligence reached him just in time to save me by a daring claim of my person as an agent of the English ministry. He had then lost sight of me and began to think that I had perished; when the application of my friend the doctor told him where I was to be found. The message of the head of the Republic requiring a confidential bearer of documents struck him as affording an opportunity of my liberation; and though the palpable absurdity of my worthy friend Pantoufle prevented any communication with _him_ no time was lost in proposing my name to authority. ""And now "" said my entertainer after drinking my safe arrival in a bumper of imperial tokay ""En avance for Madame Roland."" We drove to a splendid mansion in the Rue de la Revolution. The street in front was crowded with equipages and it was with some difficulty that we could make our way through the long and stately suite of rooms. The house had belonged to the Austrian ambassador; and on the declaration of war it had been taken possession of by the Republic without ceremony. I observed to Elnathan that ""to judge from the pomp of the furniture republicanism was not republican every where."" ""Nowhere but in the streets or the prisons "" was his reply in a whisper. ""Since the Austrian left it the whole hotel has been furnished anew at the most profuse expense which I had the honour of supplying. Roland is a great personage an honest nobody a mill-horse at the wheel of office. He is probably drudging over his desk at this moment; but Madame is of another mould. ""La voilà!"" He turned suddenly and made a profound bow to a very showy female who had advanced from a group for the purpose of receiving the Jew and the stranger. I had now for the first time the honour of seeing this remarkable personage. Her figure was certainly striking and her physiognomy conveyed a great deal of her character for intelligence and decision. She had evidently dressed herself on the model of the _classique_; and though not handsome enough for a Venus nor light enough for a nymph she might have made a tolerable Minerva. She had probably some thoughts of the kind; for before we had time to make our bows she threw herself into an attitude of the Galerie des Antiques and with her eyes fixed profoundly on the ground awaited our incense. But when this part was played the idol condescended to become human and she spoke with that torrent of language which her clever countrywomen have at unrivaled command. She was ""delighted charmed enchanted to make my acquaintance. She had owed many marks of friendship to M. Elnathan; but this surpassed them all--she admired the English--they were always the friends of liberty--France was now beginning a race in the arena of freedom. The rivalry was brilliant the prize was inestimable."" I could only bow. Again ""she was enraptured to see an Englishman; the countryman of Milton and Wilkes of Charles Fox and William Tell--she had been lately studying English history and had wept floods of tears over the execution of William III.--_Enfin_ she hoped that Shakspeare 'ce beau ce superbe Shakspeare ' was in good health and meant to give the world many many more charming tragedies."" She had now discharged her first volley and she wheeled back upon a group of members of the Convention grim and sullen-looking sages with wild hair hanging over their shoulders and the genuine Carmagnole physiognomy. With those men she was evidently plunged in vehement discussion and her whole volume of politics was flung at their heads with as little mercy as her literary stores had been poured upon me. But the crowd pressed towards another object of curiosity and I followed it under the guidance of my Asmodeus to a music room splendidly fitted up and filled with the most select orchestra of the capital. But it was an amateur that was there to attract all eyes and ears. ""Madame de Fontenai "" whispered the Jew as he glanced towards a woman of a remarkably expressive countenance and statue-like form half sitting half reposing on a sofa--surrounded by a group soliciting her for a ""few notes a suspiration a _soupçon_""--of as Elnathan observed ""one of the most delicious voices which had ever crossed the Pyrenees "" and the Jew had all the habitual connoisseurship of his nation. At last the siren consented and a harp was brought and placed before her with the same homage which might have attended an offering to the Queen of Cyprus in her own island three thousand years ago; and rather letting her hand drop among the strings than striking them and rather breathing out her feelings than performing any music of mortal composition she sang one of the fantastic but deep reveries of passion of ""the sweet south."" SARABANDA. ""Tus ojos y los mios Se miran y hablan. Pero los Corazones No se declaran. Mas te prevengo Que si tu no te explicas Yo no te entiendo. ""Las dudas de un amante No han de saberse Que al decirlas se sabe. Que desmerecen. No--en el silencio No son pensamientos D'el mas aprecio.""[14] The song closed in a burst of plaudits as general and marked as if they had been given to a _prima donna_ in a theater and she received them as if she was in a theatre. ""You should be presented to Madame de Fontenai "" was my guide's suggestion. ""She is our reigning _célébrité_ at present as Madame Roland is our _publicité_. You see we are nice in our distinctions.--I shall probably to-night show you another a very handsome creature indeed without half the talents of either but with more admirers than both; who has obtained the title of our _felicité_."" ""I shall be delighted to be made known to her but give me the _carte du pays_. Who or what is she?"" ""The daughter of Cabarus the Spanish ambassador here some years ago. She is now a widow rich giving the most _recherché_ suppers followed by all the world and as she declares _persecuted_ by M. Tallien; who as perseverance is nine-tenths of success in every thing will probably succeed in making her Madame Tallien."" I had now the honor of being presented and was received with very flattering attention. This I probably owed to the Jew who seemed to have the key to every one's smiles as he had to most of their escrutoires. She was certainly a person of most distinguished appearance. Not handsome so far as beauty depends on feature; for she had the olive tinge of her country Spain and she had the _not_ Spanish ""petit nez retroussé."" She required distance for fascination. But her figure was fine and never was any costume more studied to exhibit it in all its graces. Accustomed as I had become to foreign life I must acknowledge that I was a little surprised at the unhesitatingly _classical_ development of her form;--arms naked to the shoulder or clasped only with golden serpents; a robe _à la Diane_ and succinct as ever huntress wore; silver sandals a jeweled cestus and a tunic of white satin deeply embroidered with gold depending simply to the knee! But when she placed me on the sofa beside her and entered into conversation every thing was forgotten but her incomparable elegance of manner. She had singular brilliancy of eye; it almost spoke it perpetually flashed and it filled up the pauses when she ceased to speak with a meaning absolutely mental. Her language was animated and intelligent; sometimes in a tone of gentle and touching confidence which made the hearer almost think that he was looking at her soul through her vivid countenance. Before a few minutes had elapsed I could fully comprehend her title to the renown of the most captivating conversationist of Paris. As I at length relinquished this enviable and envied position to give way to the crowd who brought their tribute to the _fateuil_ or rather the shrine of this dazzling woman--""You have still "" said my companion ""to see another of our sovereigns; for as we have a triumvirate in the Tuileries the world of taste is ruled by three rivals; and they are curiously characteristic of the classes from which they have sprung. The lady of the mansion you must have perceived to be republican in every sense of the word--clever undoubtedly but as undoubtedly bourgeoise; intelligent in no slight degree but too much in earnest for elegance; perpetually taking the lead on those desperate subjects in which women can only be and ought to be smatterers; and all this to the infinite amusement of her hearers and the unbounded terror of her meek and very helpless husband."" I remarked ""that she had at least the important merit of giving very splendid entertainments."" ""Yes and of also possessing as honest a heart as she possesses a rash brain. She is kind generous and even rational where she has not a revolution to make or to ruin. But suffer her to touch on politics and you might as well bring a lunatic into the full moon."" ""But that singular being to whom we have just been listening and whose song I shall hear to-night in my dreams--can she be a politician a republican? I have never seen a countenance more likely to be contemptuous of the _canaille_!"" ""You are perfectly in the right. She has a sphere of her own which has no more to do with our world than if she lived in the evening-star. She exists simply to enjoy homage and to reward it as you have seen by a song or a smile; yet she has been on the verge of the scaffold. Some of our most powerful political characters are contending for her influence her fortune or her hand; and whether the contest will end in raising M. Tallien to the head of the Republic or extinguishing him within the week is a question which chance alone can decide.--She may yet be a queen."" ""She seems fitter to be a Circe or a Calypso. Or if a queen she would be a Cleopatra."" ""No "" said Elnathan with the only laugh which I had seen on his solemn visage during the night. ""She has known too much of courts to endure royalty. She reigns as the widow of M. de Fontenai. If Tallien falls she will have the power of choosing from all his successors. When old age comes at last and conquests are hopeless she will turn _devote_ fly to her native Spain abjure the face of man spend her money on wax-dolls and cockle-shells; and after being worshipped by the multitude as a saint and panegyrized by the monks as a miracle will die with her face turned to Paris after all as good Mussulmen send their last breath in the direction of Mecca."" We now plunged into the centre of a circle of men in military costume full of the war and criticising Dumourier's campaign with the utmost severity. As I listened; with some surprise at the multiplicity of errors which the most successful general of France had contrived to squeeze into a single month of operations I observed a man of a pale thin visage like one suffering from ill health or excessive mental toil but of a singularly intellectual expression; standing at a slight distance from the group of tacticians with a quiet smile. ""Let me have the honour of presenting M. Marston to the minister at war "" was my introduction to the celebrated Carnot; with whom Elnathan seemed to be on peculiar terms of intimacy. The minister entered at once and good-humouredly into conversation. ""You must not think our favourite general "" said he ""altogether the military novice which those gentlemen of the National Guard have decided him to be. I feel an additional interest in the question because I had a little official battle to fight to place him at the head of the army of Flanders. But I saw that he had military talent and that with a republic cancels all sins."" I made some passing remark on the idleness of disputing the ability of an officer who answered cavils by conquest observing that the only rational altar raised by the Romans a people of warriors was to ""Good Fortune."" ""Ah yes you think in the Choiseul style that the first question to be asked in choosing a general was 'is he lucky?' I must own notwithstanding that our city warriors have been of the opinion""--and a slight movement curled his lip--""that General Dumourier has fought his battle against principle. But they do not perceive that _there_ lies the very merit for which the Republic must uphold him. His troops were in an exhausted country; they had but provisions for two days. He must fight at once or retreat. Another general might have retreated; and made his apology by the state of his haversacks. Dumourier took the other alternative: he fought; and the general who fights is the only general who gains victories."" One of the tacticians at whom he had indulged in a sneer Santerre the commandant of the city horse a huge and heavy hero with enormous jackboots and a clattering sabre now strode up to us and pronounced that the campaign had been hitherto ""against all rule."" ""You mistake my good friend "" said the now half-angry minister--""you mistake acting above rule for acting against rule. Our war is new our force is new our position is new; and we must meet the struggle by new means every where. Follow the routine and all is lost. Invent act hazard strike and we shall triumph as Dumourier has done--France is surrounded with enemies. To conquer we must astonish. If we wait to be attacked we must feel the weakness of defence--the spirit of the French soldier is attack. Within the frontier he is a bird in a cage; beyond it he is a bird in the air. Why has France always triumphed in the beginning of a war? because she has always invaded. The French soldier must march he must fight he must feel that he hazards every thing before he rises to that pitch of daring that ardour that _elan_ by which he gains every thing. Let him like the Greek burn his ships behind him and from that moment he is invincible."" I listened with speechless interest to this development of the principles on which the great war of Europe was to be sustained. The speaker uttered his oracular sentences with a glow which left his hearers almost as breathless as himself. I could imagine that I saw before me the living genius of French victory. While we were standing silenced by this burst; an incident occurred as if to give demonstration to his theory; an aide-de-camp entered the room bringing despatches from the army of Flanders. He had but just arrived in Paris and not finding the war-minister at his bureau had followed him here. Of course the strongest conceivable curiosity existed; but not a syllable was to be learned from the official mystery of the aide-de-camp. He made his advance to the minister deposited the despatch in his hands and then drew up his stately figure impervious to all questioning. Carnot retired to an alcove to read the missive and in the mean time the general anxiety was an absolute fever. The dance ceased the tables of loto and faro were deserted the whole business of life was broken up and five hundred of the handsomest the most brilliant and the best dressed of the earth were standing on tiptoe in an agony of suspense. It would have justified a counter-revolution. At length Carnot probably wholly forgetting the scene of suffering which he had left behind came forward with the important despatch open in his hand. When he read the date and pronounced the words ""Headquarters Brussels "" all was known and all was rapture. The French deserve good news beyond all other people of the globe for none ever enjoy it so much. I thought that they would have embraced the little minister to death; no living man certainly was ever nearer being pressed into Elysium. Absolute shouts of _Vive la Republique_! and plaudits from innumerable pairs of the most delicate hands echoed through the whole suite of _salons_. Madame the lady of the mansion made a set speech to him at the conclusion of which she rushed on him with open arms and kissed him on both cheeks ""_Au nom de la Republique_."" Even the ethereal Madame de Fontenai condescended so far to stoop to human feelings as to move from her couch advance drooping her fine eyes and with her hand on her bosom like a sultana bend her magnificent head in silent homage before him. I watched the pantomime of this matchless creature with a full acknowledgment of its beauty. A single word would have impaired it; but she did not utter a syllable. On retiring she slowly raised her expressive countenance fixing her eyes above as if she thanked some visionary protector of France for this crowning triumph; and then with hands clasped and step by step sank back into the crowd. Supper was announced and we were led into a new suite of rooms filled with all the luxuries and hospitalities of a most sumptuous entertainment. Carnot now doubly popular was surrounded by the _élite_ of name and beauty. But whether from the politeness with which even the Republicans of former rank were desirous of distinguishing themselves from the _roturier_ or for the purpose of making his opinions known in that country which had been always the great tribunal of European opinion and always will be; he made _me_ sit down at his side. He now talked largely of continental interest and continually reverted to the advantages of a

loser alliance of England with France. ""The two countries "" said he ""are made for combination; combined they could conquer the globe; France for the empire of the land England for the empire of the sea. Nature has divided between them the sceptre of the world."" I observed that when the conquest was achieved the victors like Augustus and Antony might quarrel at last. ""Well then even if they did the combat would finish in a day what it would have taken centuries of the tardy wars of old times to decide. Six hours at Pharsalia settled the civil wars of Rome and pacified the world for five hundred years."" ""But which side would be content to be the beaten one?"" I asked. ""Neither "" replied a restless but remarkably broad-foreheaded and deep-browed personage at the opposite side of the table. ""The combat would be eternal or must end in mutual ruin. An universal empire would be beyond the government of man by law or his control by the sword. I prefer enlightening the people until they shall want no control."" ""But will they buy your lamp?"" said Carnot with a smile. ""At least they have done so pretty extensively if I am to believe the public. It was but this day that I received a notice that there had been sent forth the hundred thousandth copy of my 'Qu'est ce que le Tiers Etat.'"" ""That was not a lamp but a firebrand "" said a hollow voice at a distance down the table; which reminded me of the extraordinary orator whom I had heard in the Jacobin Club. Carnot looked round to discover this strange accuser and added in a loud and stern tone-- ""Whether lamp or firebrand I pronounce to all good Frenchmen that it was a great gift to France. It was the grammar of a new language the language of liberty! It was the sound of a trumpet the trumpet of revolution! Still M. de Siêyes "" said he turning to the author of this celebrated performance ""all things have their time and yours is not yet come. I cannot give up the soldier. I am for no tardy movement when the country is in peril; the field must be cleared before it can be cultivated. You must sweep war from your gates and faction from your streets before you can sit down to teach a people. Even then the task is not easy. To know nothing or to know something badly are two kinds of ignorance which will always tempt the majority of mankind."" ""Is there not a third kind of ignorance more dangerous still--that of knowing more than one _ought_ to know?"" interposed another speaker whose countenance had already struck me as one of the most problematical that I had ever seen. His composed yet keen physiognomy strongly reminded me of the portraits of the Italian Conclave--some of the cardinals of Giorgione and Titian; at once subtle and dignified. Carnot smiled and said to me in a low tone ""That is a touch at Siêyes. Those two men never meet without a fencing-match. One of them has been a bishop and cannot forgive the loss of his mitre. Siêyes has been nothing but intends to be more than a bishop yet--if he can. Talleyrand and he hate each other with the hatred of rival beauties."" It was evident that Siêyes was stung though I could not tell how. I saw his powerful countenance flush to the forehead. But he merely said--""Pray Monsieur what is a vizard?"" All eyes were now directed to the combatants and a faint laugh ran round the table. But there was not the slightest appearance of perturbation in the manner or look of his antagonist as he answered-- ""Monsieur I shall have the honour to inform you. A vizard is a contrivance for concealment whether in silk and pasteboard or in an inflexible visage--whether in a woman who wants to disguise her features or in a man who wants to hide his heart--whether in a masquerader or an assassin. For example when I hear a hypocrite talk of his honesty an intriguer of his conscience a renegade of his candour and a pensioner of his patriotism I do not require to look at him--I say at once that man wears a vizard."" He paused a moment. ""This "" said he ""is the vizard in public life. In private it is the impartiality of authors to their own performances the justice of partizans the originality of plagiaries and the principle of _pamphleteers_."" This daring delivery of sentiment hit so many that it could be resented by none; for no one could have assailed it without making himself responsible to the charge. Silence fell upon the table. However lapses of this order are not fatal in France and the topic of the war was too recent not to press still. Various anecdotes of the gallantry of the troops were detailed and the conversation was once more led by the minister. ""These instances of heroism "" said he ""show us the spirit which war and war alone can kindle in a people. In peace the lower qualities take the lead; in war the higher--intrepidity perseverance talent and contempt of difficulties. The man must then be shown--deception can have no place there. All the stronger qualities of our nature are called into exercise; the mind grows muscular like the frame; the spirit glows with the blood; a nobler career of eminence spreads before the nation cheered by rewards at once of a more splendid rank and distributed on a loftier principle. We shall no more have a Pompadour or a Du Barry giving governments and marshals' batons. The character of the nation will become like its swords at once bright sharp and solid; the reign of corruption is gone already the reign of dupery cannot long survive. France will set an example which the world will be proud to imitate or must be forced to follow."" ""You remind me Monsieur le Ministre of the Spartans who when they returned from beating the enemy found their slaves in possession of their households. You conquer Prussians and Austrians on the frontier and leave monks at home. But as long as you spare the spiders you must not complain of cobwebs. Crush intriguers an you will put an end to intrigue "" said the bold ex-bishop. ""The man insults the Republic who charges her citizens with intrigue "" was the whispered and very formidable menace of Siêyes. ""Monsieur you have yet to learn what _is_ a constitution."" The Abbé had incurred some ridicule by his readiness in proposing constitutions. His antagonist like a hornet instantly fixed his sting upon the naked spot. ""No Monsieur I perfectly know what is a modern constitution--it is the credit of a charlatan--it is the stock of a political pedlar made only for sale to simpletons--it is an umbrella to be taken down when it rains--it is a surtout in summer and nakedness in winter. It is in short a contrivance to make a reputation for a sciolist and to govern mankind on the principles of a reverie."" ""This is the language of faction "" exclaimed Siêyes indignantly rising. ""Pardon me "" said his imperturbable antagonist; ""the language of faction is the language of quacks to dupes; it is the language learned in the clubs and taught in the streets--the language which takes it for granted that the hearer is as destitute of brains as the speaker is of principle."" All eyes were turned on the parties. But his hearer simply said yet with a glance of fire-- ""Monseigneur you should remember that you are not in our diocese haranguing your chaplains. You forget also that in France the age of quackery is over. There are no more dupes--have _you_ your passports ready?"" This produced not even a sneer on the marble countenance of the adversary. ""Monsieur de Siêyes "" was the ready reply ""let me not hear _you_ talk of despair. Quackery will never be at an end in France. The true quack is a polypus; cut him into a thousand pieces he only grows the faster;--he is a fungus give him only a stone to cling to and he covers it;--he is the viper even while he hides in his hole he is only preparing to bite in the sunshine; and when all the world think him frozen for life he is only concocting venom for his summer exploits. Quacks will live as long as there are dupes--as leeches will live as long as there are asses' heels to hang on."" He then rose making a profound bow with ""Bon soir Monsieur l'Abbé--never fear--dupes will be eternal."" This produced some confusion and consternation among the friends of Siêyes. But a new scene of the night was announced and all flowed towards the private theatre. I was yet to see more of this daring talker; but I was not surprised to hear next day that he had left Paris at midnight and was gone no one knew whither. The capital might have been hazardous for him. Siêyes was probably above revenge; but there were those who would have readily taken the part upon themselves and a _cidevant_ bishop would have made a showy victim. How he escaped even so far is among the wonders of a life of wonder. I afterwards saw the fugitive at the head of European councils a prince and a prime minister; the restorer of the dynasty under which he fell the overthrower of the dynasty under which he rose; bearing a charmed life and passing among the havoc of factions and even escaping from the wrecks of empire more like an impalpable spirit than a man. But the change of his style was scarcely less remarkable than the change of his fortunes. He was then no longer the hot and heady satirist; he had become the sly and subtle scorner. No man said so many cutting things yet so few of which any one could take advantage: he anatomized human character without the appearance of inflicting a wound; he had all the pungency of wit without its peril and reigned supreme by a terror which every one pretended _not_ to feel. The change after all was only one of weapons; in the first period it was the knife in the second the razor--and perhaps the latter was the more deadly of the two. The theatre was fitted up with the taste of a people more essentially theatrical than any other in the world. For not merely the eye but the tongue is theatrical; and not merely the stage but every portion of private life. Every sentiment every sound is theatrical; and the stage itself is the only natural thing in the country from Calais to Bayonne. As we took our seats in the little gilded box which was made only for two; though probably for _tête-à-têtes_ of a more romantic order than ours Elnathan observed to me ""You will now see two of the most remarkable _artistes_ in France--Talma beyond all comparison our first actor; and another an amateur whom I think altogether one of the finest women in existence. You may pronounce that she ought to be younger for perfection; but there is beauty in the fruit as well as in the flower and not the less beautiful though it is of a different kind. But you shall see."" The curtain now drew up and we saw the commencement of the little _drame_ of _Paul et Virginie_. St Pierre's charming story has since been worn out on all the boards of Europe; but it was then new to the stage and the audience gazed and listened smiled and wept with all the freshness of delicious novelty. All the earlier portions of the performance were what we have since so repeatedly seen them; we had the scenery of the Mauritius painted with habitual French skill the luxuriant vegetation the rosy sky and the deep purple of the ocean. The negro-dances were exhibited by _ballerine_ from the opera; and all was in suspense for the appearance of the two stars of the night. Paul's _entré_ was received with unbounded plaudits; he was so simply dressed and looked so completely the young wanderer of the groves that I could not conceive him to be the grand pillar of tragedy in France. He was incomparably the handsome peasant of the tropics; yet as his part advanced I could discover in his deep eye and powerful tone the actor capable of reaching the heights of dramatic passion. He was scarcely above the middle size with features whose magic consisted in neither their strength nor beauty but in their flexibility. I had never seen a countenance so capable of change and in which the change was so instantaneous and so total. From the most sportive openness a word threw it into the most indignant storm or the most incurable despair. From wild joy it was suddenly clouded with a weight of sorrow that ""refused to be comforted."" His accents were singularly sweet yet clear; and like his change of countenance capable of the most rapid change from cheerfulness to the agonies of a breaking heart. His charm was reality; the power to carry away the audience with him into the scene of the moment. I had not been five minutes looking at him when I was as completely in the Mauritius as if I had been basking in its golden sunshine and imbibing the breeze from fair palms. But his fascination and ours was complete when Virginie appeared. Nothing could be less artificial than her costume; the simple dress of Bengalese blue cloth a few cowrie shells round her neck and a shell comb fastening up the braids of profusion of raven hair. She came floating rather than walking down the mountain path; and her first few words when Paul rushed forward and knelt to kiss her feet and the half playful half fond air with which she repelled him seemed to me the most exquisite of all performances. I observed too that her style had more nature in it than that of Talma. I had till then forgotten that he was an actor; but placed beside her I could have almost instinctively pronounced that Paul was a Frenchman and Virginie a Creole. I whispered the remark to Elnathan who answered ""that I was right in point of fact; for the representative of Virginie though not a native of the Mauritius was of tropical birth the widow of a French noble who had married her in the colonies and who had been one of the victims of the Revolution."" ""And yet an amateur actress?"" ""Yes; but we never ask such questions in France. Every body does the same. You should see one of our 'bals à la victime ' in which the express qualification for a ticket is having lost a relative by the guillotine."" ""But who is this charming woman?"" ""A woman of birth and fortune of charming talents and supposed at this moment to exercise the highest influence with the most influential personage of the government;--even the bewitching Madame de Fontenai has given way to her supremacy."" I observed ""That though neither could compete with English beauty in point of features there was a singular fascination in both--their countenances seemed remarkably connected with the play of their minds. ""There is still a distinction "" said Elnathan after a long and calm look through his _lorgnette_--in the style of that inspection which an artist might give to a picture of acknowledged renown; or perhaps which a Mahometan dealer might fix on an importation from Circassia; ""but one which "" said he dropping his glass ""I find it difficult to define."" ""You have already "" said I ""given Madame Roland her place at the head of Republicans let us suppose Madame de Fontenai the fine and fastidious aristocrat. While this lovely being's elegance of manner and mixture of grace and dignity would make an admirable figure at the head of a French court if such a thing were not now beyond all possibility."" ""Are you aware "" said the Jew with sudden seriousness ""that a prediction or at least some extraordinary conjecture on the subject has gone the round of the circles. The tale is that while she was still a girl in the West Indies one of the negro dispensers of fortune an Obi woman pronounced that she should ascend a throne. I must however add the _finale_ to qualify it--that she should die in an hospital."" ""The scale "" said I ""goes down too suddenly in that case: she had better remain the beautiful and happy creature that she is. Yet a being formed in this expressive mould was not meant either to live or die like the rest of the world."" ""True in other countries "" said Elnathan with a glance round as if a _huissier_ was at his elbow; ""but here the affair is different--or rather the course of nature is the scaffold. That beautiful woman has lately had the narrowest escape from the Revolutionary committee; and I can tell you that it is utterly impossible to know what to-morrow may bring even to her. She is too lovely not to be an object of rivalry; and a word may be death."" Such was my first sight of Josephine de Beauharnais. This charming performance proceeded with infinite interest. But it differed from the course which I have since seen it take. The scene next showed Virginie in France. She was in the midst of all the animation of Parisian life--no longer the simple and exquisite child of nature but the conscious beauty; still in all the bloom of girlhood but exhibiting the graces of the woman of fashion. Surrounded by the admiration and adulation of the glittering world she had given herself up to its influence until her early feelings were beginning to fade away. The scene opened with a ball. Virginie dressed in the perfection of Parisian taste was floating down the dance radiant with jewels and joy the very image of delight when her eye dropped upon the figure of a stranger standing in a recess of the superb apartment with arms folded a moody brow and a burning gaze fixed upon her. A pang shot through her heart. In her exquisite acting a single gesture a single glance showed that all the recollections of her native isle had returned. She was the child of nature and of sensibility once more. She tottered from the dance tremblingly approached the stranger and fell at his feet. That stranger was Paul; and Talma in his finest tragedy never displayed more profound emotion nor produced more enthusiastic applause than when he raised her up and with one look and one word ""Virginie ""--forgot all and forgave all. But we were spared the catastrophe which would certainly have been an ill return for the profusion of sighs and tears which the fair spectators gave to the performance. The ruling genius of the night the minister's wife officially inspired to do honour to the triumphs of the State had employed the talents of her _decorateurs_ actively during our stay at the supper-table; and when the curtain rose for the third act instead of ""a stormy sea and the horrors of shipwreck "" according to the stage directions we saw a stage Olympus in which the whole _élite_ of the Celestials escorted a formidable Bellona-like figure the cuirassed and helmed Republic in triumphal procession to an altar covered with laurels and flaming with incense inscribed ""_à la Liberté_."" Some stanzas more remarkable for their patriotism than their poetry were chanted by Minerva Juno and the rest of the Olympians IN HONOUR of the ""jour magnifique de victoire Jemappes."" A train of _figurantes_ the monarchies of Europe came forward dancing and depositing their crowns and sceptres at the foot of the altar (a sign at least tolerably significant;) the whole concluding with an exhibition of the bust of Dumourier on which Madame laid a chaplet of laurel accompanied with a speech in the highest republican style--bust speech and Madame being all alike received with true Gallic rapture. On that night to have doubted the ""irresistible universal and perpetual"" triumph of the Republic would have been high-treason to taste to hospitality and the ladies; and for that night our belief was unbounded. All had made up their minds that a new era of human felicity had arrived; that ""all the world was a stage "" in the most dancing and delightful sense of the words; and that feasting and fêtes were to form the staple of life for every future age. We were to live in a rosebud world. I heard around me in a thousand whispers from some of the softest politicians that ever wore a smile the assurance that France was to become a political Arcadia or rather an original paradise in which toil and sorrow had no permission to be seen. In short the world from that time forth was to be changed; despotism was extinguished; man was regenerated; balls and suppers were to be the only rivalry of nations; Paris was of course to lead France; France of course to lead the globe;--all was to be beauty _bonhommie_ and _bonbons_! And under the shade of the triumphant tricolor all nations were to waltz make epigrams and embrace for ever! FOOTNOTES: [14] MADRIGAL. ""Silence is the true love-token; Passion only speaks in sighs; Would you keep its charm unbroken Trust the eloquence of eyes. Ah no! Not so. From my soul all doubts remove; _Tell_ me _tell_ me--that you love. ""Looks the heart alone discover If the tongue its thoughts can tell 'Tis in vain you play the lover You have never _felt_ the spell. Ah no! Not so. Speak the word all words above; _Tell_ me _tell_ me--that you love."" INDIAN AFFAIRS--GWALIOR. The painful interest with which the arrival of every Indian mail was looked for in England during the continuance of the Affghan war with its alternations of delusive triumphs and bloody reverses has now almost wholly died away: the public mind long accustomed to sup full of the horrors of the Khoord-Cabul pass and the atrocities of the ""arch-fiend"" Akhbar Khan has subsided into apathy and hears with indifference of the occasional defeat and dethronement of rajahs and nawabs with unpronounceable names--an employment which seem to be popularly considered in this country the ordinary duty of the servants of the Company. Yet the intelligence received during the last year from our eastern empire whether viewed in connexion with past events or with reference to those which are now ""casting their shadows before "" might furnish abundant matter for speculation both from the ""moving incidents by field"" which have marked its course and the portents which have appeared in the political horizon. In Affghanistan all things seem gradually returning to the same state in which the British invasion found them. The sons of Shah Shoojah have proved unable to retain the royal authority which they attempted to grasp on the retirement of the invaders; and Dost Mahommed released from captivity (as we expressed in Feb. 1843 the hope that he would be ) once more rules in Cabul--there destined we trust to end his days in honour after his unmerited misfortunes--and has shown every disposition to cultivate a good understanding with the government in India. Akhbar Khan is again established in his former government of Jellalabad; and it is said that he meditates availing himself of the present distracted state of the Sikh kingdom to make an attempt for the recovery of the Peshawar--the refusal of his father to confirm which by a formal cession to Runjeet Singh was one of the causes it will be remembered of the Affghan war. There are rumours of wars moreover in Transoxiana where the King of Bokhara has subdued the Uzbek kingdom of Kokan or Ferghana (once the patrimony of the famous Baber ) and is said to meditate extending his conquests across the Hindoo-Koosh into Northern Affghanistan--a measure which might possibly bring him within reason of British vengeance for the wrongs of the two ill-fated envoys Stoddart and Conolly who even if the rumours of their murder should prove unfounded have been detained for years in violation of the rights of nations in hopeless and lingering bondage.[15] The Barukzye sirdars have repossessed themselves of Candahar whence they are believed to be plotting with the dispossessed Ameer of Meerpoor in Scinde against the British; while at Herat the very _fons et origo mali_ the sons of Shah Kamran have been expelled after their father's death by the wily vizier Yar Mohammed who has strengthened himself in his usurpation by becoming a voluntary vassal of Persia! Thus has the Shah acquired without a blow the city which became famous throughout the world by its resistance to his arms; and the preservation of which as a bulwark against the designs of Russia was the primary object which led the British standards in an evil hour across the Indus. Such has been the result of all the deep-laid schemes of Lord Auckland's policy and the equivalent obtained for the thousands of lives and millions of treasure lavished in support of them;--failure so complete that but for the ruins of desolated cities and the deep furrows of slaughter and devastation left visible through the length and breadth of the land the whole might be regarded as a dream from which the country had awakened after the lapse of five years to take up the thread of events as they were left at the end of 1838. But the connexion of our eastern empire with trans-Indian politics has also fortunately subsided once more to its former level; and satisfied with this brief summary we shall turn to the consideration of those points in which our own interests are more nearly implicated. Our anticipations last year as to the ultimate fate of Scinde and its rulers have been verified almost to the letter. The Ameers (to borrow a phrase of Napoleon's germane to the matter) ""have ceased to reign "" and their territory has formally as it already was virtually incorporated with the Anglo-Indian empire. In our Number for February 1843 we gave some account of the curious process of political alchemy by which a dormant claim for tribute on the part of Shah Shoojah had been transmuted into an active assertion of British supremacy over the Indus and its navigation and the appropriation of the port of Kurrachee at the mouth and the fortified post of Sukkur on the higher part of the stream of the river. To this arrangement the Ameers from the first submitted with a bad grace which it was easy to foresee would lead according to established rule in such cases in India to the forfeiture of their dominions. And such has been the case; but the transfer has not been effected without an unexpected degree of resistance in which the heroism of Sir Charles Napier and the handful of troops under his command against fearful numerical odds alone prevented the repetition on a smaller scale of the Affghan tragedy. The proximate cause of the rupture was the refusal of the Ameers to permit the clearing away of their _shikargahs_ or hunting-grounds which were guarded with a rigid jealousy paralleled only by the forest laws of William the Conqueror and extended for many miles along the banks of the Indus in a broad belt of impenetrable jungle at once impeding the navigation by preventing the tracking of boats and presenting dangerous facilities for ambush. To these cherished game-preserves the Ameers clung with a desperate pertinacity which might have moved the sympathy of an English sportsman--""admitting"" (says the _Bombay Times_) ""that we might strip them of their territory occupy Hydrabad or seize their persons without difficulty; but maintaining that they will never consent to become parties to the act of degradation we insist upon or give their enemies the pretext for charging them with having made over to us by treaty on any consideration whatever the most valued portion of their territory."" A force under Sir Charles Napier was at length moved from Sukkur towards Hydrabad with a view of intimidating them into submission; and on February 14 1843 they affixed their seals to the draught of an agreement for giving up the _shikargahs_. But this apparent concession was only a veil for premeditated treachery. On the 15th the Residency at Hydrabad was attacked by 8000 men with six guns headed by one of the Ameers; and the resident Major Outram after defending himself with only 100 men for four hours forced his way through the host of his assailants and reached Sir Charles Napier's camp. The Ameers now took the field with a force estimated at 22 000 men; but were attacked on the 17th at Meeanee a town near the Indus above Hydrabad by 2800 British and Sepoys and completely routed after a desperate conflict in which the personal prowess of the British general and his officers was called into display in a manner for which few opportunities occur in modern warfare. The effect of the victory was decisive: the Ameers surrendered themselves prisoners of war and were shortly afterwards sent to Bombay; the British flag was hoisted at Hydrabad; and a proclamation of the Governor-general was published at Agra March 5 declaring the annexation to our empire of ""the country on both sides of the Indus from Sukkur to the sea."" The subjugation of the new province was not yet however complete as another Talpoor chief Ameer Shere Mohammed of Meerpoor still remained in arms; and a second sanguinary engagement was fought March 24 in the neighbourhood of Hydrabad in which 20 000 Beloochees were again overthrown with great slaughter by 6000 Sepoy and English troops. The town of Meerpoor and the important fortress of Oomerkote on the borders of the Desert were shortly after taken; and Shere Mohammed defeated in several partial encounters and finding it impossible to keep the field in Scinde after the loss of his strongholds retired with the remainder of his followers up the Bolan Pass towards Candahar; and is believed as mentioned above to be soliciting the aid of the Barukzye chiefs of that city. It is not impossible that he may erelong give us more trouble as he will be assured of support from all the Affghan and Belooch tribes in his rear who would gladly embrace the opportunity of striking a covert blow against the Feringhis; while the fidelity of the only Belooch chief who still retains his possessions in Scinde Ali Moorad of Khyrpoor is said to be at least doubtful. For the present however the British may be considered to be in undisturbed military possession of Scinde; and commerce is beginning to revive on the Indus under the protection of the armed steamers which navigate it. But the great drawback to the value of this new acquisition is the extreme unhealthiness of the climate from the great heat combined with the malaria generated by the vast alluvial deposits of the river; the effects of which have been so deleterious that of 9870 men the total force of the Bombay troops under Sir Charles Napier's command not fewer than 2890 at the date of the January letters were unfit for duty from sickness; and apprehensions were even entertained of a design on the part of the sirdars of Candahar in conjunction with Shere Mohammed to take advantage of the weakness of the garrison of Shikarpoor from disease to plunder the town by a sudden foray. There is indeed a Hindostani proverb on this point expressed in tolerably forcible language--""If Scinde had previously existed why should Allah have created hell?"" and so strong is this feeling among the sepoys that of the Bengal and Madras regiments lately ordered to relieve those returning from Scinde one (the Bengal 64th) absolutely refused to march and has been sent down to Benares to await an investigation; and formidable symptoms of mutiny have appeared in several others. The Bombay troops however who are proud of the conquest effected by their own arms are so far from sharing in this reluctance that one regiment has even volunteered for the service; and a report is prevalent that it is in contemplation to increase the strength of the Bombay army by raising twelve or fourteen new regiments--so as to enable them to hold Scinde without too much weakening the home establishment or drawing troops from the other presidencies. The court of Lahore has lately been the scene of a tragedy or rather succession of tragedies in which ""kings queens and knaves "" were disposed of in a style less resembling any thing recorded in matter-of-fact history than the last scene in the immortal drama of Tom Thumb--a resemblance increased by the revival in several instances of personages whose deaths had been reported in the last batch of murders. It appears that the Maharajah Shere Singh had at length become jealous of the unbounded influence exercised by his all-powerful minister Rajah Dhian Singh who had not only assumed the control of the revenue but had more than once reproached the sovereign when all the chiefs were present in full _durbar_ with his habitual drunkenness and debauchery. A quarrel ensued and Dhian Singh retired from court to the hereditary possessions of his family among the mountains where he could set Shere Singh at defiance; but an apparent reconciliation was effected and in July he returned to Lahore and made his submission. His efforts were however now secretly bent to the organization of a conspiracy against the life of the Maharajah in which the Fakir Azeer-ed-deen a personage who had enjoyed great influence under Runjeet and many of the principal sirdars were implicated; and on Sept. 15th Shere Singh was shot dead on the parade-ground by Ajeet Singh a young military chief who had been fixed upon for the assassin. The murder of the king was followed by that of the Koonwur or heir-apparent Pertab Singh with

ll the women and children in their zenanas even to an infant born the night before; while Dhuleep Singh a boy ten years old and a putative son of Runjeet was brought out of the palace and placed on the throne. But Dhian Singh was not destined to reap the fruits of his sanguinary treason. In his first interview with Ajeet after the massacre he was stabbed by the hand of his accomplice; who was cut off in his turn the following day with many of the sirdars of his party by Heera Singh the son of Dhian who was commander-in-chief of the army and had immediately entered the city with his troops to avenge the death of his father.[16] Heera Singh now assumed the office of vizier leaving the title of king to the puppet Dhuleep in whose name he has since administered the government with the assistance of his father's elder brother Goolab Singh a powerful hill chief who came to Lahore in November with 20 000 of his own troops to keep the mutinous soldiers of the regular regiments in order. Meanwhile disorder and confusion reigns throughout the Punjab which is traversed in all directions by plundering bands of Akalees (a sort of Sikh fanatics ) and deserters or disbanded soldiers from the army; while General Ventura and the other European officers have consulted their own safety by quitting the country; and the remainder of the vast treasures amassed by Runjeet are lavished by Heera Singh in securing the support of the soldiery to sustain him in his perilous elevation. He is said to have sent off to the mountain strongholds of his family the famous _koh-i-noor_ diamond with great part of the royal treasure; and it was so generally supposed that he meditated ridding himself of the pageant king Dhuleep in order to assume in his own person the ensigns of royalty that the uncles of the young prince had made an attempt (which was however discovered and frustrated) to carry him off from Lahore and place him under British protection. A strong party also exists in favour of Kashmeer Singh who is said to be an illegitimate son of Runjeet; and there were prevalent rumours that dissensions had broken out between Heera Singh and his uncle; and though every care was said to be taken to prevent intelligence from Lahore reaching the British there can be little doubt that the country is now on the eve of another revolution. It is obvious that this state of things can end only in British intervention whether rendered necessary for the security of our own provinces or called in by one of the contending parties--which in either case must lead either to the Punjab being taken wholly into our own hands or occupied and coerced (like the Nizam's country) by a subsidiary force under British officers supporting on the throne a sovereign bound by treaty to our interests. An army has been assembled on the Sutlej to watch the progress of events; but the Sikhs have hitherto cautiously abstained from giving any pretext for our interference; and as long as their disorders are confined within their own frontier such an act would bear the aspect of wanton aggression. But though the appropriation of the Punjab in whatever form effected cannot be long delayed ""the pear"" (to use a Napoleonic phrase) ""is not yet ripe;"" and as we intend to return to the subject at no distant period we shall dismiss it for the present; while we turn to the consideration of the recent occurrences at Gwalior--events of which the full import is little understood in England but which involve no less consequences than the virtual subjugation of the last native state in India which retained the semblance of an independent monarchy and which scarce forty years since encountered the British forces on equal terms at once in Hindostan and the Dekkan. The fortunes of the mighty house of Sindiah were founded by Ranajee who was a menial servant early in the last century in the household of the Peshwah Bajee Rao; and is said to have first attracted his master's notice by the care with which he was found clasping to his breast during his sleep the slippers which had been left in his charge. He subsequently distinguished himself under the Peshwah in the famous campaigns of 1737-8 against the Mogul emperor Mohammed Shah: and on the cession of Malwa to the Mahrattas in 1743 he received the government of that province as a _jaghir_ or fief which he transmitted at his death to his son Mahdajee. The life of this daring and politic chief would be almost identical with the history during the same period of Central and Upper India in which he attained such a degree of authority as had not been held by any prince since Aurungzeeb; but we can here only briefly trace his career through the labyrinth of war and negotiation. In the disastrous defeat of Paniput (1761 ) where the united forces of the Mahratta confederacy were almost annihilated by the Affghans under Ahmed Shah Doorauni he received a wound which rendered him lame for life; but he soon resumed his designs on Hindostan and in 1771 became master for a time of Delhi and the person of the Mogul emperor Shah Alim. In the war with the English which followed he conciliated the esteem of the cabinet of Calcutta by his generosity to the troops who submitted at the disgraceful convention of Worgaom in January 1779: and at the peace of Salbye in 1782 his independence was expressly recognised by the British government with which he treated as mediator and plenipotentiary for the Peshwah and the whole Mahratta nation. He had now by the aid of a Piedmontese soldier of fortune named De Boigne succeeded in organizing a disciplined force of infantry and artillery directed principally by European officers with which no native power was able to cope; and in 1785 after defeating Gholam-Khadir the Rohilla once more possessed himself of Delhi and its titular sovereign who became his pensioner and prisoner while Sindiah exercised in his name supreme sway from the Ganges to the Gulf of Camboy and from Candeish to the Sutlej. In 1790 he entered the Dekkan and was with difficulty prevented by Nana Furnavees the able minister of the youthful Peshwah Madhoo Rao from usurping the guardianship of that prince which would have given him the same ascendancy in the Dekkan as he already held in Hindostan. But though thus at the summit of power and prosperity he constantly affected the humility befitting the lowly origin of his house; and when at the court of Poonah in 1791 placed himself below the hereditary nobles of the Mahratta empire with a bundle of slippers in his hand saying ""This is my place and my duty as it was my father's."" In the words of Sir John Malcolm (_Central India_ i. 122 ) ""he was the nominal slave but the rigid master of the unfortunate Shah Alim; the pretended friend but the designing rival of the house of Holkar; the professed inferior in matters of form the real superior and oppressor of the Rajpoot princes of Central India; and the proclaimed soldier but actual plunderer of the family of the Peshwah."" Mahdajee Sindiah died at Poonah in 1794 in the fifty-second year of his age; and leaving no issue bequeathed his extensive dominions to his nephew and adopted son Dowlut Rao Sindiah. The prince at his accession found himself master of an army of seventy-five disciplined battalions mostly commanded by French officers and forming an effective force of 45 000 men with 300 well-equipped guns and a vast host of irregular cavalry armed and appointed in the native fashion; and his territories included the so-deemed impregnable fortress of Gwalior as well as Ahmednuggur Aurungabad Broach and other strong places of minor note. His influence was paramount at the court of Poonah; and while by the possession of Cuttack on the shores of the Bay of Bengal he interrupted the communication by land between Calcutta and Madras his frontier on the Nerbudda pressed on the north the then narrow limits of the Bombay presidency which as surrounded on all other sides by the states of his Mahratta confederates. A prince holding this commanding position seemed qualified to become the arbiter of India; but Dowlut Rao though deficient neither in military capacity nor talent for government was only fourteen at the death of his predecessor; and his inexperience made him a tool in the hands of an unprincipled minister Shirzee Rao Ghatka who directed all his efforts to undermine by force or intrigue the ascendency of the upright and patriotic Nana Furnavees at Poonah. The young Peshwah Madhoo Rao had perished in 1795 by a fall from the roof of his palace; and the reign of his successor Bajee Rao was a constant scene of confusion and bloodshed; till after the death of Nana in 1800 he fell completely under the control of Sindiah who thus became the virtual head of the Mahratta confederacy. But in an attempt to crush the rising power of Jeswunt Rao Holkar the united forces of Sirdiah and the Peshwah received a complete defeat near Poonah in Oct. 1802;--and Bajee Rao driven from his capital sought shelter from the British with whom he concluded in December of the same year the famous treaty of Bassein by which he bound himself as the price of his restoration to his dominions to conform to the English political system and admit a subsidiary force for the protection of his states. These stipulations amounted in fact to the sacrifice of Mahratta independence; and the war which from that moment became inevitable broke out early in the following year. Sindiah who had not been consulted on the treaty of Bassein from the first refused to be bound by its conditions; and after some fruitless attempts at negotiation took the field (July 1803) in conjunction with Rhagojee Bonsla the Rajah of Berar against the Peshwah and the English. The five months' campaign which followed rivaled Napoleon's Prussian warfare of 1806 in the rapidity with which a great military power was struck down by (in the words of Alison) ""an uninterrupted series of victories which conducted our eastern empire to the proud pre-eminence which it has ever since retained."" Perron who on the return of De Boigne in 1796 to Europe had succeeded him in the government of Hindostan and the command of Sindiah's regular troops in that quarter was defeated by Lake at Allighur (Aug. 29 ) and soon after quitted India and returned to his native country; and a second decisive victory under the walls of Delhi (Sept. 11 ) opened the gates of the ancient Mogul capital to the British and released the blind old emperor Shah Alim from the long thraldom in which he had been held by the French and Mahrattas. Agra with all the arsenals and military stores was taken Oct. 17; and the desperate conflict of Laswarree (Nov. 1 ) consummated the triumphs of Lake by the almost total annihilation of Sindiah's regulars--seventeen battalions of whom with all their artillery were either destroyed or taken on the field of battle. The whole of Sindiah's possessions in Hindostan thus fell into the power of the British--whose successes in the Dekkan were not less signal and rapid. On the 23d Sept. the combined army of 50 000 men commanded in person by Sindiah and the Rajah of Berar including 10 000 regular infantry and 30 000 horse with upwards of 100 guns was attacked at ASSYE by 4500 British and Sepoys under General Wellesley--and the glorious event of that marvellous action at once effectually broke the power of the confederates and for ever established the fame of WELLINGTON.[17] A last appeal to arms at Argaom (Nov. 28 ) was attended with no better fortune to the Mahrattas; and Sindiah and his ally were compelled to sue for peace which was concluded with the latter on the 17th and with the former on the 30th December. By this treaty the imperial cities of Delhi and Agra with the protectorate of the Mogul emperor and the whole of the _Dooab_ or territory between the Jumna and Ganges were ceded to the British; who also acquired Cuttack on the eastern coast and Broach on the western with Aurungabad Ahmednuggur and extensive territories in the Dekkan. Sindiah moreover agreed to receive a British resident at his court--an office first filled by Major afterwards Sir John Malcolm--and engaged to conform in his foreign policy to the views of the British government; ceding at the same time certain districts for the maintenance of a subsidiary force which however was not to be encamped on his territories. During the contest with Holkar and the Bhurtpore rajah in the following year Sindiah showed strong symptoms of hostility to the British and had even put his troops in motion with the view of relieving Bhurtpore; but the speedy termination of the war saved him from committing himself by any overt act; and a new treaty was signed Nov. 1805 in confirmation of the former with an express stipulation that the perfidious Ghatka should be excluded from his councils. He never afterwards broke with the British government; and though he was known to have maintained a correspondence with Nepaul during the war of 1815 he observed a prudent neutrality in the great Mahratta and Pindarree war of 1817-18 which terminated in the total overthrow of all the other Mahratta princes. This catastrophe left him the only sovereign in India possessed of any degree of substantial independence and with a territory which after all the cessions was still of great extent though much scattered and intersected by the possessions of Holkar and other rulers; so that as Bishop Heber describes it in 1825 ""not even Swabia or the Palatinate can offer a more checkered picture of interlaced sovereignties than Maywar and indeed all Malwa.... Scarcely any two villages belong to the sane sovereign."" His frontier extended on the north to the Chumbul and on the south reached Boorhanpoor and the Taptee almost enveloping the remaining dominions of Holkar and bordering westward on the Guikwar's country near Baroda. The whole superficies comprehended in a very irregular shape about 40 000 square miles with a revenue supposed to exceed L2 000 000; and the army kept on foot (independent of garrisons and the British contingent) amounted to 20 000 regular infantry with from 15 000 to 20 000 horse and a park of 300 guns. The maintenance of this large military establishment was a grievous burden to the country and frequently involved him in great pecuniary embarrassment; but to the end of his life it continued to be his chief care. Gwalior where the headquarters had been fixed since 1810 became the royal residence; and the _bushkur_ or camp as it was called gradually swelled into a great city. The condition of his states in the latter years of his reign is thus characterized by the amiable prelate already quoted:--""Sindiah is himself a man by no means deficient in talents or good intentions but his extensive and scattered territories have never been under any regular system of control; and his Mahratta nobles though they too are described as a better race than the Rajpoots are robbers almost by profession and only suppose themselves to thrive when they are living at the expense of their neighbours. Still from his well-disciplined army and numerous artillery his government has a stability which secures peace at least to the districts under his own eye; and as the Pindarrees feared to provoke him and even professed to be his subjects his country has retained its wealth and prosperity to a greater degree than most other parts of Central India."" Dowlut Rao died at Gwalior March 21 1827 leaving no male issue; and with him expired the direct line of Ranajee Sindiah: but he had previously empowered his widow the Baiza Baee (a daughter of the notorious Ghatka ) in conformity with a practice sanctioned by the Hindoo law to adopt a son and successor for him after his decease from the other branches of the Sindiah family. Her choice fell on a youth eleven years of age named Mookt Rao then in a humble rank of life who was eighth in descent from the grandfather of Ranajee; and he was accordingly installed June 18 by the title of Jankojee Sindiah in the presence of the British Resident and the chiefs of the army espousing at the same time a granddaughter of his predecessor. The regency was left in pursuance of the last injunctions of Dowlut Rao in the hands of the Baiza Baee whose administration was marked by much prudence and ability; but the young Maharajah speedily became so impatient of the state of tutelage in which he found himself retained that Lord William Bentinck then governor-general found it expedient to visit Gwalior as a mediator in December 1832 in order to reconcile him to the control of his benefactress in whom the government for life was considered to have been vested by the will of her late husband.[18] The remonstrances of the governor-general produced however but little effect. On the 10th of July 1833 a revolt fomented by the young prince broke out among the soldiery whose pay had imprudently been suffered to fall into arrear; and the Baiza Baee after a fruitless attempt at resistance was compelled to quit the Gwalior territory. The British authorities though they had previously shown themselves favourable to her cause declined any direct interference on her behalf; and after remaining for some time on the frontier with a body of troops which had continued faithful to her in the hope of recovering her power by a counter-revolution she eventually fixed her residence at Benares leaving her ungrateful _protégé_ in undisturbed possession of the government. This was administered in the manner which might have been expected from a youth suddenly raised from poverty to a throne and destitute even of the _modicum_ of education usually bestowed on Hindoos of rank. The revenues of the state were wasted by the Maharajah in low debauchery while the administration was left almost wholly in the hands of his maternal uncle who bore the title of Mama-Sahib; but his influence was far from adequate to repress the feuds of the refractory nobles and the mutinies of the turbulent and ill-paid troops who frequently made the capital a scene of violence and bloodshed. The relations with the cabinet of Calcutta continued however friendly; and Lord Auckland when on his return on his famous tour to the Upper Provinces paid a visit to Gwalior in January 1840 and was received with great pomp by the Maharajah. But the frame of Jankojee Sindiah was prematurely undermined by his excesses; and he died childless February 7 1843 not having completed his twenty-seventh year. The ceremony of adopting a posthumous heir which had taken place at the death of Dowlut Rao was now repeated; and a boy nine years old the nearest kinsman of the deceased sovereign was placed on the musnud under the name of Jeeahjee Rao Sindiah by the _Maha-rane Baee_ or queen-dowager; who though herself only twelve years of age assumed the regency in conjunction with the Mama-Sahib. But little permanence could be expected in a state so constituted from the government of a child and a man without adherents or influence though they were recognized as regents by the British authorities:--and the catastrophe was hastened by an imprudent investigation which the Mama-Sahib instituted into the peculations of the Daola-Khasjee the minister of the late Maharajah. The deficit is said to have amounted to not less than three crores of rupees (L3 000 000 ) which had probably been employed in corrupting the troops; and on the night of July 16 a general mutiny broke out. The Resident finding all interference unavailing quitted Gwalior with the Mama-Sahib and repaired to Dholpoor near the frontier:--while the whole sovereign power was usurped by the Khasjee who had succeeded in bringing over the young Baee to his interests and who even sent troops and artillery to the banks of the Chumbul to dispute if necessary the passage of the English. The cabinet of Calcutta now however considered that the attitude of hostility which had been assumed as well as the expulsion of a minister who was in some measure under British guarantee justified a departure from the principle of non-intervention which had hitherto been invariably acted upon with regard to the internal affairs of the state of Gwalior. A considerable force under the title of an army of exercise was assembled at Agra where the commander-in-chief Sir Hugh Gough arrived Oct. 21 and was joined Dec. 11 by the governor-general himself who appears to have regarded the settlement of the once-mighty realm of Sindiah as a ""dignus vindice divo nodus"" requiring his immediate presence. The Gwalior _durbar_ meanwhile presented a scene of mingled tumult and panic--some of the officers having formed a party hostile to the usurping Khasjee while the mutinous soldiery loudly clamored against submission; and letters were dispatched to the Rajpoot and Boondela chiefs soliciting their aid to repel the threatened invasion of the Feringhis. At a council held Dec. 7 the most warlike sentiments prevailed; and some of the military leaders proposed that the British should be suffered to pass the Chumbul and besiege Gwalior while the Mahrattas getting round their rear were to pour down on Agra and Delhi and raise the Hindoo population! But the news of the governor-general's arrival struck them with consternation and vakeels were sent to Agra to learn on what terms a pacification might yet be effected. The envoys had an audience of the governor-general on the 13th; but the march of the troops had commenced the day before and was not countermanded even on the surrender of the Khasjee who was brought in chains to Dholpoor on the 17th--the military chiefs opposed to him having persuaded or compelled the Baee to give him up--and he was immediately sent off as a state-prisoner to Agra. The army meanwhile had entered the Gwalior territory and a proclamation was issued declaring that it appeared ""not as an enemy but as a friend to the Maharajah bound by treaty to protect his highness's person and to maintain his sovereign authority against all who are disobedient and disturbers of the peace."" The insurgent chiefs who appear to have confidently expected that the British would withdraw as soon as the Khasjee was given up now made fresh attempts at negotiation; and matters were apparently so far arranged that preparations were made for the reception of the Baee in camp on the 28th. But it was soon evident that these overtures had been made only for the sake of gaining time; and after a halt of five days which had been actively employed by the Mahrattas the troops resumed their advance upon Gwalior accompanied by the governor-general in person. On the 29th of December the two divisions under the commander-in-chief and General Grey moving on separate lines of march found the enemy drawn up in well-chosen positions at Maharajpoor and Punniar and prepared to resist their progress. The British and Sepoy effective strength was about 14 000 men with forty guns and a small body of cavalry: the Mahratta infantry was nearly equal in number; but they had 3000 horse and all the advantages of a strong position on heights protected in front by difficult ravines and defended by a hundred pieces of excellently served artillery. The conflict appears to have been the severest which had been seen in India since Laswarree and Assye. The Mahrattas (as described in the official accounts of Sir Hugh Gough who admits that he ""had not done justice to the gallantry of his opponents "") after their intrenchments and batteries had been carried by the bayonet with severe loss to the assailants ""received the shock without flinching; and fought sword in hand with the most determined courage."" But they were at last driven from their ground with great carnage by the superior prowess of the Anglo-Indian troops whose double victory was dearly purchased by the loss of more than 1000 killed and wounded including an unusual proportion of officers. All resistance was now at an end: Gwalior the Gibraltar of the East was entered without opposition; and a treaty was concluded Jan. 10 ratified by the governor-general and the restored regent ""for securing the future tranquillity of the common frontier of the two states establishing the just authority of the Maharajah's government and providing for the proper exercise of that authority during his highness's minority."" The defeated army was to be in great part disbanded and an additional contingent force levied of seven regiments of infantry and two of cavalry with twenty guns--a proportionate extent of territory we presume being ceded for its maintenance as usual in such cases: exchanges were further made of certain frontier districts for the mutual convenience of the two contracting powers; and last not least the expenses of the campaign were to be disbursed forthwith from the Gwalior treasury. Every thing being thus settled satisfactorily at least to one party the troops were to retire without loss of time within the British frontier leaving the internal administration in the hands of the Mama-Sahib and the Baee; and the governor-general was to set out from Gwalior on the 17th of January on his return to Calcutta. Thus the expedition both in a diplomatic and military point of view was crowned with complete success. We must now proceed to examine it in its political bearings. The proclamation of British supremacy over India by the Marquis of Hastings after the conclusion in 1818 of the war with the Mahrattas and Pindarrees amounted to an assumption on the part of the Company of the same position relative to the native powers as had been held by the monarchs of the house of Timoor--who from the conquest of Delhi by Baber adopted the title of Padishah or emperor as lords-paramount of India and lost no opportunity of enforcing the _imperial_ rights thus asserted against the other Hindoo and Moslem princes among whom the country was divided; till after a century and a half of incessant aggressive warfare Aurungzeeb succeeded in uniting under his rule the whole of Hindostan and the Dekkan from the Himalaya to Cape Comorin. Less than half that period sufficed for the establishment of the Anglo-Indian empire on a far firmer basis than that of the Moguls had ever attained; and if the same claim of indefeasible _suzerainté_ which was set forward by their Moslem predecessors had been openly advanced and avowed as a principle as it has long been acted upon _de facto_ it would have been at once far more candid and far more intelligible to the natives than the course which has been pursued of grounding every aggression on some pretended infraction of a compulsory treaty. The recent case of Gwalior affords a strong illustration of the point which we are endeavouring to establish as the relations of that state with the supreme government have hitherto been different from those of the Indian sovereignties in general.[19] While the other native princes (with the exception only of the Rajpoot chiefs of Bikaneer Jesulmeer &c. who lay beyond what might till lately be considered the British boundary) had surrendered the military possession of their territories almost entirely to subsidiary corps under the control of the Company the dynasty of Sindiah alone (though British influence had been more sensibly exercised under the feeble rule of Jankojee than during the life of Dowlut Rao) still preserved its domestic independence almost untouched and kept on foot a powerful army besides the contingent[20] which it was bound by treaty to maintain--the only other mark of dependence being the obligation not to contract alliances hostile to British interests. If we are to regard the late transactions in this point of view it will be difficult to justify the invasion of an _independent_ and friendly state on no other ground than our disapprobation of a change of ministry accompanied though it may have been with the tumult and violence which are the usual concomitants of an Asiatic revolution. But if the Company (as we conceive to be the _practical_ aspect of the question) are held to be at the present day the recognized as well as the _de facto_ representatives of the Mogul monarchs there can be no doubt that on the death of Jankojee Sindiah his dominions might fairly have been annexed to the Anglo-Indian empire as a lapsed fief which had reverted to the suzerain by the failure of heirs--a rule which would have been equally applicable to the case of the rival Mahratta house of Holkar the male line of which also became extinct last year and was replaced on the musnud of Indore by a boy seven years old a _adopted_ son of Hurry Rao Holkar. From the death of Dowlut Rao Sindiah indeed the Gwalior state had presented a scene of anarchy and misgovernment to which allusion is made in the proclamation of the governor-general;[21] and which from the impunity it afforded to the remnant of the Pindarrees and other marauders and the consequent insecurity of life and property both in the interior and on the frontier was intolerable alike to its neighbours and to its own subjects. Under these circumstances the acquiescence of the cabinet of Calcutta in a second adoption of a child to fill the throne of a kingdom already brought to the verge of ruin by the vices and incapacity of the former occupant can be regarded in no other light than as an injudicious stretch of forbearance injurious to our own interests and uncalled for by those of the state thus subjected to a continuance of misrule; and it is to be regretted that our late victories have not been followed up by the formal occupation of the country and the establishment of the order and strong government to which it has long been a stranger. No other result can be anticipated from the half measures which have been adopted than the creation of a state of confusion and resistance to authority similar to that which prevails in the distracted kingdom of Oude--ending inevitably though perhaps at the expense of a fresh contest in its incorporation with the dominions of the Company. Meanwhile (as observed in the _Times_ of March 8th ) ""we have roused the passions of the Mahrattas against their sovereign and against ourselves; but we have not taken that opportunity which the moment of victory gave us of effectuating a government essentially strong and beneficial to the governed. The time therefore we may expect will come when a second interference will be demanded both by the recollection of our present conquest and the incompleteness of its consequences; and we shall be doomed to find that we have won two hard-fought battles merely to enforce the necessity of a third."" The late campaign short as it has fortunately been becomes important if viewed with reference to a subject to which we have more than once before alluded [22] but which cannot be too often or too prominently brought before the British public who should never be suffered to lose sight of the great truth that it is _by our military power alone_ that we hold our Indian empire. It is evident from all the circumstances not less than from the candid confession of Sir Hugh Gough himself that the determined resistance opposed by the Gwalior troops (whom of late years it has been the fashion in the Indian army to speak of as ""Sindiah's rabble "") and the discipline and valour shown in the defence of their positions were wholly unexpected by their assailants. But the prowess and unflinching resolution displayed at Maharajpoor and Punniar under all the disadvantages of a desperate cause and inefficient commanders were worthy of the troops of De Boigne and Perron in their best days and amply prove that the Mahrattas of the present day have not degenerated from their fathers whose conduct at Assye won the praise of the great Duke himself.[23] The defeat of British force in a pitched battle on the soil of India would be a calamity of which no man could calculate the consequences; yet such a result would not have been impossible if the contempt of our commanders for the enemy had brought them to the encounter with inadequate numbers; and the rulers of India have reason to congratulate themselves that this underrated force remained quiescent during our Affghan disasters when intrigue and difficulties were at their height among both Hindoos and Moslems and every disposable regiment was engaged beyond the Indus in a warfare of the speedy termination of which there then appeared little prospect; while the Moslems both of the north and south in Rohilcund and the Dekkan were on the verge of insurrection the Rajah of Sattarah the representative of the former head of that great Mahratta confederacy of which Sindiah was then the only member retaining any degree of independence was busied in conspiracies the absurdity of t

e proposed means for which was not[24] (as some of his advocates in England attempted to maintain) a proof of their non-existence. Had the old Mahratta spirit been then alive in the breast of the degenerate successor of Dowlut Rao the appearance in the field of 20 000 troops with a considerable share of discipline and a numerous and excellent artillery might at once have given the signal and formed a nucleus for a rising which would have comprehended almost every man who could bear arms and would have shaken to the centre if not overthrown utterly the mighty fabric of our Eastern empire. It is true that the indolent and sensual character of Jankojee Sindiah gave no grounds for apprehension at the time; and the period of danger has now passed away; nor is it probable that the Gwalior army even if left at its present strength can ever again be in a situation to give trouble to our government. But it is not less true that when our difficulties were greatest a disciplined force did exist in a position the most central in India which might have turned the quivering beam if it had been thrown into the scale against us in the moment of extreme peril.[25] It is therefore with far different feelings from those expressed by some of the newspaper scribes both in India and England that we heard the declaration ascribed to the present governor-general on his arrival in India ""that the army should be his first care;""[26] and have witnessed the spirit in which it has since been acted upon. ""India "" again to quote his own words on a late public occasion ""was won by the sword;"" yet the military spirit of the army on which the preservation of our empire depends had been damped and its efficiency wofully impaired by the injudicious reductions introduced by Lord William Bentinck and persevered in by his successor; and the reverses and losses of the Affghan war following close in the train of these ill-advised measures had produced a disaffection for the service and deterioration in the _morale_ of the sepoys from which evil auguries were drawn by those best acquainted with the peculiar temperament of the native soldiery.[27] The efforts of Lord Ellenborough have been from the first directed to remove this unfavourable impression of neglect from the minds of the troops; and the heroism displayed by the sepoys under his own eye in the late desperate encounters before Gwalior must have brought home to his mind the gratifying conviction that his efforts had not been in vain. We noticed with satisfaction last year the well-deserved honours and rewards distributed to the corps by whose exploits the transient cloud thrown over our arms in Affghanistan had been cleared away; and the same course has been worthily followed up in the decorations cast from the captured Mahratta cannon and conferred without distinction of officers or men British or Sepoys on the victors of Maharajpoor and Punniar; as well as in the triumphal monuments to be erected by Bombay for the victories in Scinde and at Calcutta for those before Gwalior. But while we render full justice to the valour patience and fidelity of the sepoy infantry now deservedly rewarded by participation in those honours from which they have been too long excluded the truth remains unchanged of that of which Lake and many others since Lake of those who best knew India have in vain striven to impress the conviction on the authorities at home--the paramount importance of a large intermixture of _British_ troops. ""I am convinced that _without King's troops_ very little is to be expected ... there ought always to be at least one European battalion to four native ones: this I think necessary."" And again in his despatch to the Marquis Wellesley the day after the arduous conflict at Laswarree--""The action of yesterday has convinced me how impossible it is to do any thing without British troops; and of them there ought to be a very great proportion."" It is true that the regulation lately promulgated by the Duke of Wellington that the heavy cavalry regiments shall in future take their turn of Indian service will in some measure remedy the evil in that branch where it is most felt; and will at once increase their military strength in India and diminish the length of absence of the different corps from Europe. The misconduct of the native regular cavalry indeed on more than one occasion during the late Affghan war has shown that they are not much to be depended upon when resolutely encountered. They are ill at ease in the European saddles and have no confidence in the regulation swords when opposed to the trenchant edge of the native _tulwars_; while on the other hand the laurels earned by Skinner's Hearsay's and other well-known corps of irregular horse might almost have induced the military authorities in India to follow the example of the Mahrattas who never attempted to extend to their cavalry the European discipline which they bestowed on their infantry. The sepoy infantry has ever been _sans peur et sans reproche_; yet though some of the most distinguished regiments of the Bengal army were in the field before Gwalior the honour of storming the death-dealing batteries of Maharajpoor was reserved for the same gallant corps which led the way to victory under Clive at Plassey--her Majesty's 39th--and which has now once more proved its title to the proud motto emblazoned on its standards _Primus in Indis_! The words of Lord Lake (to refer to him once more ) in his account of the battle of Delhi might have been adopted without variation by Lord Ellenborough in describing the late actions. ""The sepoys have behaved excessively well; but from my observations on this day as well as every other it is impossible to do great things in a gallant and quick style without Europeans;"" and we trust that whenever the time shall arrive for the return of the present governor-general to Europe he will not fail to avail himself of the weight which his personal experience will give him in the councils of the nation to enforce the adoption of a measure which sooner or later will inevitably become one of absolute necessity. No former governor-general of India entered on his office--at all times the most arduous under the British crown--under such unfavourable auspices and with such a complicated accumulation of difficulties to combat as Lord Ellenborough; few if any of his predecessors have had their actions their motives and even their words exposed to such an unsparing measure of malicious animadversion and wilful misconstruction; yet none have passed so triumphantly through the ordeal of experience. Many of his measures may now be judged of by their fruits; and those of the Calcutta press who were loudest in their cavils compelled to admit the success which has attended them are reduced to aim their censures at the alleged magniloquence of the governor-general's proclamations; which it should always be remembered in England are addressed to a population accustomed to consider the bombast of a Persian secretary as the _ne plus ultra_ of human composition and which are not therefore to be judged by the European standard of taste. Much of the hostility directed against Lord Ellenborough is moreover owing to his resolute emancipation of himself from the bureaucracy of secretaries and members of council who had been accustomed to exercise control as ""viceroys over"" his predecessors and who were dismayed at encountering a man whose previously acquired knowledge of the country which he came to govern enabled him to dispense with the assistance and dictation of this red-tape camarilla. Loud were the complaints of these gentry at what they called the despotism of the new governor-general on finding themselves excluded from that participation in state secrets in which they had long reveled in a country where so much advantage may be derived from knowing beforehand what is coming at headquarters. But much of the success of Lord Ellenborough's government may be attributed to the secrecy with which his measures were thus conceived and the promptitude with which his personal activity and decision enabled him to carry them into effect--success of which the merit is thus due to himself alone and to the liberty of action which he obtained by shaking off at once the etiquettes which had hitherto trammeled the Indian government. In July 1842 we ventured to pronounce that ""on the course of Lord Ellenborough's government will mainly depend the question of the future stability or gradual decline of our Anglo-Indian empire; and if at the conclusion of his viceroyalty he has only so far succeeded as to restore our foreign and domestic relations to the same state in which they stood ten years since he will merit to be handed down to posterity by the side of Clive and Hastings."" The task has been nobly undertaken and gallantly carried through; and though time alone can show how far the present improved aspect of Indian affairs may be destined to permanency Lord Ellenborough is at least justly entitled to the merit of having wrought the change as far as it rests with one man to do so by the firm and fearless energy with which he addressed himself to the enterprise. FOOTNOTES: [15] It is to be regretted that the British government has never requested the Porte to dispatch a mission to ascertain the fate of these unfortunate officers. The Turkish Sultan is reversed at Bokhara as the legitimate Commander of the Faithful and his rescript would be treated as a sacred mandate. [16] Portraits of most of the actors in this bloody drama will be found in Osborne's _Court and Camp of Runjeet Singh_. [17] A note of Grant Duff (_History of the Mahrattas_ iii. 239 ) relative to this period in the life of the British hero is worth quoting--""I have had occasion to observe how well the Duke of Wellington must have known the Mahrattas from having read his private letters to Sir Barry Close (then Resident at Poonah) during the war of 1803. Without being acquainted with their language and one would have supposed with little opportunity of knowing the people or their history his correct views of the Mahratta character and policy are very remarkable. As the letters in question were shown to me confidentially in 1817 in the course of my official duties I may be only authorized to state that in some instances his opinion of individuals particularly of Bajee Rao was correctly prophetic."" These letters are now before the public in the first and third volumes of Gurwood's _Despatches_. [18] See _Asiatic Journal_ May 1834. P. 7 Part II. [19] See Montgomery Martin's _British Colonies_ i. p. 49 &c. [20] The Gwalior contingent was called into the field on the occasion of the late disturbances in Bundelkund and did good service. [21] ""The want of cordial co-operation on the part of the officers of the Gwalior state in the maintenance of order on the frontier had long been a subject of just remonstrance and various orders had been issued by the late Maharajah in accordance with the representations of the British resident. These orders had but too often remained without due execution; but in consideration of the long illness of his highness and the consequent weakness of his administration the British government had not pressed for satisfaction with all the rigour which the importance of the subject would have warranted."" [22] See _Maga_ Aug. 1841 p. 174; July 1842 p. 110 &c.; and Feb. 1843 p. 75. [23] ""Our action on the 23d Sept. was the most severe battle that I have ever seen or that I believe has been fought in India. The enemy's cannonade was terrible but the result shows what a small number of _British troops_ will do.""--_The Duke of Wellington to Colonel Murray Gurwood's Despatches_ i. 444. ""It was not possible for any man to lead a body into a hotter fire than he did the picquets that day at Assye.""--_Letter to Colonel Munro_ _ib._ 403. [24] See our Number for July 1842 p. 108. [25] The strength of the Mahratta army at the time of Lord Auckland's visit was estimated at 35 000 men of all arms including 15 000 irregular cavalry and 250 guns besides the _Ekhas_ or body-guard of 500 nobles privileged to sit in the sovereign's presence who were subsequently disbanded by Jankojee for disaffection. The infantry was divided into four brigades and consisted of thirty-four regular regiments of 600 men each and five regiments of irregular foot or _nujeebs_. A few of Dowlut Rao's French officers still survived; the remainder were their sons and grandsons and adventurers from all parts of the earth. Not fewer than 25 000 troops with nearly all the artillery were generally at headquarters in the _bushkur_ or camp of Gwalior.--See _Asiatic Journal_ May 1840. [26] ""We see much more of Toryism than of truth in this opinion "" observes the _Eastern Star_ as quoted in the _Asiatic Journal_ for December; ""and we believe the man who entertains it the last who should ever be entrusted with power in this empire. It is as dangerous a delusion as it would be to imagine we could do without an army at all.""--Pro-di-gi-ous! [27] See an extract from the _Madras United Service Gazette_ in our Number for Feb. 1843 p. 275 note. THE FREETHINKER. ""With us ther was a DOCTOUR OF PHISIKE In all this world ne was ther non him like To speke of phisike and of surgerie: * * * * * He knew the cause of every maladie Were it of cold or hote or moist or drie And wher engendered and of what humour He was a veray parfite practioner-- * * * * * His studie was but litel on the Bible."" CHAUCER. It was in the year 18-- that I completed my professional education in England and decided upon spending in Paris the two years which had still to elapse before my engagement with my guardians would require me to present myself for examination and approval at the Royal College of Surgeons in London. The medical schools and hospitals of Paris were then as now famous for their men of science and for the useful discoveries which clinical instruction--bedside ingenuity and industry--is morally certain to carry along with it. Whatever may be said of the French practitioners as a body--and my professional brethren I know bring against them as a national reproach the charge of inefficiency in the _treatment_ of disease (remarkable for acuteness and truth as their _diagnosis_ is allowed to be)--still I think it will not be denied that chiefly to the Parisian physicians and to the untiring energy of particular individuals amongst them whom it would not be difficult to name are we indebted at this moment for some of the most important knowledge that we possess--knowledge be it understood derived altogether from investigations diligently pursued at the patient's bedside and obtained with the greatest judgment difficulty and pains. As I write the honourable and European reputation of _Louis_ occurs to my mind--an instance of universal acknowledgment rendered to genius and talents wholly or principally devoted to the alleviation of human suffering and to the acquisition of wisdom in the form and by the method to which I have adverted. A mere attempt to refer to the many and various obligations which the continental professors of medicine have laid upon mankind during the last half century would fill a book. They were well known and spoken of in my youth and the names of many learned foreigners were at that period associated in my bosom with sentiments of awe and veneration. It was some time after I had once resolved to go abroad before I fixed upon Paris as my destination. _Langanbeck_ the greatest operator of his day the _Liston_ of Germany was performing miracles in Hanover. _Tiedemann_ a less nimble operator but a far more learned surgeon had already made the medical schools of Heidelberg famous by his lectures and still valued publications; whilst the lamented and deeply penetrating _Stromeyer_--the tutor and friend of our own amiable and early-lost Edward Turner--had established himself already in _Göttingen_ and drawn around him a band of enthusiastic students who have since done honour to their teacher and in their turn become eminent amongst the first chemists of the day. With such and similar temptations from many quarters it was not easy to arrive at a steady determination. I had hardly thought of Paris when--as it often happens--a thing of a moment relieved me from difficulty and doubt and helped me at once to a decision. A letter one morning by the post induced me to set out for the giddiest and yet most fascinating of European cities. James M'Linnie--who by the way died only the other day of dysentery at Hong-Kong a few hours after landing with the troops upon that luckless island--was an old hospital acquaintance and like me _cutting and hewing_ his way to fame and fortune. He had distinguished himself at Guy's and quitted that school with every reasonable prospect of success in his profession. He had not only passed muster before the high and mighty court of examiners but had received on the occasion the personal warm congratulations of Abernethy and Sir Astley Cooper; the former of whom indeed before he asked M'Linnie a question gave him confidence in his peculiar way by requesting him ""not to be a frightened fool for Mr. Abernethy was not the brute the world was pleased to make him out;"" and after a stiff and rough examination shook the student heartily by the hand and pronounced him ""not an ass like all the world but a sensible shrewd fellow who instead of muddling his head with books had passed his days very properly where real life was only to be met with""--_videlicet_ in the dead-house. James M'Linnie was at the time of which I speak himself in Paris and enthusiastic in his devotion to the indefatigable and highly-gifted teachers amongst whom he lived. He wrote to me in the letter to which I have above adverted--the first I received from him after his departure from England--in the most glowing terms respecting them; and conjured me by the love I bore our glorious profession--by my ardent aspirations after fame and by the strong desire which he believed I entertained with himself and the majority of men to serve and benefit my fellow-creatures--not to waste my precious hours in England but to join him instantly ""in the finest field of _operations_ that the world presented."" ""We are pigmies in London "" he continued in his own ardent fashion--""boys children infants--they are _giants_ here. Such anatomists! such physicians! Fancy one of our first men C---- for instance standing for nearly one hour at the bedside of a labouring man and tracing the fellow's history step by step patiently and searchingly in order to arrive at the small beginnings of disease its earliest indications and first causes. I saw it done yesterday by one to whom C---- could not hold a candle--a man whose reputation is continental--whose practice does not leave him a moment in the day for personal recreation--who is loaded with honours and distinctions. The students listen to him as to an oracle; and with cause. He leaps to no conclusions--his sterling mind satisfies itself with nothing but truth and is content to labour after mere glimpses and intimations which it secures for future comparison and study. Remind me when you come out--for come out you must--of the story of the baker. I will tell it you then in full. It is a capital instance of the professor's acuteness and ability. A patient came into the hospital a month ago; his case puzzled every one; nothing could be done for him and he was about to be discharged. The professor saw him visited him regularly for a week--watched him--noted every trifling symptom--prescribed for him;--in vain. The man did not rally--and the professor could not say what ailed him. One morning the latter came to the patient's bedside and said 'You tell me _mon enfant_ that you have been a porter. Were you never in any other occupation?' 'Yes ' groaned the poor fellow; 'I drove a cabriolet for a year or two'---- 'Go on ' said the professor encouragingly. 'And then ' continued the man 'and then I was at a boot-maker's; afterwards at a saddler's--and at last a porter.' 'You have never worked at any other trade?' 'Never sir.' 'Think again--be quite sure.' 'No--never sir.' Have you never been a baker?' 'Oh yes sir--that was twenty years ago--and only for a few months; but I was so ill at the oven that I was obliged to give it up.' 'That will do _mon enfant_--don't tire yourself try and go to sleep.' In the lecture-room afterwards the professor addressed the students thus: 'Gentlemen--once in the course of my practice I have met with the case of the porter and only once. It is now eighteen years since. The patient was a baker--and I examined the subject after death. This man will die.' The lecturer then proceeded to describe minutely and lucidly the seat of the disease its nature and best treatment. He told them what might be done by way of alleviation and directed them to look for such and such appearances after death. The man lingered for a few days and then departed. At the _post mortem_ the professor was found to be correct in every particular. What say you to this by way of memory and quick intelligence?"" The letter went on to speak of the facility of procuring subjects--as cheap and plentiful to use M'Linnie's phrase ""as herrings in England;"" of the daily exhibition in the dissecting room of disease of all kinds in all stages; of the enthusiastic natures of both teachers and pupils; of the earnest and inspiring character of hospital practice; and at last wound up its flattering history with a peroration that extinguished in an instant every spark of hesitation that lingered in my mind. In less than a fortnight after M'Linnie's summons I was one of a mixed party in a diligence and eight galloping over the high-road to Paris at the rate of five statute miles an hour. I had taken care to carry abroad with me an introduction to _one_ influential member of the profession. I say _one_ because I refused with deliberation to _encumber_ myself as Doctor Johnson has it with more help than was actually necessary to my well-doing. A travelling student with a key to the confidence of one man of power and kindred spirit has all that he can desire for every professional purpose. If his happiness depend upon social enjoyments and he must needs journey with a messenger's bag or be utterly miserable let him by all means save his travelling expenses and visit his natural acquaintances. My letter of credit was obtained from my friend H---- who at the time filled the anatomical chair at Guy's and to whom I am grateful for more acts of real kindness than he is willing to allow. To this letter of credit and to the acquaintance formed by its means the reader is indebted for the curious history I am about to relate. That the former was likely to lead to something original and unusual I certainly suspected when H---- placed the document in my hands with his last words of caution and advice. I could hardly dream of half that was to follow. ""Pray take care of yourself Mr Walpole "" said my good friend; ""you are going to a very dangerous and seductive city and you will require all your firmness and good principles to save you from the force of evil example. Don't be led away--don't be led away--that is all I beg of you."" ""I shall be careful sir."" ""You will see in the medical students of Paris a different set of men to that which you have been accustomed to mix with here. There are some fine fellows amongst them--hard-working bold enterprising young men; but they are a strange body taken as a while. Don't cotton too quickly with any one of them."" ""Very well sir."" ""I am afraid you will find many highly improper notions prevalent amongst them--immoral shocking disgraceful. Pray don't assume the manners of a Frenchman Mr Walpole--much less his vices. There are very few medical students in Paris who do not lead I am sorry to say a very disreputable life; and make it a boast to live in open shame. You must not learn to approve of conduct in Paris which you would have no hesitation in pronouncing criminal in London.""[28] ""Certainly not sir."" ""And let me as a friend entreat you my dear sir at no time to forget that you are a Christian and a Protestant gentleman. Be sober and rational and if there be any truth in religion at all do not make a mockery of it by converting the Lord's day into a monstrous Saturnalia. Here is your letter."" I took the document bowed and read the superscription. It was addressed to Baron F---- chief surgeon at the Hotel Dieu &c. &c. &c. ""I introduce you Mr Walpole "" continued the anatomist ""to one of the most extraordinary men in Europe--and what is more to the purpose to one of the best. Warmer benevolence a more eager anxiety to relieve and benefit his fellow-mortals never burned in the heart of man. He is unquestionably incontestably the first surgeon of the day; as a man of science he is appealed to by the whole learned world--his practice is enormous and the fortune he has amassed by his unwearied industry and perseverance immense; especially considered in reference to the career of the most successful surgeons in Paris who if I mistake not have lived and died comparatively poor. Looked up to however as he is by the learned and the great you will I think when you know him agree with me in regarding his kindness to the helpless--his earnest solicitude for the disabled poor who come under his care--his unremitting attention to their complaints and wants--as constituting the worthy baron's chief excellance. We are old friends; and for my sake I am sure he will receive you well and afford you all the assistance and information in his power. He will put you on your mettle; and you must be no lie-a-bed if you would profit by his instruction. At six in the morning you will find him daily at his post in the hospital; and whilst sluggards are turning in their beds he has prescribed for a hundred sick and put them in spirits for the day by his words of tenderness and support."" ""Did you study under the baron?"" I enquired. ""I attended his lectures some years ago with the greatest advantage. I never in my life was more struck by the amount of knowledge possessed by one man. I attached myself to the professor and he was pleased to admit me to his friendship. I have lately been surprised to hear his manners pronounced rough and even brutal and his temper morose. For my own part--and I watched him closely--I saw nothing but gentleness and an active disposition to do good at all times. The poor women and children in the hospital loved him as a father and I have seen their pale cheeks flush and dull eyes glisten as he approached their beds. This I thought bespoke any thing but roughness and brutality in the surgeon. What say you?"" ""It would seem so."" ""Well--I have written the baron a long letter concerning myself and my own pursuits believing that it will serve your interests better than a mere formal letter of introduction. He will I am sure be pleased to see you. Remember Mr Walpole an opportunity like the present may never occur to you again. Be wise and make the most of it."" Thus spoke my friend and thus I received from him my credentials. My only object in Paris was the ostensible one for which I came; and accordingly therefore having secured a comfortable home with Madame Bichat a worthy motherly person residing in the ""_Rue Richelieu vis-à-vis le Palais Royal_""--and having spent one long and gossiping evening with my ancient chum M'Linnie--I buckled at once to my work. Postponing all recreation and amusement until the time should arrive which would make them lawful and give them zest I left my lodgings the second morning after my appearance in Paris and made my way straight to the dwelling-house of my future patron. It was eleven o'clock the hour at which the baron usually returned from the Hotel Dieu; five hours viz. from six till eleven A.M. being as M'Linnie assured me the time allotted daily to the poor by the conscientious and distinguished practitioner. The baron was a bachelor and he lived in first-rate style; that is to say he had magnificent apartments in which it was his delight to collect occasionally the united wit and learning of the capital and a handsome table for his friends at all times; for his hospitality was unbounded. And yet his own daily habits were as simple and primitive as might be. When at home he passed his hours in the library and slept in the small bedroom adjoining it. The latter like all dormitories in France was without a carpet and altogether no better furnished than a private ward in an English hospital. There was a small iron bedstead just large enough for a middle-sized bachelor in one corner--a washing apparatus in another--and a table and two chairs at some distance from both. The naked and even uncomfortable aspect of this apartment had an absolutely chilling effect upon me as I passed through it on my way to the great man himself; for strange to say the only road to the library was through this melancholy chamber. Great men as well as small have their ""whims and oddities."" The baron was reported to have taken pains to make what appeared to me a very incommodious arrangement. A door which had conducted to the library upon the other side of it had been removed and the aperture in which it had stood blocked up whilst the wall on this side had been cut away in order to effect an entrance. And what was the reason assigned for so much unnecessary labour? The baron had risen from nothing--had spent his early days in poverty and even misery; and he wished to perpetuate the remembrance of his early struggles lest he should grow proud in prosperity and forgetful of his duties. The frequent sight of the few articles of furniture which had been his whole stock twenty years before was likely more than any thing else to keep the past vividly before his eyes and he placed them therefore to use his own words as attributed to him by my informant ""between the flattery of the dazzling world without and the silence of his chamber of study and meditation."" They no doubt answered their object in rendering the possessor at times low-spirited since they were certainly likely to have that effect even upon a stranger. On the day of my introduction however I had little time for observation. My name had been announced and I passed rapidly on to the _sanctum sanctorum_. There is an aristocracy of MIND as well as an aristocracy of wealth and social station; and unless you be a soulless Radical you cannot approach a distinguished member of the order without a glow of loyal homage as honourable to its object as it is grateful to your own self-respect. I entered the library of the far-famed professor with a reverend step; he was seated at a large table which was literally covered with books _brochures_ and letters opened and sealed. He was dressed very plainly wearing over a suit of mourning a dark coloured dressing-gown which hung loosely about him. He was without exception the finest man I had ever seen and I stopped involuntarily to look at and admire him. As he sat I judged him to be upwards of six feet in height--(I afterwards learned that he stood six feet two )--he was stout and well-proportioned--his chest broad and magnificent--his frame altogether muscular and sinewy. The face was full of authority and command--every feature handsome including even the well drawn lip in which there seemed to lurk scorn enough to wither you if roused. The brow was full prominent and overhanging--the eye small blue and beaming with benevolence. Nature was mischievous when she brought that eye and lip in company for life. A noble forehead made venerable by the grey hairs above it--grey although the baron was hardly in the vale of years--completed the picture which presented itself to my eye and which I noted in detail in less time than I have drawn it here--imperfectly enough. The baron who had received my letter of introduction on the preceding day rose to welcome me. His first enquiries were concerning my friend H---- the next were in reference to my own plans--and he had much to say of the different professors of London with whose works and merits he appeared thoroughly acquainted. I remained an hour with him; and some time before we parted I felt myself quite at home with my new acquaintance. During the conversation that took place upon this memorable morning the name of Z---- occurred. The baron praised him highly: ""his attainments as a surgeon "" he said ""were very great;"" and in other respects he looked upon him as one of the most original and wisest men of the age. It

will be remembered by my professional readers that Z---- although esteemed in England one of her first surgeons acquired an unenviable notoriety through the publication of certain physiological lectures in which the doctrines of materialism and infidelity were supported it must be allowed with all the eloquence and power of a first-rate mind. With my own settled views of Christianity early inculcated by a beloved mother--now alas! no more--I could not but regard the highly gifted Z---- as an enemy to his species who had unhappily abused the talents which Providence had given him for a better purpose. Such being the case it was with some pain and great surprise that I listened to the encomiums from the lips of the baron; and I ventured to hint that the speaker had in all probability not heard of the infamous publication which had given so much sorrow and alarm to all well-governed minds in England. ""Le voilà!"" said the baron in reply taking up a book from the table--""The noblest work of the age! Free from prejudice and bigotry of every kind--I found my opinion of the man upon this book. Had he done nothing else he would have immortalized his name. Philosophy and Science have hitherto borne him out in all his theories--will continue to bear him out and eventually compel posterity to regard him as nothing short of the prophet and seer of nature. You may rely upon it Z---- has by the very force of intellect arrived at conclusions which the discoveries of centuries will duly make good and establish."" I speak the simple truth when I aver that these words of the baron gave me infinite distress and for a moment deprived me of speech. I hardly knew what to say or do. At first I suspected that I had made some unaccountable mistake and brought my letter to the wrong individual. H---- who was almost a Puritan in religious matters could ever have spoken of his friend in such favourable terms if he had been aware of the views which he so unscrupulously supported. A little reflection however convinced me that a mistake was impossible. There is nothing in this world more embarrassing than to sit in the presence of a superior and be compelled to listen to statements which you feel to be false and yet know not how with propriety to repel. My own youth and the baron's profound learning and attainments were barriers to the free expression of my thoughts; and yet I was ashamed to remain silent and as it were a consenting party to the utterance of sentiments which I abhorred. ""I cannot hope "" I managed to say at last ""that science will ultimately uphold his arguments and prevent our relying as strongly as ever on our old foundations."" ""And why?"" replied the baron quickly. ""Why should we always be timid and blind followers of the blind? Is it a test of wisdom to believe what is opposed to reason upon the partial evidence of doubtful witnesses? Is it weakness to engage all the faculties of the mind in the investigation of the laws by which this universe is governed? And if the perception of such immutable add eternal laws crushes and brings to nothing the fables of men whom you are pleased to call _writers by inspiration_ are we to reject them because our mothers and fathers who were babes and sucklings at the breast of knowledge were ignorant of their existence?"" ""Newton sir "" I ventured to answer ""made great discoveries and he revered these fables."" ""Bah! Newton directed his gaze upwards into a mighty and stupendous region and he was awe-stricken--as who shall not be?--by what he there beheld. He worshipped the unseen power so does this man; he believed in Revelation so does he; but with him--it is the revelation which is made in that wondrous firmament above and in the earth beneath and in the glories that surround us. What knowledge had Newton of geology? what of chemistry? what of the facts which they have brought to light?"" ""Little perhaps--yet""---- ""My good friend "" continued the surgeon interrupting me. ""In the days of your grand _philosophe_--would that he were alive now!--there were no physical phenomena to reduce an ancient system of cosmogony to a mere absurdity--no palpable evidences of the existence of this earth thousands of years prior to its formation--you perceive?"" ""I hear you sir "" I answered gaining courage; ""but I should indeed be sorry to adopt your views."" ""Of course you would!"" said the baron curling his inauspicious lip and giving expression to a feeling that looked very like one of contempt or ridicule. ""You come from the land of melancholy and bile--where your holidays are fasts and your day of rest is one of unmitigated toil. You would be sorry to forego no doubt the prospect of everlasting torture and eternal condemnation. Mr Z---- is too far advanced for you I am afraid."" At this moment there was a knock at the door leading into the bed-chamber. The servant-man of the baron presented himself and announced a patient. ""Admit him "" said the surgeon and at the same time I rose to depart. ""Adieu!"" said the baron with another unpleasant smile; ""we shall be very good friends notwithstanding your piety. I shall look after you. Remember six o'clock to-morrow morning at the Hotel Dieu. Be punctual and do you hear Mr Walpole think of me in your prayers."" This last expression accompanied as it was by a very significant look amounted to a positive insult and I quitted the library and house of the baron fully resolved never to set foot in either of them again. What an extraordinary delusion did poor H----labour under in respect of the character of his friend! Here was a Mentor to form the opinions and regulate the conduct of a young gentleman stepping into life! Great as were his talents and acquirements and much as I might lose by neglecting to cultivate his friendship I resigned gladly every advantage rather than purchase the greatest with the sacrifice of the principles which had been so anxiously implanted in my bosom even from my cradle. I was hurt and vexed at the result of my interview. Every thing had promised so well at first. I had been won by the appearance of the baron I had been charmed with his discourse and gratified by the terms in which he spoke of my future studies and the help he hoped to afford me in the prosecution of them. Why had this unfortunate Mr Z---- and his still more unfortunate book turned up to discompose the pleasant vision? But for the mention of his name and the introduction of his book I might have remained for ever in ignorance of the atheistical opinions which in my estimation derogated materially from the grace which otherwise adorned the teacher's cultivated mind. It is impossible for communion and hearty fellowship to subsist between individuals whose notions on life's most important point lie ""far as the poles asunder."" I did not expect desire or propose to seek that they should. In the evening I joined M'Linnie at his lodgings and gave him an account of the meeting.--He laughed at me for my scruples. ""I knew all about it "" said Mac ""but hardly thought it worth while to let you know it. H---- was quite right too: the baron is not the man to-day that he was a dozen years ago. He is a rank infidel now; he makes no secret of the thing but boasts of it right and left: it is his great fault. He is an inconsistent fellow. If any one talks about religion no matter how proper and fitting the time he is down upon him at once with a sneer and a joke; and yet he drags in his own opinions by the neck at all seasons on all occasions and expects you to say _amen_ to every syllable he utters."" ""He must be very weak "" said I. ""Must he?--very well. Then wait till you see him cut for _calculus_ or perform for _hernia_. Sit with him at the bedside and hear him at his lectures. If you think him weak then you shall be good enough to tell me what you call _strong_. ""But his principles""---- ""Are certainly not in accordance with the Thirty-nine Articles; but the baron does not profess to teach theology--nor did I come here to take his creed. So long as he is orthodox in surgery I make no complaint against him. I have my own views; and if they are relaxed and out of order now and then why the parson is the man to apply to and not the baron. I must say one requires a dose of steel now and then to keep right and tight in this bewitching capital."" There was worldly wisdom in the remarks of M'Linnie; and before I quitted him I was satisfied of the propriety of paying every attention to the professional instruction of the surgeon without committing myself by visiting him as a friend to an approval of his detestable principles; and accordingly at two minutes to six o'clock I presented myself at the hospital on the following morning. Many students were already in attendance and precisely at six o'clock the baron himself appeared. He bowed to the students as a body and honoured me with a particular notice. ""Eh bien jeune Chrêtien!"" he said shaking me by the hand ""have you prayed for my reformation? It is very remiss of you if you have not done so. You know I made you yesterday my father confessor."" There was immediately a general laugh from the students--medical students being it should be known the most unblushing parasites on record. These words were spoken under the low portico of the building which forms with its long ascent of steps one side of the square in which the Cathedral of Notre Dame has its principal entrance and is certainly not one of the least interesting adjuncts of that magnificent edifice. We passed without further speech through the range of buildings within the professor in our van and in a minute or two found ourselves in a spacious clean and well-filled ward. The surgeon took his seat at the foot of the first bed in the sick chamber and the students crowded eagerly around him evidently anxious not to lose a syllable that should fall from his lips. I shall never forget the lesson of that morning. The judgment the penetration the unflinching collectedness and consummate skill of the surgeon compelled my warmest admiration. I forgot our ground of disagreement in the transcendent ability that I beheld. His heart and mind and soul were given up to his profession and his success was adequate to the price paid for its purchase. The baron was however a mass of contradiction. I discovered this before we had been an hour in the ward. It was clear that he had risen by the sheer strength of great natural genius and that he was lamentably wanting in all the agreeable qualities which spring from early cultivation and sound training. He was violent sudden and irregular in his temper and mode of speaking--when his temper and speech were directed against any but his patients. He had no regard to the feelings of men of his own rank; and his language towards them was rather emphatic than delicate or well chosen. In his progress round the ward he came to the bed of a man suffering from a diseased leg. He removed the bandage from the part and asked ""what fool had tied it up so clumsily;"" _the fool_ as he well knew being the house surgeon at his side. Again another practitioner at the hospital had recommended a particular treatment in a particular case. This gentleman the baron's colleague was referred to as--""a child who had yet to learn the alphabet of surgery--who would have been laughed at twenty years ago had he prescribed such antiquated nostrums--a weak child--a mere baby gentlemen.""----""How much "" I exclaimed mentally time after time ""must this man have altered since H---- parted with him as his respected friend!"" And yet in some regards he was not altered at all. There was the same consideration for the poor sufferers--the same attention to their many complaints and wants--the same tenderness and kind disposition to humour and pacify them which H---- had dwelt upon with so much commendation. There was no hurrying from case to case--no sign of impatience at the reiterated unmeaning queries of the patients--no coarse jest at _their_ expense--not a syllable that could wound the susceptibility of the most sensitive. Did one poor fellow betray an anxiety to take up as little of the baron's time as possible and speaking hurriedly almost exhaust his little stock of feeble breath it was absolutely touching to mark the happy mode in which the surgeon put the flurried one at ease. Had these creatures paupers as they were been rich and noble--had they strangers as they were been brothers every one he could not have evinced a tenderer interest on their behalf--a stronger disposition to do them service. In spite of myself I loved the baron for his condescending to these men of low estate. It will not be necessary to dwell upon the proceedings of the place: I could extract from my note-book pages that would delight the medical reader necessarily dry and tedious to the uninitiated. Suffice it to say that many hours were spent in the surgical wards by this indefatigable surgeon: every individual case received his best attention and was prescribed for as carefully as though a noble fee waited upon each. The ceremony being at an end I was about to retire agreeably surprised and gratified with all that I had seen. ""Arrêtez donc "" said the baron noticing my movement and touching me upon the arm. ""You are not fatigued?"" ""Not in the least "" I answered. ""Come with me then."" The baron full of life and spirits and with the air of a man whose day's work was only about to commence bowed to the students and tripped quickly down stairs. I followed as commanded and the next moment I was in the baron's cabriolet driving with that gentleman rapidly through the streets of Paris. ""Have you courage?"" enquired the baron suddenly. ""For what sir?"" I replied. ""To see an operation."" ""I have been present at many sir "" said I--""some bad enough too; and I confess I have been less womanish and weak beholding them than I felt this morning witnessing your kindness to those poor creatures."" ""Ah poor creatures indeed!"" repeated the baron in a softer tone than any I had heard him use. ""The poor need kindness Mr Walpole. It is all we can do for them. God help them! it is little of that they get. Poverty is a frightful thing sir."" There were two circumstances that especially struck me in the delivery of this short speech. One was that the eyes of an intrepid operator filled with tears whilst he adverted to a very commonplace subject; the other that a confirmed atheist was inconsistent enough to invoke the Deity whose very existence he denied. We drove on and arrived at the hotel of one of the richest and most influential noblemen of France. The cabriolet stopped and the gates of the hotel were thrown open at the same instant. A lackey in the hall of the mansion was already waiting for the baron and we were bowed with much ceremony up the gilded staircase; we reached at last a sumptuously furnished chamber where we found three gentlemen in earnest conversation. They were silent upon our entrance and advanced one and all with great cordiality to greet the baron. The latter returned their salute with a distant and haughty politeness which I thought very unbecoming. ""We were thinking""---- began one of the party. ""How is the patient?"" asked the baron suddenly interrupting him. The other shook his head despondingly and the baron as it were instinctively unlocked a case of instruments which he had brought into the room with him from his cabriolet. ""The inflammation has not subsided then?"" ""No."" ""All the symptoms as before?"" ""All."" ""Let us see him."" The gentleman and the baron opened a door and passed into another room. As the door closed after them I heard a loud and dismal groan. One of the two remaining gentlemen then asked me if I had been long in Paris. I told him. ""Ah you haven't seen the new opera then?"" said he--just as we should say when put to it for conversation--What frightful or what beautiful weather this is! Before I could reply there was another fearful groan from the adjoining room but my new acquaintance proceeded without noticing it. ""You have nothing like our _Académie_ in London I believe?"" I was about to vindicate the Italian Opera when the two surgeons again appeared. The baron in a few words said that there was nothing to be done but to operate and at once if the life of the patient were to be spared at all. The three practitioners--for such they were--bowed in acquiescence and the baron prepared his instruments. It is the fashion to speak of medical men slightingly if not reproachfully; to accuse them of practising solemn impositions and of being at the best but so many legalized charlatans. It is especially the mode of speaking amongst those who will give ""the doctor"" no rest and are not satisfied until they make that functionary the most constant visitor at their abodes. No one would have dared to breathe one syllable of disrespect against the surgeon's sacred office who could have seen as I did the operation which the baron performed this day. It has been done successfully three times within the memory of man; twice by himself who first attempted it. It was grand to mark his calm and intellectual face--to see the hand--armed with the knife that cut for life or death--firm and unshaken as the mind that urged the eye that followed its unerring course. I could understand the worship that was paid to this incomparable master by all that knew his power. Within five minutes by the clock and in the sight of men whose breathless admiration made them oblivious of the throes of the poor sufferer the process was completed and the endangered life restored. The baron left the fainting invalid retired for a few seconds and prescribed. He returned and felt his pulse--and then turning to the man with whom he had first spoken said-- ""Should any thing arise sir you will acquaint me with it."" ""Unquestionably. He will do well?"" ""No doubt of it. Good-morning."" ""Good-morning baron "" said the gentleman obsequiously. ""His excellency bore it wonderfully."" ""Pretty well for an excellency. We don't notice these things in paupers--Now Mr Walpole."" And thereupon the baron turned upon his heels with such manifest disdain that he lost half the credit which he had gained by his previous performance. We sat for some time silent in the cabriolet. I was bursting to praise the baron and yet fearful to speak lest I should be insulted for my pains. At last I became so excited that I could hold out no longer. ""Baron "" said I ""I beg your pardon--it was the grandest thing I ever saw."" ""I have seen a grander "" said the surgeon frowning and pursing those unhappy lips of his again ""much grander Mr Walpole. I have seen a nobleman rolling in riches flattered by his dogs renowned for his Christian piety refusing the supplications of a poor boy who asked only for a few coins to carry him through a cold and killing winter. The refusal might have been the lad's death--but he was refused. It was as you say a grand thing but the lad has had his revenge to-day."" The baron drove to his own home. At his request I entered his library with him. He placed some books in my hand which he believed would be of service to me; and as we parted he said kindly-- ""Don't mind my rough ways Mr Walpole; I was educated in a rough school. I shall be glad to see you often. I have been disturbed. The father of that man whose life I verily believe I have saved this day hunted me many years ago from his door when I begged from him--condescended to beg from him--alms which his meanest servant would not have missed and which I wanted to save me from absolute starvation. I have never forgotten or forgiven him for the act--but I have had my revenge. The great man's son owes his life to the beggar after all. A good revenge _n'est ce pas_?"" I was very much disposed to consider the baron subject to fits of temporary derangement; but I was wise enough to do nothing more than nod my head in answer to this appeal leaving my questioner to interpret the action as he in his madness might think proper. There was a hearty shake of the hand another general invitation to his house and a particular invitation to the hospital where as the baron very reasonably observed ""All the knowledge that could serve a man in after life was hoarded up""--and then I made my bow and took my departure. Three months passed like so many days in the midst of occupation at once the most inspiriting and satisfactory; and during the whole of that period I am bound to acknowledge the treatment of the baron towards me to have been most generous and kind. In spite of my own resolutions I had attached myself to the professor by a feeling of gratitude which it was not easy to extinguish or control. His wish to advance me in the knowledge and understanding of my profession was so earnest the pains he took to communicate the most important results of his own hard-earned experience so untiring that had I not felt a heavy debt of obligation I must have been a senseless undeserving wretch indeed. The baron was manifestly well-disposed towards me and in spite (it might have been with so strange a character by very reason) of our religious differences he lost no opportunity of bringing me to his side and of loading me whilst there with precious gifts. I attended the professor at the hospital at the houses of his patients in his own private study. He was flattering enough to say that he liked to have me about him--that he was pleased with my straightforward character--and with the earnestness with which I worked. I trust it was not his good opinion alone that induced me in opposition to my first resolution by degrees to associate with the baron until at length we became intimate and almost inseparable friends. I would not acknowledge this to my own conscience which happily never suffered me to violate a principle or yield an inch of righteous ground. The baron persevered in his attacks upon our sacred religion. I grown bolder by long familiar acquaintance acted as firmly upon the defensive: and I must do myself the justice to assert that the soundness of fair argument suffered no injury from the light weapons of wit and ridicule which my friend had ever at command. It was a fine morning in the early spring and I sat with the baron as usual in his library. On this occasion I was helping him in the completion of a series of plates which he was about to publish in connexion with a work on cancer--a book that has since made a great sensation upon the Continent. The engraver had worked from the professor's preparations under the eye of the latter; but a few slight inaccuracies had crept into the drawings and the baron employed me in the detection of them. We were both fully occupied; I with the engravings; he with his lecture of the day--and we were both very silent when we heard a loud ringing of the porter's bell. The baron at the same time looked at his watch and resumed his pen. A note was then brought to him by his servant. It was read and an answer given. ""Say I will be there at four o'clock."" ""I beg your pardon sir "" said the servant ""but the prince's chasseur who gave me the note desired me to add that the prince wished to see you immediately."" ""Very well sir "" answered the baron haughtily. ""He has delivered his master's message--do you deliver mine. I am busy very busy--and cannot see the prince till four o'clock. That is the answer."" The servant knew his master and left the room immediately. ""These insufferable nobles!"" exclaimed the baron; ""they imagine that mankind was invented for their pleasure and amusement--to be their footballs. Does this man think we have nothing better to do than to humour his fancies and attend to every ailment that waits upon his gross appetite. He makes a god of his belly is punished for his idolatry and then whines by the hour to his doctor."" ""Is he not ill then?"" I enquired. ""He may be--but that is no reason why my students are to be neglected for a prince. He must come in his turn with all the rest. I allow no distinctions in my practice. Suffering is suffering--the pain of the peasant is as acute as the smart of the king. Proceed with the drawings Mr Walpole."" In less than a quarter of an hour there was a fresh disturbance. The servant knocked softly at the door and entered timidly. ""Here is a dirty woman at the gate sir "" began the man. ""I have told her that you were engaged and couldn't speak to her but she would not move until I had brought you this letter. She is a dirty creature sir."" ""Well you have said that once before "" answered the baron taking the note--if a soiled strip of paper with blots erasures and illegible characters may deserve that title. The baron endeavoured to read it; but failing requested François to show the poor woman up. She appeared and justified the repetition of François. She was indeed very far from being clean; she had scarcely a rag upon her back--and seemed in every way much distressed. ""Now my good woman "" said the professor very tenderly ""tell me what it is you want as quickly as you are able to do it and I will help you if it be in my power."" The woman bursting into tears proceeded to say that ""she resided in the Quartier St Jacques--that her husband was a water-carrier."" ""A what?"" asked the professor quickly as if he had missed the word. ""A water-carrier sir."" ""Go on."" That he had come from Auvergne--had fallen into a dreadful state of disease through want of nourishment and fuel during the winter--that he was now lying without a crust of bread or a particle of fire--and that she was sure he must die leaving her and her children to be thrown into the world. She filled up her short narrative with many harrowing details and finished by imploring the surgeon to come and save her husband if he could. ""We will pay you sir all that we are able--if he gets to work again: and if he shouldn't God I am sure will not listen to your prayers the less because you have helped the unfortunate and the poor."" Before the woman had told her story the cheeks of the baron were as pale as her own--his eyes scarcely less moist. He had put his hand to his pocket and when the woman ceased--he drew it out again and presented her with a crown-piece. ""Go home "" said he ""with that. Buy bread and fuel. I will be at your lodging this afternoon."" The woman was about to exclaim. ""Not a syllable!"" said her benefactor preventing her. ""If you thank me I will do nothing for you. Go your ways now. I cannot accompany you--for you see I am very busy; but before the day is out I will prescribe for your goodman.--Good-by to you--good-by."" The woman went away without another word. Before she reached the bottom of the stairs the baron spoke. ""Mr Walpole--pray be kind enough to call her back!"" She came. ""You must not think me harsh now "" proceeded the baron by way of apology ""I did not wish to be so. I shall do all I can for you and your husband will no doubt be soon quite well again. There keep your spirits up and go home and cheer the good fellow. I shall see you by-and-by--_Adieu ma chère_."" The professor continued his lecture; but not for five minutes before he appeared to be very uneasy at his work. He put his pen down and sat for a time full of thought; then he rose and paced the room and then took up his pen again; at last he started from his chair and pulled the bell. ""François "" said he to the servant ""let the cabriolet be here immediately. Yes "" he continued as if speaking to himself ""it will be better to go at once; the man may be seriously ill. His life may be in danger. It can be done in an hour--there is plenty of time still for the lecture. We must go and see this poor fellow Mr Walpole "" added the professor addressing me. ""Come you shall give me your opinion of the case."" And the lecture and the engravings were neglected and we dashed through the streets towards the Quartier St Jacques with every chance of breaking our own necks as well as that of the spirited animal that flew before the whip of the excited practitioner. ""Well "" said I to myself as we alighted ""it may be Monsieur le Baron as you state it '_the pain of the peasant is as acute as the smart of a king_.' It is however very certain that you do not hold to the converse of the proposition."" The water-carrier was in truth alarmingly ill and he was not likely to remain so much longer if left to himself; for it was already the eleventh hour with him. He was living in a filthy hole--lying on a bed of straw without the commonest necessaries of life. The man had become diseased through want and confinement--that cause and origin of half the complaints to which the human frame is subject; lack of wholesome food and pure air. The baron perceived instantly that nothing could be done for the unhappy fellow in his present abode and he therefore insisted upon his being removed at once to a _maison de santé_. ""I can't walk "" said the man gruffly. ""No but you can be carried in a coach I suppose "" replied the baron in a similar tone ""if I wish it."" ""Let him be dressed "" he continued turning to the wife. ""I will send a coach for him in half an hour--and take charge of him until he is better. That will buy you some bread for the present "" and he gave another crown and hastened away. In the afternoon the baron attended the patient again at the _maison de santé_. He ordered him a bath and prescribed medicines. For a month he visited him daily; and he did not quit him until he was convalescent. Nor then--for upon the day of the poor fellow's discharge he presented him with a horse and water-cart and a purse containing five louis-d'or. ""Take care of the money "" said the charitable donor ""do not be extravagant. If you are ill--come to me always."" The water-carrier--a bluff sturdy fellow in his way--would have thanked the baron could he have kept quiet; but he stood roaring like a child perfectly overcome with the kindness he had received. It was some months afterwards that François announced two visitors. When they appeared I recognised my old acquaintance the water-carrier grown hale and hearty accompanied by a stranger of the same condition in life as himself and looking very ill. ""_Ah mon ami_!"" exclaimed the baron shaking him by the hand ""how does the world use you?"" ""Look at me "" answered the carrier--""just look at me."" ""Ay ay "" said the baron. ""Flesh enough upon you now! Who is your friend?"" ""Ah it's about him I came! He is very ill isn't he? He is a water-carrier too. He was going to another doctor but I wouldn't allow it. No no--that wouldn't have been the thing after all you have done for me. I hope I know better. He is very bad and hasn't got a sixpence in the world."" I could not help smiling at this original display of gratitude--and the baron laughed outright; his heart grew glad within him as he answered pressing the honest carrier's hardy hand-- ""Right--right--quite right! _Mon enfant_ bring them all to me!"" M'Linnie who was not honoured by the baron's confidence seemed to be well acquainted with his peculiarities. I mentioned to him his extraordinary treatment of the water-carriers and attributed it all without hesitation to downright insanity. ""Not that exactly "" said Mac. ""It is caprice and the inconsistency of human nature. He is strongly attached to all _Auvergnats_ and to water-carriers in particular. His predilection that way is well known in Paris. Perhaps his father was a water-carrier--or his first love a girl from Auvergne. Who can tell what gave rise to the partiality in a mind that is full of bias and contradiction!"" Contradiction indeed! I had remarked enough and yet nothing at all in comparison with that which was to follow. Up to the present time I had been only puzzled and amused by the frolics and irregularities of the baron. I had yet to be staggered and confounded by the most palpable and barefaced act of inconsistency that ever lunatic conceived and executed. The winter and spring had passed and summer came placing our time more at our disposal. Summer is the dissector's long vacation. I permitted myself to take recreation and to seek amusement in the many public resorts of this interesting capital. One morning I attended the baron at the hospital and returned with him to his abode. We sat together for an hour and I distinctly remember that on this occasion the unbeliever was even more witty than usual on the subject which he was ever ready to introduce with I am sorry to say no better object than that of turning it into ridicule and contempt. I left him irritated and annoyed at his behaviour and tried to forget it in

the crowds of people who were thronging the gay streets on one of the gayest mornings of the year. I hardly know why I directed my steps towards the _Place St Sulpice_ or why having reached it I lingered gazing at the church which has its site there. I had a better reason for quitting it with precipitation; for whilst I stood musing I became suddenly aware of the presence of my friend the baron. He did not see me and I was not anxious to begin _de novo_ the disagreeable discussion of the morning. As I turned away from the church however I looked instinctively back and was much surprised to behold the baron glancing very suspiciously about him and appearing most anxious to avoid public observation. I was mentally debating whether such was really the fact or whether the idea was suggested by my own clandestine movement when to my unaffected astonishment the baron put an end to all doubt by making one rapid march towards the church and then rushing in--looking neither to the right nor left--behind nor before him. This was truly too extraordinary a circumstance to witness without further enquiry. I immediately retraced my steps and followed the atheist into the house where surely _he_ could have no lawful business to transact. If my surprise had been great without the sacred edifice what was it within and at that particular portion of it known by the designation of _the Chapel of the Virgin Mary_ at which I beheld questioning my own senses my unaccountable friend this exceedingly erratic baron--upon his knees--in solemn prayer! Yes kneeling in low humility and praying audibly with a devotion and an awful earnestness that could not be surpassed. He remained upon his knees and he persevered in his prayers until the conclusion of the service and then he bestowed his alms--performing all things with an expression of countenance and gravity of demeanour such as I knew him to wear only at the table upon which he had achieved the most celebrated of his surgical victories. ""Mad mad!"" I exclaimed aloud ""nothing short of it."" Why such glaring wholesale hypocrisy had not been committed since Satan first introduced the vice into Paradise. What atrocity what barefaced blasphemy! It was the part of a Christian and a friend to attribute the extravagant proceedings of the baron to absolute insanity and to nothing else; and I did so accordingly alarmed for the safety of the unfortunate professor and marvelling what unheard-of act would next be perpetrated rendering it incumbent upon society to lock the lunatic up for life. Why his lips were hardly relieved of the pollution which had fallen from them in my presence; and could he in his senses with his reason not unhinged dare to offend his Maker doubly by the mockery of such prayers as _he_ could offer up! What was his motive--what his end? That he was anxious for concealment was evident. Had he courted observation I might have supposed him actuated by some far-sighted scheme of policy; and yet his rash and straightforward temperament rendered him incapable of any stratagem whatever. No no--look at the thing as I would there was no accounting for this most perplexing anomaly except on the ground of mental infirmity. Alas poor baron! When the service was at an end I took up a position in the street near the church in order to observe the next movement of the devotee quite prepared for any thing that might happen. I was disappointed. The baron looking very cheerful and very happy made his appearance from the temple which he had so recently profaned and walked steadily and quietly away. I followed him and in the excitement of the moment was about to approach and accost him when he suddenly turned into a narrow lane and I lost sight of him. Before I saw the baron again I had made up my mind to keep my own counsel and to give him no hint of my having discovered and watched him. The reasons for silence were twofold. First I hoped by keeping my eye upon the professor to learn more of his character than I yet knew; and in the second place I did not wish to be regarded as a spy by an individual of violent passions whom I could not conscientiously consider responsible for his actions. It so happened that on the evening of this very day the baron held a _conversazione_ in his rooms to which the first people of Paris both in rank and talent were invited. I who had the _entrée_ was present of course and I was likewise amongst the first of the arrivals. With me the chief physician of the Hotel Dieu entered the _salon_. The surgeon and the physician shook hands; and after a word or two the latter asked abruptly-- ""By the way baron what were you doing at St Sulpice this morning? I saw you quitting the church."" ""Oh!"" said the baron without changing colour or moving a muscle although I blushed at his side to my very forehead; ""Oh! a sick priest placed under my care by the Duchess d'Angoulême--nothing more."" ""Well I could hardly believe that you had turned saint--that is the truth."" ""Not yet--not yet!"" added the baron laughing out. ""This is to be the saint "" he continued tapping me on the shoulders. ""St Walpole! That will look very fine in the calendar! However my friend if they attempt to canonize you whilst I live I'll act the part of devil's advocate and contest your right of admission if it is only to punish you for your opposition to me in this world. So take care of yourself and read up your divinity."" And with these words the unmitigated hypocrite chuckling at my apparent confusion advanced to the door and welcomed his crowding visitors. Upon the following day I repaired to St Sulpice--but I did not see the baron. I went again and again with no better success. For a week I attended the service daily--still no baron. Afterwards I went twice a-week. At the end of two months I contented myself with one visit weekly--still no baron. I did not like to give up the watch. I could not tell _why_ I felt sure of meeting with him again; yet so I felt and I was curious to know how far he carried his madness and what object he proposed to himself in the prosecution and indulgence of his monomania. Three months elapsed and I was at length paid for my perseverance. For a second time I saw the baron enter the church--assist devoutly at the celebration of mass at the chapel of the Virgin Mary--repeat his prayers and offer up his alms. There was the same solemnity of bearing during the ceremony the same cheerful self-possession at its completion. A more methodical madness there could not be! I was determined this time not to lose sight of my gentleman without obtaining at least a clue to his extraordinary behaviour. As soon as the service as over he prepared for his departure. Before he could quit the church however I crossed it unperceived by him and walked straight up to the sacristan. ""Who is that gentleman?"" I asked pointing to the surgeon. ""Monsieur F---- "" he answered readily enough--so readily that I hardly knew what to ask next. ""A regular attendant sir "" the sacristan continued in an impressive tone of approbation. ""Indeed!"" said I. ""Ay. I have been here twelve years next Easter and four times regularly every year has monsieur come to hear this mass."" ""It is very strange!"" I said speaking to myself. ""Not at all "" said the sacristan. ""It is very natural seeing that he is himself the _founder of it_!"" Worse and worse! The inconsistency of the reviler of things sacred was becoming more barefaced and unpardonable. ""Let him taunt me again!"" I exclaimed walking homeward; ""let him mock me for my weak and childish notions as he calls them and attempt to be facetious at the expense of all that is holy and good and consolatory in life. Let him attempt it and I will annihilate him with a word!"" When however I grew more collected I began to understand how by such proceeding I might shoot very wide of my mark and give my friend an advantage after all. He had explained his presence at the church to his colleague by attributing it to a visit paid to a sick priest there. He should have no opportunity to prevaricate if I once challenged him. Now he might have the effrontery to deny what I had seen with my own eyes and could swear to. By lying in wait for him again and accosting him whilst he was in the very act of perpetrating his solemn farce I should deprive him of all power of evasion and escape. And so I determined it should be. In the meanwhile I kept my own counsel and we went on as usual. I learned from the sacristan when the baron was next expected at the mass and until that day did not present myself again at the Place St Sulpice. Before that time arrived there arose a touching incident which as leading to important consequences deserves especial notice. It was growing late one evening of this same summer--the surgeon was fatigued with the labours of the day--I was on the point of leaving him--he of retiring to rest when François announced a stranger. An old man appeared. He was short and very thin; his cheeks were pale--his hair hoary. Benignity beamed in his countenance on which traces of suffering lingered not wholly effaced by piety and resignation. There was an air of sweetness and repose about the venerable stranger that at the first sight gained your respect if not regard. When he entered the apartment he bowed with ceremony--and then waited timidly for countenance from the baron. ""What is the matter with you?"" asked the surgeon roughly. ""Allow me to be seated "" said the stranger drawing his breath with difficulty and speaking with a weak and tremulous voice. ""I am very tired."" The baron as if rebuked rose instantly and gave his visitor a chair. ""I am very old "" continued the latter ""and my poor legs are weary."" ""What ails you?"" ""Permit me "" said the stranger. ""I am the priest of a small village very far from Paris."" ""Humph!"" ejaculated the surgeon. ""Two years ago I had a swelling in my neck which the doctor of our village thought of no importance; but it burst at last and for a long time I was kept to my bed a useless idle man. With four parishes and no assistant; there lay a heavy weight upon my conscience--but God is good sir""---- ""Show me your throat!"" exclaimed the baron interrupting him. ""And my people too "" proceeded the old man preparing to obey the surgeon's command--""my people were very considerate and kind. When I got a little better they offered in order to lighten my labours to come to one church every Sunday. But it was not fair sir. They are working men and have much to do and Sunday is their only day of rest. It was not right that so many should resign their comfort for the sake of one; and I could not bear to think of it."" All this was uttered with such perfect natural simplicity that it was impossible not to feel at once great interest in the statement of the speaker. My attention was riveted. Not so the baron's who answered with more impatience than he had ever used towards the water-carriers-- ""Come to the point sir."" ""I was coming sir "" replied the old priest mildly; ""I trust I don't fatigue you. Whilst I was in doubt as to what it was best to do a friend strongly recommended me to come to Paris and to consult you. It was a thing to consider sir. A long journey and a great expense! We have many poor in our district and it is not lawful to cast away money that rightfully belongs to them. But when I became reduced as you see me I could not regard the money as thrown away on such an errand; and so I came. I arrived only an hour ago and have not delayed an instant."" The surgeon affecting not to listen to the plaintive recital of the priest proceeded very carefully to examine his disease. It was an alarming one; indeed of so aggravated a character that it was astonishing to see the sufferer alive after all that he must have undergone in its progress. ""This disease must kill you "" said the baron--brutally I thought considering the present condition of the man his distance from home friends and all the natural ties that render calamity less frightful and insupportable. I would gladly have said a word to soften the pain which the baron had inflicted; but it would have been officious and might have given offence. The old priest however expressed no anxiety or regret upon hearing the verdict pronounced against him. With a firm and quiet hand he replaced the bandages and he then drew a coarse bag from his pocket from which he extracted a five franc piece. ""This is "" he said calmly ""a very trifling fee indeed for the opinion of so celebrated a surgeon; but as I have told you sir the necessities of my poor are great. I cannot afford to spend more upon this worthless carcass. I an very grateful to you for your candour sir. It will be my own fault now if I die unprepared."" ""It is the profession of a priest "" said the baron ""to affect stoicism. You do not feel it."" ""I do not sir "" replied the man respectfully. ""I did not hear the awful truth you just now told me as a stoic would. Pardon me for saying that it might have been communicated less harshly and abruptly to a weak old man; I do not wish to speak offensively."" The baron blushed for shame. ""I am a human being sir "" continued the priest ""and must feel as other men. Death is a terrible abyss between earth and heaven; but the land is not the less lovely beyond it."" ""You speak as you were taught?"" said the baron. ""Yes."" ""And as you teach?"" ""Yes."" ""And you profess to feel all this?"" ""I profess to be a humble minister of Christ--imperfect enough Heaven knows sir! I ask your pardon for complaining at your words. They did not shock me very much. How should they when I came expecting them? Farewell sir; I will return to Auvergne and die in the midst of my people."" ""Stay!"" exclaimed the baron touched and softened by the one magical word. ""Come back! I admire your calmness--I respect your powers of endurance. Can you trust them to the end?"" ""I am frail and very weak sir "" replied the priest. ""I would bear much to save my life. I do not wish to die. I have many things unfinished yet."" ""Listen to me. There is but one means of saving you; and mark--that perhaps may fail--a long painful and it may be unsuccessful operation. Are you prepared to run the risk?"" ""Is there a chance sir?"" ""Yes--but a remote one. Were I the priest of Auvergne I would take that chance."" ""It is enough sir "" said the old man. ""Let it be done. I will undergo it with the help of God as their pastor should for the sake of my dear children in Auvergne."" The baron sat at his desk and wrote a few lines-- ""Present this note "" said he ""at the _Salle St Agnes_ in the _Hotel Dieu_. Go at once. The sisters there will take care that you want for nothing. Take rest for a day or two and I will see what afterwards may be done for you."" The priest thanked the baron many times for his kindness--bowed respectfully and retired. The free-thinking surgeon sat for a few minutes after his departure silent and thoughtful. ""Happy man!"" he exclaimed at last sighing as the words escaped him. ""Happy sir?"" said I enquiringly. ""Yes! happy Mr Walpole. False and fabulous as the system is on which he builds is he not to be envied for the faith that buoys him up so well through the great sea of trouble as your poet justly calls this pitiable world! Could one _purchase_ this all-powerful faith what price would be too dear for such an acquisition? Who would not give all that he possesses here to grasp that hope and anchor?"" ""And yet sir you might have it. The gift is freely offered and you spurn it."" ""No such thing!"" replied the surgeon hastily. ""I may NOT have it. This weak yet amiable priest is content to take for granted what every rational mind rejects without fair proofs. He receives as a postulate that which I must have demonstrated. I try to solve the problem and the first links of the argument lead to an absurdity."" ""The weak man then has reason to be thankful?"" said I. ""Ay ay! I grant you that. He cannot tell how much!"" ""How differently sir do things appear to different men! The very endurance of this old man founded as it is upon his faith is to me proof sufficient of the truth and heavenly origin of that faith."" ""You talk Mr Walpole like a schoolboy who knows nothing of religion out of his catechism--and nothing of the world beyond his school walls. If the ability to bear calamity with fortitude shall decide the genuineness of the creed there is your North American Indian or Hindoo nearer to truth and heaven than the Christian. So much for your '_proof sufficient_' as you term it."" This discussion like all the rest for all useful purposes ended as it began leaving us both just where it had found us--our tempers rather than our views suffering in the conflict. Two or three times I was tempted to rattle out a volley of indignation at his amazing and unparalleled effrontery and of calling him to account for his turpitude; but my better judgment withheld me bidding me reserve my blows until they should fall unerringly and fatally upon his defenceless head. In the meanwhile the good old priest carried his mild and resigned spirit with him into the hospital. He was received with kindness and treated with especial care chiefly on account of the recommendation of the baron who was interested in the unfortunate pastor to a greater extent than he cared to acknowledge. The day for the operation--postponed from time to time--at length arrived. It was performed. The process was long and painful but the patient never uttered a complaint: his cries were wrung from him in the extremity of torture and physical helplessness. The result was successful. One knew not which to admire most--the Christian magnanimity of the patient or the triumphant skill of the operator: both were perfect. When the anxious scene was over the surgeon shook the priest by the hand tenderly and encouragingly and with his handkerchief wiped the sweat-drops from his aged brow. He saw him afterwards carefully removed to his bed and for half an hour watched at his side until exhausted the sufferer fell to sleep. During the slow recovery of the invalid _his_ bed was the first visited by the surgeon in his daily rounds. He lingered there long after his services were needed and listened with the deepest attention to the accounts which the priest gave of his mode of life and of the condition of his dear flock far away in Auvergne. When at length the convalescent man was able to quit his bed the baron to the surprise of all who knew him would take him by the arm and give him his support as the enfeebled creature walked slowly up and down the ward. It was the feeling act of an affectionate son. Then the surgeon made eager enquiries which the priest as eagerly answered; and they grew as friendly as though they had been well acquainted from their infancy. Weeks passed away; the priest was at last discharged cured; and with prayers mingling with tears of gratitude he took leave of his benefactor and returned in joy to his native village. It was exactly a week after his departure that the day arrived upon which the sacristan led me to expect a meeting with the baron at the church of Saint Sulpice. Resolved to confront this incarnation of contradiction at the very scene of his unseemly vagaries I did not fail to be punctual. As I entered the street I espied the baron a few yards before me walking briskly towards the entrance of the sacred building. I followed him. He hurried into the church and took his accustomed place. I kept close upon him; and with a fluttering heart seated myself at his side. My cheek burned with nervous agitation but I did not look towards my adversary. His eye however was upon me. I felt it and was sensible of his steady long and as it seemed passionless gaze. He did not move or betray any symptom of surprise. As on the previous occasions he proceeded solemnly to prayer; and when the ceremony was completed he as usual offered up his alms. As the service drew to its close my own anxiety became intense and my situation almost insupportable. He rose--I did the same;--he walked leisurely away--I giddy with excitement reeled after him. I was not to be shaken from my purpose and I accosted him on the church's threshold. ""Baron!"" I exclaimed. ""Mr Walpole!"" he replied perfectly unmoved. ""I am surprised to see you here sir."" ""You are NOT "" answered the baron still most placidly; ""you came expressly to meet me; you have been here twice before. Why do you desire to hide that fact? Can a Christian Mr Walpole play the hypocrite as well as other men?"" ""I cannot understand you "" I said bewildered by his imperturbable coolness; ""you laugh at religion--you mock me for respecting it and yet you come here for prayer. You do not believe in God and you assist devoutly at mass!"" ""It is a lovely morning Mr Walpole--we have half an hour to spare--give me your arm!"" Perfectly puzzled and confounded by the collected manner of the baron I placed my arm mechanically in his and suffered him to conduct me whethersoever he would. We walked in silence for some distance passed into the meanest quarter of the city and reached a miserable and squalid street. The baron pointed to the most wretched house in the lane and bade me direct my eye especially to its sixth story. ""Mark it well "" said he ""you see a window there to which a line is fixed with recently washed linen?"" ""I do "" I answered. ""In the room--the small close hole to which that window hardly brings air and light I passed months of my life. The mass at which you have three times watched me is connected with it and with occurrences that had their rise there. I was the occupant of that garret--it seems but yesterday since I wanted bread there."" The surgeon was unmanned. He kept his eye upon the melancholy window until emotion blinded it and permitted him to see no longer. He stood transfixed for a second or two and then spoke quickly. ""Mr Walpole poverty is horrible! I have courage for any extremity but that. Pain I have borne--shrieks and moans I have listened to unmoved whilst I stood by labouring to remove them; but when I recall the moments in which I have languished for a crust of bread and known mankind to be my enemy--as though being poor I was a felon--all hearts steeled against me--All hearts did I say?"" added the speaker suddenly checking himself--""I lie; had it been so I should not have been here to tell the tale."" The baron paused and then resumed. ""High as the rank is Mr Walpole to which I have attained; brilliant as my career has been and I acknowledge my success with gratitude--believe me there is not a famished wretch who crawls through the sinks of this overgrown metropolis that suffers more than I have suffered has bitterer hours than I have undergone. In this city of splendour and corruption at whose extremes are experienced the most exquisite enjoyment and the most crushing and bitter endurance I have passed through trials which have before now overborne and killed the stoutest hearts and would have annihilated mine but for the unselfish love of him whose business took me to the church this day. Misery in all its aggravated forms has been mine. Want of money--of necessary clothing--hunger--thirst; such things have been familiar to me. In that room and in the depth of the hard winter I have for hours given warmth to my benumbed fingers with the breath which absolute want enabled me to draw only with difficulty and pain."" ""Is it possible!"" I involuntarily exclaimed. ""You believe that human strength is unequal to such demands. It is natural to think so; and yet I speak the truth. My parents Mr Walpole humble and poor but good and loving sent me to Paris with all the money they could afford for my education. I was ambitious and deemed it more than enough for my purpose. When half my time was spent here unhappily for me both father and mother were carried off by a malignant fever. It was heavy blow and threatened my destruction; threatened it however but for a moment. I had determined to arrive at eminence; and when does the determination give way in the breast of him who feels and knows his power equal to his aim? I had a brother to whom I wrote telling him of my situation and asking him for the loan of a few louis-d'or until my studies were completed when I promised to repay the debt with interest. He sent me the quarter of the sum for which I had begged with a long cold letter of remonstrance bidding me give up my profession and apply myself to the humbler pursuits of my family. I returned to my brother both money and letter and the day on which I did so saw me without a meal. I had not a farthing in the world. Had not a woman who lodged in a room below given me a crust of bread I must have committed crime to assuage the cries of nature. How I existed for days I no longer remember. But I remember well hearing of a rich nobleman renowned for his wealth and piety and for all the virtues which the world confers upon the possessor of vast estates. In a moment of enthusiasm and mistaken reliance I sat down and penned a petition to this great personage. I spoke as an intellectual man to an intellectual man; as one working his difficult way through obscurity and trouble to usefulness and honour--and requiring only a few crumbs from the rich man's table to be at ease and happy at his toil. I begged in abject humility for those crumbs and received a lying and cold-blooded excuse instead of them. I crouched at his gate with a spirit worn by anxiety and apprehension and his slaves hunted me away from it. You have passed through that same gate with me; you were witness of my triumph at the bedside of his child!"" ""You mean his excellency--the operation?"" ""I do."" ""How little the rich "" said I ""know of the misery the privations endured by those who in poverty acquire the knowledge that is to benefit mankind so largely. How ignorant are they of their trials!"" ""If you would know of the ignorance the folly and the vice of the rich "" proceeded the baron always at home upon this his favourite subject ""you must listen to an endless tale. Ever willing and eager to detract from the merits of the man of science and to attribute to him the assumption of powers beyond human grasp--and ever striving to drag down the results of his long and patient study to the level of their own brutish ignorance--they are made the sport the tools and playthings of every charlatan and trickster as they should be. You shall be satisfied Mr Walpole when you see the men who treat you with scorn and contumely pulled like puppets by a wire and made to dance to any tune the piper listeth. Hope nothing from the rich."" ""And from the poor sir?"" ""Every thing "" said the baron almost solemnly. ""From their hearts shall spring the gratitude that will cheer you in your course and solace you in your gloom. Fame and the grateful attachment of my humble friends have furnished me with a victory which the gold of the king could not purchase. But we forget Saint Sulpice. I am not a hypocrite as you judge me Mr Walpole. Be witness yourself if my presence there this day has proved me one. Refused and cast away by this nobleman I had nothing to do but to dispose for a trifle of a few articles of linen which were still in my possession. I sold them for a song and believing failure to be impossible still struggled on. In that room I dwelt living for days upon nothing richer than bread and water and regarding my little money with the agony of a miser as every demand diminished the small store. From morn till night I laboured. I almost passed my life amongst the dead. Well was it for me as it proved that my necessities drove me to the dead-house to forget hunger and obtain eleemosynary warmth. Dismissed at dusk from this temporary home I returned to the garret for my crust and carried the book which I had borrowed to the common passage of the house from whose dim lamp I received the glimmer that served me to read and to sustain the incensed ambitious spirit that would not quell within me. The days glanced by quicker than the lightning. I could not read enough; I could not acquire knowledge sufficient in that brief interval of days between the acquisition of my little wealth and the spending of my last farthing. The miserable moment came. I was literally penniless and without the means of realizing any thing. For a week I retained possession of my room through the charity of my landlord and I was furnished with two loaves by a good fellow who lived in the same house and who proffered his assistance so kindly so generously and well that I received his benefaction only that I might not give him pain by a refusal. The second week of charity had already begun when entering my cold and hapless room in my return from the hospital I was detained at the door by hearing my name pronounced in a loud and angry tone. I listened with a sickening earnestness and recognized the voice of my landlord and that of the good neighbour in high discussion. Something had been said which much offended the latter; for the words which I caught from him were those of remonstrance and reproach. ""'For shame for shame!' said he 'you have children of your own and they may need a friend one day. Think of them before you do so hard a thing.' ""'I do think of them ' replied the landlord sharply; 'and that they mayn't starve I must keep my matters straight.' ""'Give him another week or two. You will not feel it. I'll undertake to _keep_ him. It isn't much Heaven knows! that I can do for him; but at a pinch man should make shift for man. Say you'll do it!' ""'I have told you he must go. I do not say one thing and mean another.' ""'Yes you do Lagarde ' continued the persevering lodger. 'You say your prayers daily and tell Heaven how thankful you are for all it does for you. Now _that_ you cannot mean if you turn a helpless brother from your doors who must die of want if you and I desert him. Come think again of it. Recollect how the poor lad works--how he is striving and striving day after day. He will do well at last and pay us back for all.' ""There was no doubt as to the individual--the subject of this argument. He stood listening to his doom and far far more grateful to the good creature who pleaded his cause than distressed by the obstinacy which pronounced his banishment. I was not kept long in suspense. I retreated to my den and sat down in gloomy despair. A loud knock at the door roused me and the indignant pride which possessed me melted at once into humility and love when I beheld the faithful Sebastian--my sympathizing neighbour. ""'You are to go ' he said bluntly; 'you are to leave this house to-morrow.' ""'I know it ' I answered; 'I am prepared to go this instant.' ""'And whither?' ""'Into the street ' said I; 'any where--it matters not.' ""'Oh yes! it matters much ' replied my visitor; 'it would not matter to me or to your landlord. We are but day-labourers whom nobody would miss. You have great things before you: you will do if you are not crushed on the way. I am sure of it and you shall not be deserted.' ""'What do you mean?' I asked. ""'Listen to me. Don't be offended. I am a poor man and an ignorant one; but I respect learning and feel for the distressed. You leave this house to-morrow; so do I. You seem to have no friends; I am friendless too. I am a foundling. I never knew either father or mother. I am a water-carrier and I come from Auvergne. That is my history. Why should we not seek a lodging together? You don't regret leaving this place; no more do I. I won't disturb you. You shall study as long as you like and have me to talk to when you are tired: that is--if it is quite agreeable and you won't be ashamed of me.' ""'You know ' said I 'that I am in a state of beggary.' ""'I know ' he answered 'that you are not flush of capital just now; but I have a little in my pocket and can work for more. If you are not too proud to borrow a trifle from me now I sha'n't be too proud to have it back again when you get rich. Don't let me prate for I am rough and unhandy at it; but give me your hand like an honest man and say ""Sebastian I will do as you wish me.'"" ""My heart glowed with a streaming fire and I grasped the extended palm of my preserver. 'Sebastian ' I exclaimed 'I will do as you wish me. I will do more. I will make you independent. I will slave to make you happy. It can be done--I feel it can--and you may trust me.' ""'You'll do your best I know ' he answered; 'and you'll do wonders or I am much mistaken.' ""Upon the following morning we wandered through the city and before nightfall obtained shelter. To

this unselfish creature and to the sacrifices which he made for me I owe every thing. We had been together but a few days when he drew from me a statement of my position and future prospects--drew it with a delicacy and tenderness that looked lovely indeed from beneath his ragged robes. Now this poor fellow like me--like all of us--had his ambition and a darling object in the far distance to attain. He had for months stinted himself of many comforts that he might add weekly to a sum which he had saved for the purchase of a horse and water-cart. He was already master of a few hundred francs; and his earnings small as they were permitted him to keep up the hope which had supported him through many hardships. No sooner however did he gather from my words the extent of my necessities than he determined to forego the dearest wish of his life in order to secure my advancement and success. I remonstrated with him; but I might as well have spoken to stone. He would not suffer me to speak; but threatened if I refused him to throw his bag of savings without delay into the _Seine_. I ceased to oppose him accepted his noble offer and vowed to devote myself from that time forward to the raising up of my deliverer. The money of Sebastian supplied me with books enabled me to pass my examinations. Be sure I did not slacken in my exertions. Idleness was fraud while the sweat from the brow of the water-carrier poured so freely for my sake. I revered him as a father not before I had myself become the object of his affections--the recipient of the love which he had never been conscious of before foundling that he was and without another human tie! He grew proud of me prouder and prouder every day--I must be well dressed--I must want for nothing; no though he himself wanted all things. He was assured of my future eminence and this was enough for him; and my spirit well responded to his own. I knew my capacity; I felt my strength. I was aware of the ability that floated in the world and did not fear to bring my own amongst it. What could a mind undertake from which mine would shrink? What application could be demanded to which I was not equal--prepared--eager to submit? Where lay my difficulty? I saw none: or if I did for an instant it was exterminated before the imperious resolution I had formed to exalt and enrich my beloved and loving benefactor. Tender as a parent to me this incomparable man was at the same time diligent and attentive as a domestic. He would permit me to do nothing to impede the easy and natural course of study. He shamed me by his affectionate assiduity but silenced me ever by referring to the _Future_ when he looked he confessed for a repayment for all his care and love. What could I say of do in answer to this appeal? What but reiterate the vow which I had taken never to desert him and to fight my way upwards that he might share the glory he had earned. A day arrived when I was compelled for a time to leave him; for I had been received as _interne_ at the Hotel Dieu. It was hard parting especially for the poor water-carrier who dreaded losing sight of me for ever. I gave him an assurance of my constancy; and consoled him by the information that another and last examination yet awaited me for which a certain sum of money would be required. He promised to have it ready by the hour and conjured me to take all care of myself--and to learn to love religion; for I must tell you Sebastian was a pious man--a conscientious Christian. ""Once at the hospital I sought profitable employment and obtained it. In the course of a few months I had earned a sum--dearer more valuable to me than all I have since acquired. It was insignificant in itself but it purchased for my Sebastian his long wished-for treasure--the horse and water-cart. I took it to him; and when I approached him I had not a word to say for my grateful heart was in my throat strangling my utterance. He threw his arms about my neck cried laughed thanked scolded blessed and reproached me all in the wildness and delirium of his delight. 'Why did you do it?' said he 'oh it was kind and loving in you!--very kind and foolish--and wrong and generous and extravagant--dear good naughty boy! I am very angry with you; but I love you for it dearly. How you are getting on! I knew you would. I said so from the first. You will do wonders--you will be rich at last. You want no man's help--you have done it all yourself.' ""'No Sebastian!' I exclaimed 'you have done it for me.' ""'Don't deceive me--don't flatter me ' he answered. 'I have been able to do very little for you--not half what I wished. You would have been great without me. I have looked upon you and loved you as my own boy and all that was selfishness.' ""We dined and spent the evening of the day together. Life has had no hours like those before or since. They were real fresh substantial--such as youth remembers vividly when death and suffering have shaken the foundations of the world and covered the past with mistiness and cloud. The excitement of the time or the privations of former years--or I know not what--threw the good Sebastian shortly after this day upon a bed of sickness. He never rose from it again. He was not rewarded as he should have been for all his sacrifices--for all the love he had expended upon his grateful foster-child. He did not live to witness my success--he did not see the completion of the work he had begun. In spite of all my efforts to save his precious life he sank and drew his latest breath in these devoted arms. I lost more than a father."" The baron paused his lips were borne down by a tremulous motion: he took my arm and urged me gently from the spot. We walked for some distance in silence. Collecting himself again he proceeded:-- ""Sebastian as I have told you was a pious man. In truth his faith was boundless. He worshipped and adored the Virgin Mary as he would have loved his own natural mother had he known her. He was aware of my unbelief and had often spoken to me on the subject as a father might in accents of entreaty and regret. Whilst he was ill he gave me all the money he had and earnestly requested me to spare nothing to secure for him the consolations of the Church. I obeyed him. I caused masses to be said for him. I procured for him the visits of his priest. I left nothing undone to give him peace and joy. Would it not have been monstrous had I acted otherwise? He was morbidly anxious for the future: he righteous man who was as pure in spirit as guileless as an infant! I alone followed him to the grave; and after I had seen his sacred dust consigned to earth I crawled home with a heart almost broken with its grief. I hid myself in my room for the day; and before I quitted it again devised a mode of testifying my gratitude to the departed--one most acceptable to his wishes had he lived to express them. I remembered that he had neither friend nor relation--that I lived his representative. He had spoken during his illness of the masses which are said for the repose of the souls of the dead--spoken of them with a solemn belief as to their efficacy and power. His gentle humanity forbade his imposing upon me as a duty that which I might not easily perform. My course was clear. I saved money sufficient for the purpose and then I founded the masses which are celebrated four times yearly in the church of Saint Sulpice. The fulfilment of his pious desire is the only offering I can make to the memory of my dear foster-father. Upon the days on which the masses are said I attend and in his name repeat the prayers that are required. This is all that a man with my opinions can undertake; and this is no hypocrisy nor can the Omniscient--if that great spirit of nature be indeed capable of human passions--feel anger at the act when I solemnly declare that all I have on earth--and more than I could wish of earthly happiness--I would this instant barter for the meek inviolable faith of Jean Sebastian."" The words were spoken at the door of the baron's residence which we had already reached. My hand was in that of the speaker. He had taken it in the act of wishing me farewell. I grasped his palm affectionately and answered-- ""Why then my friend should you not possess this enviable blessing?"" ""Because I cannot struggle against conviction: because _faith_ is not subject to the _will_: because I know too little and too much: because I cannot grasp a shadow or palpably discern by day an evanescent albeit a lovely dream of night. These are my reasons. Let us dismiss the subject."" And the subject _was_ dismissed never to be taken up again. From this time forward our theological disputations ceased. The baron forbore his wit and the good Cause was spared my feeble advocacy. Whether the baron suspected that after all there might be inconsistency in continuing to laugh at all religion whilst he persevered in visiting the church or whether the seeds of a new and better growth of things began already to take root within him I cannot take upon me to decide. To my relief and comfort the solemn argument was never again profaned by ribaldry and unbecoming mirth; and to my unfeigned delight the teacher and the pupil were without one let or hinderance to their perfect sympathy and friendship. A year has elapsed since in the manner shown I received the key to so many of the baron's seeming inconsistencies--when as we were passing one morning into the _Salle St Agnes_ at the _Hotel Dieu_ we were surprised to find standing at the door of the ward--the venerable and humble minister of Auvergne. His face brightened at the approach of the baron and he bowed respectfully in greeting him. ""What brings you here again old friend?"" enquired the surgeon; ""no relapse I trust?"" ""Gratitude "" replied the priest. A large basket was on his arm--his shoes were covered with dust--he had journeyed far on foot. ""It is a year since I left this roof with my life restored to me under God's blessing by you. I could not let the anniversary slip away without paying you a visit and bringing you a trifling present. It is scarcely worth your acceptance--but it is the best my grateful heart can offer and I though you would receive it kindly. A few chickens from the poultry-yard and a little fruit from the orchard."" The baron received the gift with a better grace than I had seen him accept a much handsomer fee. He invited the priest to his house detained him there for some hours and dismissed him with many presents for the poor amongst his flock at Auvergne. And thus stood matters when the last stroke of my two years was sounded and I was summoned home. I left the baron need I say with real regret; he was not pleased at my departure. I engaged to write to him and to pay another visit to Paris as soon as my affairs permitted me. I have never trode French soil since; I never saw the baron afterwards. My curiosity however did not suffer me to be in ignorance of my friend's proceedings; and what I have now to add is gathered from a communication received shortly after the baron's death from his faithful and attached _François_. For seven years the priest came annually with his gifts to the Hotel Dieu and on each occasion was the baron's visitor; at first for a day or two but afterwards for a week--and then longer still. During the second visitation it was discovered that the minister was related distantly to the baron's former friend _Sebastian_. As soon as this was known the surgeon offered the good man a home and an annuity. The former he modestly declined: the latter he accepted distributing it in alms amongst the needy who abounded in his parish. The surgeon and the priest became great friends and frequent correspondents. The temper of the baron altered. He grew less morose--less violent--less self-indulgent--less bigoted. He reconciled a proper respect for the rich with a feeling regard for the poor. He became the pupil of the simple priest and profited by his instruction and example. Seven years after my departure from Paris the baron fell ill--and the priest of Auvergne summoned to his bedside ministered there and gave his blessing to a meek obedient child. He died and the priest shedding tears of sorrow and of joy commingled closed his glassy eyes. What passed between them in his latest moments may not be repeated. _François_ heard but a sentence as he knelt at his master's pillow. It was amongst the last he uttered. ""François love the Auvergnats: they have saved your poor master--body and soul!"" That body was borne to the grave by the students of the _Hotel Dieu_--the greyheaded priest following in the train; and the _soul_--Heaven in its infinite mercy hath surely not forgotten. FOOTNOTES: [28] It was not until a few weeks after my arrival in Paris that I became acquainted with the fact thus delicately pointed at by my modest friend Mr H----. It would appear that no Parisian student of medicine can pursue his studies at home without assistance. A female friend tutor or whatever else she may be called graced the lodgings of every one of my hospital friends. THE SNOW. BY DELTA. I. The snow! the snow! 'tis a pleasant thing To watch it falling falling Down upon earth with noiseless wing As at some spirit's calling: Each flake seems a fairy parachute From mystic cloudland blown And earth is still and air is mute As frost's enchanted zone. II. The shrubs bend down--behold the trees Their fingery boughs stretch out The blossoms of the sky to seize As they duck and drive about; The bare hills plead for a covering And ere the grey twilight Around their shoulders broad shall cling An arctic cloak of white. III. With clapping hands from drifted door Of lonely shieling peeps The imp to see thy mantle hoar O'erspread the craggy steeps. The eagle round its eyrie screams; The hill-fox seeks the glade; And foaming downwards rush the streams As mad to be delay'd. IV. Falling white on the land it lies And falling dark in the sea; The solan to its island flies The crow to the thick larch-tree; Within the penthouse struts the cock His draggled mates among; While black-eyed robin seems to mock The sadness with his song. V. Released from school 'twas ours to wage How keenly! bloodless war-- Tossing the balls in mimic rage That left a gorgeous scar; While doublets dark were powder'd o'er Till darkness none could find; And valorous chiefs had wounds before And caitiff churls behind. VI. Comrades to work!--I see him yet That piled-up giant grim To startle horse and horseman set With Titan girth of limb. Snell Sir John Frost with crystal spear We hoped thou wouldst have screen'd him; But Thaw the traitor lurking near Soon cruelly guillotined him! VII. The powdery snow! Alas! to me It speaks of far-off days When a boyish skater mingling free Amid the merry maze. Methinks I see the broad ice still; And my nerves all jangling feel Blent with the tones of voices shrill The ring of the slider's heel. VIII. A scene of revelry! Soon night Drew his murky curtains round The world while a star of lustre bright Peep'd from the blue profound. Yet what cared we for darkening lea Or warning bell remote? With rush and cry we scudded by And seized the bliss we sought. IX. Drift on ye wild winds! leave no traces Of dim and danky earth: While eager faces fill their places Around the blazing hearth. Then let the stories of the glories Of our sires be told; Or tale of knight who lady bright From thraldom saved of old. X. Or let the song the charms prolong In music's haunting tone Of shores where spring's aye blossoming And winter is unknown; Where zephyrs sick with scent of flowers Along the lakelets play; And lovers wand'ring through the bowers Make life a holiday. XI. Sunset and snow! Lo eve reveals Her starr'd map to the moon And o'er hush'd earth a radiance steals More bland than that of noon: The fur-robed genii of the Pole Dance o'er our mountains white Chain up the billows as they roll And pearl the caves with light. XII. The moon above the eastern fells Holds on a silent way; The mill-wheel sparr'd with icicles Reflects her silver ray; The ivy-tod beneath its load Bends down with frosty curl; And all around seems sown the ground With diamond and with pearl. XIII. The groves are black the hills are white And glittering in the sheen The lake expands--a sheet of light-- Its willowy banks between; From the dark sedge that skirts its edge The startled wild-duck springs While echoing far up copse and scaur The fowler's musket rings. XIV. From cove to cove how sweet to rove Around that fairy scene Companion'd as along we move By things and thoughts serene;-- Voiceless--except where cranking rings The skater's curve along The demon of the ice who sings His deep hoarse undersong. XV. In days of old when spirits held The air and the earth below When o'er the green were tripping seen The fays--what wert thou Snow? Leave eastern Greece its fabled fleece For Northland has its own-- The witches of Norway pluck their geese And thou art their plumes of down. XVI. The snow! the snow! It brings to mind A thousand happy things And but one sad one--'tis to find Too sure that Time hath wings! Oh ever sweet is sight or sound That tells of long ago; And I gaze around with thoughts profound Upon the falling snow! Love in the Wilderness. My father intended me for the church; but as it did not seem likely that any body intended a church for me I considered from my earliest youth that all the education he gave me was thrown away. My tutors were probably of the same opinion and did not bestow much care on a person who had no chance of being a bishop; and finally the head of St John's in the most open and independent manner imaginable wrote a letter to my anxious parent putting an end to any hopes he might have entertained of my being senior wrangler or even the wooden spoon by informing him that he considered I was qualified--if I devoted my energies entirely to the subject--to plant cabbages; but with regard to Euclid it was quite out of the question. Whether I might have arrived at any eminence in the praiseworthy pursuit alluded to by the learned Head I do not know as horticulture never was my taste; but his observations on the subject of Euclid were undeniably correct. I never got up to the asses' bridge and certainly could not have passed it if I had; so in a very disconsolate frame of mind I took leave of the university after two terms' residence and returned to Rayleigh Court--an old dilapidated manor-house which had been in possession of our family even since it began to fall into disrepair; which judging from the crooked walls and tottering chimneys must have been some time in the reign of the Plantagenets. I was an only son and my father spoiled me--not as only sons are usually spoiled by too much indulgence but by the most persevering and incessant system of bullying that ever made a poor mortal miserable. He first cowed and terrified me into nervousness and called me a coward; then he thrashed and threatened me into stupidity and called me a fool: so that at eighteen there are few young persons of these degenerate days who have so humble and true an opinion of themselves as I had had dinned into me from my earliest years. I slunk about the old court-yard of the house or lay behind stacks in the farm-yard or sat whole days in a deserted attic and never went willingly near my father--the only other inhabitant of the mansion--and was never enquired after by him. If I saw him I trembled--if I heard his voice I felt inclined to fly to the other end of the house; and at last if I heard any one else speak a little louder than ordinary I was fain to betake me to some distant room or even hide in a tangled plantation called the Wilderness at the other end of the park. The house was immensely large or rather the property was immensely small; farm after farm had been sold by great-grandfathers and grandfathers; but as they had not the sense to pull down a side of the mansion for every estate they parted with it had at last grown an encumbrance. There was a residence fit for a man of ten thousand a-year and a rental of about eight hundred--the helmet of Otranto on the head of Sir Geoffrey Hudson. If I could have been a bishop or even a dean and laid by four or five thousand a-year--such were my father's views of me and of ecclesiastical preferment--I might buy back some of the ancient land and repair the house and that was the reason he determined I should go into the church; for it is to be observed that fathers have extraordinary eyes when directed to the future fortunes of their sons. They seem to have no power of seeing small curacy-houses filled with twelve children and butchers and bakers walking down the avenue in a melancholy and despairing manner at Christmas time; but have pertinaciously before their sight a superb mansion in James's Square with a steady old coach and two fat horses at the door; or a fine old turreted palace at Lambeth with five or six chaplains contesting the honour of the last lick of the plate. Not a glimpse can they discover of the cold rides--miserable scenes among the dying the idle the dissolute--hope deferred--strength decaying--the proud man's contumely the rich vulgarian's scorn--struggle struggle! toil and trouble! Blessings say I on the outspoken head of St John's and the impenetrability of Euclid that kept a blue coat on my back and disappointed my father's expectation of seeing me Lord Bishop of Durham. I should have been chaplain to a poor-house to a certainty and have envied my parishioners; but I doubt very much in the mean time if the chaplain of a poor-house would have envied me imprisoned and pauperized in Rayleigh Court. Luckily there were books--whole shelves of them--loaded with rich morocco bindings and pecks enough of dust (if distributed through the month of March) to have ransomed all the Pharaohs. I passed over the Dugdales and even the Gwyllins in despair; and lay whole days on the floor surrounded by _Faery Queens_ and other anti-utilitarian publications sometimes fancying myself a Red-Cross knight--though considerably at a loss to devise a substitute for the heavenly Una. But by some strange caprice of fortune a hoard was opened to me in one of the lower shelves beside the oriel window which was more valuable than Potosi and Golconda--a complete set of the Waverley Novels: there they were--all included--from the great original to _Castle Dangerous_. As my father's retiring habits prevented me from knowing a human being in the neighbourhood I made up to my heart's content for the want of living friends by forming the most enthusiastic attachments to Dandie Dinmont and Henry Morton and Jonathan Oldbuck; not forgetting the excessive love I entertained for Rose Bradwardine Di Vernon and a few others; so that altogether I think I may say that no young man of my age was ever blessed with such a large and enchanting circle of ""friends and sweethearts."" In the mean time the external world was moving on troubling itself in all likelihood as little about me as I did about it. We had a newspaper once a-week; but I never saw it. I knew that our gracious sovereign lady Queen Victoria had just succeeded to our gracious sovereign lord King William--but to that great and important fact in constitutional history my knowledge of temporary politics was limited. What did I care about Peels or Melbournes when I could enter the council-chamber of Louis the Eleventh or pass a pleasant morning with Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle? My father lay--like a snake surrounded by fire--in the centre of what had once been his family estate; with purchasers gathering closer and closer round till like the snake of the above similitude he was inclined to sting himself to death to avoid the increasing horror of his situation. From strange muttered growls and deep imprecations when we met I gathered that the last fagot had been lighted in the shape of a proposition by some Eastern nabob that he should sell the remaining portion of the land. He Rayleigh of Rayleigh Court--to sell to a stranger the park the fields the house! He would have died first. And the reason for wishing to buy which was assigned by the intending purchaser was worst of all; that he had already made himself owner of every other farm which had once belonged to the Rayleigh manors and desired the family mansion to make the estate complete--and his name was Jeeks--Jeeks of Rayleigh Court! My father would have shot him if he had come within his reach; but as Mr Jeeks kept at a respectable distance the over-charge of indignation was poured forth upon me; and the opinion so obligingly given of my abilities and probable success in life by the Master of St John's was never for an hour forgotten. It was very evident that there was no hope of family restoration to be founded on so profound a blockhead--an ass that could not get into the church--that moped and wandered about the woods--that trembled when he was spoken to; and so far from pushing his way in the world and acquiring a fortune by running off with an heiress had not courage enough to look a milkmaid in the face. I kept out of his sight more than ever and read _Ivanhoe_ for the fifteenth time. Oh Friar Tuck! Oh Brian de Bois Guilbert! What did I care for Mr Jeeks and his offers for Rayleigh Court? I was now twenty years of age with the figure of a grenadier and the courage of a boarding-school girl; and every day my father's indignation seemed to increase when he saw such a fund of marketable qualities lying useless--my quietness and decorum would have done for the church; my height and broad shoulders would have qualified me for Gretna Green. But such a chicken-hearted fellow he well knew would sooner die than mention a postchaise; and so the old gentleman having ceased for some years to express his contempt for me with the aid of his walking stick and a profusion of epithets unheard of in Johnson's _Dictionary_ took now to the easier method of a dignified and unbroken silence. It was a charming change and I was as happy as Robinson Crusoe in the desert island before Friday made his appearance. One day in June--""it was the poet's leafy month of June""--I took my way as was my Wont through the park to the Wilderness. The shadows of the broad thick-foliaged oaks lay in gigantic masses on the smooth turf (of which the gardeners were a few relics of the former herds of deer in the shape of wide-antlered stags and dappled roes;) all the sights and sounds of summer beauty were united in that solitary greensward; and for the first time in my life I felt a regret pass over me that the grandeur of my family had decayed and a faint fluttering became perceptible to me round my heart of a wish to restore our fortunes. But the intense appreciation of my own deficiencies in which I had been educated soon dispelled any pleasing illusions that the self-love of twenty years of age might have excited; and I fell into the opposite extreme and rejoiced to think that in me the family tree would lose its last branch and that the old house would crumble into actual ruins instead of holding forth the false appearances of solidity and strength which led to the expectation that it was still capable of repair. I felt like Wilfred of Ivanhoe when he resolved to leave his home for ever; and if there had been any crusade going on in 1838 and an Isaac of York willing to furnish me with horse and harness I should have been very glad to try my chance against the Saracens and prove myself a true Red Cross knight; for even at that time I felt assured that against any body but my father I could hold up my head like a man; or on any subject but my stupidity--(which I was willing to concede as it came guaranteed under the hand and seal of the master of a college)--I could have maintained my ground with the courage of a Front-de-Boeuf. I took a bolder step and manlier bearing as I passed along in the sunshine and saw defined on the grass before me the shadow of a gigantic being elongated in the slanting rays to about twelve feet high with limbs and shoulders certainly a little attenuated by the same solar deception but still not quite such thread-papers as I have since seen do duty in ball-rooms to the evident satisfaction of then possessors. The Wilderness was reached at last: and here I must premise that the aristocratic appearances of bucks and roes entirely ceased; for the said Wilderness was appropriated to the feeding of certain animals of unpoetic figures and even prosaic names but which when well cooked and duly supplied with a condiment of beans furnish by no means a contemptible dinner to a hungry sportsman. The man who despises beans and bacon is uniformly a puppy. I will therefore now venture on the vulgar word and say the Wilderness was used for feeding swine and all the long days the frisky quadrupeds went wiggling their curly tails and snorting among the oak-trees with enormous satisfaction. On reaching the centre of this umbrageous feeding-ground I was surprised to see my usual place of meditation occupied by a stranger. It was a young girl exhausted apparently by the heat of the day resting on the mossy turf and leaning against the trunk of a fine old tree. Her bonnet was on the ground beside her; her hair was gently moved to and fro by the wandering breeze; and on her lap lay a work-basket which she had evidently laid down to give herself more entirely to repose. She was sound asleep and I need scarcely say as my experience of the fair sex was extremely limited that she was the most captivating specimen I had ever seen; but shyness and awkwardness overcame my desire to make her acquaintance. I looked at her for a moment saw the finely cut features the beautifully complexioned cheeks the smiling lips and graceful figure and turned away angry at myself at the same time that I could not summon courage to address her. Before I had gone far I heard a dreadful scream a little to my right and in an agony of terror a fair-haired young child of six or seven years old rushed towards the sleeper pursued apparently by one of the largest of the grunting flock. It was evidently only in the excessive buoyancy of its porcine spirits that it caracolled and snuffed and galloped in such an imposing manner; but the terror of the little flyer was as sincere as if it had been a royal Bengal tiger. In a moment I sprang forward gave the huge animal a kick with all my might in a spot which must have materially improved the tenderness of the ham--and took the almost fainting child in my arms. The sleeper started up and was no little astonished to behold the feat I performed. I muttered a few confused words and tried in vain to still the terrors of my young charge; but in a few minutes our united efforts had the desired effect and the elder sister thanked me for my chivalrous interference and said she would never forget my kindness. ""It's nothing at all "" I said--""I almost wish it had been a bonassus and I had had a rifle."" ""Oh! a pig I assure you is quite enough for us: isn't it Amy?"" Amy seemed to consider a pig a great deal too much and looked round in alarm every time she heard a rustle among the branches. ""It would have enabled me "" I said ""to be really useful--like the master of Ravenswood I added when he shot the wild bull."" ""But you wouldn't surely wish to see Amy and me in real danger merely to have the glory of delivering us from it. That would be too selfish."" ""Not selfish if I was certain of saving you; and besides it would be such an excellent introduction."" ""But we have already told you that we are as much indebted for your interference as if you had put a whole herd of furious cattle to death. For my part I am perfectly satisfied with the introduction as it is."" ""Then we may consider ourselves friends?"" I enquired gradually becoming less embarrassed by the manner of the unknown. ""Certainly--I tell you we shall never forget your gallant interference. It is strange we never met with such an adventure before; for Amy and I come very often here."" ""Indeed?--It is certainly very strange that I have never seen you before; for _I_ am here almost every day."" ""Why if you keep your eyes constantly on the ground you have no great chance of seeing any thing but the grass. We have seen you often."" ""And you know my name of course?"" ""Henry Rayleigh of Rayleigh Court. Oh! we know all about you."" ""And I--I am ashamed to say I have not the same advantage with regard to your style and title--I feel sure it must be a beautiful name."" ""You had better guess."" ""Flora? Edith? Rebecca?"" ""We must go home now "" said the little one. ""Isabella? Brenda? Minna?"" ""No--you w

ll never find it out."" ""Then you will surely tell me."" ""Oh no!--that would spoil the romance of our acquaintance."" ""And am I never to find out who you are?"" ""Probably not if you bury yourself in the woods all your life. I have been your neighbour for half a year and you have never seen me."" ""My eyes must have been blinded; but I will bury myself no more. Do tell me your name and where you live for I am very ill qualified to be a discoverer."" ""I shall certainly not destroy the charm of mystery. Let it be enough that you know me by sight. The name is of no consequence--but if you really wish to know it""---- ""I do indeed."" ""Call me Lucy Ashton and that will remind you of the service you did me to-day. In the mean time do not follow us. I should wish this meeting kept a secret--come Amy."" And so saying and taking her sister by the hand she walked rapidly away leaving me with the pleasing expression which is commonly attributed to a stuck pig gazing at her graceful motion and half inclined to consider the whole interview a delusion of the fancy or at least a dream. Lucy Ashton!--a charming idea!--and I the master of Ravenswood! My neighbour for half a year--and often in the Wilderness! Then of course she will come often here again. I will find out who she is. I will sit no longer in the deep recess of an old pew at church which is hidden from all the rest of the congregation. I will even go down and call on the clergyman. He must surely have observed the most beautiful girl in the world. He can't have been such a mole as I have been. I will find out all about her; and astonish her next time we meet by telling her the result of my enquiries. On these exploratory thoughts intent I took my homeward way. The old turrets of the house rose before me more distressingly symptomatic of poverty and decay than ever. I crossed the noble quadrangle which was overgrown with grass and betook myself to the great dark-wainscoted old library utterly disgusted at the folly or extravagance of my ancestors in having reduced me to such a condition. I began to think that my father was not so much to blame in lamenting our fallen state as before;--and that night I fell asleep wondering if Lucy Ashton's father was a governor of the Bank of England or if she was as poor and portionless a being as myself. CHAPTER II. Next day I walked down to the parsonage. It was in Rayleigh village and the living had once belonged to our family but among the diminishing possessions was the first to be disposed of. It was held by Mr Dobble to whom I was hardly known except by sight--and the reverend gentleman was no little astonished when my name was announced. He was a little short man about fifty years of age very polite and very talkative; but who seemed always to recollect something or other in the middle of a speech and end on quite a different subject from what he had begun. ""My dear sir "" he began ""I am truly glad to see you. By the by I don't think I have ever seen you in the parsonage before."" ""I have lived very retired--we never move from home--my father sees no company."" ""Ah very true--the more's the pity! I shall always be delighted if you will come in at any time. By the by are you fond of fishing?"" ""Yes I sometimes fish."" ""Your father keeps you a great deal too much boxed up for a young man of your time of life. You should be forming a stock of friends just now to last you your lifetime. By the by are you a judge of wine?"" ""No I never taste it."" ""No?--for I was going to observe that a young man should act like a young housekeeper--lay in his friends as the other does his cellar; and always keep up the stock--particularly pleasant men and port-wine. They improve""---- ""My stock is certainly very limited "" I said. ""You should enlarge it at once. By the by there are a great many new residents in this parish since I was inducted."" ""So I believe."" ""Ah just so!--never called on them of course--By the by will you have any lunch?"" ""No I thank you. I have never called on any of the new-comers. I don't even know their names."" ""That's odd! But it isn't of so much consequence now for they are all getting bought out. By the by would you like to see the repairs in the chancel?"" ""No I thank you. Are they getting bought out?"" ""Not a doubt of it. All the old farms and manor-houses which had been converted into comfortable modern dwelling-houses by the different proprietors are nearly all in one owner's hands again--as they used to be in ancient times in your ancestors' hands. The whole estate nearly is reunited and the purchaser is restoring things as much as he can to their ancient condition. He gave Mr Juffles thirty thousand pounds for the Grange about six months ago; and all the Juffles family is to be off in six weeks. By the by you are not acquainted with the Juffleses?--they haven't been here more than five years."" ""No I don't know them--are they a numerous family?"" ""Sons and daughters by the dozen. By the by weren't you at college for some time?"" ""Yes for a few terms. How many sons has Mr Juffles?"" ""Seven or eight--John Thomas Abraham Alexander George Hookey and another; but whether his name is Richard or Robert I don't recollect. By the by was it Oxford or Cambridge?"" ""And the daughters?"" I said not attending to his question--""he has many daughters you said as well as sons."" ""Oh seven or eight of them too--Susan Martha Elizabeth a younger one I don't recollect her name Anne Sophia and some little ones. By the by the Indian mail is very interesting--have you seen the news?"" ""No I never see a newspaper. Is there a young lady among Mr Juffles's family of the pretty name of Amy?"" ""Amy?--Amy?--'pon my word I don't recollect. And yet I think I do. I think I have heard the governess call one of the children Amy. By the by we have had charming weather of late."" ""Charming. How old is the governess?"" ""A young person--too young I should say for such a charge; seventeen perhaps."" ""And you are sure you have heard her call one of them Amy?"" ""Yes I think I may say I am sure. By the by the French seem very unsteady. I admire Louis Philippe."" ""Is the governess pretty?"" ""I should say so--yes I should say decidedly pretty. By the by he seems inclined to dismiss M. Thiers."" ""Blue eyes beautiful mouth sweet smile and musical voice?"" ""Who my good sir?--Louis Philippe and M. Thiers? By the by weren't you asking me about Mr Juffles's----? Ah! now I recollect. The governess--yes she has blue eyes and sings beautifully."" ""And walks out with Amy?"" ""Of course. By the by do you hunt?"" ""No I have no horse. And how old are Mr Juffles's other daughters?"" ""All ages from twenty-three downwards. By the by""---- ""Is there one about seventeen?"" ""Yes I should say the pretty one--I forget her name Elizabeth I think--was just about that age. You should be introduced. But by the by it would be of little use. They leave the Grange in a few weeks if indeed they are not gone already; for they were to be ready at a day's notice and I haven't seen them since Sunday week. By the by Russia seems very discontented. Do you think they meditate an invasion?"" ""I never read politics. Are any of the other neighbours about to remove also?"" ""Oh yes! Mr Poggs the rich West Indian who bought Hartley Mead that used to be a part of your park a hundred years ago and fitted up the Gothic cottage at such an immense expense. He's bought out--fifteen thousand pounds for two hundred acres and he is to remove next Michaelmas. By the by which style of architecture do you prefer?"" ""I know nothing of the subject. Has Mr Poggs a family?"" ""Two daughters but I scarcely know them. Old Poggs is half a dissenter. By the by""---- ""How old are the daughters?"" ""'Pon my word my young friend you would do for an inquisitor."" ""I have a very particular reason for asking these questions."" ""Ah I see!"" said Mr Dobble ""young men will be curious about their neighbours' children. By the by have you seen the Bishop of London's charge?"" ""No I see nothing new. How old are Mr Poggs's daughters?"" ""One the eldest a tall handsome girl I should say about seventeen; the other six or seven."" ""Do you know the younger one's name?"" ""No I don't think I ever heard it. Do you know the young ladies?"" ""I have told you already that I have not the happiness of knowing any of the neighbours;--and I regret very much to hear that they are going away before I have had the opportunity of making their acquaintance."" ""Oh no not all! They are not all going. Mr Jeeks himself will be constantly resident. By the by are you fond of shooting?"" ""Has he any family?"" ""A son--yes I know he has a son but I am not sure of any daughters. In fact between ourselves I don't think he has any daughters --and it is no great loss it they were any thing like the son. No I know he has no daughters. By the by he talks of coming home from college this month."" ""How old is the son?"" ""About one or two and twenty. Very stupid or very idle I am afraid. He can't take his degree."" I got up to go away. I felt that the object of my mission was unattained. ""Don't go my dear sir; don't go. 'Pon my word I did not mean any thing in what I said. He may be very clever and very admirable in every respect though he does not take his degree. By the by did you see Brougham's speech on the poor-law? He should be called the poor-lawyer _par excellence_ as the French say. You'll call on me soon again I hope. By the by are you fond of tulips? I have a beautiful bed just in bloom."" O Poggs!--O Juffles!--O nameless governess! which of you all was Lucy Ashton?--I waited all that day in the Wilderness but nobody came. The long shadows began to point eastward; the pigs were all driven in; the world was left to silence and to me; and I walked slowly and disconsolately home. On getting inside the great door of the court-yard I heard voices--loud angry voices. I recognized my father's tones and was about to go round by the inner wall when hurrying rapidly towards me I saw three persons--my father was one of them. The elder of the others was a man about sixty years of age--brown almost black in the complexion with nankin trousers a world too large for his long legs; an immense broad-brimmed straw-hat on his head and a large gold-headed cane in his hand. The other was a little sharp-eyed thin-featured man about my own age but with the appearance of twenty times the shrewdness I could ever muster--one of the prematurely sagacious youths who seem as if they had been born attorneys and are on the look-out for sharp practice. ""I have already told you sir that your intrusion is insulting "" said my father: ""relieve me of your presence."" ""Jist as you like that's matter of course "" said the old man; ""but the time will come when you'll repent this here unpoliteness. I never see sich a thing from a real gentleman to another in all my born days."" ""It's because he ain't master of the philosophy of good manners "" squeaked the younger. ""Why what in hearth "" continued the senior ""is there to be angry about? I want to buy your land--it ain't any sich enormous property ater all--and offer you about three times the vallyation of a respectable surveyor; what's that to set up your back about? Come now there's a good gentleman think better over it. The money is all ready at the bank."" ""Do you wish to drive me to violent measures--to throw you into the river?"" asked my father in a voice of concentrated passion that made me feel very uncomfortable. ""By no manner of means--by no means whatsomever."" ""As to that "" interposed the shrill voice of the youth ""two can play at that game; but it ain't philosophical to talk of sich matters--father makes you a fair offer."" ""And I make you another "" I said; ""namely one minute's time to leave this house. If you are found one instant beyond the minute by Heaven you and your father make but one step from this spot into the centre of the brook!"" ""Oh! ha! who are you sir?"" the youth began but paused when he saw some convulsive twitching taking possession of my hands; and an expression far removed from either philosophy or politeness spreading around my eyes. ""This here is young Rayleigh "" said the old man ""and p'r'aps he'll be more open to reason and twenty-seven thousand five hundred pounds."" ""Thirty seconds are elapsed "" I said going forward to the young man; ""you have but thirty more."" My hand advanced but luckily before the thirty seconds were exhausted the door had closed on the hateful presence and my father held out his hand. ""Thank you Henry--I am obliged to you Henry "" he said; and I had never heard him call me by my name since the memorable character bestowed on me by the head of St John's. He looked me all over as he spoke from head to foot: he seemed surprised and pleased at the result of his survey. ""They are vulgar people "" he said ""and have irritated me past endurance by their insulting offers. They have never ventured to present themselves here till now; and from the reception we have given them I hardly think they will repeat their visit."" ""I am sorry sir you allowed them to chafe you."" ""I will not do so in future. You will be beside me Henry; the father and son together can offer a bold face to the world in spite of these crumbling walls. We can despise the dross of that vile Croesus and keep the Rayleigh mansion-house in the Rayleigh name."" ""Who is he?"" ""The possessor of every other portion of the estate but this; his name is Jeeks and the young fellow is his son--his only child I believe--very rich and very disgusting. Let us think of them no more."" That evening we had a long and confidential talk; and I perceived that though he had finally given up all intention of getting me into the church in the hopes of patching up the holes in the old roof with a mitre he had fully made up his mind on the subject of a widow. I rejoiced that Mrs Coutts was already disposed of. He talked a long time of jointures three per cents India stock; and I--O youth! O hope!--I mused all the time on the beautiful eyes and sweet smiles of my unknown enchantress and made pious resolutions to betake myself like some ancient anchorite to the Wilderness for the purpose of worship and meditation. CHAPTER III. Lucy Ashton was under the tree--Amy like a sensible child busily employed at a little distance gathering flowers; the sun shining the bees humming the birds chirruping. ""You made me wretched all yesterday "" I said. ""Indeed! had the worthy Caleb no device to cheer the young master's solitude?"" ""Impossible even for Caleb's ingenuity to supply the want of society as he contrives to hide the absence of silver plate. Ah why did you not come?"" ""I don't recollect having promised to expose poor Amy again to the assaults of a wild boar."" ""Or yourself to the conversation of a person like me."" ""Oh! I have told you over and over again I am delighted to have seen you; and I like your conversation amazingly: you are very different indeed from what I expected."" ""In Heaven's name what did you expect?"" I said. ""Who ever spoke of me to you that knew me?"" ""Nobody that knew you; but you are a good deal spoken of notwithstanding. I was curious to see if they were correct."" ""And what did they say? I will endeavour to correct them if they are mistaken."" ""They said you and your father moped so continually in the old house that you had grown (like Quasimodo) to have a resemblance to brick and mortar yourselves. I expect to see you like a gable-end with a couple of mullioned windows for eyes and a mouth. I was astonished to see you so nearly human."" ""Ah! you will humanize me still more if you laugh at me as you do; do take pity on me and don't let me settle down into a wall."" ""With all my heart for I have no turn for architecture; and by all the descriptions I hear of the old court you don't seem to be Palladios."" ""There may be other reasons besides a want of skill and inclination "" I said with a sad feeling of the anti-architectural condition of our exchequer. ""Oh! you mean poverty. Then why don't you sell the old place?"" ""It would kill my father to think of it."" ""But it would not have so dreadful an effect on you? I know you could get it sold if you like."" ""An old impudent fellow of the name of Jeeks wishes to force us into a sale. I will see him and all his race at the bottom of the Red Sea first."" ""Would you sell it then?"" she said. ""No--but fair Lucy Ashton why do you ask?"" ""Because if you parted with one brick of the old house one blade of grass of the old park one leaf of one old tree in the old wood our acquaintance would end as rapidly as it began."" ""Then it shall suffer no decay "" I said and took her hand which she held out to me with honest warmth; ""and now let me find out if I can who it is that gives me such admirable advice. I called on Mr Dobble yesterday."" ""He told you a great many things by the by did he?"" she said. ""You know him I see and he knows _you_."" As I said this I looked with the air of a man who has discovered a portentous secret; but she bore my look with the same celestial open smile as ever. ""What a happy man he must be in knowing so first-rate a parishioner. Did he boast much of our acquaintance?"" ""He seemed to know more of your brothers and sisters "" I said. ""Oh which of them did he like best? How many did he say I had?"" This was a puzzler; for I was quite undecided whether to consider her a daughter of the house of Juffles with fourteen children or Poggs with only two. ""Amy seemed a great favourite "" I replied. ""But my brothers--what did he say of my brothers?"" ""He said--but perhaps it was in confidence--so I will not mention all he told me. He spoke highly of the whole family of Mr Poggs."" ""And very properly too. We are all pleasant people in this neighbourhood; and indeed I wonder he can make any distinction in the degrees of amiability between the Poggses Juffleses Higginsons Jeekses Wilcoxes and all the late and present occupiers of the Rayleigh estates."" ""Higginsons? Wilcoxes? he never mentioned them; but as to the Jeekses pray don't speak of those detestable wretches. I hope you despise young Jeeks as heartily as I do."" ""Not quite perhaps."" ""No?"" I looked at her. Gracious powers! is it possible this beautiful creature can be so blinded by the fortune of the wretched animal as to look upon him without disgust. ""Are you intimate with him?"" I enquired. ""Oh yes! we are all very social down here; no ceremony between neighbours. He is a great sportsman."" ""Oh then it must be your brothers that are his friends not you!"" ""I certainly don't go out shooting with him--in fact I have no time. I am engaged educating Amy so many hours that I could not practise enough to be able to hit a bonassus like a celebrated marksman of my acquaintance; far less a partridge."" ""And you educate Amy? and yet you have brothers? and don't despise young Jeeks? and know every body?"" ""And like them all "" she added. ""All equally?"" I enquired. ""With a difference as a body may say."" ""And Amy is your sister?"" ""We call ourselves so."" ""Then by Heavens you are Miss Poggs!"" ""Well is that any thing to swear about? There have been Misses Poggs in the world before I suppose."" ""But you talked of educating her; devoting your time to her."" ""So I do."" ""Then you are the governess in Mr Juffles' family."" ""Why not? You don't think worse of a person for being able to give a little information to a little girl of seven years old do you?"" ""Think worse of her? Ah Lucy Ashton! I could not think worse of you if you were able to teach the Head of a college."" ""You could not think _worse_ of me? Do you mean worse of me than you think already? In that case I must retire."" ""No no; don't go! I have not found out yet who you are."" ""I thought you had found out I was two. You can't surely be wrong in both."" ""I suspect I am. You spoke of your brothers. Now I make a guess you have seven. I could tell you their names."" ""You mistake your rôle or rather confuse it. You are the master of Ravenswood not Frank Osbaldistone. I am not Di Vernon."" ""You are a puzzle; an Urganda the unknown."" ""That means that you are the Bel Tenebroso. You will perhaps be disenchanted soon."" ""Only if you leave the country."" ""Why won't you have the Poggses Jeekses Juffleses though I find another situation? you can make their acquaintance whenever you please. You will be re-enchanted again I assure you."" ""By Heavens I believe you are making a fool of me all this time! You are the third Miss Juffles yourself."" ""Swearing again? What would Mr Dobble say by the by? I never denied that I was either the third or fourth Miss Juffles. Are you happy now?"" she said with a smile. ""I can't be any thing else so near to Lucy Ashton."" ""Oh cry you mercy; you are back again at Wolf's Crag! And I assure you I like you better in the character of its inhabitant than as the Inquisitor-general and particular too--which you have acted all to-day. Let there be a truce between us in question and answer and all will be delightful. We have hitherto been like Mrs Marcet's chemistry all _whys_ and _becauses_."" The truce was signed and an hour passed away composed of sixty minutes of enjoyment as if it had all been one second; and I felt that there was only one woman in the whole world that could ever keep me from being wretched; and that was a beautiful young girl in a straw bonnet--name parentage and every thing about her totally unknown. At the end of the time she took Amy's hand and left me. I did not follow her--I had promised I would not; but I had exacted a promise in return that she would meet me again. And so she did again and again. I never asked who she was; I did not even care to know. Five weeks passed on and I was as irrecoverably in love as if I had known she was a duchess with fortune enough to buy back the whole estate. All this time my father was very kind in his manner; and was constantly dwelling on the advantages of a wealthy match. My heart bled for him when I reflected how bitter would be his disappointment when he found out the dreadful truth that every woman in existence was hateful to me except one poor penniless girl; at the best one of fourteen children and perhaps a governess without a _sou_. But I would not destroy his dreams before there was occasion--and sat silent and unresisting as he poured forth his matrimonial schemes for my aggrandizement. But Lucy at last was unpunctual in her visits to the Wilderness. One day I had waited from an early hour and had strained my eyes to catch the first glimpse of her glorious figure as she tripped among the trees. I had at last sat down beneath the accustomed oak and was fancying all manner of reasons for her not making her appearance when all of a sudden I heard a rustle at my side and starting up saw before me the pragmatical visage of young Mr Jeeks. ""Servant sir "" he squeaked in his shrill unmusical tones ""Oho! this is the philosophy of it--is it?"" ""What do you mean sir and what do you want here? Are you aware that this forms as yet no part of your father's land."" ""It will soon p'r'aps--but I want just to say a few words. I hope not to lose my temper as I unfortunately did last time I dropped in to see you and your governor; for why should gentlemen quarrel? It ain't philosophic."" ""I should think what _gentlemen_ do whether they quarrel or not is a matter in which you can have no personal experience. Say on sir."" ""I am just agoing to begin; and I only hope I shall not get exasperated and misbehave myself as I certainly feel I did the last time we had a talk."" ""Go on; I don't think you'll get exasperated whatever else may happen to you."" ""You think p'r'aps that your goings on young Mr Rayleigh ar'n't known; but they are though."" ""In what respect sir? What do you allude to?"" ""Petticoats--that's what I allude to; and I come just to give you a friendly warning that the seven young Juffleses are all six feet high."" ""Your information is totally undesired."" ""I know it is--it's uncommon unpleasant information; and if I was you I would give up the chase. She's certainly a very pretty girl is Betsy Juffles--but not fit for you or me you know. She has no blood."" ""As I don't know whom you allude to of course I can give you no answer; but as you seem to be giving me advice I will favour you with a very decided piece of it in return; which is to hold your tongue on any subject connected with me or the consequences to yourself will be such as you will hardly like."" ""Thank ye for your friendliness--I am rather fond of advice than otherwise though it's certainly one of the things that it's more blessed to give than to receive; and I will just give you a hint that may do you good--Betsy's a very good-natured girl but fickle--very."" ""Indeed!"" ""Oh yes!--she is indeed--she made great advances to me once; but I rather checked her. A very clever girl too--and speaks French; but she has no philosophy. She went to the last assizes and fell in with some dragoon officers at a ball. She's all for the redcoats now or at least was till lately--but since then she""---- Here the little animal winked. ""Oh!"" I said willing to hear what the creature would say. ""I have scarcely spoke to her for a long time; but I hear some of her proceedings "" he continued. ""You do?--from whom pray?"" ""Why it can't be supposed I never hear Amy talking about how often she goes out with Betsy. I'm very much against Amy seeing her at all. Her steady stupid sister would be a far safer companion than such a wild sort of girl as Betsy Juffles."" ""You say she once made advances to you "" I said with a horrid suspicion at my heart that I had been an egregious fool. ""Didn't she? You should have seen her looks. She always sat a little behind her mother's chair so as to be out of the old lady's eye and did cast such preternatural glances across the room to me and smiled and smirked and sidled and shook her curls--it was wonderful to behold but she had no philosophy and I looked cold""---- ""And chilled her?"" ""Exactly. I could have tumbled her into the railway and been off to Gretna by only holding up my finger--but I wouldn't. She bore it pretty well considering the disappointment; and first consoled herself by flirting at a ball with a set of ensigns and cornets and then took to you."" ""To me? I don't understand you Mr Jeeks."" ""You do!"" ""You are an insolent jackanapes""---- ""I'm not--come I am trying to keep my temper; but p'r'aps you think Betsy a good speck? Bah! she'll not have five hundred pounds; and your bumptious old governor won't buy back many of the old acres with a dribble like that."" This time I did not give him a minute's grace: my hand was on his collar in a moment; I shook him till his teeth rattled audibly like dice in a box; I kicked him pushed him and as the gratification grew with what it fed on at one dread reckoning I paid off the horror I experienced from his account of the girl I had worshipped and his insolent mention of my father. I took a fiendish delight in prolonging his agonies. Another minute's indulgence in the punishment would have raised the tiger that lies sleeping but always awakable in every man's heart and I might have killed him outright; but luckily we got near the boundary hedge. It was of strong old thorns very thick and high and very wide at top. I seized my victim with both hands and swung him on to the summit of the hedge where after wriggling a short time in every variety of ridiculous contortions and squeaking as he sank deeper and deeper among the thorns he threw himself by a great effort to the other side and rolled into the ditch. Some people seem to take naturally to a thrashing as others do the small-pox. In a few minutes I perceived him emerge from the ditch and walk--though rather stiffly--across the field. ""Thank Heaven "" I said ""if I have been a dupe I am not a murderer!"" CHAPTER IV. Next day I waited again--and the next and the next; and no Lucy Ashton or rather no Betsy Juffles came. The next day was Friday--my birthday. I had much to do; my father was resolved to celebrate the great event by a solemn dinner _tête-à-tête_ during which he was to communicate his final decision with respect to my future pursuits. I hurried to the Wilderness in the morning--no success--and in despair betook myself once more to Mr Dobble. That gentleman's dovetailed observations were by no means elucidatory on the point I came to clear up. He did not know the names of all the members of any of the families--he had never heard of any persons of the name of Higginson or Wilcox--he knew nothing of the colour of people's eyes--and did not recollect whether any one member of his flock had red hair or black. How difficult to take the commonest observations in the cold northern latitude of forty-five! But one thing at last I discovered; the Juffleses were to leave on the following day--the Poggses had been gone since Tuesday. ""By the by "" he said after this information; ""you are much indebted to your cousin young Jeeks--I never knew till lately he had the honour to be a relation."" ""I never knew it sir; and certainly make no claim."" ""But you ought my good sir after the service he did you on Monday""---- ""What service sir? I am not aware of any."" ""Indeed? That's most extraordinary! I understood he interfered and saved you from a personal assault."" ""He?"" ""Yes! And he certainly bears marks of his efforts on your behalf. By the by the Ministry seems tottering."" ""I thought you said Mr Dobble this Mr Jeeks pretends to be my relation. Did he ever tell you by what means or in what degree? ""Yes; but I am no herald. Some old lady long ago married a person who had a daughter who had another daughter who had a son who is the father of old Mr Jeeks who made an immense fortune at Canton. Opium I am afraid--more opium than tea."" ""It does not seem alarmingly near at all events; and I beg to assure you that the interference he talks of on my behalf was of such a nature that it is of my gratitude he bears the emblems which he attributes to his friendly zeal."" I hurried from the parsonage. I had not an hour to spare; but an irresistible attraction drew me to the wood--and there in the rural seat was Lucy Ashton once more! She saw some change in my countenance and spoke in a different tone from what I had ever heard her before. ""I am afraid I have been very imprudent Mr Rayleigh in carrying on our acquaintance so long; but I am come to bid you farewell--probably for ever!"" I looked at the moistening eyes of the fair speaker--but steeled my heart against her arts. ""You have tried to break me in to the loss of your society by degrees; you have not come here for three days."" ""I was busy--disagreeable things occurred at home--I had no opportunity. But it is better as it is--we must now part and I hope you will forget me""---- ""Forget you! That is impossible. But I shall try to find methods of enduring the separation."" ""I trust you will--I did not mean to part from you in unkindness: your voice is altered--your eyes are changed""---- ""Because I am Edgar Ravenswood no longer; nor you Lucy Ashton. You made me know for the first time in my life what it was to have a true and absorbing attachment. I worshipped you with the fervour of a boy--I loved you with the sincerity of a man. You played me off for the gratification of your paltry triumph over affections that were too valuable to be wasted on a flirt. I have heard of the assize ball--I have heard of young Jeeks--I have unmasked you and you are Betsy Juffles."" A glance--bright and sparkling but instantly subdued--appeared for a moment in her eyes which now swam in tears. ""Be it so then. If I were to stay longer in this part of the world I might perhaps try to set myself right in your eyes; but as it is""----she paused and sighed. ""You go then soon?"" ""I go to-morrow."" There could no longer be a doubt. Mr Dobble had told me the Juffleses removed on Saturday. I saw what a consummate actress I was opposed to and hardened my heart more and more. We had come by this time to the gate into the field; I held it open for her as she passed but said not a word: I then rushed back to the place we had so often met threw myself on the ground and cursed Poggses Jeekses and Juffleses with as much earnest devotion as my father himself could have required. But in the midst of all these maledictions rose up every now and then a doubt--was she Betsy Juffles?--was she a flirt?--had she ogled young Jeeks?--h

d she made a fool of me?--or was she indeed the bright pure captivating Lucy Ashton I had known the clever the warm-hearted the good? Oh if she was and I had cast her off and made myself a cold iron-hearted brute at the whisper of a wretch like Jeeks! I made a vow that if I found he had deceived me I would finish the sacrifice commenced on Monday and tear him limb from limb. That night and many nights--a month a quarter of a year--passed in earnest consultations with my father. I read but no longer the Waverley Novels: I attended to the farm--I was busy--useful; I felt I could get over Euclid if I chose but I hated him and all his propositions. The winter came: I worked hard; I had found my deficiencies in conversation with my fascinating deceiver--and the more my mind enlarged the more it dwelt on the thousand charms of thought and expression that had passed unheeded at the time. I could recall every look every smile every tone; and when the early leaves began to bud when the grass was green again and the snow had disappeared from the highest hills I had made up my mind that without Betsy Juffles flirt or no flirt life was not worth having; and I resolved to find her out wherever she was and tell her so. Mr Dobble informed me that Mr Juffles resided in a bow-windowed villa near Bushy Park called Verbena Lodge; and thither I determined to go. My father wished me to go to London to make arrangements for beginning the study of the law and in the early weeks of March I found myself in the great city; but though I saw St Paul's Westminster Abbey and the Temple and the Tower with my bodily eyes my thoughts dwelt for ever on the bow-windowed villa near Bushy Park. I left the smoke the noise and all chances of the wealth of modern Rome behind me and installed myself in a comfortable lodging at Hampton Wick. I became one of the rangers of Bushy Park without the queen's signature to my appointment. I passed and repassed Verbena Lodge but saw nobody at the windows; I meditated even on the expediency of making my way into the house on pretence of a message from Mr Dobble; when----once upon a time in the merry month of May beneath a stately tree musing and alone I say in the heart of Bushy Park the unmistakable figure--the unmistakable face of Lucy Ashton radiant smiling beautiful as of old. ""I thought you wouldn't forget me quite "" she said and held out her hand. ""I was an ass--a fool!"" I began. ""But you have grown wiser now?"" she enquired. ""Yes wise enough to despise balls Jeekses officers--and throw myself at once and for ever at the feet of Lucy Ashton."" ""What will Betsy Juffles say?"" ""I hope she'll say _yes_."" ""Well perhaps I may answer for her--I don't see what right _she_ has to object to any thing that pleases _me_."" ""She's a charming girl and I hope you will be guided by her in every thing."" ""Such as?""--she asked with a smile that made us feel we had never quarreled never parted but were at home in the Wilderness. I need not tell the answer. I had got quit of my bashfulness on the subject of Gretna Green and postchaises with a vengeance; and then and there I suggested a trip to that delectable region and scorned all the objections she attempted to make about our respective fathers and family quarrels and all the chimeras that disappear before the breath of true love like mists before the sun. We met every day for a week and I so surprisingly improved in eloquence that I should certainly have forced my way to the woolsack if I had employed one half of it at the bar. At all events I succeeded in my object with Lucy Ashton so far that she agreed to accept me for better or worse; and then for the first time it occurred to me I ought to make my father acquainted with the great step I intended to take in prosecution of my legal studies. ""Ah Edgar don't write letters! half an hour's conversation will explain every thing better than twenty reams of paper. Go down to Rayleigh and tell him all."" ""All what? you forget I have nothing to tell."" ""Tell him you are resolved to marry a girl who will make you happy."" ""And your family?"" I said; ""he can't endure the very name of Juffles."" ""Say nothing about them. Ask leave for me to go down and see him: I feel sure he will like me and forgive you all."" I resolved to obey; and with infinite regret tore myself away and seated myself in the railway carriage. I was only to be absent two days; but two days in such circumstances are a century. The bell rang the train began imperceptibly to move when two tardy passengers jumped into the coach; and in the first I recognised my friend young Mr Jeeks. If I had had it in my power I would have left the carriage; for I was in no frame of mind to be pestered by a popinjay. ""Goodness me! how odd!"" he said; ""Quite a family party this is. My cousin Mr Rayleigh Mr Shookers--Mr Shookers my cousin Mr Rayleigh. It's quite pleasant to be among one's relations."" The other man answering to the name of Mr Shookers bowed at this introduction and showed his teeth and a large portion of the gums in the amplitude of his smile. He was a short stout man with a very broad face which was still further distended by a forest of red whiskers on each cheek. I took no notice of his salutation but looked as indignantly as I could at the insufferable Jeeks. ""You don't seem very friendly which is highly against the rules or philosophy "" he continued; ""but p'r'aps you don't know much of your own genealogical tree. My friend Shookers has studied heraldry and knows very well how nearly related we are."" ""Did you address any of your observations to me sir?"" ""Didn't I? to be sure I did. There was a certain Arabella Rayleigh in _Temp. Geo. Prim._ that means in the time of George I. or II. I forget which--but it is ages ago--that married Martin Hicks and had a daughter who married in _Temp._ of another of the _Geos_ John Smith and had a daughter; which married James Brown and had a daughter; which married grandfather Thomas Jeeks in _Temp. Geo. Tert._--which makes us cousins; and that's the reason why father thinks it so hard your old governor won't part with the rest of the lands. Isn't it too bad Mr Shookers?"" ""It seems very unfriendly in old Rayleigh to keep such a hold on the property when Mr Jeeks is willing to buy him off."" ""Are you aware sir in whose presence you allow yourself such vulgar and insulting language? I am Mr Rayleigh's son."" ""Well and I'm his cousin "" interposed young Jeek; ""and it's rather hard if a man can't stand a word or two about his relations. I don't care what Shookers may say about my cousin. I have too much philosophy to care."" Mr Shookers however took the hint and made no further observation on the subject. I looked out of the window and endeavoured to abstract my thoughts from the conversation of my companions; but it was impossible. I kept my looks turned to the window; but I soon began to listen with all my ears. ""You'll find it uncommon hot at Singapore "" said Mr Jeeks. ""It's always the dog-days there; but all the Juffleses can stand fire like reg'lar bricks as they are."" ""I like it "" replied Mr Shookers; ""and I am very much obligated to your father."" ""He's a trump is the old fellow--he's out of business himself--wound all up at Canton; but his interest will do great things for you at Singapore."" ""Oh! I consider my fortune made; and I am sure we shall both be grateful to him till the end of time."" ""Ah you're a lucky chap to get such a girl persuaded to go with you so far! But I always said Betsy had all the pluck of the family."" I half looked round--and Mr Jeeks favoured me with a wink which implied that he would keep the secret of my acquaintance with the Juffles's family a secret from his friend. ""She's full of spirit "" replied Mr Shookers. ""And so clever too "" added Mr Jeeks; ""so sentimental and all that. No end of walks in woods. I wonder she hasn't tired poor Amy to death. She's taken to it as bad as ever lately again and takes no end of rambles in Bushy Park. You're a lucky fellow Shookers; for I'm sure she's thinking of you all the time she's pacing up and down among the trees."" ""She had better take as much as she can of the trees "" answered the lover; ""there's no great temptation to ramble in Singapore. She won't have much more of it for we must sail in the next ship."" ""I always said Betsy Juffles would make a good marriage after all--though she's such a comical girl I shouldn't be surprised if she carried on her jokes to the very last and pretended to care about some of her old admirers even now."" ""She's very welcome "" said Mr Shookers; ""it's reg'lar good fun seeing her trot out a spoony. How she makes us laugh to be sure!"" The two gentlemen seemed so overcome with the facetiousness of their recollections that they broke into a laugh that lasted nearly a mile. I felt somewhat in the situation of Scrub. ""Could they be laughing at me? Was I again the victim of a consummate actress?"" ""Old Juffles comes it handsome I hope?"" said Mr Jeeks. ""I'm perfectly satisfied at all events "" replied his friend. ""He gives me a trifle on the wedding-day and makes a good settlement besides."" ""When is the wedding?"" ""It is fixed for this day month the fourteenth of May. We embark on the next day and drop down to Gravesend. Aren't you asked to attend?"" ""Oh we're all coming--governor and all! I don't see why my cousin opposite should not get an invite too. But he has been looking out of the window so hard he hasn't heard a word of what we've said. Oh of course not!"" ""If you would like to come to it sir "" said Mr Shookers who sat on the same side with me _vis-à-vis_ with his friend ""I shall be very glad; and I feel sure I can answer for Betsy too sir."" ""Don't be too sure of that "" interrupted Mr Jeeks. ""It takes a deal of philosophy to do things of the kind."" ""You seem to be asking me to some meeting sir. May I beg you to understand once for all that I have nothing whatever to say to this most contemptible poltroon Mr Jeeks nor to any of his friends."" ""I was going to ask you to my marriage sir; and if you had been a gentleman or behaved as such""---- I felt my hands clutching with an irrepressible desire to seize Mr Shookers by the throat; but I had no time. Before he had an opportunity to complete his speech a sound as of an avalanche and earthquake all in one was heard--a shock as of contending thunderbolts shook the train and the last thing I saw was the head and body of Mr Jeeks propelled with the force and velocity of a rocket against the expansive countenance of Mr Shookers. My own forehead was dashed against the opposite side and I was insensible. There had been a collision between two trains. I recollect no more. CHAPTER V. When I recovered my consciousness I was in my own room at Rayleigh Court. I looked round and gradually a recollection of all that had happened dawned upon me. I thought of my journey down--the conversation between Mr Jeeks and Shookers--the new light that had been thrown on the behaviour of the once cherished but now for the second time detested Lucy Ashton; and I turned round on the bed and wished to relapse into insensibility for ever. A light step at the side of the couch attracted my notice. ""Thank God "" I heard a voice say ""my boy will live!"" It was my father. I turned round and opened my eyes. He took my hand and looked at me a long long time with an expression of interest and affection that I had not seen for many years. ""You are better Henry but don't exert yourself to speak. The slightest effort may be fatal; therefore for my sake for all our sakes be quiet."" He sat down and put his finger on his lips. ""In a day or two now that your health has taken a favourable turn you will be able to able as many questions as you choose. In the mean time be perfectly composed and all will be well."" My father was in mourning. ""You are dressed in black "" I whispered. ""We have lost a relation "" he answered ""a distant relation; and we must pay him the compliment of a black coat--but hush! my dear boy; if you utter another word I must leave the room."" Under the care and uninterrupted attentions of my father I rapidly got well. In a week I could sit up; in a fortnight I moved into the library. The sun was clear and warm. I sat at the open window and looked out upon the park and beyond it to the tops of the trees in the Wilderness. It gave me a blow that I could scarcely bear. I rose up and tottered to the sofa. The weekly newspaper was lying on the table. I took it up and the first paragraph that met my eyes was this--""Married at Verbena Lodge on Wednesday last Alfred Shookers Esq. of Singapore to Elizabeth third daughter of Jeremiah Juffles Esq. late of Ryleigh Grange."" I thought I had banished her from my heart for ever; but the suddenness of the announcement was too much for me. The paper fell from my hand and I fainted. ""Poor boy the change is too much for him!"" I heard my father say. ""He must not leave his room again till he is stronger."" I soon returned to my senses and by a great effort recovered my spirits at the same time. I laughed and talked and listened well pleased to my father's glowing picture of the possibility of our retrieving our fortunes by a marriage. I promised him I would sacrifice myself on the hymeneal altar for the good of my family; that I would marry the ugliest oldest widow he could fix on; that I was anxious to be a benedict on favourable terms; and at all my protestations my father laughed aloud and patted me on the shoulder. I could not believe it was the same man who had snubbed and bullied me all my life. All of a sudden he looked at his watch. ""Excuse me my dear boy "" he said ""I have engaged to dine with poor Jeeks at five o'clock."" ""With whom?"" I asked shuddering at the sound of the name. ""With our neighbour poor Jeeks "" he said. ""He has had a terrible dispensation and is very much softened and improved."" ""What dispensation?"" ""Ah! I forgot: I was not to let you know. His poor son! he never recovered the accident. Two or three of Mr Shookers's teeth fastened in his head. He has been dead these five weeks: a most promising young man."" I was amazingly shocked at the intelligence. ""Is it for him we are in mourning?"" I enquired. My father nodded. ""Then he was our cousin after all?"" ""There certainly seems to have been a relationship in the _Temp._ of some of the _Geos._ as he called it. At all events the acknowledgment of it does not cost much and poor old Jeeks is delighted. Good-by. Take care of yourself."" And so saying he left me to my cogitations. When once a favourable crisis as it is called takes place the amendment in the health of a man of twenty-two is very speedy. I was aided also by seeing my father in such spirits. From day to day I picked up strength and at the end of a week I felt I could venture out. It was June again--the poet's leafy month of June--the anniversary of the very day on which I had so heroically enacted the part of the Master of Ravenswood against the pigs. I sauntered through the park; a fate was upon me; and I directed my steps by some secret impulse against which I struggled in vain to the Wilderness. ""I may as well see the spot where I was so deluded "" I thought and recognized every object--alas! with what different feelings--as I drew near the trysting-tree. ""It was there "" thought ""I saw Amy for the first time as she was flying for protection; it was there I rushed forward to save her; it was there under the oak""----As I directed my eyes to the spot my heart leaped as if I had seen a spirit; for there on the identical turf with a work-basket on her lap sat Lucy Ashton or rather Mrs Shookers. ""So you've come at last!"" she said. ""Well better late than never. Here's your seat all ready. I have expected you a long time."" ""Are you a woman or a fiend in human shape?"" I began. ""Oh! a fiend by all means if you like; but what has kept you all this time from Bushy Park? I am afraid your father won't give his consent; you would have come to me sooner if he had. But come sit down and tell me all."" So saying she went on with her knitting. She was lovelier than ever. She was dressed in a black silk gown and wore a long black mantilla over her head. I had never heard any thing so musical as her voice nor seen any thing so beautiful as her smile. ""I shall certainly not be your dupe any longer "" I said; ""and believe me the coquetry that might be captivating in Miss Elizabeth Juffles is simply disgusting in Mrs Shookers of Singapore."" ""Had not you better send out your opinion by the next India mail? Betsy has sailed by this time and will just get out in time to receive your letter."" ""Then if you are not Betsy Juffles tell me in Heaven's name who and what you are?"" ""I'm a young girl of nineteen who promised once to accept the hand of a young gentleman of the name of Rayleigh who told me a hundred times he did not care about my family--that it was myself only he cared for: and he even went down to tell his father of the resolution he had taken without making enquiry as to either my birth parentage or education. A wild young man he was and rather changeable; for sometimes he would have made sonnets to my eyebrows if he had had the gift of verse; sometimes he would have stabbed me to the heart if he had had a dagger; sometimes I was his adorable Lucy Ashton; then his tantalizing Miss Poggs; then his hated Betsy; whereas all the time I was nothing but the selfsame anonymous but fascinating creature who under all these names and in spite of all these variations in his humour loved him very truly and has no doubt whatever of being his wife."" ""You!--it would be safer to marry an incarnate demon!"" ""Ah safer perhaps; but not so respectable! Come do sit down; what's the use of ceremony among friends and neighbours? Has your father consented to the match?"" ""Do you think I asked him?"" ""Why not? you don't like Gretna Green better do you?"" ""By no means--my intentions are changed."" ""But you forget that I am neither Betsy Juffles nor Miss Poggs; I am nothing but Lucy Ashton."" ""I wish you had never been any thing else "" I said beginning to soften; for who could resist such a voice and such eyes? ""Well I tell you I am _not_ changed--will that not satisfy you? Imagine that all that has passed since we parted here is a dream; that Verbena Lodge has no existence and that Mr Dobble is an ass! Won't you sit down beside me Edgar?"" I threw myself upon the turf and she went on. ""I grant I have been a little capricious Edgar but there were reasons for it believe me."" ""What reason could there be for all these mysteries?"" ""Why in the first place it was very amusing; in the next place you did not know your own mind; in the next place it was romantic; in the next place I wanted to try you if your love was really sincere."" ""And you found it wanting "" I said in a tone of self-reproach. ""Not a bit "" she replied with a look that showed she knew my heart a great deal better than I did myself. ""At this moment I believe your affection for me rises triumphant above the horrors of Betsy Juffles or Miss Poggs; and so I think I shall reward you at last with an open explanation of who I am."" ""No dearest Lucy Ashton!"" I said taking her hand ""not before I swear that it is yourself only I care for--that I love you more than words can tell."" ""Then you'll marry the gal of course "" said a voice; and at the same moment the head of old Mr Jeeks was popped round from the other side of the tree. I sprang to my feet in a moment; and beside Mr Jeeks scarcely able to restrain his laughter stood my father. ""Matters have certainly gone too far "" he said in his usual grave and sombre tones ""for either party to recede."" ""Nobody wants it I'm sure "" replied old Jeeks. ""And I have no wish of the kind "" returned my father. ""Then if the young ones are agreed I don't see what there is to forbid the bans "" remarked Mr Jeeks. ""The sooner the better "" returned the other; while in a state of intense wonder I looked at the speakers. ""What is the meaning of all this?"" I asked Lucy Ashton who had returned very sedulously to her knitting. ""The truth is this Henry "" said my father; ""my friend and relative Mr Jeeks having lost his only son has determined on making his eldest daughter Harriet the young lady before you the heiress of his house. By marrying her to you the object of his ambition--the reunion namely of the divided portions of our ancestral estate--is gained; and as it appears you have no personal objection to the fair Harriet herself I don't see why the addition of the Rayleigh manors should make her disagreeable."" A month settled every thing to the satisfaction of all parties. Mr Jeeks has settled himself in London; my father resides in Hartley Mead; and every day my wife and I go over to see the progress of the alterations and improvements we are making in the old house which we are restoring to its original grandeur under the superintendence of Mr Barry. IRELAND.--THE LANDLORD AND TENANT QUESTION. Unfortunately for the cause of truth and the welfare of that country Ireland has lately become the stock in trade of every political writer: ""monster pamphlets"" and ""monster paragraphs"" succeed each other with astonishing rapidity--all alike remarkable for the ""monstrous"" assertions they contain and for the ""monstrous"" ignorance they display of the subject on which they profess to enlighten us. English tourists Scotch agents and German adventurers flock like birds of prey and swarm over the devoted country. They go there not for the purpose of enquiring into the real state of things or the real causes of the admitted misery of the people; but in order to write what will be most productive to themselves--not with the philanthropic or patriotic motive of endeavouring to elucidate a subject of so much importance; but with the determination to compile as many pages as they can in as short a given period as possible. They draw the most absurd caricatures; and pandering to the prevailing public opinion they relate only what tends to strengthen it in its errors and to misdirect and mislead those who consult them for information or rely on them as authorities. Their numerous errors are detected and pointed out by the newspapers according as they tell against the political interests of their respective parties. There is but one topic on which they are all agreed--that is in their unanimous and unsparing abuse of the Irish landlords; and however much they may be condemned as disentitled to belief on other subjects on this their assertions are taken by all parties as authorities ""true as holy writ."" It requires no witch to tell us that Ireland is in a condition in which she ought not to be; but it does require some industry and an intimate knowledge of the habits and character of the people to assign this state of things to the proper causes. In their love for the marvellous most writers on Ireland have overlooked facts; they have not condescended to enquire into particulars or to use that unquestionable information which is actually in existence. We therefore propose to supply this omission and to state the case of the landlord and tenant question as it really is; and although many acts of oppression and harshness may have been perpetrated by individuals we trust we shall be able to show from authentic documents that nothing can be more unjust than the exaggerated charges brought against the present Irish landlords as regards the exorbitance of their rents and nothing more fallacious than to attribute the misery of the people to the want of tenure or due security in the occupation of their lands. The last census taken by the police under the direction of government gives us the actual rental of Ireland as returned by the occupiers themselves. This information is therefore derived from a source on which little doubt can be thrown; and although we may justly suspect (from the desire of the Irish peasant to make the most of his miseries) that the rent may have been in many instances exaggerated we may rest perfectly assured that in no instance was it underrated. Founded on the results of this enquiry a very useful and instructive sheet (entitled _Ireland at a Glance_) has been compiled and published in which amongst other statistical information the average rent of land in each county is given and on the correctness of which we may safely rely. Had the conduct of the Irish aristocracy some forty or fifty years ago attracted but a small portion of the public attention that has latterly been bestowed upon it no doubt great good would have been effected. _Then_ unquestionably the landlord could do almost any thing; _then_ no doubt he could with impunity set the law at defiance. The Catholic degraded as he was durst not complain; but the establishment of the petty sessions courts and the agitation which preceded emancipation altered the matter altogether. The Catholic Association employed active and intelligent attorneys. Those men were everywhere: the petty sessions courts were regularly attended by them; for the slightest transgression of the law the magistrate was hauled up; and the poor man was shown that he had only to bring his case fairly before the tribunals to obtain justice. While the Association existed he was fully protected at its expense: by the time it was dissolved he had acquired a thorough knowledge of his own rights; and he had ready agents in the country attorneys who were always at hand and always but too happy for their own interest to undertake any cause in which they anticipated success. This so far as the administration of justice was concerned the publicity of their proceedings and the unwillingness of men to expose themselves to actions for the misconduct of some members of their body effectually checked magisterial delinquency: where any violation of the law did occur there could be no doubt as to the punishment. Had the conduct of the Irish proprietors (in their character of landlords) been taken to task at the same period no question they were deeply to be condemned. _Then_ and always before the practice of the landlord was--to lease large tracts at an easy rent to the most solvent person he could find or to set in copartnership (that is by creating a joint tenancy in all the inhabitants of any particular town-land making the rich accountable for the debt of the poor.) His only object was to secure his income; so that was accomplished he cared little for the welfare of the inhabitants or the cultivation of the estate. The peace came--prices fell --the middlemen not occupying were in most cases unable to pay their rents when they could not enforce them from those in possession whom they had ruined by their extortion; the consequence was they were too happy to abandon their interests and leave the landlord to deal with the paupers they had created. In a few years after the peace the middleman system had ceased to exist; the owner of the soil coming into immediate contact with the tenantry saw the monstrous injustice and the destructive tendencies of the copartnership plan--and it was discontinued. Yet such is the passion for legislation that both systems are now about to be disinterred to be taken from the oblivion to which their own iniquities long since consigned them and to be set up in the preamble of an act of Parliament in order that Mr Sharman Crawfurd may have the opportunity of again prostrating them by legislative enactments. We are certain that for the last ten years no instance can be shown in which any landlord set or any tenant took land on determinable leases for the purpose of subletting; or any single instance in which the landlords practised or permitted the copartnership system on their estates; and yet the public time is to be wasted and the public attention to be occupied by the introduction of laws to restrain practices which are no longer in operation. It is true some of those leases where the middleman held on very easy terms and was able to pay the rent himself during the great depression are still in existence; but they are daily dropping out: and it is the treatment of those properties when they come upon the owners' hands that has latterly attracted so much attention. From 1818 a total revolution in the management of land took place in Ireland: the proprietors became in most instances the managers of their own estates; and as each year advanced the necessity of attending strictly to their duties became more manifest to them. From 1830 to 1843 more was done and is still continuing to be done in improving or in endeavouring to improve the condition of the people than was ever done before. The large owners of land employed Scotch stewards to instruct their tenantry in the most improved system of husbandry; and their neighbours profited by the example. Green-cropping increased in a most astonishing degree; agricultural societies were formed in almost every county; and the country was advancing steadily and rapidly in the march of prosperity when the baneful agitation again started into existence. To disconnect the peasantry from the landlords who could not be induced to join in the senseless and mischievous cry for Repeal now became the object of the agitators: the most unjust charges were made against the gentry; and even their exertions to promote the growth of turnips or to teach the people the proper mode of cultivation were turned into ridicule and treated with contempt in the public speeches of some of the Roman Catholic bishops. The floodgates of abuse were thrown open; the most incredible acts of violence and atrocity were imputed to them; generalities were dealt in--except in a few instances in which it was fondly believed the facts would have borne out the assertions. But when investigation fully exonerated the accused from the charges brought against them still the agitators persevered: the accusations being general it was not the duty of any individual to contradict them. From their frequent reassertion the English press accorded them credit; the English newspapers became the advocates of those they believed to be oppressed; no story was too ridiculous to obtain insertion; anonymous correspondents heaped obloquy on the best and most pains-taking landlords; while any attempt at their vindication was sure to be discountenanced--a tyrannical act of one man was seized on and blazoned forth as proof positive of the guilt of all. The conduct of the Irish landlords was assailed just at the time when it was commencing to become meritorious; and they were almost literally deprived (by public opinion) of all control just at the period when (for the first time) they were exercising the influence which their position ought to give them for the benefit and the advantage of the people. From the manner in which the laws regulating the connexion between landlord and tenant in Ireland are spoken of and from the frequent demands made for their alteration and improvement one would naturally suppose that they differed essentially from those which regulate the connexion between the same parties in this country. Yet such is not the fact: so far as the law goes it is the same on both sides the Channel. By law the Irish landlord can only eject a tenant holding by lease after he owes a year's rent; and then the tenant has six months for redemption. He can only put out a tenant-at-will by giving him six months' notice (the six months to expire on or before the day on which the tenancy commenced;) and afterwards by ejecting him if he refuse to give up possession. He can only distrain after the rent becomes due. Those powers the law also gives to the English landlord: so far as legislative enactments go the landlords of both countries stand precisely in the same position. But the English proprietor can do much which the Irish one durst not attempt: he may prevent the fences on his estate from being torn down or the trees and hedge-rows he has planted from being cut: he may prevent his land from being damaged by bad husbandry or a succession of the same crops being taken from it until it is rendered useless;--all this he may do by enforcing his covenants and no one blames him. An Irish landlord may put the most stringent clauses in his leases; but he cannot use the power which their enforcement would give him: public opinion (always in favour of the delinquent ) and the dread of the assassin restrain him. The late Mr Hall let a farm in fine condition: the tenant contrary to his engagements tore up the land burned it and set it in co

-acre. The unfortunate gentleman endeavoured to prevent this violation of an agreement. He went to the ground and threatened to put his covenant in force; and for doing so he was murdered in the open day in the presence of numbers of people: the assassins were allowed quietly to walk off; and it was only when one of the hired murderers tempted by a large reward peached on his accomplices in crime that any of them were brought to justice. There is an act of Parliament in force in Ireland for the prevention of burning land which imposes heavy penalties; yet it cannot stop this mischievous practice--and why? Because by having recourse to it the tenant (until he quite exhausts the soil) can raise better crops with more ease to himself; it is a much less troublesome process than that of collecting manure from the scourings of his ditches or his moor land or burning lime; and it enables him to spend the winter months in idleness and amusement when he ought to be providing for his next year's crops. If an English tenant cannot meet his engagements he surrenders his land as a matter of course: if an Irish tenant be turned out even after owing many years' rent he considers himself an ill-used man (and so do his neighbours too;) and no man complains so loudly of the extortion of his landlord as he who pays no rent at all. The Irish landlord has the advantage of being able to bring his ejectment at the courts of quarter-sessions and at less expense than it can be done in this country provided the rent be under L50 a-year. But this may be considered and with justice of equal benefit to the tenant: if he redeem within the six months allowed by law the costs the landlord can put upon him will only amount to L2 10s; whereas with the superior courts it would be at least L14. Yet some of the patriotic Irish journals have required as an improvement in the law that ejectment at quarter-sessions should be abolished and that the landlord should in every case be sent to the superior courts for redress. To make such an alteration in the law would be unjust towards the landlord--as it would compel him to expend a large sum in regaining possession of his land in addition to the loss of his rent (if he had a pauper to deal with;) and it would be injurious to the interests of the tenant as t would give a tyrannical and oppressive landlord the power of overwhelming the poor but honest man who only wanted time to redeem by the load of law-costs he would be enabled to put upon him. Having shown that the law gives the Irish landlord no power incompatible with justice or unnecessary for the due maintenance of his rights--in fact that in respect of it he is much more restricted than the mercantile man--we are at a loss to see how the law can be altered and at the same time the rights of property be preserved. It may be said the Irish tenant has no claim at the termination of his lease for any improvements he may have effected; neither has the English tenant if he possess a lease. Although in point of fact so far as the small Irish farmer is concerned this is quite an ideal grievance; for he never makes any improvement or if he does and pays his rent he is never disturbed--still an amendment in the law in this respect may stimulate to industry and may be effected with advantage to all parties. Against the gentlemen farmers injustice of this kind may sometimes be perpetrated and therefore legislation on the subject would be of use; but the poor man who meets his engagements is never unless under extraordinary circumstances removed; and where such is the case he is almost invariably amply remunerated. Solitary instances of contrary conduct pursued towards him may no doubt be adduced; but they are too few in any way to account for the present state of dissatisfaction so universally prevalent. The Irish landlord then has no power which he can legally employ for the oppression of his tenant which is not possessed by all other British landlords. If he violate the law of course the legal tribunals will afford redress. And are we to be told that that redress would not be sought for; that the wardens and priests the leading agitators or the people themselves would not report their sufferings; and that the power and influence and money of the Association would not be used in their defence? The outcry raised by Mr O'Connell and his supporters against the landlords on account of the number of persons ""turned out and left to die by the road-side ""[30] will we have no doubt turn out (if possible) to be more unfounded than even his other assertions. The present Commission has ample powers to ascertain this fact at least: and we will venture to assert that not one instance of starvation will have been proven before it; and that out of the hundreds of thousands who were reported to have been mercilessly turned adrift to perish at the backs of ditches forty-nine fiftieths will be found well and hearty and in the occupation of those lands from which they were said to have been expelled. That ejectment-processes were served and decrees obtained which if followed up and enforced would have put many persons out of possession we do not deny; but nine-tenths of those are compromised by the payment of part of the rent before the day of trial comes on and of the decrees obtained the great majority are never put in execution. Accurate information on this point can easily be obtained from the sheriffs and clerks of the peace for the different counties; those officers have been amongst the first witnesses examined before Lord Devon. We would only ask the public to suspend its judgment and those well-meaning but mistaken individuals who though they reject Mr O'Connell and the priests as authorities on most other subjects take their assertions on this as proven facts to reserve their indignation and wrath until the result of this testimony can be known. Ejectment-processes are the most effective and the cheapest means by which the landlord can enforce the payment of the rent due and as such they are generally had recourse to: before they can be acted on _at least three months_ must have elapsed after the year's rent (which is the least sum they can be issued for) has become due. Perhaps nothing has contributed more to foment certainly nothing has assisted more to continue the agrarian disturbances in Ireland than the statements made so flippantly by journalists and pamphleteers of the great excess of rent exacted in Ireland over that paid by the English tenantry. Those writers have invariably assumed the truth of the assertions made in this particular; yet nothing can be further from the fact. There is no statistical account of England recently published that we can discover which would give us any correct idea of the present average rent of land in this country;[31] but we think from all the information we have been able to acquire by enquiries directed to competent and well-informed persons that it cannot be set down at less than 25s. an acre. From the last Irish census we learn that Ireland contains 20 399 608 statute acres and that the estimated rental is L12 715 478--yielding a trifle over 12s. as the average rent.[32] When it is taken into consideration that the English tenant pays tithes--which in many localities amount to more than the entire average rent produced by Irish ground; that he pays the poor-rates and that he is heavily taxed with turnpikes and other local assessments: and that the Irish tenant pays no tithe and only half the poor-rates; that no turnpikes exist except solitary ones in the neighbourhood of cities or very large towns; that in fact the only tax he pays is the county cess varying in different counties from tenpence to one and sixpence the acre half-yearly; and that this assessment is being considerably reduced by the new grand-jury enactments under which the towns and gentlemen's houses are valued and taxed;--when we say all those things are taken into consideration and besides that the land in Ireland is naturally better and more productive than the English soil we think we have satisfactorily disposed of one grave charge against the Irish landlords; and that we have shown that it cannot be the exorbitance of the pecuniary burdens under which he groans that causes the vast difference between the social condition of the Irish and the English occupier. It will no doubt be said--""Ah but the English tenant is housed and his farm kept in repair by the landlord while the Irishman is obliged to do all this himself!"" This is true; but certainly the outlay of the Irish tenant on his farm makes but a small addition to his other engagements. Gates and fences he has comparatively speaking none; and if they be erected for him they are soon suffered to go to ruin. He requires few outhouses; for in the poor and disturbed districts (and it is those which we are now attending to) he uses his domicile as a receptacle for his pig and his cow as a matter of choice; we say as a matter of choice--for if he had the inclination _all_ writers admit he has abundance of unoccupied time to construct habitations for them. Now though it is a just cause of regret that we do not see better homesteads and better fences in Ireland still we cannot admit that the tenant's being obliged to keep such as exist in repair can be any great hardship in a pecuniary point of view as he lays out scarcely any thing on them: he does not even expend his own labour on their improvement; and his time which might be profitably occupied in this way is wasted in useless idleness in swelling the train or cheering the ferocious sentiments of some mercenary agitator. Having shown as correctly as it is possible to do the relative amount of rents paid in England and in Ireland let us compare the amount of rents paid in each of the Irish provinces. For this purpose we shall take a maritime and an inland county from each. Maritime. L s. d. Inland. L s. d. Ulster--Down average rent 0 16 0 Tyrone average rent 0 14 6 Munster--Clare do. do. 0 11 0 Tipperary do. do. 0 17 8-1/2 Leinster--Wexford do. 0 14 0 Longford do. do. 0 12 3 Connaught--Mayo do. 0 8 6 Roscommon do. 0 13 0 It is well known that the quality of the land in the north of Ireland is far inferior to that in either of the other provinces: yet we see in the maritime counties that the rich and fertile lands of Clare and Wexford are let much cheaper than the northern counties; and that Mayo inhabited by unquestionably the poorest and most miserable population in Ireland is rented at nearly half the amount paid by the independent yeomanry of Down; while amongst the inland counties the splendid plains of Roscommon and the productive lands of Longford yield less income than the cold and comparatively speaking sterile soil of Tyrone. Now it is not too much (indeed it is under the mark) to say that _two acres_ in any of those counties we have quoted in Leinster Munster or Connaught will feed more cattle and grow more corn than _three acres_ in either of the northern ones; and yet the tenantry in the north who pay those comparatively high rents are contented and the landlords are considered good.[34] Those statements are founded not on our own opinions but on incontrovertible facts; and after having read them we would ask any dispassionate man if the disturbed condition of the west and south of Ireland can be with any justice attributed to the rents imposed by the landlords. In the north where the highest rents are charged the people are well housed and well clothed the ground well tilled and the rents as well paid as in any part of England. Here if a tenant wishes to dispose of his right in even a tenancy-at-will he gets some ten or twelve years' purchase for it; and the answers to Lord Devon's enquiries were in many instances that the interference of the commission was not required. While in the south and west from whence the loudest complaints against the landowners proceed; where the peasant exists in rags and the gentlemen in a state of semi-starvation; where the people are idle and their ground untilled; where squalid misery offends the eye and merciless murders shock the feelings; where the terror of the assassin supersedes the power of the landlord and protects the tenant against all law; there in the counties so overwhelmed with poverty and debased by crime the lands are held on terms (the relative value being taken into consideration) by _the half easier_ than in the prosperous and peaceable province of Ulster. Dublin Limerick Meath and Tipperary do average a trifle more than the northern counties; but the one is the metropolitan county and the quality of the land in the others is so superior to any in England or Ireland that even at the small advance of two shillings an acre they may justly be considered as more cheaply rented than any other counties. To understand a people properly their national character must be attentively studied; and this can only be done by a long residence and a close connexion with them. We cannot therefore be much surprised that those who undertake to write on a country which they have never seen or to prescribe remedies for the defects in the social condition of a people amongst whom they have never resided should be led into grievous mistakes and that they should be unsafe guides to direct the enquiries of others. Employment hard work large wages and good living form the objects of the Englishman and the Scotchman's ardent desire; while coarse food bad lodging and half clothing are quite agreeable to the Irishman if they be combined with independence--in other words if by using them he may avoid labour and enjoy those amusements to which he is passionately addicted and in which he indulges unrestrainedly. We firmly believe that if a choice of roast beef and loaf bread accompanied by the labour necessary to earn them were offered to ""Pat"" at home or potatoes and milk with liberty to frequent the horse-races cock-fights and dances in his neighbourhood he would unhesitatingly accept the latter. This may seem strange to an Englishman; but there is no accounting for taste. That the potato is coarse food cannot be doubted; that it is wholesome is abundantly proved by the stalwart men who subsist on it and by the ruddy health of the chubby merry urchins who have perhaps never tasted any thing else. Pity it is that the former should be so negligent of or so indifferent to their own advantage; or that the latter should have been (until lately) suffered to grow up in that ignorance which almost secures a continuance in the same courses which proved the bane and misfortune of their fathers. No peasant in Europe devotes so much of his time to amusement as does the Irishman. Go to the places of public amusement or to the fairs and markets in the busiest and most hurried seasons and how many thousands will you see who have no earthly business there but to meet their friends to laugh and to chat and (before Father Mathew reformed them) to drink and to fight! To suppose as some influential writers here do that there is no alternative between the possession of land and absolute starvation is one of those imaginary fictions often conjured up by those who wish to indulge in what they believe to be powerful and wish to be pathetic appeals to the feelings; but it betrays great ignorance of the subject on which they propound their opinions. The condition of the rural labourer constantly employed by the gentleman or wealthy farmer is generally _much_ superior to that of the small landholder. Those men are bound by agreements which they must fulfill--they work continually; and although their wages are in some instances nominally very low and in all much lower than we could wish still their allowances--in house-rent grazing and con-acre--enable them not only to live comfortably but sometimes to amass considerable sums of money. You always see good pigs and very often more than two good cows at their doors. It may not be amiss to say that in _all_ instances they get the feeding of those cows for a rent varying from one guinea per year when the nominal wages are low to three shillings a-year when tenpence a-day is given; thus at the very highest price getting for three shillings that accommodation for which Mr Cobden charges his workman twelve pounds! Yet the great object of those men is to get land and become farmers although they almost invariably suffer by the change. They were before compelled to work to meet their engagements; having become their own masters they in very many instances neglect their business and devote the time which ought to be employed in the cultivation of their farms to the discussion of politics and to the attendance on popular assemblies. To say that the Irish are unemployed not from inclination but from necessity is absurd;[35] this may sometimes be the case in the towns where the worst class of agricultural labourers reside--men who will not be employed while others can be had. A stranger meets able-bodied men walking about; he is told and he sees that there are no resident gentry in the neighbourhood to afford them work; he compassionates their condition; concocts a paragraph and imputes the misery he witnesses to absenteeism. Let them accompany the idler to his home and inspect his farm: he will find out of a holding of from three to four Irish acres perhaps an acre on which there was no attempt made at all to raise a crop independent of untilled headlands amounting to at least fifth of the ground under cultivation in each field. Why does he not employ himself on this land? If he has a lease there can be no excuse; but even supposing him but tenant-at-will it can in this instance be no justification. The land unused is not waste land requiring an expenditure of labour and money for which he might afterwards reap no advantage from the cupidity of his landlord. This is no such land: it is good sound arable land--perhaps the very best he has; and waste purely and solely for the want of expending on it the labour necessary to prepare it for crop. He pays for it--yet he won't work it: he complains of want of employment and he walks about with plenty to engage him beneficially for his own interests at home: he takes con-acre for which he pays high while he could raise his food on his own farm if he only took the trouble of collecting manure or devoting his time to its improvement. Adjoining mountains and bogs where the poorest class of the population generally reside and where there is abundance of ground attached rent-free to each farm and capable of being rendered profitable at a very little expense--in fact without any other outlay than the labour required to open drains and level it--we see scarcely any efforts made at improvement. A Scotchman or an Englishman would consider the possession of the land rent-free for three or five years according to the difficulty of the undertaking as a sufficient recompense for his trouble; although his time is much more valuable on account of the higher rate of wages paid him. But an Irishman will consider a twenty-one years' lease as too short a tenure to justify him in expending the time which he wastes gossiping with his neighbours or sunning himself at the backs of the ditches in the profitable employment of adding to what ought to be if he had industry his already too small holding. Here is a case in which we conceive legislation might operate much good. If every man who reclaimed ground which did not before pay rent was guaranteed its possession by law for ten years after the first crop at a nominal rent of one shilling the acre it might be an inducement to the tenant to labour: it could be no loss to the landlord as if still left in a state of nature it would be useless to him and after the expiration of the time guaranteed the tenant as remuneration for his trouble the benefit would be his exclusively. In the case of a tenant-at-will an arrangement could easily be effected by which the tenant if removed from the farm before the expiration of the stipulated term might receive a just and reasonable compensation for the improvements which he had effected or an allowance for the loss of the crops which had he remained he would still have been entitled to: and thus without any government outlay encouragement would be given for the reclamation of that part of the Irish waste lands which would be worth the trouble or expense of cultivation. We are gravely told in well-rounded and high-sounding sentences that ""in Ireland famine urges men to take land at any price--they must have it or die;"" and that ""when a piece of ground falls out of lease it becomes a bone of contention amongst some twenty or thirty miserable competitors who outbid each other to the great delight and profit of the ruthless and exulting landlord and to their own utter ruin."" If any one takes time to reflect on what he reads in every day's newspaper he must at once perceive that this statement can have no foundation in fact; if a landlord remove a tenant for non-payment of rent he finds it difficult to get another to succeed him (in the disturbed districts it is almost impossible to get any man to do so.) Such is the dread of taking land from the occupation of which others have been expelled even on account of owing the most unreasonable arrears that farms frequently remain waste for years without any person daring to bid for them. Now if public opinion and the dread of the punishment which is sure to follow operate so powerfully in favour of the really blamable person as to keep his land untenanted how much more influence will they possess in restraining any man from seeking to obtain the land of another if that other be unobjectionable in character solvent in circumstances and still in possession? Such a thing is never heard of. The landlord if he were bad enough might try to induce men to act so; but he could not effect it. If death pursue the man who undertakes to rent unoccupied ground as in most instances it does how much more certain would it be to overtake him whose conduct was the means of driving from his home a solvent and industrious person? If a landlord distrain for rent he can find no bidders for the crops or cattle; how much more difficult will it be for him to obtain bidders for land? We have frequently heard the bad cultivation of the land in Ireland attributed to the constant shifting of the tenantry: we are quite convinced the result of the enquiry now instituted will show how unfounded this supposition is and that the shifting or removal of the tenants will be found to be a matter of much more rare occurrence in Ireland than in England. That scarcity and want are periodically experienced in Ireland is but too true. Those visitations (which thank God are not frequent) arise from the failure of the potato crops and generally occur in those districts most densely populated and consequently worst tilled; in fact they are greatly to be attributed to the neglect of the people themselves; who will not take the trouble of using those precautions against rot which ought always to be adopted on a moist soil or in a mountainous country: but to talk of persons dying in Ireland of starvation is absurd and bespeaks an utter ignorance of the national character. There are poor-houses; and besides in Ireland the hungry man may enter without hesitation and share without apology in the meal of his more wealthy neighbour; and lodging humble though it be is never denied to the houseless or the destitute. Those who accuse Irishmen of any class or party of hard-heartedness or inhumanity had better look at home. In _their_ country we never hear of verdicts of ""death from starvation"" being returned by coroners' juries; or of the weak and the unfortunate being compelled to seek for shelter in the hollows of decayed trees or to sleep like brute beasts in the open parks exposed to the cold and the inclemency of winter. The gentry may neglect their duties in other respects: as regards the performance of charitable acts they are faultless; the middleman may be exacting--but he is hospitable; and the men who make those groundless charges would be not a little astonished did they see the multitudes that are still fed (poor-laws notwithstanding) at the BIG House of the Irish gentleman. We have said that failures of the crops and scarcity occur much more frequently in the densely populated parts of the country than in any others and that those failures arise in a great measure from the neglect of the people themselves. Parts of Mayo Galway and Donegal are the localities most subject to those visitations. In those counties the most miserable class of the peasantry exist; and nothing we think can prove more conclusively that their misfortunes and their wretchedness cannot with justice be attributed to the misconduct of their landlords but rather to their own _than the undisputed fact that in those districts in which the people are worst off the land is set at the lowest rent; and that where the greatest quantity of waste land is unreclaimed and where that which is under cultivation is worst managed and least attended to there invariably is to be found the greatest amount of unemployed labourers_. It may be said they know no better mode of cultivation than what they practise. They do; those are the very men who go and have from their youth been in the habit of going to England and Scotland where they see the benefits arising from a good system of agriculture. They fully appreciate but won't practise it. The truth is--and this is one of the great sources of Irish misery--that by the constant agitation of which (under one shape or another) he is almost always the victim the Irish peasant is induced to consider himself as the worst treated of God's creatures; by it he is kept in a continual state of dependence on anticipated events which leads him to expect the amelioration of his condition by means of political convulsions rather than by patient and persevering industry. We need scarcely say how much the sympathy expressed for his situation and the abuse heaped on his landlord tend to confirm the Irish peasant in his bad habits. Articles from the English press and not extracts from the gospel form the texts of the sermons which are delivered for his instruction: the object of the preacher is not to remove his prejudices or to eradicate his faults; but to excite his animosities and to extract his shillings: when peace and mercy are inculcated it is not because they are commanded but because they may be expedient. In those parts in which there are no resident gentry to employ them to set them an example and to enforce a respect for the laws the peasantry indulge in idleness and engage in politics. They work at home only when it suits their convenience or inclination and from others they can only procure work (at prices for which they will work) in the harvest and spring. In summer after they have planted their crops and made their turf and set the milk of their cow (if they have one ) they shut up their houses send their wives and their families to beg and betake themselves to England or Scotland to reap the harvest. There until of late years they earned the almost incredible sums of L16 sometimes of L20--latterly competition and other causes have reduced the amount to on the average between L4 and L5. Out of this on their return they pay the rent of the con-acre which they have taken while a third of their own holding is waste. With the balance and their oats they pay the landlord in those cases in which he is so fortunate as to get any rent; and having secured an abundance of potatoes they sit down to enjoy themselves for the winter. During the night they play cards for geese turkeys and herrings; attend dances where they are enrolled and sworn into secret societies; and devote some hours to the wrecking of the houses or the castigation of the persons of those who are obnoxious to them. In the daytime you find them at the places of public resort or amusement or lazily and listlessly strolling about those miserable abodes--in whose floors you frequently find stepping-stones to carry you from the entrance to the space occupied by the fire and before whose doors are those stagnant pools and heaps of filth so disgusting to every traveller. Could they not remove those? Is it the landlord's fault that they don't? Does he wish their houses to be in such a condition or encourage them to keep their own persons and those of their children in such a state of dirt and nastiness? Not at all. He does his best to prevail on them to adopt a different system; but his interference in their domestic matters is always looked on as an unjustifiable intrusion; in short as a sort of minor grievance and a petty act of oppression. Perhaps it is to be attributed to their poverty? Water at least is cheap and abundant in Ireland. Such is a true and accurate account of the ""tenor of those men's lives"" and habits; and it is a continuance of this state of things that those who attack the Irish landlords so indiscriminately are in reality advocating. Now let us suppose that a tract of two thousand acres set perhaps by the grandfather of the preset owner and inhabited by a class of tenantry such as we have described comes on a landlord's hands. It has been let and relet--tied up in settlements--and until the termination of the lease there may have been three or four intermediate landlords between the occupant and the proprietor. The present possessor comes to deal with an estate ruined and almost worthless from mismanagement over which he could exercise no control and peopled by a pauper and surplus tenantry for whose creation he is in noways accountable. This is exactly the condition of those estates and the position of those landlords whose treatment and whose acts have been latterly so much commented on. And we will now ask those who blame others so much candidly to tell us what they would advise to be done--what if placed in such a situation they would do themselves. They will no doubt at once say ""Remove some give them the means of going to the colonies and make the rest comfortable."" Why that is exactly what the landlords have been endeavouring to do and for which they have been denounced. This is just what Lord Lorton Colonel Windham and others did; and for doing which they were designated ""miscreants."" If the tenantry were removed even to better their own condition the dues of the priest and the physical force at the command of the agitator would be lessened--and this would never answer. ""Well then if this mode of management be not popular leave all on the land build them comfortable houses and insist on a proper mode of cultivation. In Belgium and France men live on smaller portions of land in comfort why should they not in Ireland? Lay out money in affording them employment pay them for draining and sewering--the benefit will be ultimately yours."" The answer is obvious. It would require more money than the property is worth to build good houses for all; and if built they would soon go to ruin from the habits of the people. If they possessed the land in fee the occupants from their numbers could not exist upon it. The landlord cannot make them emulate the Belgian or the Frenchman in industry. The produce of the orchards he may plant will be stolen and the trees broken and destroyed to obtain the fruit. They will not exert themselves to raise many things which are sources of profit to the poor man in this and other countries; or if they did they would have no market--they would obtain no price for them. And why? Because their own misconduct prevents the establishment of any manufactures or the outlay of any money amongst them. Who will carry his machinery to a country where--though he may be a good master and a kind friend though he may give occupation to hundreds and diffuse wealth among thousands--his spindles may be stopped at the beck of a priest and his machinery left to rust at the dictate of Mr O'Connell. Independent men do not wish to lose all self-control--to sacrifice all right of private judgment; and he who dares to assert his own opinions or to defy the behests of the ""Liberator "" has no business to betake himself to Ireland. As to giving employment in sewering and draining--which would benefit the estate--it is not every man who can afford to set his land at a cheap rate and afterwards to expend his income for the immediate benefit of the occupier. But even this has been attempted. Lord Lansdowne tried to accomplish it on his Irish estate; but the steward he sent to superintend the work was noticed to quit and driven out of the

country by the very persons for whose benefit those improvements were planned--by the very men who were to be paid for their execution. Under such circumstances as we have stated in many instances the fear of death compels the landlord to abandon all idea of improvement. He must submit to sacrifice his rent because those in possession can't or won't pay him; and if he removes them he can find no one to succeed them: and in addition to his other consolations he has the pleasure of seeing himself described as a monster more ruthless than any Russian despot; while some hut the erection of which he _dared not have prevented_ is described perhaps sketched and stuck in a book as an incontrovertible proof of the miserable condition to which his rapacity and neglect have reduced his unhappy dependents. No direct legislation can affect the social condition of Ireland; before you can hope to benefit the country _you must establish tranquillity and inspire the peasantry with a due respect for the law and a just estimate of the rights of private property_. The question is--by what means are those things to be accomplished? You may give land at a lower price than it now brings but you will not thereby cause any perceptible change in the habits of the people. They may be wealthier but they will not be cleanlier. Their rents may be better paid but the peasant will still live on the potato. The filthy cabin will exist and the cow and the pig will feed at the same board and occupy the same apartment as the owner until you elevate the moral and social feelings of the man and teach him to require as a necessary what he now looks on as a superfluous luxury. Much of the poverty of the Irish peasantry has been attributed to the con-acre system. But if this system were not found by the persons who practise it to be more beneficial and less laborious than raising crops from their own land it would not be persevered in. In those counties in which con-acres are scarce the cry is that the people are starved because they can't have them. Where they are abundant they are impoverished by the prices they pay for them. The Terryalt system in the south originated in the gentlemen farmers refusing to break up their land and in the people assembling in mobs digging the ground thereby rendering it unfit for pasture and compelling the owners to let it for potatoes. It may be said how could they avoid doing this? They had no land to raise potatoes on and they must have them or die. This is not the case. The only persons who could be so circumstanced are the day-labourers; and to them it must personally be a matter of indifference what land was or was not broken: for by their agreements those gentlemen and farmers who employ them are bound to provide them with potato land; consequently they would not risk their lives to procure what was already guaranteed them. Those agrarian disturbances originated with small farmers whose own farms were not half cultivated; or tradesmen who would not have been so anxious to procure con-acres if they did not find them in general a much cheaper mode of procuring their staple commodity than by having recourse to the markets. The first use a servant boy or girl makes of their earnings is to plant con-acres not for subsistence but for sale. Half an acre of potatoes is generally the foundation of the fortune. The rent paid for potato ground has been enormously magnified. Mr Wiggins sets it down at L12 per acre. It may let for this price (the _plantation acre_) in the immediate vicinity of Dublin Belfast or some other large cities; where from the contiguity of the market the produce of a good acre will be worth from L40 to L60 according to the rate of prices. But in the rural districts such a price is never heard of; and it is only by the prices in those districts that the condition of the people can be affected. From L5 to L7 and L8 will be found the usual prices; and we should be glad to know what English farmer would give upwards of _one acre three roods_ of his best land well tilled and highly manured at such a price the renter only holding it for one crop and paying no taxes whatever. The average produce per acre of good con-acre will be at least twenty tons of eating or marketable potatoes independent of a large quantity fit for seed and for the feeding of pigs; the value of those latter will greatly over-pay the expense of seed planting and digging. And taking the price at 1s. per 112 lbs. the renter will have L20 worth of potatoes for L8; a clear profit of L12 on the acre. It of course occasionally does occur that from failure of the seed rot or other casualties the crop may not be worth the rent; in this case an abatement sufficient to satisfy him is made to the holder or it is left on the landlord's hands. Potatoes being a perishable crop and a species of food which cannot be preserved beyond a season their price fluctuates more than that of any other kind of provisions. Last year the price in this ""country of famine"" was 4d. for 112 lbs.; in general the prices vary from 1s. (seldom less) to 2s. and sometimes 3s. the 112 lbs. In Ireland good con-acres are looked on by the peasantry as a certain source of wealth; here they are considered as a main cause of their poverty. Who are the best judges--the people who use or those who read about them? But whatever may be the merit or demerit of the con-acre system (and we are none of its advocates ) it is unjust to charge its practice on the landlords. They have nothing whatever to do with it; it is a mode of dealing between one class of tenantry and another. The assertion in the ""Cry from Ireland "" that the peasant _gives his manure and pays 18s. an acre besides_ is too ridiculous to require confutation. But suppose the rents in Ireland were exorbitant who would be to blame?--the landlords who accepted them or the people who _swore_ to their extraordinary moderation? Let us look to the registry courts:--[36] ""There the landlords were found opposing the admission of their tenantry to the register and stating on oath that they considered the rents received by them as the full value of the land--_while the tenants and their neighbours and the liberal 'valuators ' were proving 'that it was let by those rack-renting and heartless men' grossly under its value_. And indeed when the small extent of the farms whose occupiers claimed the right to vote is taken into consideration this must appear true; for it sometimes required _to prove the land worth thirty shillings the acre more than the rent paid to bring the annual profit up to the requisite ten pounds_. ""That the rents were not considered as too high we have not only the testimony of the freeholders themselves but of other _'competent persons ' employed by the registry association who before the claimant was placed on the register were obliged solemnly to swear in public court 'that the land was in most instances worth and that a solvent tenant could afford to pay for it_ DOUBLE THE RENT _imposed on the occupier by the landlord.'_ We say in almost every instance _double the rent_; for when it is considered that many have registered from seven to eight acres it would be necessary to do so in order to bring the value up to the required L10; and yet those men who have so sworn and those leaders who have encouraged and induced them so to swear and who have procured and paid others to corroborate their testimony on oath are the persons who so lustily proclaim the extortion of the landlords! _If what they have sworn and what their priests have encouraged them to swear be true their landlords must be indulgent and merciful indeed._ If the contrary not only have they been guilty of perjury for their own injury; but those who assisted and abetted them must have been aware that they were encouraging them to commit a grievous sin."" _At that time_ it was Mr O'Connell's object to attain political power by proving the lands were set at a _cheap_ rate; _now_ it is his object to obtain popularity by declaring that they are set at a rate far too dear. Which of his assertions are we to believe? It may be said that only a few comparatively speaking of the landholders registered their votes; and that from the value of the holdings of a few it would be unfair to draw a conclusion as to the terms on which the land was held by the bulk of the people. This objection could only be urged by a person unacquainted with Ireland; for any man who attended the quarter-sessions there must know that if all the persons for whom the priests and liberal clubs served notice and whose qualifications they were prepared to support had come forward to claim and establish their rights to the franchise the number on the register would have been quite as great as (if it did not exceed) that of the old forty-shilling freeholders. If the claims of those who did apply and who although rejected were most vigorously sustained by the agitators had been substantiated the constituency would have been quite as numerous as the most ardent patriot could desire. From whatever causes the wretched condition of Ireland may arise want of tenure cannot be included amongst them; for if length of tenure secured prosperity Ireland should have been prosperous indeed. In no country were such long leases heretofore given: from three lives and thirty-one years to three lives and sixty-one years were the terms usually granted; and at this moment there are many leases still in existence in all parts of the country made towards the close of the last century and held directly from the owners. And although the lands held under these are at a rent very much below even the present depressed value and of course greatly under what they would have fetched in the time of the war still we do not find their possessors generally comfortable or independent; but on the contrary they are in most instances in a worse condition than those tenants whose rent has varied with the times and been influenced by the rise or fall in the value of agricultural produce. Seeing then that men placed in the most favourable circumstances both as regards the moderation of their rents and the length of their tenures are generally more wretched in the appearance of their dwellings and more neglectful of the cultivation of their farms than those at the mercy of landlords represented to be the most tyrannical on earth--we must seek the cause of the degraded state of the people elsewhere than at the door of the owners of the soil. Until within the last few years (and those are the years in which the landlords have most exerted themselves and in which the tenantry who would be influenced by them have most improved ) leases of _at least_ twenty-one years and one life were always given which not unfrequently prolonged the tenure to sixty or seventy years. And nothing can be more erroneous than to suppose that the refusal to grant leases latterly practised by some Irish landlords has been the cause of any hardship or suffering to the people. The contrary is the fact; and no men know this better than those who so loudly exclaim against the practice. It is a great mistake to imagine that leases are in no instance granted: the truth is that they are still very generally given; and that in a great majority of those instances where they are withheld they are so withheld not with the intention of taking advantage of the tenant's improvements or depriving him of his political rights (as the English people are led to believe ) but for the purpose of compelling him to improve and to live comfortably in spite of his own predilections. On the best managed estates in Ireland and those where green-cropping has been most generally brought into operation there are no leases; yet on those properties the tenantry are invariably the most independent and contented. On the estates of the Earl of Gosford and other proprietors in the north under the able superintendence of Mr Blacker (whose conduct is the theme of universal approbation ) no leases are given until the tenant shows by his industry and his exertions that he deserves one; and then after he has for some years cultivated his farm in a proper manner and is taught to estimate the value of an improved system he gets his lease as the reward of his industry without the slightest advance in his rent. From the bad feelings implanted in the minds of the peasantry they generally prefer living in comparative misery and allowing their land to remain in a state of nature whether they have leases or not rather than make any improvements which might tend to the landlords' ultimate advantage even though these improvements would produce immediate benefit to themselves; and this bad feeling is actually supported by the undisguised enmity which unfortunately of late years subsists between the gentry and the priests. We are far from saying that acts of oppression and injustice may not sometimes be perpetrated by landlords and agents. Amongst so numerous a body there must be bad men: and if an instance lately mentioned by Mr O'Connell be true--namely that of an agent who set a farm occupied by an industrious and well-behaved tenantry who owed no rent to an extensive grazier at a rent of four pounds a year _less_ than the resident tenants offered to secure--we must at once admit that nothing could be more heartless or cruel. But then we are bound in justice to state that the agent so accused was the bosom friend of the great agitator himself and a leading member of the Repeal Association which has constituted itself the protector _par excellence_ of the Irish people. May we not fairly suppose that when Mr O'Connell denounces his friends he would not hesitate to drag his political opponents to the bar of public opinion; and that the paucity of _facts_ which he is able to adduce against the landed gentry is a proof that they have not neglected the duties of their station in so flagrant a manner as his wholesale denunciations would lead us to expect? How can we be surprised at Irish absenteeism? Can we expect that any man who can avoid it will willingly expose the lives of himself and his family by taking up his residence amongst the ""Thugs"" of Tipperary? If an absentee comes to reside personally to superintend the improvement of his property and takes part of his own estate to make a demesne and build a mansion he must dispossess someone--_and like Lord Norbury he is shot_. Should he escape his fate his motives are misrepresented and his anxious endeavours to give occupation and employment to the people are converted into the worst crimes; because they can only be carried into effect by changing the condition of men from pauper and idle tenants to that of regularly worked and well paid labourers. And what object can he have in risking death in the cause of those who suffer themselves to be so misdirected and misled? Local influence he can have none--that will be monopolized by the priest; political importance he cannot expect in a country where the representation is placed exclusively in the hands of the Roman Catholic bishops.[37] Mr Waller resided and employed the labourers in his neighbourhood; but he took a part of his own land into his own hands--he ejected tenants who were unable or unwilling to pay their rents and he gave them compensation and to such as remained employment. What of that? He dared to occupy his own property and for this he suffered years of persecution. His own expenditure and his wife's charities were no protection; and at length while enjoying the comforts of his home he and the amiable and unoffending females of his family were cruelly butchered on his own hearth: and though in the conflict their assailants must have been wounded and marked they have not as yet been discovered. May we not ask why is this? How comes it that in a Christian country murder is tolerated nay openly approved? that the assassin is protected and concealed instead of being delivered up and made amenable to the offended laws of his country?[38] Can the ministers of that religion professed by the vast majority of the people have faithfully discharged their sacred obligations if men be found professing the religion of Christ and understanding its precepts willing to enrol themselves as the hired bravoes of a ""Black Sheep Society "" and to butcher their neighbours for a petty reward? The Roman Catholic religion condemns murder as strongly as the Protestant religion; yet how happens it that a whole community professing that faith winks at the crimes of the guilty? This total demoralization we look on as the worst feature of the case. There are and always must be bad men in every society; but how the great mass of the people could be brought to tolerate the commission of crimes amongst them which cry aloud to Heaven for vengeance is more than we can comprehend. Had the priests devoted that time which they spent in exciting the passions and misleading the judgment of their flocks in the inculcation of the divine precept of brotherly love--had they exercised that influence which they undoubtedly possess in calming the passions and enlightening the minds of their people--the condition of their country would now be widely different from what it is; and surely their bishops might have been better employed in remedying the neglect of their subordinates than in attending political meetings and delivering postprandial orations savouring more of the braggart boastings of a drunken drumboy than of the deliberate opinions of a dignified ecclesiastic. In their zeal as politicians the Roman Catholic clergy have forgotten their duties as priests; and they are now beginning to get a foretaste of the consequences: they became mob leaders at elections and popular meetings--they rode the whirlwind ""can they direct the storm?"" The ruffian tasting blood in beating the electors soon undertook business on his own account. The step from savage assault to actual murder is but ideal. The man who encouraged or connived at the lesser crime could scarcely expect to prevent the perpetration of the greater and the ""boy"" who commenced by applying ""gentle force"" to a reluctant voter became in the fulness of his crimes the avowed assassin. The priest used him as ""the bully""--he may repudiate but he dare not denounce him as ""the murderer."" In the late debate two publications on the state of Ireland were recommended to special attention; the one ""A Cry from Ireland "" by Lord John Russell--the other Mr Wiggins's book by the Marquis of Normanby. The first we should scarcely have noticed (the noble lord mentioned it with so much diffidence ) but for the impression it seems subsequently to have made on the mind of Sir R. Peel; but when we found a noble ex-lord-lieutenant recommending as trustworthy and instructive a book written on a subject which engrosses much of the public attention we felt it our duty at once to apply to his ""fountain of knowledge."" We cannot say that we have ""read with attention"" the whole of this whimsical production: few there are we believe who could command patience enough to wade through such a mass of contradictory absurdity; but we have selected such parts as we could find at all bearing on the subject Mr Wiggins professes to write upon; and we shall transcribe some few passages if not for the benefit at least for the amusement of our readers; merely premising that this gentleman gives us no data on which to found our opinions and no guarantee for the truth of his statements but his own assertion. First as regards the amount of rent charged in the north and south Mr Wiggins says-- ""In accordance with this view of the case we find in practice that the rents are far higher in proportion to the produce of the land in those parts of Ireland where Romanism prevails than in other parts where Protestantism is professed by a considerable portion of the population."" We refer to our previous statements founded on unquestionable authority to show how perfectly erroneous this ""view of the case"" is. The direct contrary is the fact; land is set for at least one third more in the Protestant and peaceable north than in the Roman Catholic and turbulent south. As a specimen of our author's style when he becomes jocose and of his veracity when he describes the conduct of Irish landlords we give a graphic sketch representing the mode of letting land in the sister country-- ""Fancy a 'lord of the soil' (a petty one 'tis true) walking with a bevy of bidders _humbly_ following him after obtaining a bid of money far beyond the value from one exciting the others to outbid in duty rent thus:--'Well Mich you hear what Pat bids; now what will _you_ advance?'--'Why yer honer God knows it's more than the value but I'll give yer honer three days turf-drawing.'--'Three days is it my lad when you know well enough that my turf-stack takes a month's fine weather to get in?'--'Och! then ' says Denis 'but I'll not grudge your honer a week.'--'By the powers now ' says Larry 'I'd give yer honer two weeks if the place and the rint would kape a horse or a mule or a donkey in the way of drawing; but I'll bring yer honer a fat pig any how and pay the rint of four pounds an acre as punctually as _any other_ man.'--'Larry the land is yours my boy and a mighty chape bargain too! Ted Sullivan promised me five pounds an acre plantation; but I was rather doubtful of his manes--I'll only ask ye to cut and save me a few slane according to times as you cannot draw it.'"" L4 the acre!!! this certainly beats any thing we ever heard of before; and until now we thought it a service of danger for any man to bid for another's holding or even to take an unoccupied one; but Mr Wiggins has made many discoveries which are new to us and not the least extraordinary is that ""_Lycurgus gave laws to the Athenians._""!!! One of the great panaceas of Lord Normanby's _protégé_ is that the land should be ""set at full rents on _sensible leases_""--which he proceeds to describe as leases for not less than twenty-one years. We have heard of many _longer_ leases than those of twenty-one years we never heard of any _shorter_ being granted; and as the usual course is also to add a life--which may and not unfrequently does prolong the tenure to sixty or seventy years--we think that if ""sensible"" leases had any effect Ireland would have been long since contented. Lord Normanby is reported to have stated as facts on the authority of Mr Wiggins ""that in Ireland where the saleable produce of a farm was L150 the share of the landlord in rent was L100; while on the other hand in England if the produce was L300 the share of the landlord was still L100."" Mr Wiggins in his ""_able work_ "" also shows that in the shape of county cess the charge was nearly double in Ireland what it was in England. It is difficult to form any accurate idea of the relative amount of the county cess paid in Ireland and of the local taxes in England as in both countries they vary in each different locality. In Ireland the exact amount of county cess levied in each barony can be easily ascertained by reference to the respective county books; but in England as the local taxation is in a great measure put on by vestry it would be an arduous task to strike an average. In Ireland the county cess varies in every barony according to the amount of public works executed in each or according to the state of crime in each district. In _peaceable_ counties and those which do not border on the Shannon the county cess will vary from tenpence to one shilling an acre half-yearly; while in disturbed districts and in those counties adjoining the Shannon it will amount to much more. In the first because of the large sums obliged to be levied off them as compensation to those whose cattle were maliciously houghed or whose houses were burned; and in the latter because of the great boon (the grant to improve the river) bestowed on Ireland by that government of which Lord Normanby was a prominent member. In the former case those who pay highly have only themselves to blame; if they were well conducted and discouraged the commission of crime as all well-disposed men ought to do they would not have to bear those additional burdens. In the latter the grand-juries have no control; they must assess to repay the principal of the money advanced to them and discharge the interest. Here we may be permitted to remark that we believe since publicity was given to their adjudications on fiscal matters there is quite as little jobbing in Ireland as in this country. As a proof of the disposition of the gentry to reduce the expenditure to the lowest possible amount we will state what every gentleman serving on grand-juries in Ireland must be cognisant of--namely _that not more than one-third of the presentments approved of by the rate-payers are ever passed by the grand-juries_; and yet road sessions at which the principal rate-payers have power to vote were instituted to check the extravagance of the proprietors. The difficulty in ascertaining the proportion of the produce of the soil taken as rent by the landlords in either country exists principally as regards the large holdings; because in England a great proportion of the farms are under tillage while in Ireland if not the whole by far the greater part of all the extensive farms are under grass; and the profits of the grazier vary so much that it is hard to form any correct estimate of the proportion of the produce taken by the landlord as rent and that left to the tenant as interest for the money employed in the purchase of stock. But in the smaller class of holdings we can have no difficulty in coming pretty near the truth; and as it is the grievances of the class of men by whom those small farms are held which require examination the amount taken from them as rent and left to then as remuneration for their labours is what is most requisite to be ascertained. Let us then take a farm of twelve Irish acres at 30s. an acre. According to the Irish mode of cultivating it will be cropped and stocked as follows:-- Saleable Acres. R. P. produce Landlord's rent L18 0 0 1 2 0 Potatoes at L18 per acre L27 0 0 County cess 1 4 0 3 0 0 Oats at L7 per do. 21 0 0 Poor-rates 0 7 0 1 2 0 Meadow at L4 per do. 6 0 0 --------- 6 0 0 Under pasture feeds four cows Rent and taxes L19 11 O which produce 8 firkins of butter at L2 10s. each 20 0 0 Profit on calves 6 0 0 Probable profit on pigs 10 0 0 -------- L90 0 0 Amount of rent and taxes paid by tenant 19 11 0 -------- Surplus left to tenant as remuneration for labor L70 9 0 This is but a rough calculation and an underrated one as regards the profits of the tenant; but it serves our purpose sufficiently and shows that instead of taking two-thirds of the produce the landlord takes not one-fourth--much less than the amount assumed to be taken in England. But when we consider the additional imposts which the English farmer has to pay in tithes poor-rates turnpikes &c. we must at once perceive how very much less the Irish tenant is charged in comparison to what he is subject to. But if the farm stocked and cropped as we have above described it (and it is the usual mode ) were cultivated as it ought to be--if instead of having one-half under natural pasture it were tilled after the Scotch or English system and one-half or two-thirds of what is now comparatively unproductive pasture were under green crops--we need not say how much the saleable produce would be increased; and consequently how much the tenant's profits would be augmented. Yet surely that it is not so cultivated is not the landlord's fault. If he has given a lease he has no control further than to exact his rent; if he supply instruction it may not be received; if he set a good example it may not be followed. If the tenant will not consult his own interests the landlord is not to be held as responsible for the consequences of his neglect. The fair way to calculate in this particular would be not to take the saleable produce _at what it is_ raised under a deficient system and negligent cultivation; but _at what it might be_ if the tenant had but industry and would but do his duty. In an article on the Irish fisheries in the _Quarterly Review_ for September last (page 475 ) we find it stated that ""the agricultural produce of Ireland was in 1832 estimated at L36 000 000 per annum issuing out of 14 603 473 acres of land--_a return nearly one-half less than that rendered by an equal number of English acres; and this with five labourers employed in Ireland where two only are required in England_."" The rental of Ireland is ascertained to be above L12 000 000; and thus we see that in fact the Irish landlord only receives the one-third of the saleable produce raised by his slothful and negligent tenant as rent. Let the produce be made equal to that of England (and with common industry this might be made to exceed it ) and the share of the produce extracted as rent would only be about one-sixth. Yet Lord Normanby ""burkes"" this correct information and clutches on the vague and unfounded assertions of Mr Wiggins merely for the purpose of damaging the character of a body of men who had already been sufficiently injured by the consequences of his misgovernment. We shall briefly advert to a few more of the items in the catalogue of Irish tenants' grievances. ""In England the markets are near and the cost of conveyance thereto seldom exceeds five per cent on value. In Ireland the cost of preparing for and marketing is ten and fifteen to twenty per cent on the value of the produce and often more."" In Ireland the saleable produce consists almost generally of oats butter potatoes and pigs; for which there is a ready market in every village and town. As those markets are very seldom more than four or five miles apart; and as moreover horse-hire and human labour are at least fifty per cent cheaper in Ireland than in England--we are at a loss to discover how ""the cost of preparing and taking to market "" can be fifteen per cent _more in the cheaper than in the dearer_ country. Mr Wiggins makes _one_ statement founded on truth and we willingly give Lord Normanby the benefit of it. ""In England labour is effectual and men skilful: in Ireland three men are required for one in England."" And we would respectfully ask his lordship who is to be blamed for this. Is it the landowner?--who though he nominally pay _less_ in reality pays _more wages_ than the Englishman for the cultivation of a given quantity of ground and who would if he could for his own sake remedy the evil. Or does the blame lie at the door of Lord Normanby's own _protégés_ the priests and agitators?--those men who held the reins of power and the keys of prisons during his administration; and who by their pestilent conduct have raised the minds of the peasantry from their natural occupation and taught them to hope for affluence and independence from other sources than industry and employment. Those labourers when working on task in England or Scotland are found to be quite equal to English or Scotch labourers: why are they not so when at home? Lord Normanby's ""unquestionable authority"" is so very contradictory in his assertions that had he not received the sanction of his lordship's approbation his own conflicting statements must have effectually destroyed his credibility but for the encomiums passed on it. In one passage he condemns the landlords for the exorbitance of their rents; while in the next he makes it a matter of pride and gratification that he has _himself_ during his management _raised_ the rental of the property under his control _at least one-third_--while the adjoining estate is much more favourably circumstanced and much more cheaply let though by no means so prosperous. When a nobleman so long and so intimately connected with the country whose interests are under discussion as Lord Normanby was with Ireland and who from the position which he occupied and the opportunities which he possessed ought to be particularly well informed on the question at issue solemnly assures us from his place in Parliament and in a debate which he himself has originated that the landlord and tenant question is one on which the most profound ignorance exists in this country and that there never was a government which had so little local knowledge as the present and which consequently was so ill fitted to legislate on the subject--when he laments other men's ignorance and glorifies himself on his own particular knowledge--when we say a nobleman so circumstanced as the Marquis of Normanby does all this and at the same time recommends a guide by whom the ignorant may be

enlightened and the blind led we are bound to believe that he has accurately ascertained the trustworthiness of the person under whose guidance he now would place us; and that he has maturely considered and carefully proved the correctness of those statements on which he would found legislation by the test of his own experience. We are bound to believe (and we do) that the noble lord is firmly convinced of the accuracy of Mr Wiggins's views and principles because they are exactly similar to those on which during his government he always acted. During his rule the cause of the mob was every thing and the cause of the gentry was nothing. Can we then be surprised at the state in which we find Ireland and the difficulty experienced in hitting off the measures requisite for the emergency--when we see ""the most beloved and popular viceroy that ever administered the government "" and the one ""who was said beyond all others to be best acquainted with the wants and wishes of that country "" so profoundly ignorant of its most simple statistics--simple it is true but still bearing most importantly on a great and momentous question? We fear that in his viceregal ""progresses "" the noble marquis was too much excited by the hearty cheers which greeted him and too much engaged by the brilliant eyes that beamed upon him to attend to the more ostensible and more serious duties of his office; and that he devoted the time which if properly employed might have enabled him to arrive at the truth in chucking the chins and patting the heads of the pretty frail ones to whom he addressed valedictory admonitions as he released them from those dungeons to which the over-strict laws of their country had (no doubt unjustly) consigned them. In the observations which we shall make on the pamphlet entitled ""A Cry from Ireland "" we wish to be distinctly understood--we do not undertake the task of showing up its glaring and wilful falsehoods for the purpose of exculpating Mr Shee the principal person whose conduct is arraigned in it. He is openly and boldly assailed; and if he be either unable or unwilling to defend his character he is unworthy of sympathy or support. We undertake this duty from higher and more important motives than the exculpation of any individual. The conduct of the Irish gentry is assailed through Mr Shee; and we wish to show that no landlord however ill inclined he may be _could_ practise such legal tyranny as is imputed to this man. The administration of justice has been impugned--we wish to show how unjustly; and this we shall be able to do even from the statements made by this wholesale libeller himself. The conduct of the government has been vilified because they are accused of supplying Mr Shee with a police force under whose protection and _by whose assistance_ he is said to perpetrate the most glaring felonies in the open day--we leave the defence of their participation in Mr Shee's enormities to her Majesty's ministers when they are called to account as no doubt they will be for allowing a force paid for the protection of her Majesty's subjects to be employed as the author of this pamphlet states them to be in the following instance:-- ""In one case that of a tenant named Bushe of whom with many other sufferers I have not yet spoken the landlord resolved on an ejectment; but Bushe owing no rent he could only proceed as he had done against Pat Ring or by some other process of a like kind. He took a shorter one. It so happened that though Bushe had paid his rent in order to keep the house above his head--a very good house it was to judge from the size and worth of the substantial walls which in most parts were still standing when I was there--he had not paid every man in the county to whom he was indebted. He owed one person residing at a distance a sum of money more as it soon appeared than he could pay at once. This man the landlord found out through some of his agents appointed for such purposes and purchased from him the debt which Bushe owed him. This account being legally conveyed to the landlord he at once proceeded against his tenant the debtor threw him into prison and as soon as he got him there went and took the roof off his house turning out his wife and six young children upon the open highway. There they remained without shelter and without food until some of the people of the adjoining village assisted them. The father was in prison and could neither resist the spoliation of the house which he himself had built nor could he do any thing by work or otherwise for his family's subsistence. In every respect the proceeding was illegal on the part of the landlord but though the lawyers urged Bushe to prosecute and assured him of ultimate success he was too far gone to listen to them. He was heartbroken. He had no confidence in any redress the law might give: he had seen a rich man set the law at defiance; and the ruin of his roofless house--_every piece of timber from which and every handful of thatch as also the doors and windows had been carried away by orders of the landlord and b the assistance of the constabulary who are located on the estate at the express request of the landlord and by sanction of the government_."" Here we have it asserted that an undoubted and most audacious felony has been committed and that the police force not only protected the aggressors _but actually assisted_ in the perpetration of the crime. Surely this is a case in which immediate punishment must have followed if an appeal lad been made to the law. It admitted of no excuse. A man without a shadow of right destroys and carries of the materials of another man's house. The police force not only do not prevent _but they assist him_. There is a stipendiary magistrate but he does not interfere; a petty sessions court but no recourse is had to it; and strange to say there is Daniel O'Connell to whom every thing is known and he is silent; the two Messrs Butler the members for the county and they are mute; Lord J. Russell assails the conduct of the ministry towards Ireland--here was a case more flagrant than any he brought forward; he knows it for he recommends the book in which it is stated--he dares not bring it forward for no doubt he enquired and found it was untrue. To have it refuted would not answer his purposes or those of O'Connell his ally. He recommends the book as an authority to those who wish to see how the Irish are treated by their landlords; and receiving his sanction it gets into circulation and obtaius belief for others in addition to the many calumnies already propagated against the Irish gentry. The author tells us-- ""The writer of the following pages has personally visited many of the towns and rural districts of Ireland; and _in obedience to those who instructed him to perform the task_ has drawn up a plain statement of facts for the benefit of persons interested in the welfare of Ireland and who cannot visit that country personally to judge for themselves."" And right clumsily has he performed the duty assigned to him. Had his cunning been equal to his malignity he would have acted with more prudence. He would not have recklessly asserted in one place what his own admissions refute in another. He would not have charged the most talented distinguished and impartial law-officers of the crown with having strained the law to protect a delinquent because he was a Protestant--and afterwards shown that the conduct of this man was condemned by those very persons accused of partiality towards him; and that his illegal acts were punished by those very tribunals to which (he asserts) no poor man need think of applying for redress. He however does his best to cover those glaring inconsistencies. He breaks the thread of his narrative and intersperses his stories in such a manner that a casual reader who has not time or inclination to examine or compare them may easily be deceived and misled. For the purpose of showing the reliance to be placed on Lord John Russell's authority we shall take up one case (that of Patrick Ring ) and follow it out to its conclusion. ""The first proceeding was against Patrick Ring a tenant who held on a lease of thirty-one years and a life and who owed no arrears up to 1842; the proceedings against him began in March 1841 and have given rise to a complicated variety of actions at law ending with his ejectment and utter beggary. ""As he owed no rent and as no possible reason for getting rid of him as a tenant could be assigned nor was ever offered until long after proceedings had begun a bold stroke to make a beginning was absolutely requisite and it was struck. The lease specified a certain day in May and in November as that on which the half-yearly rent would fall due. Those days had been strictly adhered to and no one knew this better than the landlord. But in 1841 he obtained a warrant of distraint [39] and seized on Ring on the 26th of March for rent alleged to be due on the 25th. It might have been a hard enough misfortune to be distrained on the day following that of the rent being due in any case especially in spring when the cattle and implements of labour as also the seed-corn and potatoes the articles distrained are required for the peculiar duties of that most important season seed-time. But when such a distraint was made on such articles so indispensable in their uses even for a day to say nothing of weeks and no rent nor debt of any kind owing the case is peculiarly a hard one on the tenant. ""Patrick Ring caused a replevin to be entered with the sheriff--that is he gave security that he would pay the rent if rent was due as soon as a trial at quarter-sessions or assizes could be had--that he might in the mean time get the use of the property upon which the distraint lay. He accordingly proved by his lease that he owed nothing--that no rent was due until May. But before that was done May had come and the rent was due. He paid it punctually and proceeded against the landlord for damages or rather for the costs to which he had been exposed. This being opposed occupied much time; and before it was settled the landlord once more distrained for rent alleged to be due on the 29th of September. Again Patrick Ring replevined and proved his rent-days to be in November and May and not in September and March. The case of costs and trespass came to trial in respect of both seizures and was decided in Ring's favour. Thus a jury and a judge certified by their decision that the tenant was right and the landlord wrong. The damages awarded were very moderate only L12 and costs; but the tenant looked on the verdict as most important in respect of its setting as he thought the validity of his lease and the period of his rent-days at rest. But that the damages were too moderate as regarded the landlord was manifest from the fact that he again distrained in March for rent not due until May. ""He now it being again seed-time took a more effectual way of crippling the tenant than before. He seized on the farm implements and stock of which the dunghill was in his eyes the most important. He had it without a legal sale carried away to his own farm-yard even to the very rakings and sweepings of the road and the yard near which it lay. This he did that Ring might have no manure for his potato ground knowing that crops so planted would not easily afford the rent; and that when no rent was forthcoming an ejectment would soon follow. Other things--a plough and a horse and some furniture--were sold and Ring was once more involved in litigation. These things were bought in with his own money save the dung-heap which the landlord would not give him a chance of buying in; and thus Ring was obliged to pay his rent before it was due with all the expenses of a distraint and sale--the most expensively conducted of any distraints and sales under the British crown. He thought to recover damages for all this loss; but he was not able to pay his rent in addition to all this when it became due; and thus by some hocus-pocus of the law the two cases became so mingled together as to be inextricable."" From this statement it would appear that this Mr Shee distrained illegally that the tenant sought the protection of the law and that he obtained damages to the amount of L12. This may appear an inconsiderable sum; but when it is considered that an officer entitled a ""replevinger "" resides in almost every town that the stock or implements were not removed from the premises and that Ring if he exerted himself could not be deprived of their use for a _second day_--we must admit it was a fair remuneration for his trouble. Well--but this Mr Shee with the knowledge of his former misconduct and its punishment before him again seizes: and this time he commits a _felony_ as well as an illegal act; for he carries off the tenant's manure and appropriates it to his own use without going through any legal form whatever. The tenant obtained justice before; but now (with a still stronger case) he refuses to bring his action which in the quarter-sessions court would have cost him 2s. 6d. He is quite aware of his rights for he defended them successfully before; yet for some reason or another _studiously concealed_ he now remains inactive.[40] * * * * * Is every person so silly as to believe that this Mr Shee who was more than once successfully prosecuted for assaults and illegal acts would not again be brought to justice for such a serious breach of the law as that of forcibly carrying off another man's property. The criminal prosecution would only have cost one shilling; and can we believe he would a _third_ time subject himself to an action for illegal distress with the rent-days specified in the lease well known to him? But all the assertions of this paid maligner sink into insignificance compared with what follows. We know not which to be most amazed at--the recklessness or the stupid ignorance of the man. ""It would be too tedious to give a detailed account of every lawsuit that now followed; but from that time _the summer of 1842 up to the summer assizes of 1843_ the landlord proceeded in the courts for a warrant of ejectment against Ring _nine times_. On the first eight cases he was defeated; but he succeeded on the ninth. He had thirteen other lawsuits of various kinds with the same defendant during which he sold his furniture five times and his horse twice. In all _he had twenty auctions of sale previous to midsummer of this year_. Part of the furniture was in several of these instances only bought back by the agent Mr James Coyne handing money privately to Ring to pay for it. This is the agent formerly spoken of who at last gave up his situation out of sheer disgust at the odious work he was called on to perform. ""The crop of 1842 was seized on and sold at seven different times. It was much more than sufficient to pay the rent even though the manure was carried away in the spring by the landlord; but those seven different seizures with seven different sales with a number of men receiving at each of the seven seizures 2s. 4d. a-day as keepers to watch the crop from the day of distraint to the day of sale--those seven seizures on a crop which might have been all seized and sold at one time with only one set of expenses--resulted as they were intended to do in nearly doubling the rent. Moreover the crop being distrained on while growing was cut down by people whom the landlord employed although the tenant and his family were standing unemployed; and to such work-people the landlord can give any wages he chooses to be deducted from the tenant up to 2s. 6d. a-day! even though the harvest wages of the district be 8d. or 10d. a-day![41]--even though the tenant who is thus not allowed to give his own labour to his own farm may to avoid starvation be compelled to work to another employer for the fourth part to wit 7-1/2d. a-day of what the law obliges him to pay for workmen on his own farm. ""It will give some proof of the exertions made by the tenant to pay his way when I state that notwithstanding all the extraordinary expenses of the seizures and of the protracted and complicated litigation _the rent was paid by the autumn of 1842_. There as nothing owing by Ring save a sum of L1 and odds connected with the expenses of a summons which had been decided against him on some technical point of law."" Here it is stated in the first place _that from the summer assizes 1842 to the same period in 1843 Ring was nine times proceeded against by ejectment_. Now the landlord could only proceed by ejectment in the quarter-sessions' court or in the superior courts. The quarter-sessions' courts are held but _four times_ in the year namely in January April July and October. The sessions were only held _three times_ within the period during which Ring is said to have been _nine times_ sued by ejectment; and consequently if Mr Shee were even inclined it would be impossible for him to have proceeded more than _three times_ against him in the sessions court. But if he instituted his suit in the superior courts (if defence were taken as clearly was the case ) he could only have proceeded twice ""for the ejectment served at November should be tried at the spring assizes and the one served subsequently at the summer assizes;"" and the production of any process from the superior courts or the proof that such was had recourse to would effectually bar the landlord from proceeding in the inferior courts. He could not proceed in both at the same time; and thus we see that it would be impossible for any landlord however oppressive _to have proceeded by ejectment more than three times within the period in which this veracious compiler of grievances positively asserts Shee proceeded nine times_. Next he says ""the crop of 1842 was sold seven different times "" and ""altogether he had _twenty auctions of sale_ before midsummer of 1843."" Now any proceeding by distress pending the progress of the ejectment would have vitiated it and upset it; for the law does not allow two different modes of proceeding for the same debt at the same time; and in no courts is such scrupulous regard paid to the rights of the tenant as in the quarter-sessions courts. But no decree can be granted in ejectment cases until _a clear year's rent_ shall have been proved to be due; and yet we find this man Patrick Ring who it is asserted _owed no arrears of rent up to 1842 and the sale of whose crops and stock paid his rent up to autumn 1842_ evicted in summer 1843 when only _half a year's rent could have accrued due_; and this too by a Roman Catholic assistant barrister (Mr O'Gorman ) a judge above any suspicion and who if we are to believe the statement contained in Ring's own letter was not at all partial to his persecutor. To show how tyrannically men may act with impunity (if they be landlords ) he quotes the case of O'Driscoll who struck a boy with his horsewhip; yet he is obliged to admit that for doing so he was fined L3 by his brother magistrates and dismissed from the commission of the peace by the lord-chancellor. To create the desired degree of prejudice against the Irish landlords it is necessary to impugn the administration of justice; for people here would naturally enough say when they read of such atrocities ""why don't those men so injured have recourse to the law?"" Therefore it must be shown (at any risk) that the law is no impediment in the way of a tyrannical landlord. The falsehoods may not be immediately detected; and in the mean time the object may be achieved. Accordingly we find that a landlord can thus summarily dispose of an obnoxious tenant. This Mr Shee was fired at: our author has his doubts--although it appears by his own account of the trial that slugs were lodged in his hand and that his hat was perforated--and he adds-- ""But if really fired at and therefore much frightened as he doubtless would be _it was not a loss to him_. With the facility which the law in Ireland gives him as a landlord he at once threw those tenants into jail with whom he had been involved in litigation. Consequently before they could prosecute him for damages or before they could be witnesses in another case they had themselves to be tried for attempted murder! ""Patrick Ring was one of those arrested; and though several hundreds of people some of them gentlemen of rank and property knew that he had been in the Catholic chapel for an hour before and an hour after the time the shot was alleged to have been fired and that at the distance of two miles yet he was kept in prison in solitary confinement not allowed to see any friend nor even a lawyer for several weeks. He was not even examined before a magistrate. This last fact in the administration of the law is I believe peculiar to Ireland only. Whether it is consistent with or contrary to law I cannot say. In England we consider it but justice to the accused and the accuser to bring them face to face before a magistrate at the earliest opportunity. But in this case the landlord (_and I am told such a thing is quite common in all such cases_) put Pat Ring in prison kept him there three weeks in close confinement apart even from a legal adviser and then allowed him to go out without even taking him before a magistrate or offering any evidence against him. ""We may easily conceive circumstances which would warrant the landlord to suspect this man so as to have him taken up and which might ultimately turn out to be so weak as to prevent the production of any evidence whatever. Had the landlord merely put Pat Ring in prison and let him out again after finding through a period of three weeks that he could get no evidence against him there would be little to complain of save that the law should not compel the magistrates to bring the accused up for examination or that the prison authorities should not let the prisoner have an interview with a legal adviser; but the landlord did much more. _While Pat Ring was in jail the landlord sent and made a wreck of his house and farm; took the roof thatch and wood off the barn stable and dwelling-house save in one small portion of the latter; and every handful of the thatch and wood so pulled down was carried away to the landlord's own premises._ The doors and windows he also carried away; pulled down the gates of the farm-yard and the garden and the garden-wall. These gates were iron and had been erected by the tenant a few years before at considerable expense. The houses were also all of his own erection; the thatch and timber of the roof carried away by the landlord was Pat Ring's own property; _and all was taken away and the whole place wrecked without any warrant whatever for so doing; without any right whatever save the right which by the laxity of the law and the dominancy of a faction a landlord belonging to that dominant faction may create for himself; without any authority whatever save the power of his own high hand against which the law is powerless_. ""Pat Ring after being kept in prison for three weeks apart from every friend and adviser and apart from every human creature save the spies with which every prison in Ireland abounds--(persons who are kept there at the public expense and who are put to sleep with such men as Pat Ring; and who pretending to make a confidant of the fresh prisoner tell tales of the assaults and murders which as a trap they profess to have been concerned in--they urging the new prisoner to confess all to split on his accomplices and take the reward of L100 at once --except such companions as these some of whom I saw produced as witnesses for the Crown at the Kilkenny assizes thus learning from their own mouths the nature of their diabolical employment)--excepting these to whom as Pat Ring declares he indignantly answered again and again that he had nothing to confess he saw no human being during his incarceration--was liberated and went joyfully home; but when he went there alas! his home was a ruin."" We suppose we need scarcely point out the absurdity of such a statement as this. Some magistrate _must_ have committed this man; the jailer could not receive him without a committal nor set him at large[42] without a discharge; although from the account given the inference may be easily drawn that on his own will Shee had thrown Ring into prison. If falsely imprisoned he had his action against the magistrate who committed him. The committal which the jailer holds for his own security would discover the person who had acted so illegally. If any man acted as Shee is said to have done in this instance the law is not to be blamed--for it forbids such conduct: the government officers who permitted it to be violated are the really guilty parties. And here again we may ask--why were not the government called on to explain the conduct of their officials by Lord John Russell who read and recommended the book to the attention of Sir Robert Peel? But in addition to the necessity of having Ring thrown into jail to exhibit the power of the landlords it was necessary for our author's purposes that he should be put out of the way in order to account for an apology given by the editor of a local newspaper to this Mr Shee. ""An action was brought against the proprietor of the journal for a malicious libel in calling this gentleman a 'notorious landlord.' A man who had in two years and a half had above two hundred disputes with his peasantry not half of which I have yet even alluded to but all of which alluded to and related had occurred previous to that time--such a man to prosecute for being called 'notorious ' had good confidence. ""But he had also a good case. It would be scouted out of Westminster Hall but it was a good case in _Ireland_. An English judge after hearing evidence for the defence in such a case--evidence in justification--would not sum up to the jury or if he began his summary the jury would stop him with an intimation that their minds were made up! _But to the Irish jury--the special jury of landlords before whom this case was about to be brought_--the proprietor of the Irish newspaper looked forward with a certainty of being convicted on a criminal charge the punishment of which would have probably been one or two years' imprisonment and a heavy fine. ""He might have hoped for a verdict in his favour had the case stood for a common jury or for a special jury in any of the counties where he was known or where his paper circulated. When it was intimated to him that the trial would not take place in Kilkenny he urged that the venue might be laid in Waterford or Tipperary or Wexford or Carlow or in the Queen's County where something was known of each of the parties; but no the venue was laid in the county of Dublin where the gentlemen who would form the special jury were all of the landlord class and nearly all belonging to the dominant church-and-state party. _In that county nothing was known of either plaintiff or defendant_ save that the first was a distinguished Protestant partisan and that the other was a Catholic and proprietor of a liberal newspaper. Of their private characters nothing was known. ""Still the defendant resolved to go to trial and justify the epithet 'notorious' as applied to the landlord. He intended taking several of the worst-used tenants up as witnesses; and he also obtained the official records of the petty sessions quarter sessions and assize courts to put in as evidence to show the overwhelming amount of litigation carried on by the landlord with his tenantry. He resolved on doing all this _though sure of being condemned to imprisonment and a fine by the special jury_; he judged from the well-known reputation of that class of men and from what he had seen other newspaper proprietors receive at their hands for publishing the oppressive conduct of landlords; but he resolved on justifying by evidence in the hope that a public trial at which such witnesses as the persecuted tenants of plaintiff would appear would draw public attention to their unfortunate condition. _He had chosen Patrick Ring and John Ryan the worst-used of the tenants and one or two others_ as witnesses; but what was his dismay when he found Patrick Ring once more thrown into jail as also the others at the instance of the landlord on the charge of attempting to shoot him! ""Thus without his witnesses the defendant after incurring the expense of about L100 in preparing his defence was glad to get out of the case in any shape. He made a public and most humble apology paid all expenses and the prosecution was dropped. As soon as this was effected Patrick Ring but for whose imprisonment on an accusation of murder the trial would have gone on 'was again allowed to walk out of jail without having undergone any examination--without having had any evidence produced against him.'"" The juries of the county Dublin are certainly the most independent and least likely to be prejudiced in favour of a landlord that can be found. They are in a great measure composed of wealthy merchants who reside in the neighbourhood of the city; and every one knows that a judge's summons would have procured the attendance of Ring at the trial; but it was necessary to find an excuse for this abject apology. We cannot in the present instance impute the conduct of this truth-telling authority to ignorance; we must attribute it to his wish to make the British public believe that all those civil bill processes were at the suit of landlords against tenants--to the desire or the necessity he felt himself under of sacrificing all principle to the objects for the accomplishment of which he was employed. He _must know_ that nineteen-twentieths of those civil bills are actions for debts brought by shopkeepers against their customers or by one peasant against another--for money lent or for the price of provisions sold them: he _must know_ (if he knows any thing) that perhaps not fifty out of the whole 4318 are for rent; and that where rent is at all sued for by process it is only in cases where the landlord takes the tenant's I O U in order to give him more time for what was long since due. The landlord _can at any time distrain_ for his rent; what object then would he have in incurring expense and encountering delay to procure a decree which when obtained would _only restrict his former power_? All this does he know; and yet he quotes the number of processes issued by the most litigious people on earth against each other as a proof of the tyranny of the landlords and as the fruitful source of poverty and crime. We have to apologise for the length of our remarks on those two productions. The one contains we doubt not the sincere opinions of a well-meaning but very silly gentleman; while the other bears upon its unprincipled statements the stamp of premeditated dishonesty. Yet it is upon authorities such as these that the Irish gentry are to be condemned and their estates confiscated; upon authorities such as these that the interests of men whose greatest crime is attachment to British connexion are to be sacrificed to greedy agitators and a ferocious and idle people. Sir Robert Peel may _perhaps_ without danger give an extension of the franchise--the corporations are all with one solitary exception (Belfast ) as revolutionary as they can be made; and the Roman Catholic bishops may not be able to obtain political ascendancy over any more counties than those already subject to their sway; but we would call on him to pause and consider well before he disgusts the best friends of England by lending attention to the unfounded statements of revolutionary priests promulgated by mercenary writers; or the legislative quackeries of a disappointed dishonest and despicable faction. FOOTNOTES: [29] Ireland--The Landlord and Tenant Question--Lord Normanby's Speech--Mr Wiggins's Book ""A Cry from Ireland."" [30] One would think there were no poor-houses. [31] Scotland has been more favoured in this respect. Ample details on the point mentioned and on every other relating to its physical moral and economical state may be found in the New Statistical Account--a work which places the country under great obligations to the clergy of the Established Church who have furnished the accounts of their parishes and which display in general a range of intelligence in the highest degree creditable to their order. [32] Taken from the last census. Average rent of land per acre[32] in each county of Ireland. _Ulster._ Antrim L0 16 0 Armagh 0 11 8 Cavan 0 13 7-1/2 Donegal 0 6 0 Down 0 16 0 Fermanagh 0 13 7 Londonderry 0 12 2-1/2 Monaghan 0 13 3-1/2 Tyrone 0 14 6 _Leinster._ Carlow L0 15 0 Dublin 0 18 0 Kildare 0 13 0 Kilkenny 0 17 0 King's County 0 12 0 Longf

rd 0 12 3 Louth 0 16 0 Meath 0 18 0 Queen's County 0 14 0 Westmeath 0 13 7 Wexford 0 14 0 Wicklow 0 12 0 _Munster._ Clare L0 11 0 Cork 0 13 7 Kerry 0 6 1 Limerick 0 18 8 Tipperary 0 17 8-1/2 Waterford 0 12 0 _Connaught._ Galway L0 12 1 Leitrim 0 10 7-1/2 Mayo 0 8 6 Roscommon 0 13 0 Sligo 0 10 8 [33] The plantation acre containing more than 1:3:0 statute. [34] In a letter signed ""an Irishman "" published by the _Times_ the writer adduces as a proof of the _extortion_ of Irish landlords that he has known a tenant in the north whose lease was about to expire receive L270 for his interest in fourteen acres of land. [35] We read in the _Times_ a few days since that the men employed in opening the navigation of the Shannon at Rooskey had struck for an advance in wages--they had 1s. a-day and demanded 2s. Those who were willing to continue were forced by armed men to abandon their work and threatening notices were served on the contractors; yet in this very neighbourhood it is stated in the poor-law report that able-bodied men were willing to work for 6d. a-day but could not procure employment. It is always thus:--when there is no employment it is an excuse for their idleness when there is they won't work but at the most extravagant wages. To show that 1s. a-day was fair wages we shall give an account of the quantity of provisions which can be purchased at Rooskey for one shilling. 14 lbs. of potatoes 0 1-1/2 2 do. oatmeal 0 2 2 do. bacon 0 7-1/2 3 quarts of milk 0 1 ------- Total 1 0 [36] _Irish Landlords Rents and Tenures &c._ Published by Murray Albemarle Street. [37] Doctor M'Hale declared publicly that if it so pleased him he would place two _cow-boys_ in the representation of Mayo. [38] At the trial of the men for the murder of Mr Brian the other day at the Wexford assizes the people cheered so loudly when the witnesses hesitated or doubted that a woman the principal evidence declared ""she would tell nothing more."" The judge was obliged to order the court-house to be cleared and the accused were acquitted. [39] A landlord requires no such warrant--he can distrain without any authority. [40] In case of replevin the valuation of the stock or crop seized is left to the _tenant himself_ so that sometimes he may value stock worth 50s. at only 20s. and they _must_ be restored to him on giving security for what he sets them down as worth. The landlord cannot interfere. [41] The law never allows the landlord _more_ than the wages paid in the neighbourhood in case he is obliged to employ men to save the crop. [42] A man committed can only be discharged on bail or by the bills being ignored by the grand jury. * * * * * [Illustration: MAP _of_ AFRICA from the Equator to 13.° North Lat: and from 31.° to 51 E. Longitude _Constructed from the latest and best authorities_ by James Macqueen Esq. _London March 15th 1844_] _Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne and Hughes Paul's Work._ "

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generously made available by The Internet Library of Early Journals.) {Transcriber's note: Spellings are sometimes erratic. A few obvious misprints have been corrected but in general the original spelling has been retained. Accents in the French and Spanish passages are inconsistent and have not been standardised. Greek phrases have been transliterated and are enclosed in + signs +eis Athênas+.} BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. NO. CCCXLIV. JUNE 1844. VOL. LV. CONTENTS. TRADITIONS AND TALES OF UPPER LUSATIA. NO. I. THE FAIRIES' SABBATH 665 COLUMBUS. (A PRINT AFTER A PICTURE BY PARMEGGIANO.) BY B. SIMMONS 687 TO SWALLOWS ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE. BY THE SAME 690 THE DILIGENCE. A LEAF FROM A JOURNAL 692 WHO WROTE GIL BLAS? 698 MICHAEL KALLIPHOURNAS 725 AFRICA--SLAVE TRADE--TROPICAL COLONIES 731 NARRATION OF CERTAIN UNCOMMON THINGS THAT DID FORMERLY HAPPEN TO ME HERBERT WILLIS B.D. 749 BEAU BRUMMELL 769 THE ACTUAL CONDITION OF THE GREEK STATE 785 INDEX 797 * * * * * EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 45 GEORGE STREET; AND 22 PALL-MALL LONDON. _To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed._ SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM. PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES EDINBURGH. BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. No CCCXLIV. JUNE 1844. VOL. LV. TRADITIONS AND TALES OF UPPER LUSATIA. No. I. THE FAIRIES' SABBATH. WHAT is a fairy? READ! ["_A Wood near Athens.--Enter a Fairy on one side and Puck on the other._{A}] "_Puck._ How now Spirit! whither wander you? _Fairy._ Over hill over dale Thorough bush thorough brier Over park over pale Thorough flood thorough fire I do wander ever where Swifter than the moones sphere; And I serve the Fairy Queen To dew her orbs upon the green: The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies fairy favours In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dewdrops here And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. Farewell thou lob of spirits I'll begone; Our queen and all our elves come here anon. _Puck._ The King doth keep his revels here to-night; Take heed the queen come not within his sight. For Oberon is passing fell and wrath Because that she as her attendant hath A lovely boy stolen from an Indian king; She never had so sweet a changeling. And jealous Oberon would have the child Knight of his train to trace the forests wild: But she perforce withholds the loved boy: Crowns him with flowers and makes him all her joy: And now they never meet in grove or green By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen But they do square; that all their elves for fear Creep into acorn cups and hide them there." And there then they are!--The blithe and lithe bright and fine darlings of your early-bewitched and for ever-enamoured fancy! There they are! The King and the Queen and the Two royal Courts of shadowy gorgeous remote and cloud-walled Elf-land: The fairies of the vision once wafted "by moon or star light " upon the "creeping murmur" of the Avon!--THE FAIRIES IN ENGLAND! YOUR fairies! Nevertheless you from of old are discreet. And you mistrust information which discountenances itself by borrowing the magical robe of verse! Or you misdoubt this medley of our English blood which in the lapse of ages must as you deem have confounded upon the soil the confluent streams of primitively distinct superstitions! Or your suspicious inquisition rebels against this insular banishment of ours which sequestering us from the common mind of the world may as you augur have perverted into an excessive individuality of growth our mythological beliefs: Or--Southwards then! One good stride over salt water lands you amongst a people who from the old have kept THEMSELVES TO THEMSELVES; whose warm bold _thorough_-loyal hearts hereditarily believe after the love and reverence owed from the children's children to the fathers' fathers. Here are--for good and for ill--and from a sure hand:--"THE FAIRIES IN LOWER BRITANNY; _alio nomine_--THE KORRIGANS." "Like these holy virgins (the Gallicenæ or Barrigenæ of Mela ) our Korrigans predict the future. They know the skill of healing incurable maladies with particular charms; which they impart it is affirmed to magicians that are their friends. Ingenious Proteuses they take the shape of any animal at their pleasure. In the twinkling of an eye they whisk from one end of the world to the other. Annually with returning spring they celebrate a high nocturnal festivity. A tablecloth white as the driven snow is spread upon the greensward by the margin of a fountain. It is covered with the most delicious viands; in the midst sparkles a crystal goblet which sheds such a splendour as serves in the stead of torches. At the close of the repast this goblet goes round from hand to hand; it holds a miraculous beverage one drop of which it is averred would make omniscient like the Almighty. At any least breath or stir of human kind all vanishes. "In truth it is near fountains that the Korrigans are oftenest met with; especially near such as rise in the neighbourhood of _dolmens_.{B} For in the sequestered spots whence the Virgin Mary who is held for their chief foe has not yet driven them they still preside over the fountains. Our traditions bestow upon them a strong passion for music with sweet voices; but do not like those of the Germanic nations make dancers of them. The popular songs of all countries frequently depict them combing their fine fair hair which they seem daintily to cherish. Their stature is that of the other European fairies: they are not above two feet in height. Their shape exquisitely proportioned is as airy slight and pellucid as that of the wasp. They have no other dress than a white veil which they wrap around their body. Seen by night they are very beautiful: in the daytime you perceive that their hair is grey--that their eyes are red--that their face is wrinkled. Accordingly they begin to show themselves only at the shut of eve; and they loathe the light. _Every thing about them denotes fallen intelligences._ The Breton peasants maintain that _they are high princesses who because they would not embrace Christianity when the apostles came to preach in Armorica were stricken by the curse of God_. The Welsh recognise in them souls of Druids doomed to penance. This coincidence is remarkable. "They are universally believed to feel a vehement hatred for the clergy and for our holy religion which has confounded them with the spirits of darkness--a grand motive as it appears of displeasure and offence to them. The sight of a surplice _the sound of bells_ scares them away. The popular tales of all Europe would meanwhile tend to support the church in viewing them as maleficent genii. As in Britanny; the blast of their breath is mortal in Wales in Ireland in Scotland and in Prussia. They cast weirds.{C} Whosoever has muddied the waters of their spring or caught them combing their hair or counting their treasures beside their _dolmen_ (for they there keep it is believed concealed mines of gold and of diamonds ) almost inevitably dies; especially should the misencounter fall upon a Saturday which day holy to the Virgin Mother is inauspicious for their kind "{D} &c. &c. &c. Here in the stead of the joyously-sociable monarchal hive you behold a republic of solitarily-dwelling and not unconditionally beautiful naiads! No dancing! And a stature prodigiously disqualifying for the asylum of an acorn cup! You are unsatisfied. Shakspeare has indeed vividly portrayed one curiously-featured species and M. De la Villemarqué another of the air-made inscrutable beings evoked by your question; but your question from the beginning struck at the GENERIC notion in its purified logical shape--at the definition then--of the thing a fairy. Sir _Walter Scott_ {E} writing--the first in time of all men who have written--at large and scientifically upon the fairies of Western Europe steps into disquisition by a description duly loose for leaving his own foot unentangled. "The general idea of SPIRITS of A LIMITED POWER AND SUBORDINATE NATURE DWELLING AMONG THE WOODS AND MOUNTAINS is perhaps common to all nations." A little _too_ loose peradventure! Dr James Grimm heroically bent upon rescuing from the throat of oblivion and from the tooth of scepticism to his own TEUTONS--yet heathen--a faith outreaching and outsoaring the gross definite cognisances of this fleshly eye and hand sets apart one--profoundly read and thought--chapter to WIGHTS AND ELVES.{F} These terms WIGHT and ELF are presented by Dr Grimm as being after a rough way synonymous; and you have above seen another Germanic writer--a native of Warwickshire--take ELF for equivalent or nearly so with FAIRY. Of his many-natured Teutonic _wights and elves_ then but with glances darted around northwards and westwards and southwards and eastwards Dr Grimm begins with speaking thus:-- "From the _deified_ and _half-divine_ natures [investigated by this author in several of his antecedent chapters] _a whole order of other beings_ is especially herein distinguished that whilst the former either proceed of mankind or seek human intercourse these form a segregated society--one might say a peculiar kingdom of their own--and are only by accident or the pressure of circumstances moved to converse with men. Something superhuman approximating them to the gods is mingled up in them: they possess power to help and to hurt man. They are however at the same time afraid of him because they are not his bodily match. They appear either far below the human stature or misshapen. Almost all of them enjoy the faculty of rendering themselves invisible." You turn away your head exclaiming that the weighty words of our puissant teacher are for your proficiency somewhat bewildering and for your exigency by much too--TEUTONIC. Have a care! However "Westward Hoe!" Put the old Rhine between the master of living mythologists and yourself and listen to Baron Walckenaer unlocking the fountains of the fairy belief and showing how it streams primarily through France and secondarily through all remaining Western Europe. "If there is a specifically characterized superstition it is that which regards _the fairies_: those _female genii_ {G} most frequently _without name_ without descent without kin who are incessantly busied subverting the order of nature for the weal or the woe of mortals whom they love and favour _without a motive_ or as causelessly hate and persecute."{H} What _female_ only? Where are Oberon and Puck? _Without a name?_ Where Titania?--Mab? _Without a motive?_ Where the godmother of the sweet-faced and sweet-hearted Cinderella? Partial and without a distinct type in your own recollections you guessingly pronounce the characterization of the perpetual secretary too----_French_. Driven back disappointed on all sides you turn round upon your difficulties and manfully project beating out _a definition of your own_; to which end glancing your eye back affectionately and now needle-like northwards across the Channel you "at one slight bound" once more find yourself at your own fireside and on your table _The Midsummer Night's Dream_ open at the second scene of the first act. Inquirer whosoever! A problem lies large before us--complicated abstruse even yet--suitably to the subject--a delicate one! To hunt down an elusive word and a more elusive notion! It is to find a set of determinings which laid together shall form a circle fitted to confine that inconfinable spirit--a Fairy; or if you better like plain English to find the terms needed for signifying describing expounding the Thought which lurking as at the bottom of your mind under a crowd of thoughts rises up in all circumstances to meet and answer the name----a fairy; the Thought which when all accidental and unessential attributes liable to be attracted to the fairy essence have been stripped away remains; the _substrate_ absolute essential _generic_ notion therefore--a fairy; that Thought which whencesoever acquired and held howsoever enables you to deal to your satisfaction with proposed fairies acknowledging THIS one frankly;--THIS but for a half-sister; shutting the door upon ANOTHER. You may distinguish these terms at your pleasure by sundry denominations: for example you may call them Elements of the notion--a fairy--or circumscriptive Lines of such a notion or indispensable Fairy-marks or elfin Criteria or by any other name which you may happen to like as well or better; but when found call them as you will they must reveal in essence the thing which we look for--the answer to the question with which we first started and to which we have as yet found no satisfactory solution. As for the process of the finding. This notion is to be tracked after widely and in intimate recesses; more hopefully therefore according to a planned campaign than a merely wild chance expatiation. The chase ranges over a material and an intellectual ground. Of either--a word. I. The _material_--is a _geographical_--region and may be called summarily--_The western half of Europe_. Let us regard it as laid out by languages at this day spoken. Here is a map roughly sketched:-- A.--ABORIGINAL. 1. NORTH-WESTERN CELTS.--Ireland Highlands of Scotland and the interjacent Isle of Man. 2. SOUTH-WESTERN CELTS.--Wales Britanny and the till lately Celtic-speaking Cornwall. 3. NORTHERN GERMANS or GERMANS BEYOND THE EIDER or SCANDINAVIANS.--Denmark Sweden Norway Iceland. 4. SOUTHERN GERMANS or GERMANS BELOW THE EIDER or TEUTONS.--Netherlands the German empire Switzerland. B.--LATIN SPEAKING. 1. ITALY.--Sicily. 2. SPAIN. 3. PORTUGAL. 4. Latin-speaking FRANCE distinguishing Normandy. C.--GERMAN AND LATIN MIXED. 1. ENGLAND. 2. SCOTTISH LOWLANDS. II. From all this tangible territory we are to sweep up--what? An overlying _intellectual_ kingdom _videlicet_--THE KINDS OF THE FAIRIES rudely marked out perhaps as follows:-- 1. The _community_ of the Fairies monarchal or republican:--The Fairy folk; Fairies proper. 2. The _solitary_ domestic serviceable Fairy. 3. In the mines under the water; a Fairy folk. 4. The solitary water Fairy. 5. The Fairy-ancestress. 6. The Fairy tutelary or persecuting of the chivalrous metrical romance. 7. The Fairy tutelary or persecuting now giving and now turning destinies of the fairy tale proper. We have then to ask what are the terms marks common traits or by whatsoever name they are to be called which are yielded by a comparison of such seven kinds. Something like the following eight will possibly arise:-- First A FAIRY IS A SUBORDINATE SPIRIT. Secondly IS ATTRACTED TO THE SURFACE OF OUR PLANET. Thirdly AT ONCE SEEKS AND SHUNS MANKIND. Fourthly HAS A BODY. Fifthly IS ATTENUATE. Sixthly IS WITHOUT PROPER STATION AND FUNCTION IN THE GENERAL ECONOMY OF THE UNIVERSE; OR IS MYTHOLOGICALLY DISPLACED. Seventhly IS ENDOWED WITH POWERS OF INTELLIGENCE AND OF AGENCY EXCELLING HUMAN. Eighthly STANDS UNDER A DOOM. To these eight criteria taken _in the nature of the thing enquired_ the reflective inquirer will perchance find himself led on to add two furnished from within himself as that-- First Acknowledging as in these latter days our more delicate psychologists have called upon us to do the names FANCY and IMAGINATION as designating TWO faculties the fairies belong rather to the FANCY. Secondly Accepting for a legitimate thought legitimately and cogently signified the High Marriage which one of these finer Metaphysicians{I}--instructed no doubt by his personal experience--prophesies to his kind between the "intellect of man" and "this goodly universe " we may say that regularly this marriage must have its antecedent possessing and agitating Love; that this love must like all possessing agitated love have its attendant Reverie. Now might one venture to surmise that _this_ REVERIE breathes into the creating of a fairy? Does the jealous reader perchance miss in the above proposed eight several elements the UNITY OF NOTION which he has all along seemed to feel in his own spirit and understanding? Let him at once conceive as intensely joined the two permanent characters of _tenuity_ and _mythological displacement_ and take this compound for the nucleus of the unity he seeks. About these two every other element will easily place itself. For a _soul_ he shall infuse into the whole after in like manner inseparably blending them--FANCY and that love-inspired REVERIE which won its way to us from Grassmere. And so take reader our answer to your question "_What is a fairy?_" THIS IS A FAIRY. Are you still unsatisfied? Good. The field of investigation lies open before you free and inviting. On in your own strength and Heaven speed you! * * * * * The eight or nine tales of sundry length and exceedingly diversified matter contained in the two little volumes of Herr Ernst Willkomm {J} which have put us a-journeying to Fairy-land have begun to produce before the literary world the living popular superstitions of a small and hidden mountainous district by which _Cis Eidoran_ Germany leans upon Sclavonia: hidden it would seem for any thing like interesting knowledge until this author began to write from the visiting eye of even learned curiosity. Nor this without a sufficient reason; since the mountains do of themselves shut in their inhabitants and for a stranger the temper of the rugged mountaineer at once shy and mailing himself in defiance is like the soil inaccessible. To Ernst Willkomm this hinderance was none. He discloses to us the heart of the country and that of the people which have born him which have bred him up; and he will if he is encouraged write on. Three of these tales or of these traditions--for the titles with this writer appear to us exchangeable--regard the fairies properly so called. They are "_The Priest's Well_ " "_The Fairies' Sabbath_ " here given and "_The Fairy Tutor_ " being the first the third and the seventh of the entire present series. Upon these three tales the foregoing attempt at fixing the generic notion of a fairy was intended to bear. Should pretty Maud the stone-mason's daughter our heroine for to-day find the favour in English eyes which her personal merit may well claim the remaining two are not likely to be long withheld. The illustrations which shall now follow drawn from distinguished authorities aim at showing the consonancy of Herr Willkomm's pictures with authentic representations of Elfin superstition already known to the world. If however the criteria which have been proposed have been rightfully deduced the illustrations should as materially serve us in justifying these by proof. Amongst the numerous points of analogy which strikingly connect our tale with popular tales and traditions innumerable _three_ are main to the structure of the tale itself. They may be very briefly described as-- I. The Heathenism of the Fairies. II. Their need thence arising. III. Maud's ability to help them. * * * * * I. The opinion which sets the fairies in opposition to the established faith of all Christendom is widely diffused. To the _Breton_ peasant as M. de la Villemarqué has above informed us his Korrigan is a heathen princess doomed to a long sorrow for obstinately refusing the message of salvation. The brothers Grimm speaking of the fairies in _Ireland_ say that "they are angels cast out from heaven who have not fallen as low as hell; but in great fear and uncertainty about their future state doubt themselves whether they shall obtain mercy at the last day."{K} Of the fairies in _Scotland_ it is averred by the same learned and exact writers that "they were originally angels dwelling in bliss but who because they suffered themselves to be seduced by the archfiend were hurled down from heaven in innumerable multitudes. They shall wander till the last day over mountains and lakes. They know not how their sentence will run--whether they shall be saved or damned; but dread the worst." Tales in many parts of Europe which represent the fairies as exceedingly solicitous about their salvation and as _inquiring of priests_ and others concerning their own spiritual prospects for the most part with an unfavourable answer tend to fix upon them a reproachful affinity with the spirits of darkness. * * * * * II. That the powerful fairies who have appeared to us from childhood upwards as irresistible dispensers of good and evil to our kind should _need aid_ of any sort from us is an unexpected feature of the fairy lore which breaks by degrees upon the zealous and advancing inquirer. The two excellent brothers Grimm in the most elaborate and comprehensive collection {L} probably of national traditions that Europe possesses have furnished us with various instances. We select a very few. In the following graceful Alpine pastoral the need of human help attaches to an exigency of life or death:-- GERMAN TRADITIONS. No. CCXX. _The Queen of the Snakes._ "A herd maiden found upon the fell a sick snake lying and almost famished. Compassionately she held down to it her pitcher of milk. The snake licked greedily and was visibly revived. The girl went on her way; and it presently happened that her lover sued for her but was too poor for the proud wealthy father who tauntingly dismissed him till the day when he too should be master of as large herds as the old herdsman. From this time forwards had the old herdsman no luck more but sheer misfortune. Report ran that a fiery dragon was seen passing o' nights over his grounds; and his substance decayed. The poor swain was now as rich and again sued for his beloved whom he obtained. Upon the wedding-day a snake came gliding into the room upon whose coiled tail there sat a beautiful damsel who said that it was she to whom formerly the kind herd maid had in strait of hunger given her milk and out of gratitude she took her brilliant crown from her head and cast it into the bride's lap. Thereupon she vanished; but the young couple throve in their housekeeping greatly and were soon well at ease in the world." Since fairies like ourselves are mortal TWO LIVES may be understood as at stake in the following:-- No. LXVIII. _The Lady of Alvensleben._ "Some hundred years ago there lived at Calb in the Werder an aged lady of the house of Alvensleben who feared God was gracious to the people and willingly disposed to render any one a service: especially she did assist the burgesses' wives in difficult travail of childbirth and was in such cases of all desired and highly esteemed. Now therefore there did happen in wise following:-- "In the night season there came a damsel to the castle gate who knocked and distressfully called beseeching that it should not mislike her if possible forthwith to arise and to accompany her from the town where there lay a good woman in travail of child because the last hour and uttermost peril was already upon her and her mistress wist no help for her life. The noblewoman said 'It is very midnight; all the town gates be shut and well barred: how shall we make us forth?' The damsel rejoined that the gate was ready open she should come forth only (but beware as do some add in the place whither she should be conducted to eat or to drink any thing or to touch that should be proffered her.) Thereupon did the lady rise from her bed dressed her came down and went along with the damsel which had knocked. The town gate she found open and as they came further into a field was there a fair way which led right into a hillside. The hill stood open and although she did well perceive that the thing was darksome she resolved to go still on unalarmed until she arrived at last where was a _little wifikin_ that lay on the bed in great pains of travail. But the noble lady gave her succour (by the report of some _she needed no more than lay her hand upon her body_ ) and a little baby was born to the light of day. "When she had yielded her aid desire took her to return from out the hill home; she took leave of the sick woman (without having any thing touched of the meats and liquors that were offered her ) and the former damsel anew joined her and brought her back unharmed to the castle. At the gateway the damsel stood still thanked her highly in her mistress's name and drew off from her finger a golden ring which she presented to the noblewoman with these words 'Have this dear pledge in right heedful keeping and let it not part from you and from your house. They of Alvensleben will flourish so long as they possess this ring. Should it ever leave them the whole race must become extinct.' Herewith vanished the damsel. "It is said that the ring at this day is rightly and properly kept in the lineage and for good assurance deposited at Lubeck. But others that it was at the dividing of the house into two branches diligently parted in two. Others yet that the one half has been melted since when it goes ill with that branch: the other half stays with the other branch at Zichtow. The story moreover goes that the benevolent lady was a married woman. When she upon the morrow told her husband the tale of that had betid her in the night he would not believe her until she said 'Forsooth then an' ye will not trow me take only the key of yon room from the table: there lieth I dare warrant the ring.' Which was exactly so. It is marvellous the gifts that men have received of the fairies." The most touching by far of the traditions at our disposal for illustrating at once the dependence of the fairies upon man and their anxiety concerning their souls' welfare is one in which the all-important hope which we have said that they sometimes solicit from the grave and authorized lips of priests appears as floating on the lightest breath of children. Our immediate author is James Grimm speaking in his German _Mythology_ of the water spirit. The tradition itself is from Sweden where this mythological being the solitary water fairy bears the name of "The _Neck_." "Two lads were at play by the river side. The _Neck_ sate and touched his harp. The children called to him-- "'Why sittest thou here _Neck_ and playest? Thou wilt not go to heaven.' Then the _Neck_ began bitterly weeping flung his harp away and sank in the deep water. When the boys came home they told their father who was a priest what had happened. The father said-- "'Ye have sinned towards the _Neck_. Go ye back and give him promise of salvation.' "When they returned to the river the _Neck_ sate upon the shore mourning and weeping. The children said-- "'Weep not so thou _Neck_. Our father hath said that thy Redeemer too liveth.' "Then the _Neck_ took joyfully his harp and played sweetly until long after sundown." "I do not know " tenderly and profoundly suggests Dr Grimm "that any where else in our traditions is as significantly expressed how NEEDY of the Christian belief the HEATHEN are and how MILDLY it should approach them." * * * * * III. A few words shall here satisfy the claims of a widely-stretching subject. Is there _one_ order of spirits which as the Baron Walckenaer has assured us lavishes on chosen human heads love unattracted and hate unprovoked? We must look well about us ere fixing the imputation. Spirits upon the other hand undoubtedly there are and those of not a few orders fairies of one or another description being amongst them who exert in the choice of their human favourites a discrimination challenging no light regard. A host of traditions liberally scattered over a field of which perhaps Ireland is one extremity and China the other now plainly and emphatically declare and now after a venturous interpretation may be understood to point out _simplicity of will_ and _kindness of heart_ as titles in the human being to the favour of the spirits. At times a brighter beam irradiates such titles to which holiness purity and innocence are seen to set their seal. We cull a few instances warning the reader that although of our best he will possibly find them a mere working upwards to the most perfect which we have it in our power to bring before him in the beautiful tale of Maud. Amongst the searchers who seem to have been roused into activity by the German traditions of the brothers Grimm Ludwig Bechstein takes distinguished place for the diligence with which he has collected different districts of Germany. Our inquiry shall owe him the two following TRADITIONS OF THE GRABFELD. No. LVII. _The little Cherry-Tree upon Castle Raueneck._ "There prevails concerning the ruins of the old hill-castle Raueneck a quite similar tradition to that which holds of the like named ruined strength near Baden in Austria. There lies yet buried here a vast treasure over which a spirit debarred from repose keeps watch anxiously awaiting deliverance. But who is he that can and shall actually lift this treasure and free the spirit? Upon the wall there grows a cherry seedling that shall one day become a tree; and the tree shall be cut down and out of it a cradle made. He that being a Sunday's child is rocked in this cradle will grow up but only provided that he have kept himself virginally pure and chaste _at some noontide hour_ set free the spirit lift the treasure and become immeasurably rich; so as he shall be able to rebuild Castle Raueneck and all the demolished castles in the neighbourhood round. If the plant wither or if a storm break it then must the spirit again wait until once more a cherry stone brought by a bird to the top of the lofty wall shoot and put forth leaves and haply grow to a tree." No. LXII. _The Hollow Stone._ "In the wood near Altenstein there stands a high rock. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood say that this rock is hollow within and filled with treasure in great store from the olden time. At certain seasons and hours it is given _to Sunday children_ to find the rock doors open or to open them with _the lucky flower_." The singular superstition of spiritual favour fixing itself upon the human child consecrated as it were by the hallowed light upon which the eyes first open will shortly return upon us in _The Fairies' Sabbath_. Lo! where from the bountiful hand of the Brothers Grimm fall two bright dewdrop of tradition upon the pure opening flower of childhood. GERMAN TRADITIONS. NO. CLIX. _The Treasure at Soest._ "In the time of the Thirty Years' war there was to be seen standing not far from the town of Soest in Westphalia an old ruin of which the tradition ran that there was an iron trunk there full of money kept by a black dog and a bewitched maiden. The grandfathers and grandmothers Who are gone used to tell that a strange nobleman shall one day arrive in the country deliver the maiden and open the chest with a fiery key. They said that divers itinerant scholars and exorcists had within the memory of man betaken themselves thither to dig but been in so strange sort received and dismissed that no one since further had list to the adventure especially after their publishing that the treasure might be lifted of none who had once taken woman's milk. It was not long since a little girl from their village had led her few goats to feed about the very spot; one of which straying amongst the ruins she had followed it. Within in the castle court was a damsel who questioned her what she did there: and when she was informed pointing to a little basket of cherries further said 'It is good; therefore take of that thou see'st before thee with thy goat and all and go; and come not again neither look behind that a harm befall thee not.' Upon this the frightened child caught up seven cherries and made her way in alarm out of the ruins. The cherries turned in her hand to money." NO. CLX. _The Welling Silver._ "In February of the year 1605 in the reign of Henry Julius Duke of Brunswick at a mile's distance from Quedlinburg where it is called _at the Dale_ it happened that a poor peasant sent his daughter into the next shaw to pick up sticks for fuel. The girl took for this use a larger basket upon her head and a smaller in her hand; and when she had filled them both and was going home a mannikin clad all in white came towards her and asked:-- "'What art carrying there?' "'Gathered sticks ' the girl made answer 'for heating and cooking.' "'Empty the wood out ' said further the little manling 'take thy basket and follow me. I shall show thee something that is better and more profitable than thy sticks.' "He then took her by the hand and led her back again to a knoll and showed her a place which might be of two ordinary tables' breadth of a fair pure silver being smaller and larger coins of a moderate thickness with a image stamped like a Virgin Mary and all round an impress of exceedingly old writing. As the silver _welled up_ as it were abundantly out of the ground the little girl was terrified and drew back neither wou

d she empty out the sticks from her small hand-basket. Accordingly the little man in white himself did so filled the basket with the money and gave it back to the little damsel with saying 'That shall be better for thee than thy sticks.' She was confounded and took it; but upon the mannikin's requiring that she should likewise empty out her larger basket and take silver therein she refused and said--'That she must carry fuel home too; for there were little children at home who must have a warm room and there must be wood ready likewise for cooking.' This contented the manling who said 'Well then go; take it all home ' and thereupon disappeared. ""The girl carried the basket of silver home and told what had happened to her. The boors now ran flocking with pickaxes and other tools and would have their share of the treasure but none of them was able to find the spot where the silver had welled out. ""The Prince of Brunswick had a pound of the coined silver brought him as did moreover a burgess of Halberstadt N. Everkan purchase the like."" The quick-sighted reader will not easily have missed detecting the sudden effect produced upon the two spirits by THE TRUTHFUL RIGHT-MINDEDNESS OF THE TWO LITTLE GIRLS. Correspondingly James Grimm from surveying collectively the Teutonic traditions of bewitched or mysteriously hidden treasure says-- ""To the lifting of the treasure is required _silence_ and _innocence_. * * * Innocent children's hands are able to lay hold upon it as to draw the lot. * * * Who has viciously stained himself cannot approach it.""{M} Two short instances more from the copious fraternal collection and we have done. With a temper of pure childlike antiquity they express in the persons of the dwarfs--_Teutonic approximative fairies_--the sympathy of the spirits with unstained and innocent human manners; and may if the traditions which exhibit the fairies under a cloud of sin and sorrow should have been felt by the reader as at all grating upon his old love of them help to soothe and reconcile him by a soft gleam of illumination here lingering as in a newly revealed Golden Age of his own. GERMAN TRADITIONS. No. CXLVII. _The Dwarfs upon the Tree._ ""In the summer the dwarfs often came trooping from the cliffs down into the valley and joined either with help or as lookers-on at least the human inhabitants at their work especially the mowers in hay-harvest. They then and there seated themselves at their ease and pleasantly upon the long and thick arm of a maple in the embowering shade. But once there came certain evil-disposed persons who in the night sawed the bough through so that it held but weakly on to the trunk; and when the unsuspecting creatures upon the morrow settled themselves down upon it the bough cracked in two the dwarfs tumbled to the ground were heartily laughed at fell into violent anger and cried aloud-- 'O how is the heaven high and long! And falsehood waxen on earth so strong! Here to-day and for ever away!' They kept their word and never again made their appearance in the country."" No. CXLVIII. _The Dwarfs upon the Crag Stone._ ""It was the wont of the dwarflings to seat themselves upon a great crag stone and from thence to watch the haymakers; but a few mischievous fellows kindled a fire upon the stone made it red-hot and swept away embers and ashes. Morning came and with it the tiny folk who burned themselves pitiably. They exclaimed in high anger-- 'O wicked world! O wicked world!' cried vengeance and vanished for evermore!"" We have shown --1. The Anti-christian character imputed by tradition to the fairies. 2. The occasional dependence of the more powerful spirits upon the less powerful human beings; and 3. The strong affectionate leaning in the will of the spirits towards moral human excellence. Of the _ability_ which in virtue of this excellence the human creature possesses _to help_ Maud must for the present be permitted to stand for the sole as she is beyond all comparison our best example. * * * * * The book of Ernst Willkomm takes a position in strong contrast to the corresponding works due to the Brothers Grimm and other great gatherers of legendary lore. He has a personal poetic interest in the tales which they have not. He presents himself as the expositor not only of his native superstitions but also zealously of the Upper Lusatian manners. Himself cradled amongst the mountains he has drawn with infinite pains and by slow degrees as he best could from the deep interior life of the people their jealously withheld credences and the traditions which are sacredly associated with every nook of their craggy district. ""The tract of country "" says Willkomm in his Preface ""the true Highlands of Upper Lusatia called by the inhabitants themselves the Upper Country to which the tales are native is one very narrowly circumscribed. It amounts to scarcely ten square (German) miles. I have however selected it for my undertaking "" he continues ""because it is intimately familiar to me; because the innermost character of the small population who inhabit it is confidentially known to me; because there is hardly a road or a path in the country which on the darkest night I could not find. Interesting romantic magnificent is the piece of earth which at the confines of Bohemia runs over hilly heights and lofty hill tops on to the high mountain-chain. But still more interesting I maintain with confidence is the race of people."" It may seem strange at first that the wise and profound explorers whom we have so often had occasion to cite the brothers Grimm should have failed to present us with any traditions from a corner of ground around which they have so successfully laboured. We have hinted already at the sufficient reason of the blank. Willkomm tells us that the rest of the world which ""the cabin'd cribb'd"" Lusatian has himself learned to call ""_o' th' outside_ "" has taken no cognisance of his beautiful hill country. Lusatia has a literature of her own and no one is acquainted with it. ""She had and partly still has her own similar to the Imperial cities exceeding free and energetic municipal constitution."" But no one cares about it. Celebrated and learned historians questioned by Willkomm on the subject have acknowledged their ignorance in regard to the character and laws of its small people. A more cogent reason however lies nearer home in the impenetrable reserve and self-insulation of the mountaineers themselves. Willkomm confesses that their coldness towards strangers is unparalleled; they have no confidence whatever in foreigners; ""and let a Lusatian but suspect "" he says ""that you come a-fishing to him and to listen out his privacies; then may you "" as we may render the Lusatian proverb ""'Lose yourself before you find his mushroom.'"" He will communicate to strangers little of his manners and customs; of his superstitious practices his sacredly guarded traditions absolutely nothing. ""He is unpliant self-sequestered coarse-grained; beyond all conception easy and phlegmatic."" Every genuine people however is rough-handed; and Willkomm proceeds after an ingenuous description of their defects to vindicate the natural heart of his brother highlanders. ""Let him amongst the gentle "" he proudly exclaims ""who desire to hear for once something novel something right vigorous sit down beside me. He need not fear that morals and decency will be cast out of doors. No no! The people are thoroughly moral and chaste at heart if they are somewhat coarse in expression;--ay and tender withal. Their imagination glides as delighted along fragrant threads of gold as it eagerly descends amongst the powers of darkness amidst the dance of will-o'-the-wisps and horrible ghost-reels. They are at once a blunt good-hearted aboriginal stamp of men with all the advantages and deficiencies appurtenant."" The Lusatian traditions brought to light in Germany by Ernst Willkomm and now first made known to Englishmen in these pages were collected by our author as we have already observed with difficulty and labour. A native only of the mountain district could obtain from the lips of the people their sacred and well-preserved lore and even he not easily. The tales were narrated from time to time in the spinning-room or in the so-called ""_Hell_"" of the boor or weaver without any determinate connexion. The listener gathered mere fragments and these not fully when thrown off his guard he ventured to interrupt the speaker. Each narrator conceives his tale differently and one individual is apt to garnish the experience of many or what he has heard from others with a little spice of his own invention. Further the details of ten or twelve occurrences are associated with one single spot; all of which appear externally different and yet internally are connected closely ""so that when comprehended in one whole picture and not till then they form what in a strict and literary sense we are accustomed to call a TRADITION or TALE. I at least "" adds Ernst Willkomm ""in such an upgathering of these disjointed tones of tradition could only accomplish something that satisfied me by searching out the profound hidden meaning of the people's poesy: and I have at last gone no further than attempting to compose these detached fragments of tradition Lusatianwise and popularwise from the people's own telling into a whole. Upon this scheme only could alike the poetical worth of the tales and the portraiture of the race be rescued and rightly secured."" That the traditions have been rescued and maintained in their purity and truth; coloured no doubt in the telling and that unavoidably under the pencil of their educated renderer--we have every reason to believe from internal evidences. Maintaining their own originality they correspond in the main to the traditions which come to us from almost every known country on the globe concurring to attest the intimate and necessary relation of the human soul with what would seem to be the remnants of an ancient and universal mythology. They bear upon their front the minute impress of reality not to be mistaken and beyond the mere invention of the poet. They are a valuable addition to the common stock. The style of Willkomm is clear and to the point; almost always as he says in characterizing the speech of his own Upper Lusatians ""hitting the nail upon the head."" It breathes of his own mountain air and possesses a charm a vigour and freshness which we fear that we shall endeavour in vain to transfer to the following version:-- THE FAIRIES' SABBATH. ""Children born of a Sunday and bastards inherit the gift denied to other human beings of beholding spirits of talking with them and if opportunity befriend of right intimately communing with them. This was a truth experienced by pretty Maud the stone-mason's only daughter who a hundred years ago or so led at the foot of the mountain-ridge yonder a quiet home-loving life. Maud was born of all days in the year upon Easter Sunday which is said to be a truly lucky day for a mortal not otherwise heavily burdened with earthly blessings. In this last respect Maud had no reasonable cause of complaint; for her father by the labour of his hands painfully earned just as much as went to a frugal housekeeping and the mother kept the little family in order; so that things looked always neat and clean enough in the abode of the stone-mason. ""All Sunday's children are very wise and if they are maidens always uncommonly beautiful. Maud was as a child admired by every body; nay it once went so far as that a rich and beautiful but very sickly-looking lady of quality who was travelling over the mountain in a fine carriage tried hard to coax the poor mother out of her pretty Maud with a large sum of gold. When the maiden had fairly stepped out of child's shoes and was obliged to seek employment away from home there was a mighty ado. It was for all the world as if a fairy was going through the place when Maud early in the morning strolled along the banks of the murmuring stream on her road to a wealthy weaver's. The young fellows saluted the fair one as they greeted no other. No one ventured however to accost her with unseemly speeches--a kind of thing by the way that young men at all times are very prone to. Maud was treated by every one like a saint. Maidens even her equals in years prized her highly; and in no way envied her the general admiration. This might be founded in the behaviour itself of Maud. More forward to oblige to do good offices more sweetly behaved was no one. And then she had such a grace with it all so innocent an eye that when you looked into it heaven itself seemed to shine out upon you. In short whoever spoke with Maud or might walk a few steps with her that man was for the whole day another and a happier creature and whatever he undertook prospered with him. ""It would have been strange indeed had such a maiden lacked suitors or not very early found a sympathizing heart. Now as for the suitors there was no dearth of them Heaven knows! for there were youngsters of the queerest fashion. Many without manners though right well to look at; others wealthy but without heart or soul; and others again ready to burst with rage if any one but touched his hat to the beautiful Matilda. To all such the innocent child had not a word to say; for she knew well enough that scant blessing waits on marriages of such a make. There was but one young fellow who could be said to please her thoroughly and he was neither rich nor singularly handsome. She had become acquainted with him at the weaver's where he like herself went daily to work. Albert was industrious well-behaved and spoke so sensibly and right-heartedly that Maud ever listened to him with delight. Truth to tell he simply put her own feelings into words. A very little time passed before she engaged herself secretly to Albert; and all would have gone on happily and well with them had the two lovers but possessed just money enough to scrape a few matters together and to set up housekeeping. But both were poor--poor as church mice; and just for that reason the father of Maud did not look very favourably upon the settled love-affair of his daughter. He would have been better satisfied if the silly thing as he called her had given her hand to one of the rich suitors who would have given their ears to please her. Since however once for all the mischief was done he like a good man determined to cause his only child no heartache and let matters get on as they might. One condition only he insisted upon--which was that Maud should for the future work under her father's roof; Albert meanwhile having leave every evening to pay his visits there. In this arrangement the two lovers cordially acquiesced; for young as they were they could well afford a little waiting. Meantime it must be their endeavour by incessant labour and careful economy to save up as much as they needed for setting themselves up in their humble dwelling. So they lived on from day to day in quiet content. And so no doubt many days and many would have glided by had not a singular occurrence disturbed the profound tranquillity. This was the way of it:-- ""Maud's father the stone-mason found it too much for him with his heavy work and all when at noon he had the long journey to make between the stone quarry and his own home. Besides the fine stone-dust had brought on an inflammation of the eyes so that he was obliged to avoid the glare of the sun: no easy thing for him to do since his road homeward lay over a green high hill upon which the sun beat scorchingly: wherefore also the people have given it the name of the Sun's hill. It was made in consequence Maud's duty to take daily her father's homely dinner to the stone quarry--a road which although toilsome was by no means disagreeable to her; inasmuch as Albert often found means to get leave of absence and then always escorted her a part of the way. ""Over the Sun's hill nobody went willingly alone either by day or by night; for the tale ran that to many persons wondrous things had happened. Some had even caught they said their death-sickness there. True it is any more definite report was not easily obtained. Only so much had Maud heard from her mother that the GOOD PEOPLE were said a very very long time ago to have vanished into the green hill; just when in all the places around so many churches had sprung up and the sound of bells rang over mountain and wood. These reports notwithstanding Maud unconscious of evil took her daily walk over the Sun's hill where indeed no one ever encountered her; so that the splendid landscape looked often desolate and awful in the hot midday's glow.{N} For this reason it was always a great relief to her when from the top of the steep hill she saw Albert ascending towards her. She then felt herself more secure and went with better spirits forward. It was near Whitsuntide--the father sickly and more peevish than ever and work bringing in no supply; for provisions had risen fearfully in price in consequence of the previous unusually hard winter. Now as often as Maud brought the dinner to her father he complained bitterly and reproached her harshly for her folly; so that the poor child was almost heartbroken pined and led a melancholy life. ""She most deeply felt her trouble when at noon she took her lonely journey along the desolate path that led to the quarry. Then she often shed the bitterest tears and prayed to God to show her an outlet and to have pity on their poverty. ""One day--it was just a week to Whitsun-eve--it happened that as she went upon her way silently and in sorrow and in vain looked for the beloved figure of Albert she suddenly heard such a marvellously clear sound of a bell that she stood still to hearken. It was upon the mid summit of the Sun's hill; the air perfectly calm and around far and near not a creature to be seen. From the distant hamlet in the valley clinked only the sharp tones of the whetting scythe. Maud believed that she had had a ringing in her ears and walked on. The singular sound was repeated resembling the tone exactly of a small silver bell. ""'How strange it is!' said the maiden to herself casting her eyes upon the ground; and in the soft moss right at her feet she perceived something glistening like a fragment of blue glass. She stooped and picked up what in colour and shape resembled a blue harebell or as it is called _Fairy's hat_; only where the stalk should have been there was a so small and elegantly-wrought little silver bell that Maud could not help laughing outright. ""'Bless me!' she exclaimed 'who can have made that comical thing?' and thereupon she shook the flower and the wee little bell began to sound so prodigiously clear that the poor damsel let it fall affrighted. ""'What are thy commands?' asked immediately a slender bright voice. Before her stood a delicate creature not higher than her hand; but of a symmetry of person that was perfectly astonishing. His small expressive head round which a grove of curls like crisped sunbeams played was just of a size that the flower with the wondrous bell served it for a covering. For Maud saw how he put on the sparkling hat with much gravity and at the same time very knowingly giving himself a right bold and dandy appearance. ""'What are you then?' asked Maud trembling. ""The little fellow made a smart bow 'Thy servant with thy good leave ' replied the strange being. 'I and my people have known thee a long time. We have heard thy complainings; and because thou hast a kind heart and lovest the flowers and dost not wantonly pull them to pieces am I charged to do thee a pleasure provided thou wilt do the like for me and my people.' ""'Indeed! you pretty little original!' answered Maud 'who are thy people? I'---- ""'Hush!' interrupted the little one with a repelling gesture of the hand and a very impressive contraction of the brow. 'These are questions which I cannot answer and what is more cannot suffer. It is not civil to put questions of the WHENCE and the WHAT. If thou wilt trust me and I should think that I have the air of a proper gentleman then resolve without delay whether thou wilt do me a pleasure for a reasonable compensation.' ""'Dear little sir!' replied Maud overcome 'I am not mistrustful but so beset and afflicted that I really do not know how I am to understand this strange business. Do not make sport of me good child; or if thou art a spirit I beseech thee have compassion on me and let me go my way in peace. My father is waiting for me. His little bit of dinner is drying in the heat of the sun.' ""'Silly prattle!' interrupted the little one. 'Thy old father lies under the rock side and snores till the fern leaves waggle over him. The good man's dinner will not take much harm. However that thou mayest see how good and honourable my intentions are take thou my little cap. Be it the pledge which I shall redeem from thee with a compensation. Only resolve quickly now whether thou wilt trust me. My time is short.' ""Maud hesitated still. She held the miraculous cap with its silver bell in her hand. The desire to get rid of the _uncanny_ creature the sooner the better and also perhaps a particle of female curiosity wrung from her her consent. ""'Good!' said the little one in great glee. 'Now hear me! This day week upon Whitsun-eve as ye call it do thou come here in the evening as soon as the moon has mounted this green hill. Be not afraid; for only good will befall thee. As soon as thou hast reached this spot ring with the little bell which I have given thee; and thou wilt not repent having been serviceable to the good people.' ""Scarcely had the little man given Maud her direction when the astonished maiden remarked that the ground before her feet flashed like molten gold sunk deeper and deeper and in this glowing gulf the extraordinary being vanished like a silver star. The whole phenomenon lasted only a few seconds then every thing was again at rest as before. The little bell-flower only assured Matilda that she did not dream and that something unusual had really taken place. ""Possessed with her feelings she took her father his meal; and found him in sooth fast asleep under the wall of rock. Of her adventure she said nothing but carried the pledge of the little man well secured in her bosom. And yet how was it possible for her to persevere in her silence? It is true Maud knew not if the communication of the incident was permitted her. She put her trust however in the pledge; and since she had not been commanded to silence she hoped to be justified in making Albert acquainted with what had happened. ""She did it with fear and trembling and produced to her astonished lover as witness the flower which had withered in the warmth of her bosom. Singularly enough let her shake it as often as she would the little bell could not be made to ring. ""'And you really mean to go?' asked Albert when he had a little recovered from his surprise. 'I should like to see you! To get flirting with ghosts and hobgoblins or whatever else the devils may be. No! go you don't. You will throw that stupid thing into the running stream. _There_ it won't hurt you; and upon that confounded Sun's hill you will please never to set foot more.' ""'I have given my word Albert; and I must keep my word let what will happen.' ""'Very well ' said the youngster 'that's enough! Then every thing's at an end between us--clean at an end!' ""'How you take on now! For whom else but for you have I accepted this pledge? For whom else have I so long endured--so long borne my father's upbraidings? Dost thou think that had I wished it I could not long since have wedded? And is it my fault that I am a Sunday's child? Is it not said that all Sunday's children are born to good-luck? If you hinder me from keeping my word with this miraculous being--and the luck that is decreed me is meanwhile scattered to all the four winds--you may settle it with the spirit and face his anger; for I wash my hands in innocency.' ""Maud began to cry kissed the shrunken leaf and hid it again in her bosom. Albert was not at ease. He was annoyed at the untoward encounter a touch of jealousy disquieted and distressed his soul and yet he could not say that the girl was in the wrong. At length he said dispiritedly-- ""'Go through with your folly then. I will however be near you and if the moon-spun rascal takes improper liberties I will snap his neck though mine too should crack for it.' ""For the first time in his life Albert parted with Maud in an ill-humour and the poor girl herself passed a bad and restless night. * * * * * ""'Mother ' said Maud a few days afterwards whilst she was getting the father's dinner ready for her 'did you ever see a fairy?' ""'God forbid girl!' cried the worthy and somewhat timid woman crossing herself. 'How came that into thy head? What hast thou to do with fairies and elves dwarfs and wights? A good Christian has no business with such things of nothing or worse.' ""'Why aunt Nelly was telling the other day such surprising stories of the people!' Matilda replied; 'but she did not drop a hint of our having reason to fear any harm from them. She even called them the GOOD PEOPLE.' ""'Daughter!' the mother seriously rejoined 'we call them so that they may do us no mischief. It is safer for us to leave them quite alone.' ""'Can it be true mother that they have buried themselves under the Sun's hill and keep house and home there? Aunt Nelly would have it that in the still of the night by bright moonlight you may hear them singing wonderful tunes.' ""The mother fixed her eyes upon Maud set the old man's morsel of food upon the hearth stone and taking her daughter by the hand led her to the stove and seated her upon the family bench. ""'Listen!' she said 'and take thou heed to my words. The good people or the fairies which is their proper name although they do not like to be called so do indeed live though few have the gift of beholding them in all the mountains and valleys round about. Very very seldom and only upon the most extraordinary occasions do they ever show themselves. When they do it betokens luck to him that sees them and brings it if he quietly fulfill their wishes. These are certainly often out of the way just like the people who are strange and incomprehensible enough. Thank Goodness they never crossed my path! but your godmother Helen she had many many years ago a curious adventure with the fairies.' ""'Really mother! Aunt Nelly spoken to the fairies! O pray dear mother tell me quickly and fully the whole story!' ""'First run to the quarry and take your father his dinner ' said the mother. 'I will try in the meanwhile to remember all about it; and if you will promise me to say not a word to any one--not even to your godmother you shall hear what your aunt told me at that time.' ""Maud very naturally promised every thing took herself off and was back again as quickly as possible. She did not loiter for a moment upon the road did not even notice the signals which her Albert made as he came towards her from the distance. She could think only of her mother's story. ""'Here I am again mother!' she said breathless. 'I call that running! I should say that the king's trained runners could do no better. But now begin dear mother. I will listen to you as if you were saying mass.' ""'As well as I can remember ' proceeded the mother 'the case of the fairies is a very singular one. Your godmother Helen disclosed to me it is true just the chief particulars only; but they were quite enough to let you understand something of the good people. They told her that once in every fifty or a hundred years they have a kind of church meeting which from old time they call a Sabbath. For you must know child that the fairies are properly Jews {O} right down old chaffering Jews from _Olim's_ time.'{P} ""'O bless me! Jews!' cried Maud frightened out of her wits. ""'Yes yes Jews and nothing else ' repeated the mother warmly; 'and that's the very reason why up to this day they are so given to trafficking in precious stones pearls gold silver and artful jewellery. And when they give themselves a holiday they go running about above-ground making presents to new-born babies if they are very lovely and playing all kinds of odd pranks. According to your godmother Helen the history of the fairies runs thus:--The whole people and their name is LEGION were formerly in heaven.' ""'In heaven!' cried Maud interrupting her mother 'then why didn't the silly creatures stay there? Where else do they hope to be more snug and comfortable than in heaven! seated under the fur-cap of father Abraham!' ""'How you prate!' said the mother checking her. 'If you do not instantly tie up your tongue and think more respectfully of the good people I shall not tell you another syllable.' ""'O pray! I will be quite quiet!' ""'Very well. Then the fairies were a long while ago in heaven ' continued the mother. 'At that time they were part of the angelic host were fine handsome people went about in glittering robes and sat at God's right hand. Now it befell that the chief angel of all got dissatisfied with the old management of affairs in heaven stirred up discontent tampered with the half of all the angels and tried with their help to thrust out the old rightful Master of heaven and earth from his bright throne. But it fared with him as it does with most rebels and rightly should with all. Our Father in his glory got the better of Satan took him by the hair of his head and pitched him head-foremost out of heaven into the pit of darkness and his whole sharkish band of retainers after him. Amongst these however a good many had given ear to his fine tales and had followed him thoughtlessly although they were not properly wicked at heart. They repented their hasty work even whilst they were falling deeper and deeper into gloom. They put up a prayer of repentance to their Lord and implored his forgiveness; and because God saw that they were not rotten at the core he hearkened to their petition and rescued them out of the claws of Satan. But since they were not worthy to be received into heaven again the Lord banished them back to the earth with leave given them to dwell either within it or in upper air upon the hills and rocks. You must know that during their fall a surprising change had gone on in the transgressors. They had kept their forms of light--dwindled in size however immensely. And since they could not now become men {Q} and had fooled away their celestial bliss the Lord granted them a clear field with power until the last day to make themselves worthy by good deeds of being re-admitted into heaven. And thus they have their abodes all about the open hills and the meadow flats; and only once in every fifty or a hundred years upon Whitsun-eve are they permitted in their own way to keep the Sabbath. And then they can only do it by loading a truly good human being with the blessings of fortune. For thus only can they hope to expiate their great offence in the sight of Heaven.' ""'And did godmother Helen hear this from the good people themselves?' asked Maud as her mother ceased. 'Was she then lucky?' ""'No ' said the mother 'Nelly was not lucky because she did not observe the commandment of the fairies.' ""'Well if one of the creatures came to me and should lay a command upon me I would keep a quiet tongue within my head and do readily what he wished.' ""'Foolish chatter!' said the mother chidingly. 'Thou dost offend the quiet people with thy empty babbling for they can hear every thing that human lips utter.' ""Maud went singing to her work and long mused upon her timid mother's narrative. What she had heard filled her with so eager a curiosity that she could scarcely wait for Whitsun-eve although she took care to let no one observe it. From time to time she stole a glance at her bell-flower tried to make it ring with shaking but failed to bring by any means one sound from the delicate little bell. ""With a longing dread Maud saw the promised Whitsun-eve draw near. It was not easy to leave the parental roof at nightfall. The enamoured maiden however found a becoming excuse which placed a few hours at her disposal. She went her way with the fairy cap in her bosom ascended the green summit of the Sun's hill now glimmering in the moonlight and drew from its hiding-place the pledge that had been entrusted to her. As if by a miracle the little flower touched by the moon's silvery glow expanded in an instant. Almost spontaneously it began to oscillate in her hand and shrill and clear the little bell rang so that it resounded into the adjacent wood whence a soft echo melodiously resp

nded. ""The voice of Albert who with vigorous strides was ascending the hill to look close after the adventure of his beloved reached her ear. But the senses of Matilda were engrossed by the fairies and to his repeated calls she gave no answer. And she had good reason. For scarcely had the little bell rung when a flash like a sparkling snake darted here and there upon the grass and out of the quivering light there arose a small and exceedingly beautiful creature whom Maud immediately recognised for the lord of the bell-flower. The little fellow was in Spanish costume. He wore a doublet of sky-blue butterflies' wings over which dropped a magnificent lace collar woven of the gossamer. The delicate feet were covered with transparent shoes made of dew-drops. ""Maud stood mute with astonishment as well at the tiny smallness of the fairy as at his truly classical beauty. The little creature was in his way a perfect Adonis. ""'Now my trembler art thou resolute to follow me?' whispered the fairy in a note that came to her like a note of the harmonicon. 'Restore me the pledge for we have no time to lose.' ""Maud gave back the bell-flower; the elf seized it in his little diaphanous alabaster floral hands waved it three times round his dazzling head so that the little bell sent a peal round the hills and then threw it upon the ground. It dilated immediately took the shape of a galley with masts and yards although no larger than the moon's disk as we see it from the earth. In the same instant the elf sat in the little vessel which trembled at every step drew a rush from his girdle and steered with it in the air. ""'Now come step in!' he called to Maud. ""'In that!' exclaimed the maiden astounded. 'Heaven love you there's hardly room for my two feet! Besides it will tear under me like a poppy-leaf for I verily believe it is made of mere air.' ""'Spare your remarks Miss Pert!' returned the fairy 'and step in. I pledge my honour and will give up my hope of salvation if this bark of our master's do not carry thee safely over half the earth ball in less than no time.' ""It might be that Maud now stood under the mysterious power of a spell or that she was urged by an invincible curiosity. Enough: she placed her feet in the quaking gondola which swelled aloft like an air-balloon until it reached the maiden's shoulders. Now the ground sank away and Matilda's senses failed her in the dizzy speed with which she was hurried down into the bowels of the earth. At this precise moment Albert reached the top of the hill. He had only the pleasure of looking after them and hardly that; for it appeared to him as if every thing about him was immersed in a sea of azure so resplendently clear that he was for several minutes robbed of his sight. ""From the magical slumber into which the child had fallen during her descent into the kingdom of the fairies she was awakened by a witching harmony of sounds. She opened her eyes and observed with not a little wonder that she was lying upon a bed or mat or whatsoever else it might be called of costly emerald. Over her head nodded marvellous flowers of the most glowing colours; butterflies of unseen splendour flitted on cooling pinions around her couch and fanned her with an air so sweet so invigorating that the maiden had never breathed before with such delight. But with all the magnificence all the spirit and splendour every thing was quite other than upon the sunny earth above. The flowers and herbs glittered indeed; but they seemed to be juiceless and looked as if formed of crystal. Even the butterflies had a peculiar motion like that of an involuntary sleepwalker. Only the harmonious strains which now rang louder and louder more and more ravishing were so ecstatic so inviting to joyous devotion that Maud would fain have shouted aloud for joy; but she felt that she could not speak could not cry out and sight touch and hearing were more alive than ever. ""Thus she lay for some time motionless pleasingly intent upon the nodding flowers the swarming butterflies. At length the winged multitude dispersed and two slender fairy-forms approached her bed and beckoned her to arise and follow them. ""Maud arose; and the fairies who hardly reached up to her knee taking her between them conducted her through a gate of mother-of-pearl into an illimitable space through which throng of countless millions of elves confusedly moved. The converse of these semi-spirits sounded in the distance harmonious like perfect music. Notwithstanding the immense multitude there was nothing of tumult nothing of uproar. They stood all in the finest concord and bent waving their flower-caps gracefully towards the abashed astonished maiden. It bewildered Maud to see that not only overhead arched a star-bespangled sky but likewise underneath her feet the same solemn starry splendour was revealed as if the slight fairy people walked between two heavens upon the milkwhite vapour which rolled on under them like clouds. Every fairy had on glass or crystal shoes if that which they wore on their feet might be so called. It is however possible that the exquisitely made limbs of these perplexing beings only deluded the eyes of the poor girl with such an appearance. ""Nearly in the middle of the immeasurable arena rose a temple of gold silver and precious stones which with its lofty pillars reaching to the sky was emblazoned in so wondrous a light that notwithstanding the extreme refulgence it did not dazzle. Within this upon a ceaselessly revolving sun-orb stood the most beautiful and tallest of the fairies. In her golden hair gleamed stars. Joy and ecstasy radiated like a glory from her lovely pale face and vapoury raiment concealed but as with a breath her incomparable figure. Towards her pressed the innumerable host; for the sublime creature might be the priestess of the united elfin race. Maud was carried forwards with them that she might be a witness of the singular worship that was here solemnized. Not a word was spoken no hymn was sung; there was but a looking-up of supplication of trustfulness in which all the fairies turning round upon their sparkling little feet took part. After a few minutes a joyful expression in the countenance of the worshippers proclaimed the happy issue of the Sabbath. The stars of the upper sky shot down like silver spangles and hung suspended in the luminous hair of the fairies giving them the appearance of carrying dancing lights on their heads. A loud melodious strain of rejoicing thrilled through the vast room. The radiant structure heaved and sank. Overhead a verdurous canopy of leaves vaulted itself; the elves entwining arms and legs flew in a lightning whirl around the high priestess and the dazzled Maud who unawares had come close upon the lovely fairy. ""In a little while the slender body-chain of elves gave way; they grouped themselves into numberless rows; every one took off the star from his head and tripping up deposited it at the feet of the priestess where they at length all united in composing themselves into a great gold-bright sphere exactly resembling that upon which the high officiating fairy had been borne round in the temple. ""The elfin now extended her hand to Maud and said-- ""'We thank thee for the readiness with which thou hast followed my messenger into this our hidden kingdom. Thou hast by thy presence prospered our Sabbath festival. Receive for thy reward the gratitude of all the fairies; and bear with thee this gift in remembrance of this day.' ""So speaking she plucked the coronal of stars from her hair stretched it out with both her hands and hung it upon the head and neck of Matilda. ""'Whenever thou art in trouble ' she continued 'think of the good people; pull one of these stars throw it in the air by the light of the moon and whatsoever thou wishest provided it be lawful shall be granted thee.' ""Maud would have stammered forth her thanks but she felt herself still powerless to speak. A kiss of the fairy upon her forehead was the signal for breaking up. The good people once more waved their caps. The gondola floated by Maud mounted it and as quickly as she had descended was lifted up upon the earth again. ""'There!' said the little pilot fairy tying the supple rudder about the wrist of Maud 'that is my wedding gift to you and Albert. Give him the half of it if he pouts; and--have a care--no blabbing!' ""With that the gondola dissolved like a cloud in the air. The fairy vanished; and Maud lay alone upon the fragrant dewy grass of the Sun's hill. ""Still all-amazed at what had happened and not yet come rightly to herself she slowly rose intending to go home. It was then she perceived Albert who with folded arms was staring wildly and savagely into the wood below. Matilda coughed. ""'Why where in the name of all that is holy have you been dancing to?' was the not very tender greeting of her lover. 'I saw you standing there as I came up the hill; and then lightning and streams of fire were all about me and here I have been full five minutes running about in all directions without being able to find a trace of you.' ""'Only five minutes!' exclaimed Maud; 'that is extraordinary!' ""'Yes; and no offence to you not altogether right ' answered Albert. 'Did I not beg of you to wait for me?' ""'That you might wring the fairy's neck for him?' said the maiden laughing. 'Set yourself at ease Albert; it is much better as it is.' ""'What is?' screamed the youngster. ""'Never mind! It is all done now; and indeed dear boy we shall neither of us repent it. Come let us go home.' ""'O ho!--_dear boy!_--Mighty wise and patronizing truly!' ""'Well then good Albert ' said Matilda coaxingly; 'only come away and don't be angry. In four weeks we shall be married.' ""'In fo--ur wee--eeks!' stuttered Albert. ""'Yes and in three if you like it better ' prated the overjoyed Maud. 'The good people ' she added almost inaudibly 'have enabled us to marry. Therefore behave pretty be quiet and don't quarrel--or else--'_every thing is at an end between us--clean at an end!_' Don't you know that I am a Sunday's child and am under the especial protection of these kind little powerful creatures?' ""The jealous youth followed the maiden with reluctance. Whilst he walked murmuring in an under-tone at her side he noticed by the light of the full moon something flickering in Matilda's hair. He examined it more closely and then stood still. ""'What new fashion do you call that?' he asked in a voice of chagrin. 'The idea of hanging dried mushrooms in one's hair! If you will only walk with that finery by daylight down to the brook the children will run after you and point at you with their finger.' ""'Mushrooms!' replied Maud. 'Why where are your eyes again?' ""'Well I suppose you don't mean to call them silver crowns? Thank Heaven my eyes are good enough yet to see the difference between dried funguses and coined money!' ""'They are glittering stars sir ' said Maud short and decided. ""'O indeed!' returned Albert. 'Well then the next time I would recommend you to select some that shine rather brighter.' ""The lovers had in the meanwhile reached the hut of the stone-mason. Albert entered with Matilda. The father lay asleep by the stove. The mother turned her spinning-wheel. ""'Good-evening mother!"" said Albert. 'Have the goodness to tell that conceited girl there that her headgear is the most miserable that ever was seen.' ""'What!' said the old lady wondering and with a shake of the head. 'Maud has no other gear that I see but her own beautiful hair which may God long preserve to her!' ""Instead of giving any answer Albert would have set the daughter before her mother's eyes. But Maud had already in the doorway pulled off the fairy's gift and turned pale as she saw that she had actually worn dried mushrooms on a string twisted of withered rushes. Albert observed her perplexity and laughed. He bantered her and snatched two or three mushrooms from the chain to hoard up for future sport. This was the token of their reconciliation. Maud although very calmly assured her lover over and over again that within a month their nuptials should take place. That the tired old man might not be disturbed Albert went home early; and Maud hastened to put carefully away for a while the very meagre-looking fairy gifts. ""On the following morning Albert was off betimes to his work. Putting on his jacket he heard something chinking within. His surprise was naturally great knowing that he had no money there. He dived at once into his pocket and drew out two large old gold pieces. Then he suddenly remembered that the evening before he had pocketed the mushrooms which he had snatched away from Maud and the most extravagant joy possessed him. He forgot his work and every thing else; started off and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the house of the stone-mason. ""Maud stood at the brook before the door washing her small white hands in the clear stream. ""'Good-morrow dear Maud and a thousand blessings on thy sweet head!' cried Albert to her as he came running. 'Look look how thy mushrooms have changed! If the others turn out as well I am afraid that after all I must forgive that little shrimp that was so killingly polite to you!' ""'Delightful! delightful!' exclaimed Matilda gazing at the gold pieces. 'Mine have not changed yet--but that doesn't matter; for in the night a little rush band with which the fairy steered me into his kingdom of wonders has bloomed into precious pearls and brilliants and two sparkling wreaths are now lying upstairs in my drawer.' ""Joyful surprise choked Albert's words in his throat; but Maud drew him on and displayed to him her glories from the fairy world. ""'Let us leave nothing undone that may help our luck. Do you take the little wreath for the present. Such is the wish of the mysterious being who required my attendance at the Fairies' Sabbath.' ""Albert received the gift with a softened heart. He begged Maud's forgiveness of his fault; she granted it willingly and before four weeks had passed by the lovers were man and wife. ""Of her adventure on Whitsun-eve Maud never spoke. So much the more had her godmother Helen to say about it; for it was not difficult to guess that the fairies had had their prospering hand in the marriage of her godchild. The stone-mason now gave up his laborious calling. Albert became the master of a moderate property which he diligently cultivated with his beloved Maud; and as fair child after child was born to them the happy mother laid upon the breast of each a shriveled leaf from the elfin chain for so had her little guide counseled her when she once in a doubtful hour had summoned him to her aid. Albert and Matilda reached a good old age; their children throve and carefully preserved like their parents the gifts received from the subterranean folk who continued their favour to them and to all their posterity."" FOOTNOTES: {A} Midsummer Night's Dream. {B} DOLMEN; literally _stone table_. Remarkable structures learnedly ascribed to the Druids; unlearnedly to the dwarfs and fairies; and numerous throughout Western Britanny. One or more large and massive flat stones overlaying great slabs planted edgeways in the ground form a rude and sometimes very capacious chamber or grotto. The superstition which cleaves to these relics of a forgotten antiquity stamps itself in the names given to many of them by the peasantry:--_Grotte aux fées_ _Roche aux fées_ &c. {C} WEIRDS. The French has--LOTS. ""_Elles jettent des SORTS._"" For justifying the translation see the fine old Scottish ballad of KEMPION; or KEMP OWAYNE at the beginning:-- ""Come here come here ye _freely fede_ (i. e. _nobly born_ ) And lay your head low on my knee A heavier WEIRD I shall ye read Than ever was read to gay ladye. ""I WEIRD ye to a fiery beast: And released shall ye never be Till Kempion the kinges son Come to the crag and thrice kiss thee!"" {D} From the preface to the exceedingly interesting collection by M. Th. de la Villemarqué of the transmitted songs that are current amongst his Bas Breton countrymen. {E} Essay on _The Fairies of Popular Superstition_ in ""The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border."" {F} Deutsche Mythologie von Jacob Grimm. Chap. xiii. Ed. 1. 1835 and xvii. Ed. 2. 1843. {G} ""_Ces génies femelles._"" {H} From Walckenaer's Dissertation on the Origin of the Fairy Belief; last printed in an abridged form by Jacob in his edition of the _Contes des Fées par Perrault_ (Paris 1842.) {I} ""Paradise and groves Elysian fortunate fields--like those of old Sought in the Atlantic main why should they be A history only of departed things Or a mere fiction of what never was? For the discerning _Intellect of man When wedded to this goodly Universe In love and holy passion_ shall find these A simple produce of the common day. I long before the blissful hour arrives Would chant in lonely peace the spousal verse Of this great consummation."" WORDSWORTH. _Preface to the Excursion._ {J} _SAGEN UND MAHRCHEN aus der Oberlausitz_. Nacherzahlt von _Ernst Willkomm_ Hanover 1843. {K} IRISCHE ELFENMARCHEN: Uebersetzt von den Brüdern Grimm. Leipzig 1826. _Introduction._ {L} DEUTSCHE SAGEN: Herausgegeben von den Brüdern Grimm. Berlin 1816 and 1818. {M} Grimm's German Mythology p. 544. {N} ""----his look Drew audience and attention STILL AS night Or SUMMER'S NOONTIDE AIR.""--_Paradise Lost. Book II._ {O} The fairies themselves hardly can have imparted to godmother Helen the two irreconcilable derivations of their order: that they were Jews and that they were fallen angels. But the poet DRAMATICALLY joins upon the mother's lip the two current traditions. With her fallen angel and Jew are synonymous as being both opposed to the faith of the cross. {P} Who is this unknown OLIM? Our old friend perchance the Latin adverb ""_Olim_ "" _of yore_--gradually slipped from the mouths of scholars into the people's and risen in dignity as it descended. {Q} _Sic._ COLUMBUS. (_A Print after a Picture by Parmeggiano._) BY B. SIMMONS. I. RISE VICTOR from the festive board Flush'd with triumphal wine And lifting high thy beaming sword Fired by the flattering Harper's chord Who hymns thee half divine. Vow at the glutted shrine of Fate That dark-red brand to consecrate! Long dread and doubtful was the fray That gives the stars thy name to-day. But all is over; round thee now Fame shouts spoil pours and captives bow No stormier joy can Earth impart Than thrills in lightning through thy heart. II. Gay LOVER with the soft guitar Hie to the olive-woods afar And to thy friend the listening brook Alone reveal that raptured look; The maid so long in secret loved-- A parent's angry will removed-- This morning saw betrothèd thine That Sire the pledge consenting blest Life bright as motes in golden wine Is dancing in thy breast. III. STATESMAN astute the final hour Arrives of long-contested Power; Each crafty wile thine ends to aid Party and principle betray'd; The subtle speech the plan profound Pursued for years success has crown'd; To-night the Vote upon whose tongue The nicely-poised Division hung Was thine--beneath that placid brow What feelings throb exulting now! Thy rival falls;--on grandeur's base Go shake the nations in his place! IV. FAME LOVE AMBITION! what are Ye With all your wasting passions' war To the great Strife that like a sea O'erswept His soul tumultuously Whose face gleams on me like a star-- A star that gleams through murky clouds-- As here begirt by struggling crowds A spell-bound Loiterer I stand Before a print-shop in the Strand? What are your eager hopes and fears Whose minutes wither men like years-- Your schemes defeated or fulfill'd To the emotions dread that thrill'd _His_ frame on that October night When watching by the lonely mast _He saw on shore the moving light_ And felt though darkness veil'd the sight The long-sought World was his at last?{A} V. How Fancy's boldest glances fail Contemplating each hurrying mood Of thought that to that aspect pale Sent up the heart's o'erboiling flood Through that vast vigil while his eyes Watch'd till the slow reluctant skies Should kindle and the vision dread Of all his livelong years be read! In youth his faith-led spirit doom'd Still to be baffled and betray'd His manhood's vigorous noon consumed Ere Power bestow'd its niggard aid; That morn of summer dawning grey {B} When from Huelva's humble bay He full of hope before the gale Turn'd on the hopeless World his sail And steer'd for seas untrack'd unknown And westward still sail'd on--sail'd on-- Sail'd on till Ocean seem'd to be All shoreless as Eternity Till from its long-loved Star estranged At last the constant Needle changed {C} And fierce amid his murmuring crew Prone terror into treason grew; While on his tortured spirit rose More dire than portents toils or foes The awaiting World's loud jeers and scorn Yell'd o'er his profitless Return; No--none through that dark watch may trace The feelings wild beneath whose swell As heaves the bark the billows' race His Being rose and fell! Yet over doubt and pride and pain O'er all that flash'd through breast and brain As with those grand immortal eyes He stood--his heart on fire to know When morning next illumed the skies What wonders in its light should glow-- O'er all one thought must in that hour Have sway'd supreme--Power conscious Power-- The lofty sense that Truths conceived And born of his own starry mind And foster'd into might achieved A new Creation for mankind! And when from off that ocean calm The Tropic's dusky curtain clear'd All those green shores and banks of balm And rosy-tinted hills appear'd Silent and bright as Eden ere Earth's breezes shook one blossom there-- Against that hour's proud tumult weigh'd LOVE FAME AMBITION how ye fade! VI. Thou LUTHER of the darken'd Deep! Nor less intrepid too than He Whose courage broke EARTH'S bigot sleep Whilst thine unbarr'd the SEA-- Like his 'twas thy predestined fate Against your grin benighted age With all its fiends of Fear and Hate War single-handed war to wage And live a conqueror too like him Till Time's expiring lights grow dim! O Hero of my boyish heart! Ere from thy pictured looks I part My mind's maturer reverence now In thoughts of thankfulness would bow To the OMNISCIENT WILL that sent Thee forth its chosen instrument To teach us hope when sin and care And the vile soilings that degrade Our dust would bid us most despair-- Hope from each varied deed display'd Along thy bold and wondrous story That shows how far one steadfast mind Serene in suffering as in glory May go to deify our kind. FOOTNOTES: {A} October 11 1492.--""As the evening darkened Columbus took his station on the top of the castle or cabin on the high poop of his vessel. However he might carry a cheerful and confident countenance during the day it was to him a time of the most painful anxiety; and now when he was wrapped from observation by the shades of night he maintained an intense and unremitting watch ranging his eye along the dusky horizon in search of the most vague indications of land. Suddenly about ten o'clock _he thought he beheld a light glimmering at a distance_. Fearing that his eager hopes might deceive him he called to Pedro Gutierrez gentleman of the king's bedchamber and enquired whether he saw a light in that direction; the latter replied in the affirmative. Columbus yet doubtful whether it might not be some delusion of the fancy called Rodrigo Sanchez of Segovia and made the same enquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the roundhouse the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterwards in sudden and passing gleams as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman rising and sinking with the waves or in the hand of some person on shore borne up and down as he walked from house to house. So transient and uncertain were these gleams that few attached any importance to them; Columbus however considered them as certain signs of land and moreover that the land was inhabited.""--IRVING'S _Columbus_ vol. i. {B} ""It was on Friday the 3d of August 1492 early in the morning that Columbus set sail on his first voyage of discovery. He departed from the bar of Saltes a small island in front of the town of Huelva steering in a south-westerly direction "" &c.--IRVING. He was about fifty-seven years old the year of the Discovery. {C} ""On the 13th September in the evening being about two hundred leagues from the island of Ferro he for the first time noticed the variation of the needle a phenomenon which had never before been remarked. Struck with the circumstance he observed it attentively for three days and found that the variation increased as he advanced. It soon attracted the attention of the pilots and filled them with consternation. It seemed as if the very laws of nature were changing as they advanced and that they were entering another world subject to unknown influences.""--_Ibid._ TO SWALLOWS ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE. BY THE SAME. ""The day before V----'s departure for the last time from the country--it was the 4th of August one of the hottest days of the season--as evening fell he strolled with an old school-fellow through the cool green avenues and leafy arcades of the neighbouring park where his friend amused him by pointing out to his attention vast multitudes of Swallows that came swarming from all directions to settle on the roofs and gables of the manor-house. This they do for several days preparatory to their departing in one collected body to more genial climates.""--_MS. Memoir._ I. Joyous Birds! preparing In the clear evening light To leave our dwindled summer day For latitudes more bright! How gay must be your greeting By southern fountains meeting To miss no faithful wing of all that started in your flight! II. Every clime and season Fresh gladness brings to you Howe'er remote your social throngs Their varied path pursue; No winds nor waves dissever-- No dusky veil'd FOR EVER Frowneth across your fearless way in the empyrean blue.{A} III. Mates and merry brothers Were ye in Arctic hours Mottling the evening beam that sloped Adown old Gothic towers! As blythe that sunlight dancing Will see your pinions' glancing Scattering afar through Tropic groves the spicy bloom in showers! IV. Haunters of palaced wastes!{B} From king-forlorn Versailles To where round gateless Thebes the winds Like monarch voices wail Your tribe capricious ranges Reckless of glory's changes; Love makes for ye a merry home amid the ruins pale. V. Another day and ye From knosp and turret's brow Shall with your fleet of crowding wings Air's viewless billows plough With no keen-fang'd regretting Our darken'd hill-sides quitting --Away in fond companionship as cheerily as now! VI. Woe for the Soul-endued-- The clay-enthrallèd Mind-- Leaving unlike you favour'd birds! Its all--its all behind. Woe for the exile mourning To banishment returning-- A mateless bird wide torn apart from country and from kind! VII. This moment blest as ye Beneath his own home-trees With friends and fellows girt around Up springs the western breeze Bringing the parting weather-- Shall all depart together? Ah no!--he goes a wretch alone upon the lonely seas. VIII. To him the mouldering tower-- The pillar'd waste to him A broken-hearted music make Until his eyelids swim. None heeds when he complaineth Nor where that brow he leaneth A mother's lips shall bless no more sinking to slumber dim. IX. Winter shall wake to spring And 'mid the fragrant grass The daffodil shall watch the rill Like Beauty by her glass But woe for him who pineth Where the clear water shineth With no voice near to say--How sweet those April evenings pass! X. Then while through Nature's heart Love freshly burns again Hither shall ye plumed travellers Come trooping o'er the main; The selfsame nook disclosing Its nest for your reposing That saw you revel years ago as you shall revel then.{C} XI. --Your human brother's lot! A few short years are gone-- Back back like you to early scenes-- Lo! at the threshold-stone Where ever in the gloaming Home's angels watch'd his coming A stranger stands and stares at him who sighing passes on. XII. Joy to the Travail-worn! Omnific purpose lies Even in his bale as in your bliss Careerers of the skies! When sun and earth that cherish'd Your tribes with you have perish'd A home is his where partings more shall never dim the eyes. FOOTNOTES: {A} ""They all quit together; and fly for a time east or west possibly in wait for stragglers not yet arrived from the interior--they then take directly to the south and are soon lost sight of altogether for the allotted period of their absence. Their rapidity of flight is well known and the 'murder-aiming eye' of the most experienced sportsman will seldom avail against the swallow; hence they themselves seldom fall a prey to the raptorial birds.""--CUVIER _edited by Griffiths_. Swallows are long-lived; they have been known to live a number of years in cages. {B} In the fanciful language of Chateaubriand ""This daughter of a king (the swallow) still seems attached to grandeur; she passes the summer amid the ruins of Versailles and the winter among those of Thebes."" {C} ""However difficult to be credited it seems to be ascertained beyond doubt that the same pair which quitted their nest and the limited circle of their residence here return to the very same nest again and this for several successive years; in all probability for their whole lives""--_Griffiths'_ CUVIER. THE DILIGENCE. A LEAF FROM A JOURNAL. A diligence is as familiar to our countrymen as a stage-coach; and as railroads flourish more amongst us than with our less commercial and enterprising neighbours it is probable that to many English travellers it is even more familiar. There is no need therefore to describe the portentous vehicle. Suffice it to say that of the three compartments into which it is divided I found myself lodged--not in the _coupée_ which looks out in front and which has the appearance of a narrow post-chaise that has been flattened and compressed in the effort to incorporate it with the rest of the machine--nor in the _rotunde_ behind where one rides omnibus-fashion--but in the central compartment the _interieur_ which answers to the veritable old English stage-coach and carries six. I was one of the central occupants of this central division; for I had not been so fortunate as to secure a corner seat. Now for the convenience of the luckless person who occupies this position there depends from the roof of the coach and hangs just before his face a broad leathern strap with a loop through which he can if so disposed place his arms; and when his arms are thus slung up he can further rest his head upon them or upon the strap and so seek repose. Whether he finds the repose he seeks is another matter. One half of the traveller swings like a parrot on his perch the other half jolts on stationary--jolts over the eternal stones which pave the roads in France. Perhaps there are who can go to roost in this fashion. And if it is recorded of any one that he ever slept in this state of demi-suspension--all swing above all shake below--I should like very much to know in the next place what sort of dreams he had. Did he fancy himself a griffin or huge dragon beating the air with his wings and at the same time trotting furiously upon the ground? Or in order to picture out his sensations was he compelled to divide himself into two several creatures and be at once the captured and half-strangled goose with all its feathers outstretched in the air and the wicked fox who is running away with it at full speed upon its back? As to myself in no vain expectation of slumber but merely for the sake of change of position I frequently slung my arms in this loop and leaning my head against the broad leathern strap I listened to the gossip of my fellow-travellers if there was any conversation stirring; or if all was still gave myself up to meditations upon my own schemes and projects. And here let me observe that I have always found that a journey in a stage-coach is remarkably favourable to the production of good resolution and sage designs for the future; which I account for partly on the ground that they cannot under such circumstances demand to be carried into immediate execution and therefore may be indulged in the more freely; and partly on this other ground that one who has become a traveller has loosened himself from his old customary moorings and so gives himself as it were a new starting-point in life from which he may if the spirit of delusion is still happily strong within him draw a mathematically straight line in the given direction A B to be the faithful index of his fu

ure career. What a generous sample of humanity it is that a well filled diligence carries out of the gates of Paris! The mountain of luggage upon the roof consisting of boxes of all shapes and sizes does not contain in its numerous _strata_ of stuffs and implements and garments rags and fine linen a greater variety of dead material than does the threefold interior with its complement of human beings of living character and sentiment. As to the observation not unfrequently made that Frenchmen have less variety of character than ourselves it is one which seems to me to have little or no foundation. Something there doubtless is of national character which pervades all classes and all classifications of men; and this colouring seen diffused over the mass makes us apprehend at first view that there is in the several parts a radical similarity which in fact does not exist. We have only to become a little more intimate with the men themselves and this national colouring fades away; while the strong peculiarities resulting from social position or individual temperament stand out in sharp relief. And in general I will venture to say of national character--whatever people may be spoken of--that one may compare it to the colour which the sea bears at different times or which different seas are said to be distinguished by: view the great surface at a distance it is blue or green or grey; but take up a handful of the common element and it is an undistinguishable portion of brackish water. It is French or Flemish or Spanish nature in the mass and at a distance; looked at closer and in the individual there is little else than plain human nature to be seen. But I did not open my journal to philosophize upon national character; but to record while it is still fresh in my memory some part of the conversation to which I was as I travelled along of necessity and whether willingly or unwillingly a listener. To the left of me the corner seats were occupied by two Englishmen--would it be possible to enter into a diligence without meeting at least two of our dear compatriots? They were both men in the prime of life in the full flush of health and apparently of wealth who from allusions which they dropt could evidently boast of being of good family and what follows of course--of having received an university education; and whom some one of our northern counties probably reckoned amongst its most famous fox-hunters. All which hindered not but that they proved themselves to belong to that class of English travellers who scamper about the Continent like so many big boisterous presumptuous school-boys much to the annoyance of every one who meets them and to the especial vexation of their fellow-countrymen who are not in general whatever may be said to the contrary an offensive or conceited race and are by no means pleased that the name of Englishmen should be made a by-word and a term of contempt. Opposite to me sat a Frenchman of rather formal and grave demeanour and dressed somewhat precisely. He was placed in a similar position in the diligence to myself; he had however curled up his leathern strap and fastened it to the roof. Apparently he did not think the posture to which it invited one of sufficient dignity; for during the whole journey and even when asleep I observed that he maintained a certain becomingness of posture. Beside me to the right sat a little lively Frenchwoman not very young and opposite to her and consequently in front also of myself was another lady a person of extreme interest who at once riveted the eye and set the imagination at work. She was so young so pale so beautiful so sad and withal so exceeding gentle in her demeanour that an artist who wished to portray Our Lady in her virgin purity and celestial beauty would have been ravished with the model. She had taken off her bonnet for the convenience of travelling and her dark brown hair hung curled round her neck in the same simple fashion it must have done when she was a child. She was dressed in mourning and this enhanced the pallor of her countenance; ill-health and sorrow were also evidently portrayed upon her features; but there was so much of lustre in the complexion and so much of light and intelligence in the eye that the sense of beauty predominated over all. You could not have wished her more cheerful than she was. Her face was a melody which you cannot quarrel with for being sad--which you could not desire to be otherwise than sad--whose very charm it is that it has made the tone of sorrow ineffably sweet. Much I mused and conjectured what her history might be and frequently I felt tempted to address myself in conversation to her; but still there was a tranquillity and repose in those long eyelashes which I feared to disturb. It was probable that she preferred her own reflections melancholy as they might be to any intercourse with others and out of respect to this wish I remained silent. Not so however my fellow-traveller of her own sex who far from practising this forbearance felt that she acted the kind and social part by engaging her in conversation. And so perhaps she did. For certainly after some time the beautiful and pensive girl became communicative and I overheard the brief history of her sufferings which I had felt so curious to know. It was indeed brief--it is not a three-volumed novel that one overhears in a stage-coach--but it had the charm of truth to recommend it. I had been lately reading Eugene Sue's romance _The Mysteries of Paris_ and it gave an additional interest to remark that the simple tale I was listening to from the lips of the living sufferer bore a resemblance to one of its most striking episodes. The shades of evening were closing round us and the rest of the passengers seemed to be preparing themselves for slumber as leaning forward on my leathern supporter I listened to the low sweet voice of the young stranger. ""You are surprised "" she said in answer to some remark made by her companion ""that one of our sex so young and of so delicate health should travel alone in the diligence; but I have no relative in Paris and no friend on whose protection I could make a claim. I have lived there alone or in something worse than solitude."" Her companion with a woman's quickness of eye glanced at the rich toilette of the speaker. It was mourning but mourning of the most costly description. ""You think "" she continued replying to this glance ""that one whose toilette is costly ought not to be without friends; but mine has been for some time a singular condition. Wealth and a complete isolation from the world have been in my fate strangely combined. They married me""---- ""What! are you a married woman and so young?"" exclaimed the lady who was addressed. ""I have been; I am now a widow. It is for my husband that I wear this mourning. They took me from the convent where I was educated and married me to a man whom I was permitted to see only once before the alliance was concluded. As I had been brought up with the idea that my father was to choose a husband for me and as the Count D---- was both handsome and of agreeable manners the only qualities on which I was supposed to have an opinion there was no room for objection on my part. The marriage was speedily celebrated. My husband was wealthy. Of that my father had taken care to satisfy himself; perhaps it was the only point on which he was very solicitous. For I should tell you that my father the only parent I have surviving is one of those restless unquiet men who have no permanent abode who delight in travelling from place to place and who regard their children if they have any in the light only of cares and encumbrances. There is not a capital in Europe in which he has not resided and scarcely a spot of any celebrity which he has not visited. It was therefore at the house of a maiden aunt--to whom I am now about to return--that I was married. ""I spent the first years of my marriage as young brides I believe generally do in a sort of trouble of felicity. I did not know how to be sufficiently thankful to Heaven for the treasure I found myself the possessor of; such a sweetness of temper and such a tenderness of affection did my husband continually manifest towards me. After a short season of festivity spent at the house of my aunt we travelled together without any other companion towards Paris where the Count had a residence elegantly fitted up to receive us. The journey itself was a new source of delight to one who had been hitherto shut up with her instructress in a convent. Never shall I forget the hilarity the almost insupportable joy with which the first part of this journey was performed. The sun shone out upon a beautiful landscape and there was I travelling alone with the one individual who had suddenly awoke and possessed himself of all my affections--travelling too with gay anticipations to the glorious city of Paris of which I had heard so much and in which I was to appear with all the envied advantages of wealth. ""As we approached towards Paris I noticed that my husband became more quiet and reserved. I attributed it to the fatigue of travelling to which my own spirits began to succumb; and as the day was drawing to a close I proposed at the next stage we reached that we should rest there and resume our journey the next morning. But in an irritable and impetuous manner of which I had never seen the least symptom before he ordered fresh horses and bade the postilion drive on with all the speed he could. Still as we travelled he grew more sullen became restless incommunicative and muttered occasionally to himself. It was now night. Leaning back in the carriage and fixing my eye upon the full moon that was shining brightly upon us I tried to quiet my own spirit somewhat ruffled by this unexpected behaviour of my husband. I observed after a short time that _his_ eye also had become riveted on the same bright object; but not with any tranquillizing effect for his countenance grew every minute more and more sombre. On a sudden he called aloud to the postilion to stop--threw open the carriage-door and walked in a rapid pace down towards a river that for some time had accompanied our course. I sprang after him. I overtook and grasped him as he was in the very act of plunging into the river. O my God! how I prayed and wept and struggled to prevent him from rushing into the stream. At length he sat down upon the bank of the river; he turned to me his wild and frenzied eye--he laughed--O Heaven! he was mad! ""They had married me to a madman. Cured or presumed to be cured of his disorder he had been permitted to return to society; and now his malady had broken out again. He who was to be my guide and protector who was my only support who took the place of parent friend instructor--he was a lunatic! ""For three dreadful hours did I sit beside him on that bank--at night--with none to help me--restraining him by all means I could devise from renewed attempts to precipitate himself into the river. At last I succeeded in bringing him back to the carriage. For the rest of the journey he was quiet; but he was imbecile--his reason had deserted him. ""We arrived at his house in Paris. A domestic assisted me in conducting him to his chamber; and from that time I the young wife who the other morning had conceived herself the happiest of beings was transformed into the keeper of a maniac--of a helpless or a raving lunatic. I wrote to my father. He was on the point of setting out upon one of his rambling expeditions and contented himself with appealing to the relatives of my husband who he maintained were the proper persons to take charge of the lunatic. They on the other hand left him to the care of the new relations he had formed by a marriage which had interfered with their expectations and claims upon his property. Thus was I left alone--a stranger in this great city of Paris which was to have welcomed me with all its splendours and festivities and its brilliant society--my sole task to soothe and control a maniac husband. It was frightful. Scarcely could I venture to sleep an hour together--night or day--lest he should commit some outrage upon himself or on me. My health is irretrievably ruined. I should have utterly sunk under it; but by God's good providence the malady of my husband took a new direction. It appeared to prey less upon the brain and more upon other vital parts of the constitution. He wasted away and died. I indeed live; but I too have wasted away body and soul for I have no health and no joy within me."" Just at this time a low murmuring conversation between my two fellow-countrymen at my left broke out much to my annoyance into sudden exclamation. ""By God! sir "" cried one of them ""I thrashed him in the _Grande Place_ right before the hotel there--what's its name?--the first hotel in Petersburg. Yes I had told the lout of a postilion who had grazed my britska against the curbstone of every corner we had turned that if he did it again I would _punish_ him; that is I did not exactly _tell_ him--for he understood no language but his miserable Russian of which I could not speak a word--but I held out my fist in a significant manner which neither man nor brute could mistake. Well just as we turned into the _Grande Place_ the lubber grazed my wheel again. I jumped out of the carriage--I pulled him--boots and all--off his horse and how I cuffed him! My friend Lord L---- was standing at the window of the hotel looking out for my arrival and was witness to this exploit. He was most dead with laughter when I came up to him."" ""I once "" said his interlocutor ""thrashed an English postilion after the same fashion; but your Russian with his enormous boots must have afforded capital sport. When I travel I always look out for _fun_. What else is the use of travelling? I and young B---- whom you may remember at Oxford were at a ball together at Brussels and what do you think we did? We strewed cayenne pepper on the floor and no sooner did the girls begin to dance than they began incontinently to sneeze. Ladies and gentlemen were curtsying and bowing and sneezing to one another in the most ludicrous manner conceivable."" ""Ha! ha! ha! Excellent! By the way "" rejoined the other ""talking of Brussels do you know who has the glory of that famous joke practised there upon the statues in the park? They give the credit of it to the English but on what ground except the celebrity they have acquired in such feats I could never learn."" ""I know nothing of it. What was it?"" ""Why you see amongst the statues in the little park at Brussels are a number of those busts without arms or shoulders. I cannot call to mind their technical name. First you have the head of a man then a sort of decorated pillar instead of a body and then again at the bottom of the pillar there protrude a couple of naked feet. They look part pillar and part man with a touch of the mummy. Now it is impossible to contemplate such a figure without being struck with the idea how completely at the mercy of every passer-by are both its nose--which has no hand to defend it--and its naked toes which cannot possibly move from their fixed position. One may tweak the one and tread upon the other with such manifest impunity. Some one in whom this idea no doubt wrought very powerfully took hammer and chisel and shied off the noses and the great toes of several of these mummy-statues. And pitiful enough they looked next morning."" ""Well that was capital!"" ""And the best of it is that even now when the noses have been put on again the figures look as odd as if they had none at all. The join is so manifest and speaks so plainly of past mutilation that no one can give to these creatures let them exist as long as they will the credit of wearing their own noses. The jest is immortal."" The recital of this excellent piece of _fun_ was followed by another explosion of laughter. The Frenchman who sat opposite to me--a man as I have said of grave but urbane deportment became curious to know what it was that our neighbours had been conversing about and which had occasioned so much hilarity. He very politely expressed this wish to me. If it was not an indiscretion he should like to partake he said in the wit that was flowing round him; adding perhaps superfluously that he did not understand English. ""Monsieur I am glad of it "" I replied. Monsieur who concluded from my answer that I was in a similar predicament with respect to the French language bowed and remained silent. Here the conversation to my left ceased to flow or subsided into its former murmuring channel and I was again able to listen to my fair neighbours to the right. The lively dame who sat by my side had now the word; she was administering consolations and philosophy to the young widow. ""At your age health "" said she ""is not irretrievable and sweet madam your good looks are left you. A touch of rouge upon your cheek and you are quite an angel. And then you are free--you will one day travel back again to Paris with a better escort than you had before."" And here she gave a sigh which prepared the hearer for the disclosure that was to follow. ""Now I "" she continued ""have been married but alas! am _not_ a widow. I have a husband standing out against me somewhere in the world. In the commercial language of my father I wish I could cancel him."" ""What! he has deserted you?"" said her fair companion in a sympathizing tone. ""You shall hear my dear madam. My father you must know is a plain citizen. He did not charge himself with the task of looking out a husband for his girls; he followed what he called the English plan--let the girls look out for themselves and contented himself with a _veto_ upon the choice if it should displease him. Now Monsieur Lemaire was a perfect Adonis; he dressed and danced and talked to admiration; no man dressed danced or talked better; his mirth was inexhaustible--his good-humour unfailing."" Well thought I to myself what is coming now? This lady at all events chose with her own eyes and had her own time to choose in. Is her experience to prove that the chance of securing a good husband is much the same let him be chosen how he may? ""No wonder then "" continued the lady ""that I accepted his proposal. The very thought of marrying him as paradise; and I _did_ marry him."" ""And so were really in paradise?"" said the widow with a gentle smile. ""Yes yes! it _was_ a paradise. It was a constant succession of amusements; theatre balls excursions--all enjoyed with the charming Lemaire. And he so happy too! I thought he would have devoured me. We were verily in paradise for three months. At the end of which time he came one morning into the room swinging an empty purse in the air--'Now I think ' said he with the same cheerful countenance that he usually wore 'that I have proved my devotion to you in a remarkable manner. Another man would have thought it much if he had made some sacrifice to gain possession of you for life; I have spent every farthing I had in the world to possess you for three months. Oh that those three months were to live over again! But every thing has its end.' And he tossed the empty purse in his hand. ""I laughed at what I considered a very pleasant jest; for who did not know that M. Lemaire was a man of ample property? I laughed still more heartily as he went on to say that a coach stood at the door to take me back to my father and begged me not to keep the coachman waiting as in that case the fellow would charge for time and it had taken his last sou to pay his fare by distance. I clapped my hands in applause of my excellent comedian. But gracious Heavens! it was all true! There stood the coach at the door the fare paid to my father's house and an empty purse was literally all that I now had to participate with the gay wealthy accomplished Lemaire."" ""What!"" I exclaimed with rage and agony as the truth broke upon me ""do you desert your wife?"" ""Desert my charming wife!"" he replied. ""Ask the hungry pauper who turns his back upon the fragrant _restaurant_ if he deserts his dinner. You are as beautiful as bright as lovely as ever--you cannot think with what a sigh I quit you!"" ""But""----and I began a torrent of recrimination. ""'But ' said he interrupting me 'I have not a sou. For you ' he continued 'you are as charming as ever--you will win your way only the better in the world for this little experience. And as for me--I have been in Elysium for three months; and that is more than a host of your excellent prudent men can boast of who plod on day after day only that they may continue plodding to the end of their lives. Adieu! my adorable--my angel that will now vanish from my sight!' And here in spite of my struggles he embraced me with the greatest ardour and then tearing himself away as if he only were the sufferer he rushed out of the room. I have never seen him since."" ""And such men really exist!"" said the young widow moved to indignation. ""For so short a season of pleasure he could deliberately compromise the whole of your future life."" ""Is it not horrible? His father it seems had left him a certain sum of money and this was the scheme he had devised to draw from it the greatest advantage. _Mais mon Dieu!_"" added the lively Frenchwoman ""of what avail to afflict one's-self? Only if he would but die before I am an old woman! And then those three months""---- Here the diligence suddenly stopped and the conductor opening the door invited us to step out and take some refreshment and so put an end for the present to this medley conversation. WHO WROTE GIL BLAS? In the year 1783 Joseph Francisco De Isla one of the most eminent of modern Spanish writers published a Spanish translation of Gil Blas. In this work some events were suppressed others altered the diction was greatly modified the topographical and chronological errors with which the French version abounded were allowed to remain and the Spanish origin of that celebrated work was asserted on such slender grounds and vindicated by such trifling arguments as to throw considerable doubt on the fact in the opinion of all impartial judges. The French were not slow to seize upon so favourable an occasion to gratify their national vanity; and in 1818 M. le Comte François de Neufchateau a member of the French Institute and an Ex-minister of the Interior published a dissertation in which after a modest insinuation that the extraordinary merit of Gil Blas was a sufficient proof of its French origin the feeble arguments of Padre Isla were triumphantly refuted and the claims of Le Sage to the original conception of Gil Blas were asserted to the complete satisfaction of all patriotic Frenchmen. Here the matter rested till in 1820 Don Juan Antonio Llorente drew up his reasons for holding the opinion of which Isla had been the unsuccessful advocate and with even punctilious courtesy transmitted them before publication to M. Le Montey by whose judgment in the matter he expressed his determination to abide. M. Le Montey referred the matter to two commissioners--one being M. Raynouard a well-known and useful writer the other M. Neufchateau the author whom Llorente's work was intended to refute. This literary commission seems to have produced as little benefit to the public as if each of the members had been chosen by a political party had received a salary varying from £1500 to £2000 a-year and been sent into Ireland to report upon the condition of the people or into Canada to discover why French republicans dislike the institutions of a Saxon monarchy. To be sure the advantage is on the side of the French academicians; for instead of sending forth a mass of confused contradictory and ill-written reports based upon imperfect evidence and leading to no definite conclusion the literary commission as Llorente informs us was silent altogether; whereupon Llorente attributing not unnaturally this preternatural silence on the part of the three French _savans_ to the impossibility of finding any thing to say after the lapse of a year and a half publishes his arguments and appeals to literary Europe as the judge ""en dernier ressort"" of this important controversy. Llorente however was too precipitate; for on the 8th of January 1822 M. de Neufchateau presented to the French Academy an answer to Llorente's observations on which we shall presently remark. It is maintained by the ingenious writer Llorente--whose arguments with such additions and remarks as have occurred to us upon the subject we propose to lay before our readers 1st That Gil Blas and the Bachiller de Salamanca were originally one and the same romance. 2dly That the author of this romance was at any rate a Spaniard. 3dly That his name was Don Antonio de Solis y Ribadeneira author of _Historia de la Conquista de Méjico_. 4thly That Le Sage turned the single romance into two; repeating in both the same stories slightly modified and mixing them up with other translations from Spanish novels. As the main argument turns upon the originality of Le Sage considered as the author of Gil Blas we shall first dispose in a very few words of the third proposition; and for this purpose we must beg our readers to take for granted during a few moments that Gil Blas was the work of a Spaniard and to enquire supposing that truth sufficiently established who that Spaniard was. Llorente enumerates thirty-six eminent writers who flourished in 1655 the period when as we shall presently see the romance in question was written. Of these Don Louis de Guevarra author of the Diablo Cojuelo Francisco de Santos José Pellicer and Solis are among the most distinguished. Llorente however puts all aside--and all except Pellicer perhaps for very sufficient reasons--determining that Solis alone united all the attributes and circumstances belonging to the writer of Gil Blas. The writer of Gil Blas was a Castilian--this may be inferred from his panegyric on Castilian wit which he declares equal to that of Athens; he must have been a dramatic writer from his repeated criticisms on the drama and the keenness with which he sifts the merit of contemporary dramatic authors; he must have been a great master of narrative and thoroughly acquainted with the habits and institutions of his age and country; he must have possessed the art of enlivening his story with caustic allusions and with repartees; he must have been perfectly conversant with the intrigues of courtiers and have acquired from his own experience or the relation of others an intimate knowledge of the private life of Olivarez and the details of Philip IV.'s court. All these requisites are united in Solis:--he was born at Alcalá de Henares a city of Castile; he was one of the best dramatic writers of his day the day of Calderon de la Barca. That he was a great historical writer is proved by his _Conquista de Méjico_; his comedies prove his thorough knowledge of Spanish habits; and the retorts and quiddities of his Graciosos flash with as much wit as any that were ever uttered by those brilliant and fantastic denizens of the Spanish stage. He was a courtier; he was secretary to Oropezo viceroy successively of Navarre and of Valencia and was afterwards promoted by Philip IV. to be ""Oficial de la Secretaria"" of the first minister Don Louis de Haro and was allowed as an especial mark of royal favour to dispose of his place in favour of his relation. This happened about the year 1654--corresponding as we shall see exactly with the mission of the Marquis de Lionne. Afterwards he was appointed Cronista Mayor de las Indias and wrote his famous history. These are the arguments in favour of Solis which cannot be offered in behalf of any of his thirty-six competitors. It is therefore the opinion of Llorente that the honour of being the author of Gil Blas is due to him; and in this opinion supposing the fact which we now proceed to investigate that a Spaniard and not Le Sage was the author of the work is made out to their satisfaction our readers will probably acquiesce. The steps by which the argument that Gil Blas is taken from a Spanish manuscript proceeds are few and direct. It abounds in facts and allusions which none but a Spaniard could know: this is the first step. It abounds in errors that no Spaniard could make--(by the way this is much insisted upon by M. de Neufchateau who does not seem to perceive that taken together with the preceding proposition it is fatal to his argument:) this is the second step and leads us to the conclusion that the true theory of its origin must reconcile these apparent contradictions. A Spanish manuscript does account for this inconsistency as it would furnish the transcriber with the most intimate knowledge of local habits names and usages; while at the same time it would not guard him against mistakes which negligence or haste or the difficulty of deciphering a manuscript in a language with which the transcriber was by no means critically acquainted must occasion. Still less would it guard him against errors which would almost inevitably arise from the insertion of other Spanish novels or the endeavour to give the work a false claim to originality by alluding to topics fashionable in the city and age when the work was copied. The method we propose to follow is to place before the reader each division of the argument. We shall show a most intimate knowledge with Spanish life clearly proving that the writer whoever he is is unconscious of any merit in painting scenes with which he was habitually familiar. Let any reader compare the facility of these unstudied allusions with the descriptions of a different age or time even by the best writers of a different epoch and country however accurate and dramatic they may be--with _Quentin Durward_ or _Ivanhoe_ for instance; or with Barante's _Histoire des Ducs de Bourgogne_ and they will see the force of this remark. In spite of art and ability and antiquarian knowledge it is evident that a resemblance is industriously sought in one case and is spontaneous in the other; that it is looked upon as a matter of course and not as a title to praise by the first class of writers while it is elaborately wrought out as an artist's pretension to eminence in the second. If Le Sage had been the original author of Gil Blas he would have avoided the multiplication of circumstances names and dates; or if he had thought it necessary to intersperse his composition with them he would have contented himself with such as were most general and notorious; the minute circuitous and oblique allusions which it required patient examination to detect and vast local knowledge to appreciate could not have fallen within his plan. Secondly--We shall point out the mistakes some of them really surprising even in a foreign writer with regard to names dates and circumstances oversetting every congruity which it was manifestly Le Sage's object to establish. We shall show that the Spanish novels inserted by him do not mix with the body of the work; and moreover we shall show that in one instance where Le Sage hazarded an allusion to Parisian gossip he betrayed the most profound ignorance of those very customs which in other parts of the work passing under his name are delineated with such truth of colouring and Dutch minuteness of observation. If these two propositions be clearly established we have a right to infer from them the existence of a Spanish manuscript as on any other hypothesis the claims of an original writer would be clashing and contradictory. M. Neufchateau as we have observed reiterates the assertion that the errors of Gil Blas are such as no Spaniard could commit leaving altogether unguarded against the goring horn of the dilemma which can only be parried by an answer to the question--how came it to pass that Le Sage could enumerate the names of upwards of twenty inconsiderable towns and villages upwards of twenty families not of the first class; and in every page of his work represent with the most punctilious fidelity the manners of a country he never saw? Nay how came it to pass that instead of avoiding minute details local circumstances and the mention of particular facts as he might easily have done he accumulates all these opportunities of mistake and contradiction descends to the most trifling facts and interweaves them with the web of his narrative (conscious of ignorance as according to M. Neufchateau he must have been) without effort and without design. Let us begin by laying before the readers the _pièces du procès_. First we insert the description of Le Sage given by two French writers. ""Voici ce que disoit Voltaire à l'article de Le Sage dan

la première édition du Siècle de Louis XIV.:-- ""'Son roman de Gil Blas est demeuré parcequ'il y a du naturel.' ""Dans les editions suivantes du Siècle de Louis XIV. Voltaire ajoute un fait qu'il se contente d'énoncer simplement comme une chose hors de doute; c'est que Gil Blas est pris entièrement d'un livre écrit en Espagnol et dont il cite ainsi le tître--La vidad de lo Escudero Dom Marco d'Obrego--sans indiquer aucunement la date l'auteur ni l'objet de cette vie de l'écuyer Dom Marco d'Obrego."" ""Extrait du Nouveau Porte-feuille historique poetique et litteraire de Bruzen de La Martinière. ""'Baillet n'entendoit pas l'Espagnol. Au sujet de Louis Velés de Guevarra auteur Espagnol dans ses jugements des savants sur les poètes modernes § 1461 il dit: On a de lui plusieurs comedies qui ont été imprimées en diverses villes d'Espagne et une pièce facétieuse sous le tître El Diabolo Cojuelo novella de la otra vida: sur quoi M. de La Monnoye fait cette note. Comment un homme qui fait tant le modeste et le reservé a-t-il pu écrire un mot tel que celui-la? Cette note n'est pas juste. Il semble que M. de La Monnoye veuille taxer Baillet de n'avoir pas sontenu le caractère de modestie qu'il affectoit. Baillet ne faisoit pas le modeste il l'étoit véritablement par état et par principe; et s'il eût entendu le mot immodeste ce mot lui auroit été suspect; il eut eu recours à l'original où il auroit trouvé Diablo et non Diabolo Cojuelo et non Cojudo et auroit bien vîte corrigé la faute. Mais comme il n'entendoit ni l'un ni l'autre de ces derniers mots il lui fut aisé en copiant ses extraits de prendre un _el_ pour un _d_ et de changer par cette légère différence Cojuelo qui veut dire boiteux en Cojudo qui signifie quelqu'un qui a de gros testicules et sobrino l'exprime encore plus grossièrement en François. M. de La Monnoye devoit moins s'arrêter à l'immodestie de l'épithète qu'à la corruption du vrai tître le Guevarra."" ""Au reste c'est le même ouvrage que M. La Sage nous a fait connoître sous le tître du Diable Boiteux; il l'a tourné à sa manière mais avec des différences si grandes que Guevarra ne se reconnoîtroit qu'à peine dans cette pretendue traduction. Par exemple le chapitre xix de la seconde partie contient une aventure de D. Pablas qui se trouve en original dans un livre imprimé à Madrid en 1729 (sic.) L'auteur des lectures amusantes qui ne s'est pas souvenu que M. Le Sage en avoit inséré une partie dans son Diable Boiteux l'a traduite de nouveau avec assez de liberté mais pourtant en s'écartant moins de l'original et l'a insérée dans sa première partie à peu près telle qu'elle se lit dans l'original Espagnol. Mais M. Le Sage l'a traitée avec de grands changements c'est sa manière d'embellir extrêmement tout ce qu'il emprunte des Espagnols. C'est ainsi qu'il en a usé envers Gil Blas dont il a fait un chef-d'oeuvre inimitable.""--(Pages 336-339 édition de 1757 dans les _Passetemps Politiques Historiques et Critiques_ tome 11 in 12.) As an example of the accuracy with which Le Sage has imitated his originals we quote the annexed passages from Marcos de Obregon--Page 3. ""En leyendo el villete dixo al que le traia: Dezilde a vuestro amo que di goyo que para cosas que me inportan mucho gusto no me suelo leuantar hasta las doze del dia: que porque quiere que pare matarme me leuante tan demañana? y boluiendose del otro lado se tornô a dormir."" ""Don Mathias prit le billet l'ouvrit et après l'avoir lu dit an valet de Don Lope. 'Mon enfant je ne me leverois jamais avant midi quelque partie de plaisir qu'on me pût proposer; juge si je me leverai à six heures du matin pour me battre. Tu peux dire à ton maître que s'il est encore à midi et demi dans l'endroit où il m'attend nous nous y verons: va lui porter cette réponse.' A ces mots il s'enfonça dans son lit et ne tarda guère à se rendormir."" ""No quereys que siéta ofensa hecha a un corderillo como este? a una paloma sin hiel a un mocito tan humilde y apazible que aun quexarse no sabe de una cosa tan mal hecha? cierto y quisiera ser hombre en este punto para végarle."" ""'Pourquoi ' s'écria-t-elle avec emportement--pourquoi ne voulez-vous pas que je ressente vivement l'offense qu'on a fait à ce petit agneau à cette colombe sans fiel qui ne se plaint seulement pas de l'outrage qu'il a reçu? Ah! que ne suis-je homme en ce moment pour le venger!"" After this we think we are fairly entitled to affirm that Le Sage was not considered by his contemporaries as a man of original and creative genius; although he possessed in an eminent degree the power of appropriating and embellishing the works of others that his style was graceful his allusions happy and his wit keen and spontaneous. If any one assert that this is to underrate Le Sage and that he is entitled to the credit of an inventor let him cite any single work written by Le Sage except _Gil Blas_ in proof of his assertion. Of course _Gil Blas_ is out of the question. Nothing could be more circular than an argument that Le Sage because he possessed an inventive genius might have written _Gil Blas_; and that because he might have written _Gil Blas_ he possessed an inventive genius. This being the case let us examine his biography. Le Sage was born in 1668 at Sargan a small town near Vannes in Bretagne; at twenty-seven he published a translation of Aristoenætus; and declining from his love of literature the hopes of advancement which had he taken orders were within his reach he came to Paris where he contracted an intimate friendship with the Abbé de Lyonne who settled a pension on him taught him Spanish and bequeathed to him his library--consisting among other works of several Spanish manuscripts--at his death. His generous benefactor was the third son of Hugo Marquis de Lyonne one of the most accomplished and intelligent men in France. In 1656 he was set on a secret mission to Madrid; the object of this mission was soon discovered in the peace of the Pyrenees 1650 and the marriage of Maria Theresa of Austria eldest daughter of Philip IV. with Louis XIV. During his residence in Spain the Marquis de Lyonne lived in great intimacy with Louis de Haro Duke of Montoro. The Marquis de Lyonne was passionately fond of Spanish literature; he not only purchased all the printed Spanish works he could procure but a vast quantity of unprinted manuscripts in the same language all which together with the rest of his library became at his death the property of his son the Abbé de Lyonne--the friend patron and testator of Le Sage. To these facts must be added another very important circumstance that Le Sage never entered Spain. Of this fact fatal as it is to Le Sage's claims Padre Isla was ignorant; but it is stated with an air of triumph by M. Neufchateau is proved by Llorente and must be considered incontestable. The case then as far as external evidence is concerned stands thus. Le Sage a master of his own language but not an inventive writer and who had never visited Spain contracts a friendship which gives him at first the opportunity of perusing and afterwards the absolute possession of a number of Spanish manuscripts. Having published several elegant paraphrases and translations of printed Spanish works he published _Gil Blas_ in several volumes at long intervals as an original work; after this he published the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ which he calls himself a translation from a Spanish manuscript of which he never produces the original. Did the matter rest here much suspicion would be thrown upon Le Sage's claims to the authorship of _Gil Blas_; but we come now to the evidence arising ""ex visceribus causæ "" from the work itself and the manner of its publication. The chief points of resemblance between Gil Blas and the Bachelier de Salamanque are the following:-- 1. The Bachelier de Salamanque is remarkable for his logical subtilty--so is Gil Blas. 2. The doctor of Salamanque by whom the bachelor is supported after his father's death is avaricious--so is Gil Blas's uncle the canon of Oviedo Gil Perez. 3. The doctor recommends the bachelor of Salamanca to obtain a situation as tutor--the canon gives similar advice to Gil Blas. 4. The bachelor is dissuaded from becoming a tutor--Fabricio dissuades Gil Blas from taking the same situation. 5. A friar of Madrid makes it his business to find vacant places for tutors--a friar of Cordova in Gil Blas does the same. 6. The bachelor is obliged to leave Madrid because he is the favoured lover of Donna Lucia de Padilla--Gil Blas is obliged to leave the Marquise de Chaves for the same reason. 7. Bartolome the comedian encourages his wife's intrigues--Melchier Zapata does the same. 8. The lover of Donna Francisca in Granada is a foreign nobleman kept there by important business--the situation of the Marquis de Marialva is the same. 9. The comedian abandons an old and liberal lover for Fonseca who is young and poor--Laura prefers Louis de Alaga to his rival for the same reason. 10. Bartolome to deceive Francisca assumes the name of Don Pompeio de la Cueva--to deceive Laura Gil Blas pretends to be Don Fernando de Ribera. 11. _Le Bachelier_ contains repeated allusions to Dominican friars and particularly to Cirilo Carambola--similar allusions abound in _Gil Blas_ where Louis de Aliaga confessor of Philip III. is particularly mentioned. 12. The character of Diego Cintillo in the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ is identical with that of Manuel Ordoñez in _Gil Blas_. 13. An aunt of the Duke of Uzeda obtains for the bachelor the place of secretary in the minister's office--Gil Blas obtains the same post by means of an uncle of the Count of Olivarez. 14. The bachelor whilst secretary at Uzeda assists in bringing about his patron's daughter's marriage--Gil Blas does the same whilst secretary of the Duke of Olivarez. 15. Francisca the actress is shut up in a convent at Carthagena because the corregidor's son falls in love with her--Laura in _Gil Blas_ is shut up in a convent because the corregidor's only son falls in love with her. 16. The adventures of Francisca and Laura resemble each other. 17. So do those of Toston and Scipio. 18. Toston and Scipio both lose their wives; and both disbelieve in reality though they think proper to accept the excuses they make on their return. 19. _Finally_ in _Gil Blas_ we find a vivid description of the habits and manners prevalent in the European dominions of Spain during the reigns of Philip III. and Philip IV. But in no part of _Gil Blas_ do we find any allusion to the habits and manners of the viceroy's canons nuns and monks of America; and yet Scipio is dispatched with a lucrative commission to New Spain. It may fairly be inferred therefore that so vast a portion of the Spanish monarchy did not escape the notice of the attentive critic who wrote _Gil Blas_; and the silence can only be accounted for by the fact that the principal anecdotes relating to America were reserved to make out the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ from the remainder of which _Gil Blas_ was taken. Now the dates of _Gil Blas_ and the Bachelier de Salamanque were these:--the two first volumes of _Gil Blas_ were published in 1715 the third volume in 1724 which it is clear he intended to be the last. First from the Latin verses with which it closes; and secondly from the remark of the anachronism of Don Pompeyo de Castro which he promises to correct if his work gets to a new edition. In 1735 he published a fourth volume of _Gil Blas_ and in 1738 the two volumes of the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ as a translation. Will it be said that Le Sage's other works prove him to have been capable of inventing _Gil Blas_? It will be still without foundation. All his critics agree that though well qualified to embellish the ideas of others and master of a flowing and agreeable style he was not an inventive or original writer. Such is the language of Voltaire M. de la Martinière and of Chardin and even of M. Neufchateau himself; and yet it is to a person of this description that the authorship of _Gil Blas_ second only to _Don Quixote_ in prose works of fiction has been attributed. Among the topics insisted upon by the Comte de Neufchateau as most clearly establishing the French origin of _Gil Blas_ an intimate acquaintance with the court of Louis XIV. and frequent allusions to the most remarkable characters in it are very conspicuous. But to him who really endeavours to discover the country of an anonymous writer such an argument unless reduced to very minute details and contracted into a very narrow compass will not appear satisfactory. He will recollect that the extremes of society are very uniform that courts resemble each other as well as prisons; and that as was once observed if King Christophe's courtiers were examined the great features of their character would be found to correspond with those of their whiter brethren in Europe. The abuses of government the wrong distribution of patronage the effects of clandestine influence the solicitations and intrigues of male and female favourites the treachery of confidants the petty jealousies and insignificant struggles of place-hunters are the same or nearly so in every country; and it requires no great acuteness to detect or courage to expose their consequences--the name of Choiseul or Uzeda or Buckingham or Bruhl or Kaunitz may be applied to such descriptions with equal probability and equal justice. But when the Tiers Etat are portrayed when the satirist enters into detail when he enumerates circumstances when local manners national habits and individual peculiarities fall under his notice; when he describes the specific disease engendered in the atmosphere by which his characters are surrounded; when to borrow a lawyer's phrase he condescends to particulars then it is that close and intimate acquaintance with the scenes and persons he describes is requisite; and that a superficial critic falls at every step into errors the most glaring and ridiculous. There are many passages of this description in _Gil Blas_ to which we shall presently allude; in the mean time let us follow the advice of Count Hamilton and begin with the beginning-- ""Me voila donc hors d'Oviédo sur le chemin de Peñaflor au milieu de la campagne maître de mes actions d'une mauvaise mule et de quarante bons ducats sans compter quelques réaux que j'avois volés à mon très-honoré oncle. ""La première chose que je fis fut de laisser ma mule aller à discrétion c'est-à-dire au petit pas. Je lui mis la bride sur le cou et tirant mes ducats de ma poche je commençai à les compter et recompter dans mon chapeau. Je n'étois pas maître de ma joie; je n'avois jamais vu tant d'argent; je ne pouvois me lasser de le regarder et de le manier. Je la comptois peut-être pour la vingtième fois quand tout-à-coup ma mule levant la tête et les oreilles s'arrêta au milieu du grand chemin. Je jugeai que quelque chose l'effrayoit; je regardai ce que ce pouvoit être. J'aperçus sur la terre un chapeau renversé sur lequel il y avoit un rosaire à gros grains et en meme temps j'entendis une voix lamentable qui prononça ces paroles: Seigneur passant ayez pitié de grace d'un pauvre soldat estropié: jetez s'il vous plait quelques pièces d'argent dans ce chapeau; vous en serez recompensé dans l'autre monde. Je tournai aussitôt les yeux du côté d'où partoit la voix. Je vis au pied d'un buisson à vingt ou trente pas de moi une espèce de soldat qui sur deux batons croisés appuyoit le bout d'une escopette qui me parut plus longue qu'une pique et avec laquelle il me couchoit en joue. A cette vue qui me fit trembler pour le bien de l'église je m'arretai tout court; je serrai promptement mes ducats; je tirai quelques reaux et m'approchant du chapeau disposé à recevoir la charité des fidèles effrayés je les jetai dedans l'un après l'autre pour montrer au soldat que j'en usois noblement. Il fut satisfait de ma generosité et me donna autant de bénédictions que je donnia de coups de pieds dans les flancs de ma mule pour m'eloigner promptement de lui; mais la maudite bête trompant mon impatience n'en alla pas plus vite; la longue habitude qu'elle avoit de marcher pas à pas sous mon oncle lui avoit fait perdre l'usage du galop."" In France the custom of travelling on mules was unknown so was the coin ducats so was that of begging with a rosary and of extorting money in the manner in which Gil Blas describes. In fact the ""useful magnificence "" as Mr Burke terms it of the spacious roads in France and the traffic carried on upon them would render such a manner of robbing impossible. How then could Le Sage who had never set his foot in Spain hit upon so accurate a description? Again Rolando explains to Gil Blas the origin of the subterraneous passages to which an allusion is also made by Raphael; now such are in France utterly unknown. Rolando giving an account of his proceedings says that his grandfather who could only ""_dire son rosaire_ "" ""_rezar su rosario_."" This is as foreign to the habits of a ""vieux militaire François "" as any thing that can be imagined; and on the other hand exactly conformable to those of a Spanish veteran:-- ""Nous demeurâmes dans le bois la plus grande partie de la journée sans apercevoir aucun voyageur qui pût payer pour le religieux. Enfin nous en sortîmes pour retourner an souterrain bornant nos exploits à ce risible événement qui faisoit encore le sujet de notre entretien lorsque nous decouvrîmes de loin un carrosse à quatre mules. Il venoit à nous au grand trot et il étoit accompagné de trois hommes à cheval qui nous parurent bien armés."" In this statement are many circumstances irreconcilable with French habits. 1st A whole day passing without meeting a traveller on the high-road of Leon an event common enough in Spain but in France almost impossible; 2d the escort of the coach a common precaution of the Spanish ladies against violence--the fact that the coach is drawn by mules not horses of which national trait six other instances may be found in the same story:-- ""Plusieurs personnes me voulurent voir par curiosité. Ils venoient l'un après l'autre se présenter à une petite fenêtre par où le jour entroit dans ma prison; et lorsqu'ils m'avoient considéré quelque temps ils s'en alloient. Je fus surpris de cette nouveauté: depuis que j'étois prisonnier je n'avois pas vu un seul homme se montrer à cette fenêtre qui donnoit sur une cour où regnoient le silence et l'horreur. Je compris par là que je faisois du bruit dans la ville mais je ne savois si j'en devois concevoir un bon ou mauvais presage."" ... ""Là dessus le juge se retira en disant qu'il alloit ordonner au concierge de m'ouvrir les portes. En effet un moment après le geolier vint dans mon cachot avec un de ses guichetiers qui portoit un paquet de toile. Ils m'otèrent tous deux d'un air grave et sans me dire un seul mot mon pourpoint et mon haut-de-chausses qui étoit d'un drap fin et presque neuf; puis m'ayant revêtu d'une vieille souquenille ils me mirent dehors par les épaules."" This is an exact description of the manner in which prisoners were treated in Spain but bears not the slightest resemblance to any abuse that prevailed at that time in France:-- ""Une fille de dix ans que la gouvernante faisoit passer pour sa nièce en depit de la médisance vint ouvrir; et comme nous lui demandions si l'on pouvoit parler au chanoine la dame Jacinte parut. C'étoit une personne deja parvenue à l'âge de discretion mais belle encore; et j'admirai particulièrement la fraîcheur de son teint. Elle portoit une longue robe d'un étoffe de laine la plus commune avec une large ceinture de cuir d'où pendoit d un côté un trousseau de clefs et de l'autre un chapelet à gros grains""--""Rosario de cuentas gordas.""--_Lib. II._ _c._ 1. This is an exact description of a class of women well known in Spain by the name Beata but utterly unknown in France till the Soeurs de Charité were instituted:-- ""Pendant qu'ils étoient ensemble j'entendis sonner midi. Comme je savois que les secretaires et les commis quittoient à cette heure la leurs bureaux pour aller diner où il leur plaisoit je laissai là mon chef-d'oeuvre et sortis pour me rendre non chez Monteser parcequ'il m'avoit payé mes appointemens et que j'avois pris congé de lui mais chez le plus fameux traiteur du quartier de la cour.""-_Lib. III._ During the reign of Philip III. and Philip IV. and even till the time of Charles IV. twelve was the common hour of dinner and all the public offices were closed: this is very unlike the state of things in Paris during the reign of Louis XV. when this romance was published. In Spain owing in part to the hospitality natural to unsettled times and a simple people in part to the few strangers who visited the Peninsula inns were for a long time almost unknown and the occupation of an innkeeper who sold what his countrymen were delighted to give was considered degrading: so dishonourable indeed was it looked upon that where an executioner could not be found to carry the sentence of the law into effect upon a criminal the innkeeper was compelled to perform his functions: therefore the innkeepers like usurers and other persons who follow a pursuit hostile to public opinion were profligate and rapacious. Don Quixote teems with instances to this effect; and there are other allusions to the same circumstance in _Gil Blas_. It must be observed that if M. Le Sage stumbled by accident upon so great a peculiarity he was fortunate; and if it was suggested to him by his own enquiries they were more profound in this than in most other instances. The Barber describing his visit to his uncle's (1 2 7 ) mentions the narrow staircase by which he ascended to his relation's abode. Here again is a proof of an intimate acquaintance with the structure of the hotels of the Spanish grandees: in all of them are to be found a large and spacious staircase leading to the apartments of the master and a small one leading to those of his dependents. So the hotel in which Fabricio lives (3 7 13 ) and that inhabited by Count Olivarez are severally described as possessing this appurtenance. It is singular that Le Sage who seems to have been almost as fond of Paris as Socrates was of Athens should have picked up this intimate knowledge of the hotels of Madrid. The knowledge of music and habit of playing upon the guitar in the front of their houses is another stroke of Spanish manners which no Frenchman is likely to have thought of adding to his work (1 2 7.) Marcelina puts on her mantle to go to mass. This custom prevailed in Spain till the sceptre passed to the Bourbons--in many towns till the time of Charles III. and in small villages till the reign of Charles IV. Gil Blas joins a muleteer (1 3 1 ) with four mules which had transported merchandise to Valladolid--this method of carrying goods is not known in France. The same observation applies to 3 3 7. Rolando informs Gil Blas (1 3 2 ) ""Lorsqu'il eut parlé de cette sorte il nous fit enfermer dans un cachot où il ne laissa pas languir mes compagnons; ils en sortirent au bout de trois jours pour aller jouer un rôle tragique dans la grande place."" This exactly corresponds with the Spanish custom which was to allow prisoners capitally convicted three days to prepare for a Christian death. Rolando continues ""Oh! je regrette mon premier metier j'avoue qu'il y a plus de sûreté dans le nouveau; mais il y a plus d'agrément dans l'autre et j'aime la liberté. J'ai bien la mine de me defaire de ma charge et de partir un beau matin pour aller gagner les montagnes qui sont aux sources du Tage. Je sais qu'il y a dans cet endroit une retraite habitée par une troupe nombreuse et remplie de sujets Catalans: c'est faire son éloge en un mot. Si tu veux m'accompagner nous irons grosser le nombre de ces grands hommes. Je serai dans leur compagnie capitaine en second; et pour t'y faire recevoir avec agrément j'assurerai que je t'ai vu dix fois combattre à mes côtés."" The chain of mountains of Cuença Requena Aragon y Abaracin in which the Tagus rises does contain such excavations as Rolando employed for such purposes as Rolando mentions (1 3 11.) The grace of Carlos Alfonso de la Ventolera in managing his cloak was an Andalusian accomplishment and an accomplishment which ceased to prevail when the Bourbons entered Spain. It could not have been applied to describe a Castilian as it was confined to the inhabitants of Murcia Andalusia Valencia and la Mancha. How could Le Sage have known this? When the Count Azumar dines with Don Gonzalo Pacheco the conversation turns on bull-fights (2 4 7.) ""Leur conversation roula d'abord sur une course de taureaux qui s'étoit faite depuis peu de jours. Ils parlèrent des cavaliers qui y avoient montré le plus d'adresse et de vigueur; et la-dessus le vieux comte tel que Nestor à qui toutes les choses presentes donnoient occasion de louer les choses passées dit en soupirant--Hélas! je ne vois point aujourd'hui d'hommes comparables à ceux que j'ai vus autrefois ni les tournois ne se font pas avec autant de magnificence qu'on les faisoit dans ma jeunesse."" This alludes to the ""Caballeros de Plaza "" as they were called gentlemen by birth animated by the love of glory very different from the hired Picadors. This custom of the Spanish gentlemen which many of our fox-hunting and pheasant-shooting squires will condemn for its cruelty was very common during the reigns of Philip III. and IV. but gradually declined and was at last only prevalent at the _Fiestas Reales_. The last example was known in 1789 to celebrate the _jura_ of the Prince of Asturia afterwards the pious and exemplary Ferdinand VII. This must have been before his attempted parricide. Ambrosio de Lamela in order to accomplish his designs on Simon (2 6 1 ) purchases articles at Chelva in Valencia among others-- ""Il nous fit voir un manteau et une robe noire fort longue deux pourpoints avec leurs hauts-de-chausses une de ces écritoires composées de deux pièces liées par un cordon et dont le cornet est séparé de l'etui où l'on met les plumes; une main de beau papier blanc un cadenas avec un gros cachet et de la cire verte; et lorsqu'il nous eut enfin exhibé toutes ses emplettes Don Raphael lui dit en plaisantant: Vive Dieu! Monsieur Ambroise il faut avouer que vous avez fait là un bon achat."" Now this is a faithful portrait of the inkstand called Tintero de Escribano which the Spanish scriveners always carry about with them and which it is most improbable that M. Le Sage should ever have seen in his life or indeed have heard of but through the medium of a Spanish manuscript. The account proceeds; and the distinction which the reader will find taken with so much accuracy between the inquisitor and familiar of the holy office is one which however familiar to every Spaniard it is not likely a Frenchman should be acquainted with. In France the inquisitor was confounded with the commissary and all were supposed to be Dominican friars. ""Là mon garçon barbier étala ses vivres qui consistoient das cinq ou six oignons avec quelques morceaux de pain et de fromage: mais ce qu'il produisit comme la meilleure pièce du sac fut une petite outre remplie disoit-il d'un vin delicat et friand "" (2 6.) This custom of carrying wine in a leathern bag is a peculiar trait of Spanish manners. Catalena the chambermaid of Guevarra nurse of Philip IV. obtains from her mistress for Ignatio the archdeaconry of Granada which as ""pais de conquista "" was subject to the crown's disposal:-- ""Cette soubrette qui est la même dont je me suis servi depuis pour tirer de la tour de Segovie le seigneur de Santillane ayant envie de rendre service à Don Ignacio engagea sa maîtresse à demander pour lui un bénéfice an Duc de Lerme. Ce ministre le fit nommer à l'archidiaconat de Granade lequel étant en pays conquis; est à la nomination du roi."" Now that Le Sage should have been acquainted with this fact for fact it unquestionably is does appear astonishing. Till the concordat of 1753 the kings of Spain could only present to dignities in churches subject to the royal privilege among which was this of Granada by virtue of particular bulls issued at the time of its conquest. This is a fact however with which very few Spaniards were acquainted. Antonio de Pulgar in his _Cronica de Los Reyes Catholicos_ c. 22 tells us that Isabella ""En el proueer de las yglesias que vacaron en su tiempo ouo respecto tan recto que pospuesta toda afficion siempre supplico al Papa por hombres generosos y grandes letrados y de vida honesta; lo que no se lee que con tanta diligencia ouiesse guardado ningun rey de los passados."" Another remarkable passage and to us almost conclusive is the following-- ""Je le menai au comte-duc qui le reçut très poliment et lui dit qu'il s'étoit si bien conduit dans son gouvernement de la ville de Valence que le roi le jugeant propre à remplir une plus grande place l'avoit nommé à la viceroyauté d'Aragon. D'ailleurs ajouta-t-il cette dignité n'est point au-dessus de votre naissance et la noblesse Aragonoise ne sauroit murmurer contre le choix de la cour."" This alludes to a dispute between the Spanish government and the Aragonese which had continued from the days of Charles V. The Aragonese claimed either that the king himself should reside among them or be represented by some person of the royal blood. Charles V. appointed as viceroy of Aragon his uncle the Archbishop of Zaragoza and then Don Fernando de Aragon his cousin. Philip II. appointed a Castilian to that dignity. This produced great disturbances in Aragon and the dispute lasted till 1692 when the Aragonese settled the matter by putting the Castilian viceroy Inigo de Mendoza to death. His successor was an Aragonese Don Miguel de Luna Conde de Morata and he was succeeded by Don John of Austria his brother. It is most improbable that M. Le Sage whose knowledge of Spanish literature was very superficial and whose ignorance of Spanish history was complete should have understood this allusion. This therefore leads to the conclusion that it must have been taken from a Spanish manuscript. In conformity with this we find Mariana saying in the days of Ferdinand and Isabella--""Los Aragoneses no querian recebir por Virrey a D. Ramon Folch Conde de Cardona que el rey tenia señalado para este cargo; decian era contra sus fueros poner en el gobierno de su reyno hombre extrangero. Hobo demandas y respuestas mas al fin el rey temporizo con ellos y nombro por Virrey a su hijo D. Alonso de Aragon Arzobispo de Zaragoza."" Can any one doubt that the writer of the following passage had seen the spot he describes? ""Il me fit traverser une cour et monter par un escalier fort étroit à une petite chambre qui étoit tout an haut de la tour. Je ne fus pas peu surpris en entrant dans cette chambre de voir sur une table deux chandelles qui bruloient dans des flambeaux de cuivre et deux couverts assez propres. Dans un moment me dit Tordesillas on va nous apporter à manger: nous allons souper ici tous deux. C'est ce reduit que je vous ai destiné pour logement. Vous y serez mieux que dans votre cachot; vous verrez de votre fenêtre les bords fleuris de l'Erêma et la vallée delicieuse qui du pied des montagnes qui separent les deux Castilles s'étend jusqu'à Coca. Je suis bien que vous serez d'abord peu sensible à une si belle vue mais quand le temps aura fait succeder une douce mélancolie à la vivacité de votre douleur vous prendrez plaisir à promener vos regards sur des objets si agréables."" These notices of reference taken at random are all adapted to the places at which they are found--the narrative leads to them by regular approximation or they are suggested by the subject and occasion which it draws forth. To introduce a given story into the body of a writing without abruptness or marks of unnatural transition ""Ut per læve moventes Effundat junctura ungues."" is as Paley observes one of the most difficult artifices of composition; and here are upwards of a hundred Spanish names circumstances and allusions incorporated with the story written as M. Neufchateau assures us by a Frenchman concerning the court of Louis XIV. A line touching on truth in so many points could never have been drawn accidentally; it is the pencil thrown luckily full upon the horse's mouth and expressing the foam which the painter with all his skill could not represent without it. Let the reader observe how difficult Le Sage has found the task of connecting the anecdotes taken from

Marcos de Obregon and put into the mouth of Diego with the main story. How awkward is this transition? ""Le _seigneur_ Diego de La Fuente me raconta d'autres aventures encore qui lui étoient arrivées depuis; mais elles me semblent si peu dignes d'être rapportées que je les passerai sous silence."" The next branch of the argument which we are called upon to consider relates to the Spanish words in _Gil Blas_ which imply the existence of a Spanish manuscript. The names Juan Pedro often occur in Le Sage's work and Pierre Jean are sometimes used in their stead. The word _Don_ is prefixed by the Spaniards to the Christian and never to the surname as Don Juan Don Antonio not Don Mariana Don Cervantes. In France _Dom_ its synonyme is on the contrary prefixed to the surname--as Dom Mabillon Don Calmet. Le Sage always adheres to the Spanish custom. The robber who introduces Gil Blas to the cavern says ""Tenez Dame Leonarde voici un jeune garçon "" &c. Again ""On dressa dans le salon une grande table et l'on me renvoya dans la cuisine où la _Dame_ Leonarde m'instruisit de ce que j'avais a faire.... Et comme depuis sa mort c'étoit la _Senora Leonarda_ qui avoit l'honneur de présenter le nectar à ces dieux infernaux "" &c. This expression ""Señora Leonarda "" is much in favour of a Spanish original; why should not Le Sage have repeated the expression ""Dame Leonarde "" on which we have a few observations to offer had it not been that he thought the word under his eyes at the moment would lend grace and vivacity to the narrative. A French writer would have said ""Tenez Leonarde "" or perhaps ""Tenez Madame Leonarde;"" but such a phrase as ""Tenez Dame Leonarde "" in a French writer can be accounted for only by the translation of ""señora."" So we have ""la Señora Catalena "" (7 12)--""la Señora Sirena "" (9 7)--and ""la Señora Mencia "" (8 10) of the French version and instead of ""une demoiselle "" ""une jeune dame "" which is a translation of ""señorita."" In giving an account of his projected marriage with the daughter of Gabriel Salero Gil Blas says (9 1)--""C'étoit un bon bourgeois qui étoit comme nous disons poli hasta porfiar. Il me présenta la Señora Eugenia sa femme et la jeune Gabriela sa fille."" Here are three Spanish idioms--""hasta porfiar "" which Le Sage thinks it necessary to explain ""la Señora Eugenia "" ""Gabriela."" Diego de la Fuente tells his friend ""J'avois pour maître de cet instrument un vieux 'señor escudero ' à qui je faisois la barbe. Il se nommoit Marcos Dôbregon."" A French author instead of ""señor escudero "" would have said ""vieux ecuyer;"" a Spanish transcriber would have written ""Marcos de Obregon."" We have (x. 3 11) ""Señor Caballero des plus lestes "" ""romances"" instead of ""romans "" (1 5 ) ""prado"" instead of ""pré "" twice (4 10; 7 13.) Laura says--""Un jour il nous vint en fantaisie à Dorothée et à moi d'aller voir joner les comédiens de Seville. Ils avaient affiché qu'ils representaient _la famosa comedia_ et Embajador de si mismo de Lope de Vega Carpio.... En fin le moment que j'attendais étant arrivé c'est-à-dire la fin de _la famosa comedia_ nous nous en allâmes."" We have ""hidalgo"" instead of ""gentilhomme"" three times; ""contador mayor"" twice once used by Chinchillo again by the innkeeper at Suescas ""oidor"" instead of ""juge"" or ""membre de la cour royale "" ""escribano"" instead of ""notaire "" (8 9.) ""Hospital de niños"" instead of ""hospice des enfans orphelins "" ""olla podrida"" three times ""marmalada de berengaria "" (9 4 ) and ""picaro"" instead of ""fripon "" (4 10 12.) Scipio says ""un jour comme je passois auprès de l'église de los reyes."" There is at Toledo a church named ""San Juan de los Reyes."" How could Le Sage who never had been in Spain know this fact? Gil Blas thus relates an event at Valencia--""Je m'en approchai pour apprendre pourquoi je voyois là un si grand concours d'hommes et de femmes et bientôt je fus au fait en lisant ces paroles écrites en lettres d'or sur une table de marbre noir qu'il-y avait audessus de la porte '_La posada de los representantes_ ' et les comédiens marquaient dans leur affiche qu'ils joueraient ce jour-là pour la première fois une tragédie nouvelle de Don Gabriel Triaguero."" This passage is an attestation of the fact that during the reign of Philip IV. the buildings of the Spanish provinces in which dramatic performances were represented were at the same time the residence ""posada "" of the actors--a custom even now not altogether extinguished; but which Le Sage could only know through the medium of a Spanish manuscript. Gil Blas imprisoned in the tower of Segovia hears Don Gaston de Cavallos sing the following verses-- ""Ayde nie un año _felice_ Parece un soplo ligero Pero sin duda un instante Es un siglo de tormento."" Where did Le Sage find these verses sweet gracious and idiomatic as they are? The use of the word ""felice"" for ""feliz"" is a poetical license and displays more than a stranger's knowledge of Spanish composition. It has been said that Smollett has left many French words in his translation of Gil Blas and that too strong an inference ought not to be drawn from the employment of Spanish phrases by Le Sage. But what are the words? Are they words in the mouth of every one and such as a superficial dilettante might easily pick up; or do they either of themselves or from the conjunctures in which they are employed exhibit a consummate acquaintance with the dialect and habits of the people to which they refer? Besides it should be remembered that French is a language far more familiar to well-educated people in England than Spanish ever was to the French and that Smollett had lived much in France; whereas Le Sage knew from books alone the language which he has employed with so much colloquial elegance and facility. We now turn to the phrases and expressions in French which Le Sage has manifestly translated. The first word which occurs in dealing with this part of the subject is ""seigneur"" as a translation for ""señor;"" ""seigneur"" in France was not a substitute for ""monsieur "" which is the proper meaning of ""señor."" On the use of the word ""dame"" we have already commented. Instead of Dame Leonarde and Dame Lorenzo Sephora a French writer would have put ""Madame"" or ""la cuisinière "" or ""la femme de chambre "" as the case might be. So the exclamation of the highwayman ""Seigneur passant "" &c. must be a translation of ""Señor passagero."" Describing the parasite at Peñaflor Gil Blas says ""le cavalier portait une longue rapière et il s'approcha de moi d'un air empressé _Seigneur_ écolier me dit-il je viens d'apprendre que vous êtes le _seigneur_ Gil Blas de Santillane. Je lui dis _seigneur_ cavalier je ne croyois pas que mon nom fût connu à Penáflor."" ""Le cavalier"" means a man on horseback which is not a description applicable to the parasite; ""chevalier"" is the French word for the member of a military order. ""Cet homme "" or ""ce monsieur "" would have been the expression of Le Sage if ""este caballero"" had not been in the manuscript to be copied. ""Carillo"" for ""Camillo "" ""betancos"" for ""betangos "" ""rodillas"" for ""revilla;"" and yet M. Le Sage is not satisfied with making his hero walk towards the Prado of Madrid but goes further and describes it as the ""pré de Saint Jerome""--Prado de Ste Geronimo which is certainly more accurate. Again he speaks of ""la Rue des Infantes"" at Madrid (8 1)--""De los Infantos is the name of a street in that city--and in the same sentence names ""une vieille dame Inesile Cantarille."" Inesilla is the Spanish diminutive of Ines and Cantarilla of Cantaro. The last word alludes to the expression ""mozas de Cantaro "" for women of inferior degree. Philip III. shuts up Sirena ""dans la maison des repenties."" This is also the name of a convent at Madrid called ""casa de las arrepentidas."" But a still stronger argument in favour of the existence of a Spanish manuscript is to be found in the passage which says that Lucretia the repentant mistress of Philip IV. ""quitte tout à coup le monde et se ferme dans le monastère de la _Incarnacion_;"" that having been founded by Philip III. in compliance with the will of Doña Margarita his wife it was reserved expressly for nuns connected in some way with the royal family of Spain; and that therefore Lucretia having been the mistress of Philip IV. was entitled to become a member of it. ""Nous aperçumes _un réligieux de l'ordre de Saint Domingue_ monté _contre l'ordinaire de ces bons pères sur une mauvaise mule_.{A} _Dieu soit loué_ s'écria le capitaine."" In this sentence all the passages in Italics are of Spanish origin. ""_Seigneur cavalier_ vous êtes bien heureux qu'on se soit adressé à moi plutôt qu'à un autre: je ne veux point décrier mes confrères: à _Dieu ne plaise_ que je fasse le moindre tort à leur réputation: mais entre nous il n'y en a pas un qui ait de la conscience--_ils sont tous plus durs que des Juifs_. Je suis le seul fripier qui ait de la morale: je ne borne à un prix raisonable; je me contente de la livre pour sou--je veux dire du sou pour livre. _Grâces au ciel_ j'exerce rondement ma profession."" Here we find ""Seigneur cavalier "" ""à Dieu ne plaise "" which is the common Spanish phrase ""no permita Dios "" ""Grâces an ciel "" instead of ""Dieu merci "" from ""Gracias a Dios."" A little further we find the phrase ""_Seigneur gentilhomme_ "" which can only be accounted for as a translation of ""Señor hidalgo;"" ""garçon de famille "" (1 17 ) ""bénéfice simple "" (11 17) are neither of them French expressions. ""The virtuous Jacintha "" says Fabricio ""mérite d'être la gouvernante du patriarche des Indes."" Now it is impossible that the existence of such a dignity as this should have been known at Paris. It was of recent creation and had been the subject of much conversation at Madrid. ""Garçon de bien et d'honneur "" (1 2 1 ) ""un mozo hombre de bien y de honor."" ""Je servis un potage qu'on auroit pu présenter _au plus fameux directeur de Madrid_ et deux entrées qui auroient eu de quoi piquer la sensualité _d'un viceroi_."" It is impossible not to see that the first of the phrases in italics is a translation ""del director mas famoso de Madrid;"" first because a Frenchman would have used ""célèbre "" and secondly because the word ""director"" in a different sense from that of confessor was unknown at Madrid. The allusion to the Viceroy a functionary unknown to the French government also deserves notice. The notaire hastening to Cedillo takes up hastily ""son manteau et son chapeau."" This infers a knowledge on the part of the writer that the Spanish scrivener never appeared however urgent the occasion without his ""capa."" We have the word ""laboureurs"" applied to substantial farmers (1 2 7.) This is a translation of ""labradores "" to which the French word does not correspond as it means properly men dependent on daily labour for their daily bread. ""J'ai fait éléver "" says the schoolmaster of Olmedo ""un théatre sur lequel Dieu aidant je ferai réprésenter par mes _disciples_ une pièce que j'ai composée. Elle a pour titre les jeunes amours de Muley Bergentuf Roi de Moroi."" ""_Disciples_"" is a translation of ""discipulos."" A French writer would have said ""élèves."" Again the title of the Pedant's play is thoroughly Spanish. It was intended to ridicule the habit which prevailed in Spain after the expulsion of the Moriscoes in 1610 of adapting for the stage Moorish habits and amusements by making a stupid pedant in an obscure village select them as the subject of his tragedy. Describing the insolence of the actors Gil Blas says ""Bien loin de traiter d'excellence les seigneurs elles ne leur donnoient pas même _de la seigneurie_."" This would hardly be applicable to the manners of the French. The principal of Lucinde's creditors ""se nommoit Bernard Astuto qui meritoit bien son nom."" The signification of the name is clear in Spanish; but in French the allusion is totally without meaning. This probably escaped Le Sage in the hurry of composition or it would have been easy to have removed so clear a mark of translation. The following mark is still stronger. Speaking of Simon the bourgeois of Chelva he says--""Certain Juif qui s'est fait Catholique mais dans le fond de l'âme il est encore _Juif comme Pilate_."" Now the lower classes of Spain perpetually fall into this error of calling Pilate a Jew; and this is a trait which could hardly have occurred to a foreign writer however well acquainted with Spain much less to a writer who had never set his foot in that country. Here we cannot help observing that the whole scene from which this passage is taken is eminently Spanish. In Spain only was such a proceeding possible as the scheme for deprecating Simon executed by Lucinda and Raphael. The character of the victim the nature of the fraud the absence of all suspicion which such proceedings would necessarily provoke in any other country are as conclusive proofs of Spanish origin as moral evidence can supply. Count Guliano is found playing with an ape ""pour dormir _la siesta_."" Lucretia says to Gil Blas ""Je vous rends de très humbles grâces "" ""doy a usted muy umildes gracias."" A French writer would have said ""Je vous remercie infiniment."" Melendez is described as living ""à la Porte du Soleil du coin de la Rue des Balustrées "" ""esquina de la Calle de Cofreros."" There is such an alley as this but it is unknown to ninety-nine Spaniards in a hundred. Beltran Moscada tells Gil Blas ""Je vous reconnois bien moi--nous avons joué mille fois tous deux _à la Gallina ciega_."" This Le Sage thinks it necessary to explain by a note to inform his readers that it is the same as ""Colin Maillard."" From all these various phrases and expressions scattered about in different passages of Gil Blas and taken almost at random from different parts of the work the conclusion that it was copied from a Spanish manuscript appears inevitable. Le Sage has named Sacedon Buendia Fuencarrat Madrid Campillo Aragon Penaflor Castropot Asturias; Salcedo Alava; Villaflor Cebreros Avila; Tardajos Kevilla Puentedura Burgos; Villar-de-saz; Almodovar Cuença; Almoharin Monroy Estremadura; Adria Gavia Vera Granada; Mondejar Gualalajara; Vierzo Ponferrada Cacabelos Leon; Calatrava Castilblanco Mancha; Chinchilla Lorque Murcia; Duenas Palencia; Colmenar Coca Segovia; Carmona Mairena Sevilla; Cobisa Galvez Illescas Loeches Maqueda Kodillas Villarejo Villarrubia Toledo; Bunol Chelva Chiva; Gerica Liria Paterna Valencia; Ataquines Benavente Mansilla Mojados Olmedo Penafiel Puente de Duero Valdestillas Valladolid. The story of _Gil Blas_ contains the names of no less than one hundred and three Spanish villages and towns of inferior importance many of them are unknown out of Spain--such as Albarracin Antequera Betanzos Ciudad Real Coria Lucena Molina Mondonedo Monzon Solsona Trujillo Ubeda. There are also cited the names of thirteen dukes--Alba Almeida Braganza Frias (condestable de Castilia ) Lerma Medina-celi Medina de Rioseco (almirante de Castilia ) Medina-Sidonia Medina de las Tarres (Marques de Toral ) Mantua Osuna Sanlucar la Mayor y Uceda. Eleven marquises--De Almenara Carpia Chaves Laguardia Leganes Priego Santacruz Toral Velez Villa-real y Zenete. Eight condes--De Azumar Galiano Lemos Montanos Niebla Olivares Pedrosa y Polan. Of these four only are fictitious. It is remarkable also that one title cited in _Gil Blas_ that of Admirante de Castilia did not exist when Le Sage published his romance--Felipe V. having abolished it to punish the holder of that dignity for having embraced the cause of the house of Austria. Nor are there wanting the names of persons celebrated in their day among the inhabitants of the Peninsula. Such are Fray Luis Aliago confessor of Philip III. Archimandrite of Sicily and inquisitor-general Don Rodrigo Calderon secretary of the king Calderon de la Barca Antonio Carnero secretary of the king Philip IV. Cervantes Geronimo de Florencia Jesuit preacher of Philip IV. Fernando de Gamboa one of the gentlemen of his bedchamber Luis de Gongora Aña de Guevarra his nurse Maria de Guzman only daughter of Olivarez Henry Philip de Guzman his adopted son Baltasar de Zuniga uncle of Olivarez Lope de Vega Carpio Luis Velez de Guevarra Juana de Velasco making in all nineteen persons. There are the names of not only thirty-one families of the highest class in Spain as Guzman Herrera Mendoza Acuna Avila Silva &c. but twenty-five names belonging to less illustrious but still distinguished families; and twenty-nine names really Spanish but applied to imaginary characters. This makes a list of eighty-five names which it seems impossible for any writer acquainted only with the lighter parts of Spanish literature to have accumulated. Nor should it be forgotten that there are forty-five names intended to explain the character of those to whom they are given like Mrs Slipslop and Parson Trulliber retained by Gil Blas notwithstanding the loss of their original signification. Doctor Andros don Añibal de Chinchilla Alcacer Apuntador Astuto Azarini Padre Alejos y Don Abel Buenagarra Brutandof Campanario Chilindron Chinchilla Clarin Colifichini Cordel Coscolina Padre Crisostomo Doctor Cuchillo Descomulgado Deslenguado Escipion Forero Guyomar Ligero Majuelo Mascarini Melancia Mogicon Montalban Muscada Nisana Doctor Oloroso Doctor Oquetos Penafiel Pinares Doctor Sangrado Stheimbach Samuel Simon Salero Talego Touto Toribio Triaquero Ventolera Villaviciosa are all names of this sort. Who but a Spaniard then was likely to invent them? Were there no other argument the case for Spain might almost safely be rested on this issue. But this is not all since the mistakes orthographical and geographical which abound in the French edition of _Gil Blas_ carry the argument still further and place it beyond the reach of reasonable contradiction. The reader will observe that much of the question depends upon the fact admitted on all sides that Le Sage did not transcribe his version from any printed work but from a manuscript. Had Le Sage merely inserted stories here and there taken from Spanish romances his claims as an original writer would hardly be much shaken by their discovery supposing the plot with which they were skilfully interwoven and the main bulk and stamina of the story to be his own. But where the errors are such as can only be accounted for by mistakes not of the press but of the copies of a manuscript and are fully accounted for in that manner--where they are so thickly sown as to show that they were not errors made by a person with a printed volume before his eyes but by a person deciphering a manuscript written in a language of which he had only a superficial acquaintance no candid enquirer will hesitate as to the inference to which such facts lead and by which alone they can be reconciled with the profound and intimate knowledge of Spanish literature habits and manners to which we have before adverted. The innkeeper of Peñaflor is named _Corcuelo_ in the French version an appellation utterly without meaning. The real word was _Corzuelo_ a diminutive from _corzo_ which carries a very pointed allusion to the character of the person. It was usual to write instead of the _z_--_c_ with a cedilla and this was probably the origin of the mistake. The innkeeper of Burgos is called in the French text _Manjuelo_ which is not Spanish and is equally unmeaning. The original undoubtedly was _Majuelo_ the diminutive of _Majo_ which is very significant of the class to which the person bearing the name belonged. The person to whom Gil Blas applies for a situation at Valladolid is called in the French text _Londona_. The real word is Londoño the name of a village near Orduña in Biscay. _Inesile_ is the name given to the niece of Jacinta. This is instead of _Inesilla_ and corresponds with the French Agnés. Castel Blargo is used for Castel Blanco. Rodriguez says to his master ""Je ne touche pas un maravé_dis_ de vos finances."" The word in the manuscript was _marivedi_. Le Sage has used the plural for the singular. ""Seguier "" a proper name is used for ""Seguiar."" ""De la Ventileria"" is the unmeaning name given to a frivolous coxcomb instead of ""De la Ventilera."" Le Sage speaking of the same person sometimes calls her ""Doña _K_imena de Guzman "" and sometimes ""Doña _Ch_imena "" a manifest proof that ""Doña _X_imena"" was written in the work from which he transcribed; as the French substitute sometimes _k_ and sometimes _ch_ for the Spanish _x_. Pedros is used for Pedroga (the name of a noble family.) Moyades for Miagades (a village.) Zendero for Zenzano (do.) Salceda for Salcedo (do.) Calderone for Calderon. Oliguera for Lahiguera. Niebles for Niebla. Jutella for Antella. Leiva for Chiva. After Gil Blas's promotion he says that his haughty colleague treated him with more respect; and this is expressed in such a way as to show that Le Sage was ignorant of Spanish etiquette and did not understand thoroughly the meaning of what he transcribed. ""Il Don Rodrigo de Calderone ne m'appela plus que Seigneur de Santillane lui qui jusqu'alors ne m'avoit traité que de _vous_ sans jamais se servir du terme de seigneurie "" supposing the meaning equivalent--whereas in fact though Gil Blas might complain of not being addressed in the third person which would draw with it the use of señor and was a common form of civility--it would have been ridiculous to represent him as addressed by a name señoria to which none but people of high station and illustrious rank were entitled. But Le Sage supposed that every one addressed as señor might also be spoken of by the term señoria; a mistake against which a very moderate knowledge of Spanish usages would have guarded him. We may illustrate this by a quotation from Navarete:-- ""En este estado enviaron a decir a Magallanes.... Que si se queria avenir a lo que cumpliese al servicio de S. M. estarian a lo que les mandase y que si hasta entonces le dieron tratamiento de merced _en adelante se lo darian de senoria_ y le besarian pies y manos."" This was intended as a proof of the greatest reverence by the mutineers whom notwithstanding this submission Magallanes took an early opportunity to destroy. Gil Blas relates the absurd resolution of the Conde Duque D'Olivarez to adopt the son of a person with whom he among others had intrigued as his own. This anecdote was well known in Spain. The supposed father of this youth was an alcalde de corte called Valcancel; and _he_ had been rivaled by an alguazil. The son was called in the early part of his life Julian Valcancel. When adopted by Olivarez he took the name of Eurique Felipe de Guzman which the people said ought to be exchanged for that of Del Alguazil del Alcalde de Corte. Olivarez divorced him from the woman to whom he was certainly married and obliged him to marry the daughter of the Duca de Frias. He was called by the people of Madrid a man with two names the son of three fathers and the husband of two wives. Le Sage by substituting the name of Valdeasar for that of Valcancel proves that he was ignorant of the whole transaction. In the _auto da fé_ which Gil Blas sees at Toledo and in which his old friends terminate their adventures in so tragical a manner--some of the guilty are represented as wearing _carochas_ on their heads. This is a word altogether without meaning; the real word was _corozas_ a cap worn by criminals as a badge of degradation. Another mistake deserves attention as supplying the strongest proof of an inaccurate transcriber. ""J'espère "" says Maître Joachim to his master ""que je vous servirai tantôt un ragout digne d'un _can_tador mayor."" The word was not ""_can_tador "" but ""_con_tador mayor "" the ""ministro de hacienda "" or chancellor of the exchequer; a situation under a despotic government of the highest dignity and opulence. So Don Annibal de Chinchilla exclaims--""Me croit-elle un contador mayor "" when repelling a demand of a rapacious prostitute. But Le Sage mistook the _o_ of his manuscript for an _a_ and turned a phrase very intelligible into nonsense. We now come to the passage which M. Neufchateau quotes as decisive in favour of Le Sage's claims. It certainly was to be found in no Spanish manuscript. ""Don Louis nous mena chez un jeune gentilhomme de ses amis qu'on appeloit don Gabriel de Pedros. Nous y passâmes le reste de la journée; nous y soupâmes même et nous n'en sortîmes que sur les deux heures après minuit pour nous en retourner au logis. Nous avions peut-être fait la moitié du chemin lorsque nous rencontrâmes sous nos pieds dans la rue deux hommes étendus par terre. Nous jugeâmes que c'étoient des malheureux qu'on venoit d'assassiner et nous nous arretâmes pour les secourir s'il en étoit encore temps. Comme nous cherchions à nous instruire autant que l'obscurité de la nuit nous le pouvoit permettre de l'état où ils se trouvoient la patrouille arriva. Le commandant nous prit d'abord pour des assassins et nous fit environner par ses gens; mais il eut meilleure opinion de nous lorsqu'il nous eut entendus parler et qu'à la faveur d'une lanterne sourde il vit les traits de Mendoce et de Pacheco. Ses archers par son ordre examinèrent les deux hommes que nous nous imaginions avoir été tués; et il se trouva que c'étoit un gros licencie avec son valet tous deux pris de vin ou plutôt ivres-morts. 'Messieurs ' s'écria un des archers 'je reconnois ce gros vivant. Eh! c'est le seigneur licencie Guyomar recteur de notre université. Tel que vous le voyez c'est un grand personnage un génie superieur. Il n'y a point de philosophe qu'il ne terrasse dans une dispute; il a un flux de bouche sans pareil. C'est dommage qu'il aime un peu trop de vin le procès et la grisette. Il revient de souper de chez son Isabella où par malheur son guide s'est enivre comme lui. Ils sont tombes l'un et l'autre dans le ruisseau. Avant que le bon licencie fut recteur cela lui arrivoit assez souvent. Les honneurs comme vous voyez ne changent pas toujours les moeurs.' Nous laissâmes ces ivrognes entre les mains de la patrouille qui eut soin de les porter chez eux. Nous regagnâmes notre hôtel et chacun ne songea qu'à se reposer."" Now this story pierces to the heart the theory which M. Neufchateau cites it in order to establish. It is an anecdote incorporated by Le Sage with the rest of the work; and how well it tallies with a Spanish story and the delineation of Spanish manners let the reader judge. The rector of the university of Salamanca was required to unite a great variety of qualifications. In the first place his birth must have been noble for several generations; not perhaps as many as a canon of Strasburg was required to trace but more than it was possible for the great majority even of well born gentlemen to produce. The situation indeed was generally conferred upon the members of the second class of nobility and very often upon those of the first. He was a judge with royal and pontifical privileges exempt from the authority of the bishop in ecclesiastical and from the royal tribunals in secular matters. His morals were sifted with the strictest scrutiny; and yet this dignified ecclesiastic is the person whom Le Sage represents as lying in the streets stupefied with intoxication and this not from accident but from habitual indulgence in a vice which throughout Spain is considered infamous and which none but those who are below the influence of public opinion and even those but in rare instances are ever known to practise. To call a man a drunkard in Spain is considered a worse insult than to call him a thief; and the effect of the story is the same as if a person pretending to describe English manners were to represent the Lord Chancellor as often in custody on a charge of shoplifting and permitted in consideration of his abilities still to remain in office and exercise the duties of his station. The principal topographical errors are the following:--Doña Mencia names to Gil Blas two places on the road near Burgos--these she calls Gofal and Rodillas; the real names are Tardagal and Revilla (1 11;) Ponte de Mula is put for Puenta Duro (1 13;) Luceno for Luyego; Villardera for Villar del Sa (5 1;) Almerim for Almoharia (5 1;) Sliva for Chiva (7 1;) Obisa for Cobisa (10 10;) Sinas for Linas; Mililla for Melilla; Arragon for Aragon. Describing his journey from Madrid to Oviedo Gil Blas says they slept the first night at Alcala of Henares and the second at Segovia. Now Alcala is not on the road from Madrid to Segovia nor is it possible to travel in one day from one of these cities to the other--probably Galapagar was the word mistaken. Penafiel is mentioned as lying on the road from Segovia to Valladolid (10 1;) this is for Portillo. Now if Le Sage had invented the story and clothed it with names of Spanish cities and villages taken from _printed_ books can any one suppose that he could have fallen into all these errors? A thread of Spanish history winds through the whole story of _Gil Blas_ and keeps every circumstance in its place; therefore the date of the hero's birth may be fixed with the greatest precision. He tells us he was fifty-eight at the death of the Count Duke of Olivarez that is 1646; Gil Blas was therefore born 1588 and this corresponds altogether with different allusions which show that when the romance was written the war between Spain and Portugal was present to the author's mind and the subject of his constant animadversion. Portugal as our readers may recollect became subject to the Spanish yoke in 1580 the Duke of Braganza was raised to the throne of that kingdom in 1640; and the war to which that event gave rise was not terminated till 1668; when Charles II. acknowledged Alphonso VI. as the legitimate ruler of Portugal. That when the work was written the war between Spain and Portugal continued may be inferred from the fact that the mention of Portugal is perpetually accompanied with some allusion to hostilities which were then carried on between the two countries. The romance must therefore have been written between the disgrace of the Count Duke 1646 and the recognition of Portuguese independence 1668. But we may contract the date of the work within still narrower limits. It could not have been written before 1654 as the works of Don Augustini Moreto none of which were published before 1654 are cited in it--it is not of later date because there is no allusion in any part of the work to the death of Philip IV. to the peace of the Pyrenees or to any other ministers but Lerma Uzeda and Olivarez. Don Louis de Haro Marquis of Carpio and Duke of Montora is not mentioned moreover. Gil Blas describing himself to Laura says that he is the only son of Fernando de Ribera who fell in a battle on the frontiers of Portugal fifteen years before. This is a prolepsis; for the battle was fought in 1640. But this manifest anachronism which entirely escaped Le Sage was intended by the author as an autograph a sort of ""chien de Bassano "" to point out the real date of the work. Bearing in mind then that Gil Blas was born in 1588; that Portugal was annexed to Spain in 1580 without a struggle; and remained subject to its dominion till 1640; let us consider the anachronisms in which Le Sage has plunged himself partly through his ignorance of Spanish history partly from the attempt to interpolate other Spanish novels with the main body of the work he has translated. One of these is confessed by Le Sage himself and occurs in the story of Don Pompeio de Castro inserted in the first volume. Don Pompeio is supposed to relate this story at Madrid in 1607; in it a king of Portugal is spoken of at that time as being an independent sovereign. Now in the third volume of the seventh book in the year 1608 Pedro Zamora tells Laura with whom he has eloped that they were in security in Portugal a foreign kingdom though actually subject to the crown of Spain. Now this is quite correct and here Le Sage's attention was called to the anachronism above cited in his preceding volume which he undertakes to correct in another edition--a promise which he fulfilled by the clumsy expedient of transferring the scene from Portugal to Poland. But how comes it to pass that Le Sage who singles out with such painful anxiety the error to which we have adverted suffers others of equal importance to pass altogether unnoticed? For instance in the twelfth book eighth chapter Olivarez speaks of a journey of Philip IV. to Zarag

za; which took place indeed but not until two years after the disgrace of Olivarez. Cogollos speaking in 1616 alludes to a circumstance connected with the revolt of Portugal in 1640; Olivarez sixteen months afterwards mentions the same circumstance saying to Cogollos--""Your patron though related to the Duke of Braganza had I am well assured no share in his revolt."" In 1607 Gil Blas being the servant of Don Bernardo de Castel Blanco says that some suppose his master to be a spy of the king of Portugal a personage who at that time did not exist. Now if Le Sage intended to leave to posterity a lasting and unequivocal proof of his plagiarism how could he do so more effectually than by dwelling on one anachronism as an error which he intended to correct in a work swarming in every part with others equally flagrant of which he takes no notice? We have mentioned these mistakes particularly as being mistakes into which the original author had fallen and which as his object was not to give an exact relation of facts he probably disregarded altogether. And here again we must repeat our remark that these perpetual allusions indicate a writer not afraid of exposing himself by irretrievable blunders and certain of being understood by those whom he addressed. A Spaniard writing for Spaniards would of course take it for granted that his countrymen were acquainted with those very facts and allusions which Le Sage sometimes formally endeavours to explain and sometimes is unable to detect; while a writer conscious as the French author was of a very imperfect acquaintance with the language and usages of Spain would never indulge in those little circumstantial touches which a Spaniard could not help inserting. We now come to errors of Le Sage himself. Doña Mencia speaks of her first husband dying in the service of the king of Portugal five or six years after the beginning of the seventeenth century. Events are described as taking place in the time of Philip II. under the title of Le Mariage de Vengeance which happened three hundred years before at the time of the Sicilian Vespers 1283. Gil Blas after his release from the tower of Segovia tells his patron Alonzo de Leyva that four months before he held an important office under the Spanish crown; while he tells Philip IV. that he was six months in prison at Segovia. But the following very remarkable error almost determines the question as it discovers demonstrably the mistake of a transcriber. Scipio returning to his master in April 1621 informs Gil Blas that Philip III. is dead; and proceeds to say that it is rumoured that the Cardinal Duke of Lerma has lost his office is forbidden to appear at court and that Gaspar de Guzman Count of Olivarez is prime minister. Now the Cardinal Duke of Lerma had lost his office since the 4th October 1618 three years before the death of Philip III. How is this mistake explained? By the transcriber's omission of the words ""Duke of Uzeda son of "" which should precede the cardinal duke &c. and which makes the sentence historically correct; for the Duke of Uzeda was the son of the Cardinal Duke of Lerma did succeed his father and was turned out of office at the death of Philip III. when he was succeeded by Olivarez. If there was no other argument but this it would serve materially to invalidate Le Sage's claims to originality; as the omission of these words makes nonsense of a sentence perfectly intelligible when corrected and causes the writer in the very act of alluding to a most notorious fact in Spanish history with which even in its least details he appears in other places familiar to display the most unaccountable ignorance of the very fact he makes the basis of his narrative. Surely if plagiarism can ever be said ""digito monstrari et dicier hic est "" it is here. If we consider the effect of all these accumulated circumstances--the travelling on mules the mode of extorting money the plunder of the prisoners by the jailer the rosary with its large beads carried by the Spanish Tartuffe instead of the ""haire and the discipline"" mentioned by Molière the description of the hotels of Madrid the inferior condition of surgeons the graceful bearing of the cloak the notary's inkstand the posada in which the actors slept as well as acted the convent in which Philip's mistress is placed with such minute propriety the Gallina Ciega the lane in Madrid the dinner hour of the clerks in the minister's office the knowledge of the ecclesiastical rights of the crown over Granada and of the Aragonese resistance to a foreign viceroy the number of words left in the original Spanish and of others which betray a Spanish origin the names of cities villages and families that rise spontaneously to the hand of the writer and the perpetual mistakes which their enumeration occasions among which we will only here specify that of C_a_ntador for C_o_ntador and the omission of the words ""Duc d'Uzeda "" which can alone set right a flagrant anachronism--if we consider the effect of all these circumstances we shall look in vain for any reason to doubt the result which such a complication of probabilities conspires to fortify. The objections stated by M. Neufchateau to this overwhelming mass of evidence utterly destructive as it is to the hypothesis of which he was the advocate are so feeble and captious that they hardly deserve the examination which Llorente in the anxiety of his patriotism has condescended to bestow on then. M. Neufchateau objects to the minute references on which many of Llorente's arguments are built; but he should remember that in an examination of this sort it is ""one thing to be minute and another to be precarious;"" one thing to be oblique and another to be fantastical. On such occasions the more powerful the microscope is that the critic can employ the better; not only because all suspicion of contrivance or design is thereby further removed but because proofs separately trifling are when united irresistible; and the circumstantial evidence to which courts of justice are compelled by the necessity of human affairs to recur in matters where the lives and fortunes of individuals are at stake is not only legitimate but indispensable before tribunals which have not the same means of investigation at their command. In this however the evidence is as full positive and satisfactory as any evidence not appealing to the senses or mathematical demonstration for its truth can possibly be; and any one in active life who was to forbear from acting upon it would deserve to be treated as a lunatic. Let us however consider the admissions of M. Neufchateau. He admits 1st That Le Sage was never in Spain. 2dly Le Sage in 1735 acknowledged the chronological error into which he had fallen from inserting the story of Don Pompeyo de Castro and announced his intention to correct it. 3dly He allows in 1724 when the third volume of _Gil Blas_ was published Le Sage annexed to it the Latin distich implying that the work was at an end-- ""Inveni portum spes et fortuna valete; Sat me lusistis ludite nunc alios."" He allows therefore that the publication of the fourth volume eleven years after the third volume of _Gil Blas_ was published was as far from the original intention of the author as it was on the expectation of the public. 4thly That from the introduction of the Duke of Lerma on the stage at the close of the work the history of Spain is adhered to with exact fidelity. 5thly He allows that the description of Spanish inns (10 12 ) is taken from the ""Vida del Escudero Marcos de Obregon."" 6thly He allows that the novel of ""Le Mariage de Vengeance "" related by Doña Elvira is inconsistent with all the rest of the story of _Gil Blas_. The anachronisms in which Le Sage is entangled by applying a story to the seventeenth century that relates to the thirteenth prove his ignorance of Spanish history. On this M. Neufchateau remarks as usual that no Spaniard would have fallen into such an error. True; but how does it happen that the person making it is so intimately acquainted with the topography and habits of Spain? and how can this contradiction be solved but by supposing that Le Sage incorporated a Spanish story which caught his fancy with the manuscript before him? 7thly He allows that the story of Doña Laura de Guzman is taken from a Spanish comedy entitled ""Todo es enredos amor y el diablo son las mugeres."" 8thly He allows that the expression ""et je promets de vous faire tirer pied ou aile du premier ministre ""{B} is not French; it is in fact the translation of a Spanish proverb ""Agarrar pata o alon."" 9thly He admits that the intimate acquaintance with the personal history of the Count Duke displayed by Le Sage is astonishing. 10thly He admits that the stories of-- Doña Mencia de Mosquera contained in 1st book 11th 12th 13th and 14th chapters Of the story of Diego de la Fuente contained in the 2d book 7th chapter -- Don Bernardo de Castelblanco contained in the 2d book 1st chapter -- Don Pompeyo de Castro contained in the 2d book 7th chapter -- Doña Aurora de Guzman contained in the 4th book 2d 3d 5th and 6th chapters -- Matrimonio por Venganza contained in the 4th book 4th chapter -- Doña Serafina de Polan and Don Alfonso de Leiva contained in 10th book -- Rafael and Lucinda contained in 5th book 1st chapter -- Samuel Simon en Chelva contained in 6th book 1st chapter -- Laura contained in 7th book 7th chapter -- Don Añibal de Chinchilla contained in 7th book 12th chapter -- Valerio de Luna and Inesilla Cantarilla contained in 8th book 1st chapter -- Andres de Tordesillas Gaston de Cogollos and Elena de Galisteo contained in 9th book 4th 11th and 13th chapters -- Scipio contained in 10th book 10th 11th and 12th chapters -- Laura and Lucrecia contained in 12th book 1st chapter -- And the Histories of Lerma and Olivarez contained in 11th book 5th 6th 8th 9th 11th 12th 13th; and 2d book 3d 4th 5th 6th 7th 8th 9th 10th 11th 12th and 13th chapters. Composing more than two-thirds of _Gil Blas_--are taken from the Spanish. Such are the admissions of Le Sage's advocates. Even after these important deductions there remains enough to found a brilliant reputation. To this remainder however Le Sage is not entitled. It is we trust proved to every candid reader that with the exception of one anecdote entertaining in itself but betraying the greatest ignorance of Spanish manners two or three allusions to the current scandal and topics of the day and the insertion of several novels avowedly translated from other Spanish writers; all the merit of Le Sage consists in dividing a manuscript placed by his friend the Abbé de Lyonne in his possession into two stories--one of which was _Gil Blas_ and the other confessed by himself to be a translation and published long after the former was the _Bachelier de Salamanque_. To the argument of chronological error the sole answer which M. Neufchateau condescends to give is that they are incomprehensible; and on his hypothesis he is right. As to the Spanish words and phrases employed in _Gil Blas_ the names of villages towns and families which occur in it he observes that these are petty circumstances--so they are and for that very reason the argument they imply is irresistible. The story of the examination of Gaspar the servant of Simon in the Inquisition scene is gravely urged by M. Neufchateau as a proof that the writer was a Frenchman as no Spaniard would dare to attack the Inquisition. This is strange confusion. Not a word is uttered against the Inquisition in the scene. Some impostors disguise themselves in the dress of inquisitors to perpetrate a fraud. If a French novel describe two or three swindlers assuming the garb of members of the old Parliament of Paris in execution of their design is this an attack on the Parliament of Paris? Is the ""Beaux' Stratagem"" an attack on our army and peerage? The argument however may be retorted; for had a Frenchman been the author of the story it is more than probable that he would have introduced some attack upon the Inquisition and quite certain that the characters brought forward would have deviated from the strict propriety they now preserve. Some confusion would have been made among them--an error which M. Neufchateau in the few lines he has written upon the subject has not been able to avoid. We may add that this whole scene was printed in Spanish under the eye of the Inquisition without any interference on the part of that venerable body who though tolerably quick-sighted in such matters were not it should seem aware of the attack upon them which M. Neufchateau has been sagacious enough to discover. To the argument drawn from the geographical blunders M. Neufchateau mutters that they are excusable in a writer who had never been in Spain. The question how such a writer came wantonly to incur them he leaves unanswered. M. Neufchateau asserts that there is in Spanish no proverb that corresponds to the French saying ""A quelque chose le malheur est bon."" But a comedy was written in the time of Philip IV. entitled ""No hay man que por bien no venga."" He argues that _Gil Blas_ is not the work of a Spaniard because it does not like _Don Quixote_ abound with proverbs; by a parity of reasoning he might infer _The Silent Lady_ was not written by an Englishman; as there is no allusion to Falstaff in it. But it may be said if Le Sage was so unscrupulous as to appropriate to himself the works of another writer in _Gil Blas_ how came he to acknowledge the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ as a translation? This is a fair question but the answer we can give is satisfactory. The originals of all his translations except _Gil Blas_ and the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ were printed; and therefore any attempt at wholesale plagiarism must have been immediately detected. The _Bachelier de Salamanque_ it is true was in manuscript; but it had been long in the possession of the Marquis de Lerma and his son before it became the property of Le Sage; and although tolerably certain that it had never been diligently perused Le Sage could not be sure that it had not attracted superficial notice and that the name was not known to many people. Now by eviscerating the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ of its most entertaining anecdotes and giving them a different title and then publishing the mutilated copy of a work the name of which with the outline of its story was known to many people as an acknowledged translation he took the most obvious means of disarming all suspicion of plagiarism and setting as it seems he did on a wrong track the curiosity of enquirers. How came the original manuscript not to be printed by its author? Because it could not be printed with impunity within the jurisdiction of the Spanish monarchy: the allusions to the abuses of the court and the favourites of the day are so obvious--the satire upon the imbecility of the Spanish government so keen and biting--the personal descriptions of Philip III. and Philip IV. so exact--the corruption of its ministers of justice and the abuses practised in its prisons branded in terms so lively and vehement--the attacks upon the influence of the clergy their hypocrisy their ambition and their avarice so frequent and severe--that while Philip IV. and Don John of Austria the fruit of his intrigue with the actress Marie Calderon so carefully pointed out were still alive and before the generation to which it alludes had passed away its publication in Spain at least was impossible. The _Bachelier de Salamanque_ was not published for the same reason; and for the same reason even in a country with perhaps more pretensions to freedom than Spain possessed no one has yet acknowledged himself the writer of _Junius_. But why do you not produce the Spanish manuscript and set the question at rest? exclaims with much _naïveté_ M. Neufchateau. Does such an argument deserve serious refutation? That is why do not you Spaniards produce a manuscript given to one Frenchman by another at Paris in the 18th century which of course if our theory be true he had the strongest temptation to destroy? Rather may the Spaniards ask why do not _you_ produce the original manuscript of the _Bachelier de Salamanque_ which would overthrow at least one portion of our hypothesis? The object of _Gil Blas_ is to exhibit a vivid representation of the follies and vices of the successive administrations of Lerma Uzeda and Olivarez; to point out the actual state of the drama in Spain under the reign of Philip IV. who indolent as he was possessed the taste of a true Spaniard for dramatic representation; to criticise the absurd system pursued by the physicians abuses of subordinate officers of justice the follies of false pretenders to philosophy the disorders and corruptions which swarm in every department of a despotic and inefficient government the multitude of sharpers and robbers in the towns and highways the subterranean habitations in which they found shelter and security the ingenuity of their frauds and daring outrages of their violence--in short to hold up every species of national error and every weakness of national folly to public obloquy and derision. In dwelling upon such topics the writer will of course describe scenes and characters common to every state of civilized society. The broad and general features of the time-serving courtier of the servile coxcomb of the rapacious mistress of the expecting legatee the frivolous man of fashion and the still more frivolous pedant will be the same whatever be the country in which the scene is laid and by whatever names they happen to be distinguished. France had no doubt her Sangrados and Ochetos her Matthias de Silva and Rodrigo her Lauras and her Archbishops of Granada. ""Pictures like these dear madam to design Asks no firm hand and no unerring line; Some wandering touches some reflected light Some flying stroke alone can hit 'em right."" Where the touches are more exact and delicate where the strokes are laid on with the painful labour of a Flemish pencil where the business and the bosoms of men are addressed more directly there it is we shall find proofs of the view and purpose of the author; such traits are the key with the leather strap that verified the judgment of Sancho's kinsmen. To what purpose should a Frenchman writing in the time of Louis XIV. censure the rapacity of innkeepers and the wretchedness of their extorted accommodation when France from the time of Chaucer to the present hour has been famous for the civility of the one and the convenience of the other? To what purpose if the French government were to be criticised enumerate the danger of high-roads and the caverns unexplored by a negligent administration in which bandits found a refuge? If France was aimed at how does it happen that the literature of its golden age is the subject of attack and a perverted and fantastic style of writing assigned to an epoch remarkable for the severity and precision of its taste? If Spain is meant the attack is perfectly intelligible as the epoch is exactly that when Spanish taste began to degenerate and the style of Spanish writers to become vicious inflated and fantastic in imitation of Gongora who did so much to ruin the literature of his country; as other writers of much less ability but who addressed themselves to a public far inferior in point of taste to that of Gongora have recently done in England. Nothing could be worse chosen than such a topic. As well might England be attacked now for its disregard of commerce and its enthusiastic love of genius or France for its contempt of military glory. When _Gil Blas_ was published France was undoubtedly the model of civilized Europe the fountain from whence other stars drew light. To ridicule the bad taste of the age of Malebranche the master of Addison and of Boileau the master of Pope will appear ridiculous to an Englishman. To accuse the vicious style which prevailed in the age of Bossuet Fénélon and Pascal will appear monstrous to every one with the least tincture of European literature. Let us apply this mode of reasoning to some instance in which national prejudice and interest cannot be concerned. Let us suppose that some one were to affirm that the _Adelphi_ of Terence was not a translation from Menander; among the incorrigible pedants who think Niebuhr a greater authority on Roman history than Cicero he would not want for proselytes. Let us see what he might allege--he might urge that Terence had acknowledged obligations to Menander on other occasions and that on this he seemed rather studiously to disclaim it pointing out Diphilus as his original--he might insist that Syrus could only have been the slave of a Roman master that Sannio corresponded exactly with our notions of a Roman pander that Æschinus was the picture of a dissolute young patrician--in short that through the transparent veil of Grecian drapery it was easy to detect the sterner features of Roman manners and society; nay more he might insist on the marriage of Micio at the close of the drama as Neufchateau does upon the drunkenness of Guyomar as alluding to some anecdote of the day and at any rate as the admitted invention of Terence himself. He might challenge the advocates of Menander to produce the Greek original from which the play was borrowed; he might reject the Greek idioms which abound in that masterpiece of the Roman stage with contempt as beneath his notice; and disregard the names which betray a Grecian origin the allusions to the habits of Grecian women to the state of popular feeling at Athens and the administration of Athenian law with supercilious indifference. All this such a reasoner might do and all this M. Neufchateau has done. But would such a tissue of cobweb fallacies disguise the truth from any man of ordinary taste and understanding? Such a man would appeal to the whole history of Terence; he would show that he was a diligent translator of the Greek writers of the middle comedy that his language in every other line betrayed a Grecian origin that the plot was not Roman that the scene was not Roman that the customs were not Roman; he would say if he had patience to reason with his antagonist that a fashionable rake a grasping father an indulgent uncle a knavish servant an impudent ruffian and a timid clown were the same at Rome at Thebes and at Athens in London Paris or Madrid. He would ask of what value were such broad and general features common to a species when the fidelity of an individual likeness was in question? He would say that the incident quoted as a proof of originality served only by its repugnance to Grecian manners and its inferiority to the work in which it was inserted to prove that the rest was the production of another writer. He would quote the translations from fragments still extant which the work exquisite as it is contains as proofs of a still more beautiful original. Lastly he would cite the ""Dimidiate Menander"" of Cæsar as a proof of the opinion entertained of his genius by the great writers of his own country; and when he had done this he might enquire with confidence whether any one existed capable of forming a judgment upon style or of distinguishing one author from another who would dispute the position for which he contended. The sum and substance of all M. Neufchateau's argument is the slight assumption that every allusion to a man eminent for wit and genius must be intended for a Frenchman. Of this nature is the affirmation that Triaquero is meant for Voltaire; and the still more intrepid declaration that Lope de Vega and Calderon de la Barca are cited not as Spanish authors but as types by which Corneille and Racine are shadowed out. It is true that the passage is exactly applicable to Calderon and Lope de Vega; and for that reason as they are great comic writers can hardly apply equally well to Corneille and Racine. But such trifling difficulties are as dust when placed in the balance with the inveterate opinion to which we have already alluded. According to the principles adopted by M. Neufchateau _Gil Blas_ might be adapted to any court or age or country. For instance if Triaquero meaning a charlatan (which by the way it does not ) refers of necessity to Voltaire might not any Englishman if the work had been published recently insist that the work must have been written by an Englishman as the allusion could apply to no one so well as him who having been a judge without law and a translator of Demosthenes without Greek had to his other titles to public esteem added that of being an historian without research? The difference between Dr Sangrado and our hydropathists is merely that between hot and cold water by no means excluding an allusion to the latter under the veil as M. Neufchateau has it of Spanish manners. Would it be quite impossible to find in St James's Street or in certain buildings at no great distance from the Thames the exact counterparts of Don Matthias de Silva and his companions? Gongora indeed in spite of his detestable taste was a man of genius; and therefore to find his type among us would be difficult if not impossible unless an excess of the former quality for which he was conspicuous might counterbalance a deficiency in the latter. Are our _employés_ less pompous and empty than Gil Blas and his companions? our squires less absurd and ignorant than the hidalgoes of Valencia? Let any one read some of the pamphlets on Archbishop Whately's Logic or attend an examination in the schools at Oxford and then say if the race of those who plume themselves on the discovery that Greek children cried when they were whipped is extinct? To be sure as the purseproud insolence of a _nouveau riche_ and indeed of _parvenus_ generally is quite unknown among us nobody could rely on those points of resemblance. But with regard to the other topics would it not be fair to say in answer to such an argument--All this is mere commonplace generality; such are the characters of every country where European institutions exist or European habits are to be found? Something more tangible and specific is requisite to support your claim. You are to prove that the picture is a portrait of a particular person--and you say it has eyes and a nose; so have all portraits. But where are the strokes that constitute identity and determine the original?--There is no mention of Crockford's or of the Missionary Society of the Old Bailey or the Foundling Hospital; and if Ordonez is named who gets rich by managing the affairs of the poor this can never be meant for a satire on the blundering pedantry of your Somerset-house commissioners.--Here is no hint that can be tortured into a glance at fox-hunters or game-preservers of the society for promoting rural deans at your double system of contradictory law at special pleading at quarter-sessions {C} at the technical rigour of your institutions at the delay chicanery and expense of your judicial proceedings at the refinement ease wit gayety and disinterested respect for merit which as every body knows distinguish your social character; nothing is said of the annual meeting of chemists geologists and mathematicians so beneficial to the real interests of science by making a turn for tumid metaphor and the love of display necessary ingredients in the character of its votaries extirpating from among them that simplicity which was so fatal an obstacle to the progress of Newton --and turning the newly discovered joint of an antediluvian reptile into a theme of perennial and ambitious declamation; nothing is said about those discussions on baptismal fonts those discoveries of trochees for iambics or the invention of new potatoe boilers which in the days of Hegel Berryer Schlosser Savigny and Cousin are the glory and delight of England; in short there is nothing to fix the allusions on which you rely on to distinguish them from those which might be applicable to Paris Vienna or Madrid. There are no people less disposed than ourselves to detract from the merit of eminent French writers; they are always clear elegant and judicious; often acute eloquent and profound. There is no department of prose literature in which they do not equal us; there are many in which they are unquestionably our superiors. Unlike our authors who on those subjects which address the heart and reason jointly adopt the style of a treatise on the differential calculus; and when pure science is their topic lead us to suppose (if it were not for their disgusting pomposity) they had chosen for their model the florid confusion of a tenth-rate novel;--the French write on scientific subjects with simplicity and precision and on moral æsthetic and theoretical questions with spirit earnestness and sensibility. Having said so much we must however add that a liberal and ingenious acknowledgment of error is not among the shining qualities of our neighbours. When a question is at issue in which they imagine the literary reputation of their country to be at stake it is the dexterity of the advocate rather than the candour of the judge that we must look for in their dissertations. He who has argued on the guilt of Mary with a Scotchman or the authenticity of the three witnesses with a newly made archdeacon and with a squire smarting under an increasing poor-rate or the corn-laws may form a just conception of the task he will undertake in endeavouring to persuade a French critic that his countrymen are in the wrong. The patient if he does not as it has sometimes happened in the cases to which we have referred become ""pugil et medicum urget "" is sure as in those instances to triumph over all the proofs which reason can suggest or that the hellebore of nine Anticyras could furnish him with capacity to understand. Of this the work of M. Neufchateau is a striking proof. Truth is on one side Le Sage's claim to originality on the other; and he supports the latter: we do not say that he is willing rather than abandon his client to assert a falsehood; but we are sure that in order to defend him he is ready to believe absurdities. The degree of moral guilt annexed to such conduct as that which we attribute to Le Sage is an invidious topic not necessarily connected with our subject and upon which we enter with regret. Lessing accused Wieland of having destroyed a palace that he might build a cottage with its materials. However highly we may think of the original we can hardly suppose such an expression applicable to _Gil Blas_. Of the name of the author whose toil Le Sage thus appropriated charity obliges us to suppose that he was ignorant; but we should not forget that the case of Le Sage is not precisely that of a person who publishes as an original a translation from a printed work as Wieland did with his copy of Rowe's Lady Jane Grey and Lord Byron with his copy of the most musical lines in Goethe. The offence of Le Sage more resembles that imputed (we sincerely believe without foundation) to Raphael; namely that after the diligent study of some ancient frescoes he suffered them to perish in order to conceal his imitation. But we hasten to close these reflections which tenderness to the friend and companion of our boyhood and gratitude to him who has enlivened many an hour and added so much to our stock of intellectual happiness forbid us to prolong. Let those who feel that they could spurn the temptation in comparison with which every other that besets our miserable nature is as dross--the praise yielded by a polished and fastidious nation to rare and acknowledged genius--denounce as they will the infirmity of Le Sage. But let them be quite sure that instead of being above a motive to which none but minds of some refinement are accessible they are not below it. Let them be sure that they do not take dulness for integrity and that the virtue proof to intellectual triumphs and disdaining ""the last infirmity of noble minds "" would not sink if exposed to the ordeal of a service of plate or admission in some frivolous coterie. For ourselves we will only say ""Amicus Plato sed magis amica veritas."" For these reasons then which depend on the nature of the thing and which no testimony can alter--reasons which we cannot reject without abandoning all those principles which carry with them the most certain instruction and are the surest guides of human life--we think the main fact contended for by M. Llorente that is the Spanish origin of _Gil Blas_ undeniable; and the subordinate and collateral points of his system invested with a high degree of probability; the falsehood of a conclusion fairly drawn from such premises as we have pointed out would be nearer akin to a metaphysical impossibility; and so long as the li

ht of every other gem that glitters in a nation's diadem is faint and feeble when compared with the splendour of intellectual glory Spain will owe a debt of gratitude to him among her sons who has placed upon her brow the jewel which France (as if aggression for more material objects could not fill up the measure of her injustice towards that unhappy land) has kept so long and worn so ostentatiously. FOOTNOTES: {A} So in Don Quixote the friars are described ""Estando en estas razones aslomaron por el camino dos Frayles de la Orden de san Benito Cavalleros _sobre dos Dromedarios que no eran mas pequneas dos mulas en que venian_."" {B} It occurs however in Madame de Sevigné's letters. But that most charming of letter-writers understood Spanish which Anne of Austria had probably made a fashionable accomplishment at the court of France. The intrigue for which Vardes was exiled shows that to write in Spanish was an attainment common among the courtiers of Louis XIV. {C} We call ourselves a _practical_ people! A man incurred a _few months_ ago an expense of £70 for saying that he was ""ready "" instead of saying that he was ""ready and _willing_"" to do a certain act. The man's name was Granger. Another unfortunate creature incurred costs to the amount of £3000 by one of the most ordinary proceedings in our courts called a motion of course and usually settled for a guinea. A clergyman libelled two of his parishioners in a Bishop's Court. The matter never came to be heard and the expense of the _written_ proceedings was upwards of £800! Can any system be more abominable than one which leads to such results? MICHAEL KALLIPHOURNAS. Few of the events of our life afford us greater pride than revisiting a well-known and celebrated city after many years' absence. The pleasure derived from the hope of enjoyment the self-satisfaction flowing from the presumption of our profound knowledge of the place and the feeling of mental superiority attached to our discernment in returning to the spot which at the moment appears to us the particular region of the earth peculiarly worthy of a second visit--or a third as the case may be--all combine to stuff the lining of the diligence the packsaddle of the Turkish post-horse or the encumbrance on the back of the camel which may happen to convey us with something softer than swandown. Time soon brings the demon of discontent to our society. The city and its inhabitants appear changed--rarely for the better always less to our taste. Ameliorations and improvements seem to us positive evils; we sigh for the good old times for the dirty streets of Paris the villanous odours of Rome the banditti of Naples the obsequiousness of Greece and the contempt with the casual satisfaction of being spit upon of Turkey. In short we feel the want of our youth every where. I enjoyed all the delights and regrets which mere local associations can call up a few months ago on revisiting Athens after many years' absence. On the 6th of May 1827 I had witnessed the complete defeat of the Greek army. I had beheld the delhis of Kutayia sabring the flying troops of Lord Cochrane and General Church and seen 1500 men slain by the sword in less than half an hour amidst the roll of an ill-sustained and scattered fire of musketry. The sight was heartbreaking but grand. The Turkish cavalry came sweeping down to the beach until arrested by the fire of the ships. Lord Cochrane and his aide-de-camp Dr Goss themselves had been compelled to plunge more than knee-deep in the Ægean ere they could gain their boat. On the hill of the Phalerum I had heard General Gueheneuc criticise the manoeuvres of the commander-in-chief and General Heideck disparage the quality of his coffee. As the Austrian steamer which conveyed me entered the Piræus my mind reverted to the innumerable events which had been crowded into my life in Greece. A new town rose out of the water before my eyes as if by enchantment; but I felt indignant that the lines of Colonel Gordon and the tambouria of Karaiskaki should be effaced by modern houses and a dusty road. As soon as I landed I resolved to climb the Phalerum and brood over visions of the past. But I had not proceeded many steps from the quay lost in my sentimental reverie ere I found that reflection ought not to begin too soon at the Piræus. I was suddenly surrounded by about a dozen individuals who seemed determined to prevent me from continuing my walk. On surveying them they appeared dressed for a costume ball of ragamuffins. Europe Asia and Africa had furnished their wardrobe. The most prominent figure among them was a tall Arab in the nizam of Mehemet Ali terminated with a Maltese straw hat. His companions exhibited as singular a taste in dress as himself. Some wore sallow Albanian petticoats carelessly tied over the wide and dusky nether garments of Hydriots their upper man adorned by sailors' jackets and glazed hats; others were tightly buttoned up in European garments with their heads lost in the enormous fez of Constantinople. This antiquarian society of garments fit representatives to a stranger of the Bavaro-Hellenic kingdom of Otho the gleaner and the three donative powers informed me that it consisted of charioteers. Each member of the society speaking on his own account and all at the same time--a circumstance I afterwards found not uncommon in other antiquarian and literary societies at Athens--asked me if I was going to Athens: +eis Athênas+ was the phrase. The Arab and a couple of Maltese alone said ""Ees teen Atheena."" Entrapped into a reply by the classic sound I unwittingly exclaimed ""Malista--Verily I am."" The shouts my new friends uttered on hearing me speak Greek cannot be described. Their volubility was suddenly increased a hundredfold; and had all the various owners of the multitudinous garments before me arisen to reclaim their respective habiliments it could hardly have been greater. I could not have believed it possible that nine Greeks aided by two Maltese and a single Arab could have created such a din. The speakers soon perceived that it was utterly impossible for me to hear their eloquent addresses as they could no longer distinguish the sounds of their own voices; so with one accord they disappeared and ere I had proceeded many steps again surrounded me rushing forward with their respective vehicles into which they eagerly invited me to mount. If their habiliments consisted of costumes run mad their chariots were not less varied and afforded an historical study in locomotion. Distant capitals and a portion of the last century must have contributed their representatives to the motley assemblage. The tall Arab drove a superb fiacre of the days of hoops a vehicle for six insides; phaetons chariots droschkies and britskas Strong's omnibus and Rudhart's stuhlwagen gigs cars tilburies cabriolets and dogcarts were all there and each pushing to get exactly before me. Lord Palmerston's kingdom is doubtless a Whig satire on monarchy; the scene before me appeared a Romaic satire on the Olympic games. I forgot my melancholy sentiment and resolved to join the fun by attempting to dodge my persecutors round the corners of the isolated houses and deep lime-pits which King Otho courteously terms streets. I forgot that barbarians were excluded from the Olympic games not on account of the jealousy of the Greeks but because no barbarian could display the requisite skill. The charioteers and their horses knew the ground so much better than I did that they blockaded me at every turn; so in order to gain the rocky ground I started off towards the hill of the Phalerum pursued by the _pancosmium_ of vehicles. On the first precipitous elevation I turned to laugh at my pursuers when to my horror I saw Strong's omnibus lumbering along in the distance surrounded by a considerable crowd and I distinguished the loud shouts of the mob:--+Pou einai ho trelos ho Anglos+; ""Where is the mad Englishman?"" So my melancholy was conducting me to madness. My alarm dispelled all my reminiscences of Lord Cochrane and my visions of the Olympic games. I sprang into the droschky of a Greek sailor who drove over the rocks as if he only expected his new profession to endure for a single day. We were soon on the Piræus road which I well knew runs along the foundations of one of the long walls; but I was too glad to escape like Lord Palmerston and M. Thiers unscathed from the imbroglio I had created to honour even Themistocles with a single thought. My charioteer was a far better specimen of the present than foundations of long walls ruined temples and statues without noses can possibly be of the past. He informed me he was a sailor: by so doing he did not prove to me that he estimated my discernment very highly for that fact required no announcement. He added however what was more instructive; _to wit_ that he had received the droschky with the horses that morning from a Russian captain in payment of a bad debt. He had resolved to improviso the coachman though he had never driven a horse before in his life--+eukolon einai+--""it is an easy matter;"" and he drove like Jehu shouted like Stentor and laughed like the Afrite of Caliph Vathek. He ran over nobody in spite of his vehemence. Perhaps his horses were wiser than himself: indeed I have remarked that the populace of Greece is universally more sagacious than its rulers. In taking leave of this worthy tar at the Hotel de Londres I asked him gravely if he thought that in case Russia England or France should one day take Greece in payment of a bad debt they would act wisely to drive her as hard as he drove his horses? He opened his eyes at me as if he was about to unskin his head and began to reflect in silence; so perceiving that he entertained a very high opinion of my wisdom I availed myself of the opportunity to advise him to moderate his pace a little in future if he wished his horses to survive the week. During my stay at Athens King Otho was absent from his capital; so that though I lost the pleasure of beholding the beautiful and graceful queen I escaped the misfortune of being dishonoured by receiving the cross of an officer of the order of the Redeemer. His Hellenic majesty takes a peculiar satisfaction in hanging this decoration at the buttonholes of those who served Greece during the revolutionary war; while he suspends the cross of Commander round the necks or ornaments with the star of the order the breasts of all the Bavarians who have assisted him in relieving Greece of the Palmerstonian plethora of cash gleaned from the three powers. For my own part I am not sure but that I should have made up my mind to return the cross with a letter full of polite expressions of contempt for the supposed honour and a few hints of pity for the donor; as a very able and distinguished friend of Greece whose services authorized him so to act did a few days before my arrival. On attempting to find my way through Bavarian Athens I was as much at a loss as Lady Francis Egerton and could not help exclaiming ""Voila des rues qui ont bien peu de logique!"" After returning two or three times to the church Kamkarea against whose walls half the leading streets of the new city appear to run bolt up I was compelled to seek the assistance of a guide. At length I found out the dwelling once inhabited by my friend Michael Kalliphournas. A neat white villa with green Venetian blinds smiling in a court full of ruins and rubbish had replaced the picturesque but rickety old Turkish kouak of my former recollections. I enquired for the owner in vain; the property it was said belonged to his sister; of the brother nobody had heard and I was referred for information to the patriotic and enterprising Demarch or mayor who bears the same name. In the end my enquiries were successful and their result seemed miraculous. To my utter astonishment I learned that Michael had become a monk and dwelt in the monastery of Pentelicus; but I could obtain no explanation of the mystery. His relations referred me to the monk himself--strangers had never heard of his existence. How often does a revolution like that of Greece when the very organization of society is shaken compress the progress of a century within a few years! There remained nothing for me but to visit the monastery and seek a solution of the singular enigma from my friend's own mouth; so joining a party of travellers who were about to visit the marble quarries of Pentelicus and continue their excursion to the plain of Marathon I set out on such a morning as can only be witnessed under the pure sky of Attica. The scenery of our ride is now familiar to tourists. Parnes or Parnethus with its double top {A} Brilessus or Pentelicus with its numerous rills and fountains and Hymettus with its balmy odours have been ""hymned by loftier harps than mine."" My companions proved gay and agreeable young men. They knew every body at Athens and every thing and willingly communicated their stores of knowledge. I cannot resist recounting some of the anecdotes I heard as they do no discredit to the noble princes to whom they relate. When an English prince visited Athens King Otho who it seems is his own minister and conducts business quite in a royal way learned that he was no Whig and instantly conceived the sublime idea of making use of his royal highness's services to obtain Lord Palmerston's dismissal from office. The monarch himself arranged the plan of his campaign. The prince was invited to a _fête champêtre_ at Phyle and when the party was distributed in the various carriages he found himself planted in a large barouche opposite the king and queen. King Otho then opened his intrigue; he told the prince of the notes in favour of constitutional government and economical administration which Lord Palmerston had written and Sir Edmund Lyons had presented; and he exclaimed ""I assure you my dear prince all this is done merely to vex me because I would not keep that speculating charlatan Armansperg! Lord Palmerston cares no more about a constitution nor about economy than Queen Victoria or you and I. When the Duc de Broglie who has really more conscience than our friend the Viscount proposed that Greece should be pestered with a constitution and such stuff Palmerston answered very judiciously 'Greece--bah!--Greece is not fit for a constitution nor indeed for any other government but that of my nabob!' Now my dear prince Queen Victoria can never mean to offend me the sovereign of Greece when the Ottoman empire is so evidently on the eve of dismemberment; and "" quoth Otho the gleaner ""I am deeply offended at which her British majesty must feel grievously distressed."" The prince doubtless thought her majesty's distress was not inconsolable; but he only assured his Hellenic majesty that he could be of no possible use to him in his delicate intrigue at the court of St James's. He tried to get a view of the scenery and to turn the conversation on the state of the country; but Otho was not so easily repulsed. He insisted that the prince should communicate his sentiments to Queen Victoria; and in spite of all the assurances he received of the impossibility of meddling with diplomatic business in such a way his Hellenic majesty to this very day feels satisfied that Lord Palmerston was sent to the right-about for offending him; and he is firmly persuaded that unless Lord Aberdeen furnish him with as many millions as he demands to secure his opposition to Russia the noble earl will not have a long tenor of office. A young Austrian of our party shouted ""Ah it requires to be truly _bon garçon_ like the English prince to submit to be so bored even by a king! But "" added he ""our gallant Fritz managed matters much better. The Archduke Frederick who behaved so bravely at Acre and so amiably lately in London heard it seems of the treatment the prince had met with and resolved to cure his majesty of using his guests in such style. Being invited to a party at Pentelicus he was aware that he would be placed alone on the seat with his back to the horses and deprived of every chance of seeing the country if it were only that the diplomatic intrigue at the court of Queen Victoria might remain concealed from the lynx-eyed suspicion of the _corps diplomatique_ of Athens; for King Otho fancies his intrigues always remain the profoundest secrets. When the archduke handed the lovely queen into the carriage politeness compelled King Otho to make a cold offer to the young sailor to follow; the archduke bowed profoundly sprang into the carriage and seated himself beside her majesty. The successor of Agamemnon followed looking more grim than Hercules Furens: he stood for a moment bolt upright in the carriage hoping his guest would rise and vacate his seat; but the young man was already actively engaged in conversation. The Emperor of the East--in expectancy--was compelled to sit down with his back to the horses and study the landscape in that engaging manner of viewing scenery. Never was a fête given by a sulkier host than King Otho that day proved to be. In returning the archduke had a carriage to himself. When questioned on the subject of his ride he only remarked that he always suffered dreadfully from sickness when he rode with his back to the horses. He was sure therefore that King Otho had placed him beside the queen to avoid that horrible inconvenience."" Other anecdotes were recounted during our ride and our opinion of his Hellenic majesty's tact and taste did not become more favourable when it was discovered that his proceedings had utterly ruined the immense quarries of Pentelicus-- ""Still in its beam Pentele's marbles glow "" can now only be said of the ruins not of the quarries. In order to obtain the few thousand blocks required for the royal palace at Athens millions of square feet of the purest statuary marble have been shivered to atoms by the random process of springing mines with gunpowder. If King Otho had done nothing worse in Greece than converting the marble quarries of Pentelicus into a chaos of rubbish when he found them capable of supplying all Europe for ages with the most beautiful material for the sculptor he would have merited the reputation he so justly bears of caring as little about the real welfare of Greece as Lord Palmerston himself. My companions quitted me at the quarries making pasquinades on the royal palace and its royal master; while I put up my horse and walked slowly on to the ancient monastery of Pentele not Mendele as Lord Byron has it. I was soon sitting alone in the cell of Michael and shall now recount his history as I had it from his own mouth. Michael Kalliphournas was left an orphan the year the Greek revolution broke out. He was hardly fourteen years old and yet he had to act as the guardian and protector of a sister four years younger than himself. The storm of war soon compelled him to fly to Ægina with the little Euphrosyne. The trinkets and gold which his relations had taught him to conceal enabled him to place his sister in a Catholic monastery at Naxos where she received the education of a European lady. Michael himself served under Colonel Gordon and General Fabvier with great distinction. In 1831 when the Turks were about to cede Attica to Greece Michael and Euphrosyne returned to Athens to take possession of their family property which promised to become of very great value. At that time I had very often seen Phróssa as she was generally called; indeed from my intimacy with her brother I was a constant visitor in the house. Her appearance is deeply impressed on my memory. I have rarely beheld greater beauty never a more elegant figure nor a more graceful and dignified manner. She was regarded as a fortune and began to be sought in marriage by all the young aristocracy of Greece. It was at last conjectured that a young Athenian named Nerio the last descendant of the Frank dukes of Athens had made some impression on her heart. He was a gay and spirited young man who had behaved very bravely when shut up with the troops in the Acropolis during the last siege of Athens and he was an intimate friend of her brother. I had left Athens about this time and my travels in the East had prevented my hearing any thing of my friends in Greece for years. There is a good deal of society among the Greek families at Athens for a few weeks before the Carnival. They meet together in the evenings and amuse themselves in a very agreeable way. At one of these parties the discourse fell on the existence of ghosts and spirits; Michael who was present declared that he had no faith in their existence. With what groans did he assure me his opinion was changed and conjured me never to express a doubt on the subject. All the party present exclaimed against what they called his free-masonry; and even his sister who was not given to superstition begged him to be silent lest he should offend the _neraiïdhes_ who might punish him when he least expected it. He laughed and ridiculed Phróssa offering to do any thing to dare those redoubted spirits which the company could suggest. Nerio a far greater sceptic than Michael suddenly affected great respect for the invisible world and by exciting Michael gradually engaged him amidst the laughing of his companions to undertake to fry a dozen of eggs on the tomb of a Turkish _santon_ a short distance beyond the Patissia gate--to leave a pot of charcoal to be seen next morning as a proof of his valour and return to the party with the dish of eggs. The expedition was arranged in spite of the opposition of the ladies; four or five of the young men promised to follow at a little distance unknown to Michael to be ready lest any thing should happen. Michael himself with a _zembil_ containing a pot of charcoal a few eggs and a flask of oil in one hand and a frying-pan and small lantern in the other closely enveloped in his dusky capote proceeded smiling to his task. The tomb of the Turk consisted of a marble cover taken from some ancient sarcophagus and sustained at the corners by four small pillars of masonry--the top was not higher than an ordinary table and below the marble slab there was an empty space between the columns. It has long since disappeared; but that is not wonderful since King Otho and his subjects have contrived to destroy almost every picturesque monument of the past in the new kingdom. The thousands of Turkish tombs which not many years ago gave a historic character to the desert environs of Negrepont and the splendid _sérail_ of Zeitouni with its magnificent marble fountains and baths have almost disappeared--the storks have bid adieu to Greece--nightly bonfires caused by absurd laws destroy the few trees that remain; and in short unless travellers make haste and visit Greece quickly they will see nothing but the ruins which King Otho cannot destroy nor Pittaki deface and the curiosities which Ross cannot give to Prince Pückler added to the pleasure they will derive from beholding King Otho's own face and the façade of his new palace. The night was extremely dark and cold so that the friends of Michael familiar as they were with their native city found some difficulty in following him without a lantern through the mass of ruins Athens then presented. As they approached the tomb they perceived that he had already lighted his charcoal and was engaged in blowing it vigorously as much to warm his hands as to prepare for his cooking operations. Creeping as near to him as possible without risking a discovery they heard to their amazement a deep voice apparently proceeding from the tomb which exclaimed ""Bou gedje kek sohuk der adamlera.--It must be a cold night for mankind."" ""To pisevo effendi "" said Michael in a careless tone but nervously proceeded to pour a whole bottle of oil into the frying-pan. As soon as the oil was boiling and bubbling the voice from the tomb again exclaimed ""Gaiour ne apayorsun mangama pisheriorsun--yuckle buradam--aiyer yiklemassun ben seni kibab ederem tahamun yerine seni yerim "" signifying pretty nearly ""Infidel what are you doing here? You appear to be cooking; fly hence or I will eat my supper of thy carrion."" And at the instant a head covered by an enormous white turban protruded itself from under the tombstone with open mouth. Michael either alarmed at the words and the apparition or angry at the suspicion of a premeditated trick on the part of his companions seized the panful of boiling oil and poured the whole contents into the gaping mouth of the spectre exclaiming ""An echeis toson orexin na to ladhi Scheitan oglou!--If you are so hungry take the oil son of Satan!"" A shriek which might have awakened the dead proceeded from the figure followed by a succession of hideous groans. The friends of Michael rushed forward but the lamp had fallen to the ground and was extinguished in the confusion. Some time elapsed ere it was found and lighted. The unfortunate figure was dragged from the tomb suffocated by the oil and evidently in a dying state if indeed life was not already extinct. Slowly the horrible truth became apparent. Nerio had separated himself from the rest of the party unperceived disguised himself and gained the tomb before the arrival of Michael who thus became the murderer of his sister's lover. I shall not attempt to describe the feelings of Michael in recounting this dreadful scene. The affair never made much noise. The Turks did not consider themselves authorized to meddle in the affairs of the Greeks. Indeed the infamous murder of the Greek _bakalbashi_ a short time before by Jussuf-bey with his own hand had so compromised their authority that they were in fear of a revolution. The truth was slowly communicated to Euphrosyne by Michael himself--she bore it better than he had anticipated. She consoled her brother and herself by devoting her life to religious and charitable exercises; but she never entered a monastery nor publicly took the veil. She still lives at Athens where her charity is experienced by many though few ever see her. When I left Greece on a visit to Mount Athos my friend Michael insisted on accompanying me; and after our arrival on the holy mountain he exacted from me a promise that I would never discover to any one the monastery into which he had retired nor even should we by chance meet again address him as an acquaintance unless he should speak to me. His sister alone is entrusted with his secret. FOOTNOTES: {A} The _par_ which indicates the double or equal summit is only found in Latin though unquestionably Æolic; the other two derivations are classic Greek. Parnes Parnettus Parnassus. The name of the two mountains is precisely the same. AFRICA--SLAVE TRADE--TROPICAL COLONIES. The readers of this magazine will readily remember the part which it took at an early period in discussing and in delineating the geographical features of Africa. In the number for June 1826 there is an article accompanied by a map showing from undoubted authorities the course and termination of the great river Niger in the sea in the Bight of Benin where from similar authorities it was placed by me in 1820 and 1821 and where actual observation by Englishmen has lately clearly established the fact that it does terminate. In the upper and middle parts of its course the longitudes were erroneous having adopted Major Rennell's delineation of Western Africa as a guide; but in 1839 the whole of that quarter of Africa was narrowly examined and the courses of the western rivers reduced to their proper positions as delineated in my large map of Africa constructed in that year to which with the ""Geographical Survey of Africa "" for which it was made the reader is referred for further and particular information on all these subjects. With these observations I proceed to bring before the reader geographical information concerning eastern and central Africa of the highest and most gratifying importance and obtained by the researches of different voyagers and travellers within the last four years. Foremost amongst these ranks the expedition sent by the present Viceroy of Egypt to explore the Bahr-el-Abiad or White River above its junction with the Blue River from Khartoum upwards and southwards; after it the interesting travels of Messrs Krapf and Isenberg two missionaries from the Church Missionary Society from Tajura to Ankobar from Ankobar south-west to the neighbourhood of the sources of the Hawash; and after that Mr Krapf's journey from Ankobar north by Lake Haik through Lasta to Antalow and thence to Massouah on the Red Sea. Next the interesting accounts collected by M. Lefebvre and M. D'Abbadie concerning the countries in some parts of the more eastern horn of Africa; and last and the most specific and important of the whole the accounts received of the country of Adel and the countries and rivers in and south of Shoa and those from the Blue Nile in Gojam and Damot to the sea at the mouth of the Jub under the equator by Major Harris late British ambassador to the King of Shoa. As the present article is accompanied by a map constructed after great labour and engraved most carefully by Mr Arrowsmith the general outline of the whole may here be deemed sufficient without lengthened discussion and observation. The Egyptian expedition alluded to started from Khartoum (now become a fine town) at the close of the wet season in 1839. It consisted of four or five small sailing vessels some passage boats and four hundred men from the garrison of Senaar the whole commanded by an able officer CAPTAIN SELIM. They completed their undertaking and returned to Khartoum at the end of 135 days during which time in obedience to the commands of their master they explored the Bahr-el-Abiad to the distance southwards of 1300 miles (turnings and windings included ) to three degrees thirty minutes north latitude and thirty-one east longitude from Greenwich where it divided into two streams; the smaller and it is very small coming from the south-west and the larger still even at the close of the dry season a very considerable river which came from the south-east upwards from the east and still more upwards from the north-east. A subsequent voyage in 1841 gained the information that the stream descended past Barry and there can be no doubt that another if not the chief branch comes from the south-east in the bearing which Ptolemy gave it and as he states from amongst mountains covered with perpetual snow of which Bruce also heard and which we now learn from Major Harris really stand in that quarter of Africa. The longitude of the river at the bifurcation is exactly the same as Ptolemy has given it which is very remarkable. The sources of the White River will therefore be found where Ptolemy and Bruce have placed them. The latter in his notes states expressly that the Bahr-el-Abiad rose to the south of Enarea not far from the equator and that it had no great western branch nor was any necessary to give the river its magnitude. (Vol. vii. App. p. 92.) The expedition in question found no very large affluents from the west side; but they found two of very considerable magnitude on the east side--one the Blue River and the other the Red River or Bahr-Seboth which latter they navigated upwards of 150 miles in a direct line and left it a considerable stream nearly as large as the eastern branch of the White River where they had left it. The banks of the Bahr-Seboth were precipitous and high whereas those of the Bahr-el-Abiad were low and on both sides covered with lakes the remains probably of the preceding inundation. Scarcely a hill or mountain was in sight from the river till approaching the bifurcation when the country became mountainous the climate more cool and the vegetation and trees around those of the temperate zone. The country on both sides is a high table-land the scenery every where very beautiful well peopled by different tribes copper-coloured and some of them even fair. Every where the banks are covered and ornamented with beautiful trees and cattle sheep goats elephants &c. are numerous and abundant. Amongst the Bhours they found Indian goods brought from the shores of the Indian ocean. Day by day the breadth depth and current of the river were observed and marked. For a considerable distance above Khartoum the breadth was from one and a half to one and a quarter mile the depth three or four fathoms and the current about one and a half mile per hour. Above the parallel of nine degrees the river takes a remarkable bend due west for about 90 miles when it passes through a large lake the waters of which emitted an offensive smell which might proceed from marshy shores.{A} Above the

lake the breadth decreases to one-third or one-fourth of a mile the depth to twelve or thirteen feet with a current of one and a half mile per hour the bottom every where sand with numerous islands interspersed in the stream. The mountainous country around the upper part abounds with iron mines. Going eastward we come to the elevated mountainous ranges which give birth to the Bahr-el-Abiad to the south the Gochob the Kibbee and their numerous tributary streams to the east and south-east and the Toumat the Yabous the Maleg and other rivers which flow north into the Abay. This vast chain is very elevated and in many places very cold especially to the west of Enarea and to the west and south of Kaffa. From the sources of the Kibbee and the Yabous it stretches eastwards to Gurague and thence still eastward by the Aroosi Galla and Hurrur or Harrar to Cape Guardafui approaching in some places to within sixty miles or less of the sea of Babel-Mandeb; the elevation to the east of Berbera decreases to about 5000 feet and from which numerous streams flow both to the north and to the south. Eastward of the meridian of Gurague a branch from the chain strikes off due north through Shoa by Ankobar and Lake Haik to the northward of which it separates and runs one branch N.N.W. to Samen and another by Angot N.E. by east to the Red Sea at Assab and the entrance of the straits of Babel-mandeb. The whole of this chain is very elevated; near Ankobar some peaks being 14 000 feet high and constantly white with snow or hail; and round the sources of the Tacazzè and the Bashilo near the territory of the Edjow Galla the mountains are covered with snow. Mr Krapf in his journey more to the east found the cold exceedingly keen the elevation exceeding 10 000 feet; and still more eastward near the little Assanghe lake Pearce found hoar frost in the mornings in the month of October. From the ranges mentioned numerous other ranges branch off in different directions forming the divisions between tribes and rivers the latter of which are very rapid and their borders or banks very high and precipitous and rugged. From the province of Bulga or Fattygar this chain running northwards rises to a great height springing like the walls of a fortification from the western bank of the Hawash from whence numerous small streams descend to increase that river. All to the eastward of that river is comparatively low (called Kôlla or the low hot country ) and to the sea-shore is one continued sheet of volcanic strata and extinct volcanoes dry and poor especially during the dry season when travelling is difficult and dangerous owing to the want of water. It is inhabited chiefly by wild beasts and by fierce tribes of the wandering Dancali and more to the south-east by the Mohammedan Somauli. In early times this country however was rich and powerful from being the channel of commerce between Abyssinia when powerful and the countries to the east Arabia Persia and India. From Zeila and Erur southward the country improves and becomes fertile and well watered. Before turning our attention to the interesting countries round the sources of the Gochob and its tributary streams and those through which it subsequently flows so clearly brought to our knowledge by Major Harris (he is certainly the first who has done so ) and the survey of the coast near its mouth by Lieutenant Christopher of the Indian navy and by him given to the gallant major--it is necessary for the better understanding of our subject to turn our attention to the explanation of the names of some countries and places given so differently by different informants and which thus given and not sufficiently attended to create great confusion and great errors in African geography. By the aid of Mr Bruce Mr Krapf Major Harris and information collected from native travellers (see _Geographical Bulletins of Paris_ Nos. 78 and 98 ) we are enabled to rectify these points and clear away heaps of inaccuracies and confusion. First then Enarea and Limmu are the same. The country is called Enarea by the Abyssinians and Limmu by the Gallas having been conquered by a Galla tribe of that name which tribe came originally from the south-west. There is another Limmu probably so named from another portion of the same tribe. It is near or the same as Sibou which according to Bruce is ten days' journey from the capital of Enarea and according to the French Geographical Bulletin (No. 114 ) not far from Horro and Fazoglo. But the first Limmu is the Limmu of Jomard's Galla Oware because he states distinctly that Sobitche was its capital; that in marching northwards from it he crossed the Wouelmae river; and that Gingiro to which he had been lay to the right or east of his early route; and further that the river which passed near Sobitche ran to the south. Enarea is not very extensive but a high table-land on every side surrounded by high mountain ranges and is situated (see _Geographical Bulletin_ 1839) at the confluence of two rivers the Gibe and the Dibe. Kaffa in its restricted sense is a state on the upper Gochob; but in its ancient and extended meaning it is a large country extending from north to south a journey of one month and includes in it several states known by separate names although the whole of these are often referred to in the name Kaffa by native travellers. It is known also by the names of Sidama and Susa and the people of Dauro call it Gomara; but the Christians in Southern Abyssinia call it Kaffa and Sidama or Susa which latter properly speaking forms its southern parts. Dawro Dauro or Woreta are the same; it is a large country and divided into three states--namely Metzo or Metcho Kulloo and Goba; and is a low and hot but fertile country situated to the east of Kaffa and to the west of the Gochob. Major Harris is the only individual who has given us the bearings and distances connected with this portion of Africa and without which the geographical features of the country could not have been fixed with any precision; but which having been obtained act as pivots from which the correct positions of other places are ascertained and fixed with considerable accuracy. Let us now attend to the sources and the courses of the principal rivers. The Kibbee or Gibe has three sources. The chief branch springs to the west of Ligamara and southwards of that place it runs east (_Geographical Bulletin_ No. 105 _and also_ No. 78 ) when suddenly turning upon itself; as it were it bends its course westward to Limmu having below Leka received the Gwadab coming from the west and passing to the south of Lofe. The Kibbee waters the small but elevated country of Nono and passes very near Sakka. Westward of Sakka it is joined by two other branches coming from the north-west and west one called Wouelmae the Wouelmae of Oware and the other Dibe. From thence it flows eastward and bounds Gingiro on the north. The early Portuguese travellers expressly state that six days' journey due east from Sakka and at one day's journey from the capital of Gingiro having first crossed a very high mountain they crossed the Kibbee a rapid rocky stream and as large as the Blue River where they had crossed it in the country of the Gongas. On the third day after leaving the capital of Gingiro pursuing their course due east to the capital of Cambat they again crossed the Zebee or Kibbee _larger_ than it was to the westward of Gingiro but less rapid and rocky; its waters resembling _melted butter_ (hence its name ) owing no doubt to the calcareous ridges through which it flowed. From thence it bends its course to the southward and is soon after joined by the Gochob which bounds the empire of Gingiro to the south. Bruce particularly and emphatically mentions the extraordinary angle which the Kibbee here makes. To the north of Gingiro the Kibbee is joined by the Dedhasa (pronounced Nassal ) and which is considered to be the same as Daneza or Danesa which according to Lieutenant Christopher is a Galla name for the Jub or Gochob. This river is passed (see _Geographical Bulletin of 1839_) before coming to Ligamara and Chelea and one and a half day's journey from Gouma in the route from Gooderoo to Enarea. In its lower course it abounds with crocodiles. Below the junction with the Dedhasa the Kibbee receives the Gala river coming from the north-east and from the confines of Gurague and Kortshassie. The separation of the waters in these parts takes place to the north of Gonea and Djimma or Gouma. The rivers that flow to the Blue Nile or Abay with the exception of the Yabous which is according to Bruce a considerable stream descending from the south and south-east are all small streams. Shat the province where the tea-plant is produced is situated to the north of Enarea and is watered by the river called Giba the fish of which are said to be poisonous (_Bruce_ vol. iii. p. 254.) Bruce states most pointedly that the capital of Enarea is fifty leagues distant from the passage of the Abay at Mine ""due south a little inclining to the west "" (Vol. iii. page 324;) and which bearing and distance corresponds very correctly with several very clear and satisfactory itineraries lately obtained. Without any high peaks or mountains the country round the sources of these rivers is very elevated and from the grain and fruits which they produce cannot be less than 7500 feet above the level of the sea. The Toumat is a small stream. Above Cassan says the _Geographical Bulletin_ No. 110 it has water all the year thus indicating that below that place the water fails in the dry season. It runs between two high chains of mountains; the east Bank that chain being known as the country called Bertat. The rains according to Bruce (the _Geographical Bulletin_ agrees in this ) commence in April; but they do not fall heavy at that time and but little affect the rivers. Beyond the chain on the western bank of the Toumat the country is level to Denka and the banks of the White River which is stated to be eleven days' journey due west from Fazoglo. Iron is very abundant in the countries round the Toumat and the Yabous and caravans of Arabian merchants regularly traverse the country from Ganjar near Kuara and two days' journey south of Kas-el-Fael by Fazoglo and Fadessi to Kaffa and Bany; the road as the latter places are approached being described as hilly and very woody with numerous small streams. The Gochob rises in Gamvou a high wild and woody country part of Limmu; and bending its course south-east next east and then south-east it forms the lake Tchocha and afterwards rolls over the great cataract Dumbaro soon after which it joins the Kibbee when the united stream tales the name of the Gochob or Jub by which it is known till it enters the sea. Where crossed in the road from Sakka to Bonga it is described as larger than any other stream which flows to join it from the country more to the south; much larger indeed than either the Gitche or Omo its subsequent tributaries. These are the principal rivers of Kaffa which is described as a high cold country as cold as Samen or Simien as Major Harris writes it in Abyssinia. Bonga the capital of Kaffa or Susa is one of the largest cities in these parts and coffee of superior quality is produced every where both in Kaffa and Enarea in the greatest abundance. So also is civet and ivory. The Omo where crossed in the road to Tuftee is passed by a bridge of wood sixty yards in length which shows that it is not a very large river nor can it be this place being so near the district where its sources must lie. In the dry season it is described as a very small stream. The mountains in the south of Kaffa or Susa are covered with snow and to the south of this place they are said to rise to a stupendous height ""to reach the skies "" and are clothed with eternal snow! Malo or Malee (as Major Harris spells it ) is westward from Koocha and not far from Jajo (certainly the Jedo of Salt ) and which is at a considerable distance from the sea (_Geographical Bulletin_ No. 114.) Malee touches upon both Goba and Doko and the latter again touches upon Kulloo. It is in Malee that the Omo now a considerable stream joins the Gochob after having received from the mountains of Souro and valleys of Sasa the Toreesh or Gotze a considerable stream. Doko and Malee like Dauro or Woreta are very hot low countries abounding in cotton. In Doko bamboo forests are frequent and extensive. The population are represented to be of a diminutive stature exceedingly rude and ignorant and are a prey to all their surrounding neighbours who invade their country at pleasure and carry off the wretched people into slavery. In this portion of Africa or very near it the early Arab writers and Portuguese navigators placed a nation of pigmies; and in this it would appear that they were correct. After the junction of the Omo the Gochob pursues its way by Ganana to the sea at Juba a few miles to the south of the equator. The western bank is inhabited by Galla tribes and the eastern by Somauli. In this part of its course it is called Jub by the Arabians Gowend or Govend by the Somauli Yumbu by the Souahilis and Danesa by the Gallas. The Gochob below Wolama is joined on the east side by a considerable stream called the Una which rises to the south of Gurague; and in Koocha and on the same side by a still larger stream which comes from the country of the Ara or Ala Galla to the east of Gurague and near the western sources of the Wabbe or Webbe. Koocha is thirty days' navigation upwards and fifteen downwards from the sea with which it has a considerable trade; white or fair people coming up the river to that place; but these are not allowed to proceed further inland. The inhabitants of Koocha carry on a great trade by means of the Gochob with Dauro in slaves ivory coffee &c.; the Galla of Dauro bringing these down the Gochob in rafts with high gunwales which indicates that the Gochob is a river of considerable magnitude and may become of great importance in the future communications with Africa; the soil and climate around it being very fine particularly in the lower parts near the sea where the land is level and the soil a fine deep red mould. After Bruce Salt had delineated with considerable accuracy the source of the Webbe and the countries around it; but except his map we had no further particulars. These are however supplied by Major Harris and Mr Krapf in the countries south-east of Shoa about Harrar and its sources; and further by accounts collected by D'Abbadie at Berbera from intelligent natives travellers regarding the countries more to the south and over the remainder of the north-eastern coast of Africa. The principal source of the Webbe is to the east of the Aroosi mountains and in the country of the Ala Galla; whence running eastward it passes Imi and Karanle (the Karain of Krapf;) it runs south-east and afterwards south in a winding course towards the Indian ocean. To the north of six degrees of latitude it is joined by several streams from the neighbourhood of Harrar and places more to the east; and in about six degrees of latitude by a large stream which rises near Lake Souaie and runs through the country of Bergama or Bahr Gama. The various countries through which the Webbe and his tributaries flow are distinctly marked on the map. The country around its sources is very hilly and cold the mountains resembling in height and appearance the boldest in Abyssinia; and to the eastward of its middle course the mountains in Howea are very high and cold. In these springs the river Doaro which flows into the sea a considerable river during the rains; but at other times its mouth is nearly blocked up with sand which is the case with some streams more to the northward. North of Mount Anot the country is fine and well watered and during the rains a very large river according to Christopher flows through it descending from the range to the south-east of Berbera and entering the sea in about eight degrees thirty minutes north latitude. Around Capes Halfoon and Guardafui the country is fine and well watered with small streams and the climate delicious as is the coast from Cape Guardafui westward to Berbera. Harrar stands in a beautiful fertile and well-watered valley surrounded with hills the soil rich and producing fine coffee abundantly. It is strictly Mahommedan and comparatively speaking a considerable place though much shorn of its dominion and power from those days when it had become the capital of that portion of eastern Africa ruled by the Mahommedans; and when under Mahommed _Gragne_ (left-handed ) it overran and desolated the whole Abyssinian empire then under that unfortunate sovereign King David. In the county south of Berbera there is abundance of fine wells of excellent water. Waggadeyn is a very beautiful country and produces abundance of myrrh and frankincense as in fact every portion of the eastern horn from Enarea inclusive also does. It is the great myrrh and frankincense country from which Arabia Egypt Judea Syria and Tyre were supplied in early days of Scripture history. The Webbe is only six fathoms broad and five feet deep in the dry season in Waggadeyn; but in the rainy season the depth is increased to five fathoms. It is navigated by rafts lower down. Incense gum and coffee are every where abundant around the Webbe and its tributary streams. Harrar contains about 14 000 inhabitants and Berbera 10 000; Sakka about 12 000. All the early Arabian writers pointedly state and so also do the Portuguese discoverers that the Webbe entered the sea _near Mukdishu_ or Magadoxo. This was no doubt the fact; but from what cause we know not the river after approaching within a short distance of Magadoxo to the north turns south-west and approaching in several places very near the sea from which it is only separated by sandhills it terminates in a lake about halfway between Brava and the Jub. This is Christopher's account; but my opinion is that this lake communicates with the sea during the rainy season and even in a small stream in the dry season also. Christopher pointedly states that besides filtrating through the sandhills it communicates with the sea in two places between Merka and Brava; and that this is correct is proved from the fact that while the river near Merka is 175 feet broad it is reduced to seventy-five feet near Brava; while the _Geographical Bull._ No. 98 p. 96 states that a small river enters the sea to the south of Brava a branch unquestionably from the Webbe. The country between Magadoxo and the Jub is called Ber-el-Banader and north of Magadoxo and situated between the Webbe and the Doaro is the considerable province called Hamer. Christopher describes the Somauli inhabiting the lower Webbe as civil and obliging the soil fine and fruitful and the climate the most delicious he had ever visited. The inhabitants offered to conduct him in safety to Abyssinia and into very remote districts in the interior. The name of England is beginning to be well known respected and feared in this fine portion of Africa; and it is not a little to be regretted and lamented that this has not been the case at a much earlier period. The early Arabian writers such as Batouta write Magadoxo Mukdishu; Christopher states that it is now divided into two parts in a state of hostilities with each other and that the southern part is called Mukutshu and the northern Mukkudeesha. According to the _Geographical Bulletin_ No. 98 p. 98 the word _ganana_ signifies _queue_ or tail which explains at once the river which Christopher makes enter the Webbe near Galwen coming from the north-westward to be in reality a branch flowing off from the Jub at that place. It is a thing unknown to find a river rising in a low alluvial country. To the east of the Webbe the country is inhabited by Somauli tribes who are Mahommedans and considerable traders. The country seems every where to have a considerable population; and instead of being a blank and a waste as hitherto supposed and represented on maps it is found to be one of the finest portions of Africa or of the world. Grain of every kind known in the temperate zones especially wheat of superior qualities is most abundant and so cheap that the value of a dollar can purchase as much as will maintain a man for a whole year! The sources of the Hawash approach within about thirty miles of the Abay. The lake Souaie in Gurague is about thirty miles in circumference and contains numerous islands. In these are lodged some ancient and valuable Abyssinian records. It is fed by five small rivers and empties itself into the Hawash (see _Ludolf_.) Gurague is a Christian state but reduced to great misery and poverty by the Galla tribes which surround it on every side. The elevation of Ankobar above the sea is 8200 feet and of Augollalla about 200 more; so that the climate is very moderate. The country is every where very mountainous; but at the same time is in many places well cultivated. The rivers run in deep valleys or dells and are very rocky and rapid. The present kingdom of Shoa contains about 2 500 000 of inhabitants chiefly Christians of the Alexandrian Church. In March 1842 Mr Krapf set out from Ankobar to proceed to Egypt by way of Gondar and Massuah; but after traversing the mountainous parts of Northern Shoa and the countries of the Woollo-Galla and reaching a short distance beyond the Bashilo (then only five days' journey from Gondar ) he was compelled from hostilities prevailing among the chiefs in that quarter to retrace his steps to Gatera. In the journey which he had so far accomplished Mr Krapf traversed the country near the sources of the numerous rivers which flow to form the Jimma and the Bashilo. The mountains were high and cold (especially in the province of Mans ) and exceedingly precipitous ascending and descending 3000 feet in the course of a few hours. The soil in the valleys was good and tolerably well cultivated. Sheep with long black wool were numerous; the population in general rude and ignorant. From Gatera he took his course to Lake Haik and from thence pursuing his route north-eastward he crossed the numerous streams which rise in the mountainous range to the westward and pursue their course to the country of Adel north of Aussa. Crossing the very elevated range on the western frontier of modern Angot he pursued his journey to Antalon leaving at Lat the Tacazzè four days' journey to the west and crossing in his course the numerous streams such as the Tarir the Ghebia Sumshato and the Tyana (this last a considerable river ) which flow northward from the mountains of Angot and Woggerat to form the Areequa a large tributary to the Tacazzè. Mr Krapf's route lay a little to the westward of Lake Assanghe and considerably in this portion thereof to the west of the route of Alvaraez who passed on the south side of Mount Ginnamora from whence the streams descended to the south-east. Lake Haik is a fine sheet of water about forty-five miles in circumference with an island near the north-west corner and an outlet in the west which runs to the Berkona. On the east and the south sides it is surrounded with high mountains. Mount Ambassel or Amba Israel the celebrated mountain in Geshen where the younger branches of the royal family of Abyssinia were imprisoned in early times is a little to the north of Lake Haik and beyond the Mille. It runs north and south in length about twelve or thirteen miles and is exceedingly high and steep the sides thereof being almost perpendicular. Mr Krapf amongst the most considerable rivers which he passed in this quarter mentions the Ala which he states runs to and is lost in the deserts of the country of Adel. This is important and this river is no doubt the Wali of Bruce which he mentions (vol. iii. p. 248) as the scene of a remarkable engagement between the sovereigns of Abyssinia and Adel in 1576 during the reign of the Abyssinian king Sertza Denghel. The Abyssinian army descended from Angot and crossing the Wali a considerable river cut off the army of Adel from Aussa drove a portion thereof into the stream where they were drowned while the remainder flying crossed the stream lower down and thus effected their escape to Aussa. This confirms in a remarkable manner the position of this river and would almost go to establish the fact that it cannot unite with Lake Aussa the termination of the Hawash. At the Ala Mr Krapf states that he was then seven days' journey from Aussa. Aussa according to Bruce or rather the capital of Aussa was in former times situated on a rock on the bank of the river Hawash. It is called Aussa Gurel in the old Portuguese maps and is no doubt the Aussa Guraiel of Major Harris laid down on the Arabic map which he obtained from a native of that place. When low the termination of the Hawash may be said to form three lakes; but during the rainy season the land is flooded round to a great extent the circumference of the lake then extending to 120 geographical miles. When the waters retire they leave like the Nile in Egypt a quantity of fine mud or slime which cultivated as it immediately is produces abundant crops and on this account the valley of Aussa is and always has been the granary of Adel. From the southern boundary of the lake to the place where the Hawash finally extricates itself from the mountainous ranges the distance is about five days' journey or from sixty to seventy miles. The length of the fine valley of Aussa is about one hundred miles. From the summit of the chain which separates the waters which flow south-east to Adel and north-west to the Tacazzè Mr Krapf says that looking over Lasta to the towering snow-clad peaks of Samen or Simien the whole country had the appearance of the raging waves of the sea in a terrible tempest. The soil around the upper branches of the Tacazzè is very good especially in Wofila Boora and Enderta adjoining the fine river Tyana; but it is only indifferently cultivated owing to the perpetual wars and feuds amongst the chieftains and tribes in these parts and the bad and unsettled governments which now exist in Tigre and in fact in all Abyssinia. Travelling in these parts is difficult and insecure owing to the plundering dispositions of the people and the rapacity of the chiefs who live beyond the control of any commanding or great sovereign power. At Gatera Mr Krapf was robbed of every thing that he had by the ferocious Woollo-Galla chief _Adara Bille_ from whose clutches he escaped with some difficulty. But time and space forbids me going more at length into the interesting journeys of these late eastern travellers amongst which those of Major Harris is certainly the most important. He has accurately determined and been the first to determine the longitude and latitude of Tajoura Lake Assal or the Salt Lake and Ankobar &c. and thus given correct starting points from which to regulate the bearings and distances of the other very interesting places in the interior. The bay of Tajoura affords good anchorage; but the best point to start for the interior is Zeila the route thence to Shoa running along the edges of the watered and more cultivated districts. Amongst the travellers who visited this quarter of Africa lately is Dr T. C. Beke. He however went over the same ground as the others in his journey from Tajoura to Ankobar (Messrs Krapf and Isenberg had preceded him a considerable time;) therefore his letters and communications so far as yet known contain little that is new. The only portion connected with Shoa which the others had not visited is about thirty-five miles of the lower course of the Jimma near its junction with the Abay where the latter stream is about 600 feet broad and from three to five feet deep. His subsequent travels in this part of Africa were confined to Gojam Damot and part of Agow Medre and to the source of the Nile; but except being more minute in minor details regarding these provinces and their numerous small streams and rivers they add little to the information given by Bruce. Still his journey when given to the world may supply us with some interesting particulars regarding what he actually saw. Dr Beke travelled individually for information; but in aid of his laudable enterprise received some pecuniary assistance from the African Civilization Society and the Royal Geographical Society. Being a member of the former society and while engaged in constructing the maps for the journals of the Church Missionary Society in the summer of last year--not for personal gain but solely to benefit Africa--the communications and maps which from time to time came from Dr Beke to that society were readily put into my hands to use where they could be used to advance the cause of Africa. Amongst the maps there was one of the countries to the south of the Abay including Enarea Kaffa and Gingiro constructed at and sent from Yaush in Gojam September 6 1842 together with some of the authorities on which it had been made. In that map the whole of the rivers even to the south of Enarea and Kaffa the Gojob (as the Doctor writes it ) the Omo the Kibbee or Gibe the Dedhasa and Baro are all made though rising beyond that is to the south of Gingiro and to the south and south-east of Kaffa and Woreta (Woreta is placed to the south of Kaffa ) to run north-westward into the Abay. In fact the Gojob is represented on that map to be the parent stream of the Bahr-el-Azreek or Blue River and quite a distinct stream from the Abay which it is made to join by the Toumat having from the south-east received in its middle course the Geba the Gibe the Dedhasa and the Baro and from the south-west the Omo or Abo. The whole delineation a copy of which I preserved presented a mass so contrary to all other authorities ancient and modern that to rectify or reduce it to order was found impracticable or where attempted only tended to lead into error. The error of bringing such an influx of water as the rivers mentioned and so delineated would bring to the Blue Nile is evident from the fact that this river at Senaar in the dry season is according to Bruce only about the size of the Thames at Richmond. His words are specific and emphatic (Vol. vii. App. p. 89)--""The Nile at Babosch is like or greater than the Thames at Richmond""--""has fine white sand on its banks""--""the water is clear and in some places not more than two feet deep."" Dumbaro (or Tzamburo as the Doctor calls it in the map alluded to) is laid down between eight degrees and nine degrees north latitude and west of Wallega; Tuftee is placed more to the north on the river designated the Blue River and Gobo still further north upon it in fact adjoining to its junction with the Abay. Doko is not noticed on the map. The intelligent native Abyssinian Gregorius without referring to numerous other credible early and also modern authorities determines this important point quite differently and accurately; for he assured Ludolf (A. D. 1650 see _Ludolf_ p. 38 ) that all those rivers that are upon the borders of Ethiopia in the countries of ""Cambat Gurague Enarea Zandera Wed Waci Gaci and some others "" do not flow into the Nile or any of his tributaries but ""enter the sea every one in his distinct region "" that is the Indian ocean. Since his return to England Dr Beke has I have reason to believe found out his great error; and will alter the course of all these rivers in Enarea and Kaffa and bend their courses to the south-east and south.{B} With these observations I proceed to a more important portion of my subject; namely the position and capabilities of Africa as these connect themselves with the present position and prospects of the British Tropical possessions and the position and prospects of the Tropical possessions of other powers. The support of the power and the maintenance of the political preponderance of Great Britain in the scale of nations depend upon colonial possessions. To render colonies most efficient and most advantageous for her general interests it is indispensably necessary that these should be planted in the Tropical world the productions of which ever have been are and ever will be eagerly sought after by the civilized nations of the temperate zones. One of the greatest modern French statesmen Talleyrand understood and recommended this fact to his master. In his celebrated memorial addressed to Bonaparte in 1801 speaking specially of England and her colonies he says:-- ""Her navy and her commerce are at present all her trust. France may add Italy and Germany to her dominions with less detriment to Great Britain then will follow the acquisition of a navy and the extension of her trade. Whatever gives colonies to France

supplies her with ships sailors manufactures and husbandmen. Victories by land can only give her mutinous subjects who instead of augmenting the national force by their riches or numbers contribute only to disperse and enfeeble that force; but the growth of colonies supplies her with zealous citizens and the increase of real wealth; and increase of effective numbers is the certain consequence."" ""What could Germany Italy Spain and France combining their strength do against England? They might assemble in millions on the shores of the Channel but THERE would be the limits of their enmity. Without ships to carry them over and without experienced mariners to navigate these ships Britain would only deride the pompous preparation. The moment we leave the shore her fleets are ready to pounce upon us to disperse and to destroy our ineffectual armaments. There lies her security; in her insular situation and her navy consists her impregnable defence. Her navy is in every respect the offspring of her trade. To rob her of that therefore is to BEAT DOWN her LAST WALL AND TO FILL UP HER LAST MOAT. To gain it to ourselves is to enable us to take advantage of her deserted and defenceless borders and to complete the humiliation of our only remaining competitor."" These are correct opinions and merit the constant and most serious attention of every British statesman. The increased cultivation and prosperity of foreign Tropical possessions is become so great and is advancing so rapidly the power and the resources of other nations that these are embarrassing this country in all her commercial relations in her pecuniary resources and in all her political relations and negotiations. During the fearful struggle of a quarter of a century for her existence as a nation against the power and resources of Europe directed by the most intelligent but remorseless military ambition against her the command of the productions of the torrid zone and the advantageous commerce which that afforded gave to Great Britain the power and the resources which enabled her to meet to combat and to overcome her numerous and reckless enemies in every battle-field whether by sea or by land throughout the world. In her the world saw realized the fabled giant of antiquity. With her hundred hands she grasped her foes in every region under heaven and crushed them with resistless energy. Who it may be asked manned those fleets which bore the flag and the fame and the power of England over every sea and into every land--who swept fleets from the sea as at Aboukir and navies from the ocean as at Trafalgar? It may pointedly and safely be stated--the seamen supplied by the colonial trade and chiefly by the West Indian colonial trade of Great Britain. About 2000 seamen for example were every year drawn into the West Indian trade of the Clyde from the herring fisheries on the west coast of Scotland and just as regularly transferred from that colonial trade into British men-of-war such men being the best seamen that they had because they were men accustomed to every climate from the arctic circle to the equator. In the event of any future war men of this description will more than ever be wanted; because the torrid regions are become more populous and more powerful either in themselves or as connected with great nations in the temperate zones and consequently the sphere of European conflicts will be more extended in them. The world especially Europe and America is vastly improved since 1815. Great Britain must look at and attend to this. She must march and act accordingly. The world will not wait for her if she chooses to stand still; on the contrary other nations will ""go ahead "" and leave her behind to repent of her folly. ""England "" said her greatest warrior ""cannot have a little war;"" neither can she exist as a little nation. The natives of the torrid zone can only labour in the cultivation of the soil of that zone. In no other zone can the special productions of the torrid zone be produced in perfection. There now remains no portion of the tropical world where _labour can be had on the spot_ and whereon Great Britain can so conveniently and safely plant her foot in order to accomplish the desirable object--extensive Tropical cultivation--but Tropical Africa. Every other part is occupied by independent nations or by people that may and will soon become independent. British capital and knowledge will abundantly furnish the means to cultivate her rich fields. This is the only rational and lasting way to instruct and to enlighten her people and to keep them enlightened civilized and industrious. By adopting this course also that British capital both commercial and manufacturing which in one way or other finds its way and which will continue to find its way especially while money is so cheap in this country into foreign possessions to assist the slave trade and to support slavery--will be turned to support the cause of freedom in Africa and at the same time to increase instead of tending to diminish the trade and the power of this country. The principle which Great Britain has adopted in her future agricultural relations with the Tropical world is that colonial produce must be produced and that it can be produced in that region cheaper by free African and East Indian labour than by slave labour. This great principle she cannot deviate from nor attempt to revoke. If the foreign slave trade be not extinguished and the cultivation of the Tropical territories of other powers opposed and checked by British Tropical cultivation then the interests and the power of such states will rise into a preponderance over those of Great Britain; and the power and influence of the latter will cease to be felt feared and respected amongst the civilized and powerful nations of this world. Civilization and peace can only be brought round in Africa by the extension of cultivation accompanied by the introduction of true religion. Commerce will doubtless prove a powerful auxiliary; but to render it so and to raise commerce to any permanent or beneficial extent cultivation upon an extensive scale must precede commerce in Africa. It is therefore _within_ Africa and by African hands and African exertions chiefly that the slave trade can be destroyed. It is IN Africa not OUT of Africa that Africans generally speaking can and must be enlightened and civilized. Teach and show her rulers and her people that they can obtain and that white men will give them more for the productions of their soil than for the hands which can produce these--and the work is done. All other steps are futile can only be mischievous and delusive and terminate in disappointment and defeat. To eradicate the slave trade will not eradicate the passions which gave it birth. In attempting to extinguish the African slave trade and to benefit Africa Great Britain has in one shape or other expended during the last thirty-six years above £20 000 000; yet instead of that traffic being destroyed it has as regards the possessions of foreign powers been trebled and is now as great as ever while Africa has received no advantage whatever. Since 1808 about 3 500 000 slaves have been transported from Africa to the Brazils and Cuba. The productions of what is technically denominated colonial Tropical produce has in consequence been increased from £15 000 000 to £60 000 000 annually augmented in part it is true from the natural increase of nearly one million slaves more in the United States of America. In abolishing slavery in the West Indies Great Britain has besides expended above £20 000 000; still that measure has hitherto been so little successful that £100 000 000 of fixed capital additional invested in these colonies stand on the brink of destruction; while in addition to the former sums the people of Great Britain have from the enhanced price of produce paid during the last six or seven years £10 000 00 more and which has gone chiefly if not wholly into the pockets of the negro labourers in excessive high wages the giant evil which afflicts the West Indies. When the emancipation of the slaves in the West Indies was carried amidst feeling without judgment the nation was so ready to pay £20 000 000 and the West Indians especially those in England so anxious to receive it each considering that act all that was requisite to be done that neither party ever thought for a moment of what foreign nations had done were doing and would do in consequence. The warnings and advice of local knowledge were scouted in England till these evils which prudence might and ought to have prevented now stare all parties in the face with a strength that puzzles the wisest and appals the boldest. Instead of supplying her own wants with Tropical produce and next nearly all Europe as she formerly did it is the fact that in some of the most important articles she has barely sufficient to supply her own wants; while the whole of her colonial possessions east west north and south are at this moment supplied with--and as regards the article of sugar are consuming--foreign slave produce brought direct or refined in bond exported and sold in the colonies at a rate as cheap if not really cheaper than British muscovado the produce of these colonies. Such a state of things cannot continue nor ought it any longer to be permitted to continue without adopting an effectual remedy. The extent of the power and the interests which are arrayed against each other in this serious conflict must be minutely considered to be properly understood in a commercial and in a political point of view. Unless this is done the magnitude of the danger and the assistance which is necessary to be given and the exertions which are requisite in order to bring the contest to a successful issue cannot be properly appreciated or correctly understood. The value of what is technically called colonial produce at present produced in the British colonial possessions the East Indies included is about £10 000 000 yearly from a capital invested to the extent of £150 000 000. The trade thus created employs 800 ships 300 000 tons and 17 000 seamen yearly. This is the yearly value of the property and produce of the British Tropical agricultural trade now dependent upon free labour. Against this we have opposed in the western world alone nearly £60 000 000 of agricultural produce exportable and exported yearly requiring a trade in returns equal to £56 000 000 and a proportionate number of ships' tonnage and seamen. In the trade with Cuba and Port Rico alone the United States have 1600 vessels employed yearly (230 000 tons of shipping ) making numerous and speedy voyages and from which trade only these states in case of emergency could man and maintain from twenty to thirty sail of the line. On the part of foreign nations there has since 1808 been £800 000 000 of fixed capital created in slaves and in cultivation wholly dependent upon the labour of slaves. On the other hand there stands on the part of Great Britain altogether and only about £130 000 000 (deducting the value paid for the slaves) vested in Tropical cultivation and formerly dependent upon slave labour and which has in part been swept away while the remainder is in danger of being so. Let us have recourse to a few returns and figures in order to show what is going on especially by slave-labour in other countries as compared with British possessions in three articles of colonial produce namely sugar (reducing the foreign clayed sugar into muscovado to make the comparison just ) coffee and cotton; and as regards a few foreign countries only nearly three-fourths of which produce be it observed has been created within the last thirty years. SUGAR--1842. _British possessions._ _Foreign possessions._ cwts. cwts. West Indies 2 508 552 Cuba 5 800 000 East Indies 940 452 Brazils 2 400 000 Mauritius (1841 ) 544 767 Java 1 105 757 --------- Louisiana 1 400 000 Total 3 993 771 ---------- Total 10 705 757 COFFEE--1842. lbs. lbs. West Indies 9 186 555 Java 134 842 715 East Indies 18 206 448 Brazils 135 000 800 ---------- Cuba 33 589 325 Total 27 393 003 Venezuela 34 000 000 ----------- Total 337 432 840 COTTON--1840. lbs. lbs. West Indies 427 529 United States 790 479 275 East Indies 77 015 917 Java 165 504 800 To China from do. 60 000 000 Brazils 25 222 828 ----------- ----------- Total 137 443 446 Total 981 206 903 The above figures require only to be glanced at to learn the increased wealth and productions of foreign nations in comparison with the portion which England has in the trade and value of such articles now become absolutely necessary for the manufactures the luxuries and the necessaries of life amongst the civilized nations of the world. In the enormous property and traffic thus created in foreign possessions by the continuance and extension of the slave trade British merchants and manufacturers are interested in the cause of their lawful trade to a great extent. The remainder is divided amongst the great civilized nations of the world maintaining in each very extensive very wealthy very powerful and as opposed to Great Britain very formidable commercial and political rival interests. Further it is the very extensive and profitable markets which the above-mentioned yearly creation of property gives to the manufacturers of foreign countries that have raised foreign manufactures to their present importance and which enables these in numerous instances to oppose and to rival our own. The odds therefore in agricultural and commercial capital and interest and consequently in political power and influence arrayed against the British Tropical possessions are very fearful--SIX TO ONE. This is a most serious but correct state of things. Alarming as it is to contemplate still it must be looked at and looked at with firmness; for even yet it may be considered without terror or alarm. The struggle both national and colonial is clearly therefore most important and the stake at issue incalculably great. It is by the assistance of African free labour and by the judicious and just application thereof both in Africa and in the West Indian colonies that the victory of free labour over slave labour freedom over slavery can be achieved and maintained. The abundant population of Africa properly directed and a small portion gradually taken from judiciously selected districts of that continent and under proper regulations will be found sufficient to cultivate not only her own fertile fields but also to supply in adequate numbers free labourers to maintain the cultivation of the British West Indian colonies. It must always be borne in mind that in the maintenance of cultivation civilization and industry in those possessions the cultivation industry and civilization of Africa depend. _The cause of both is henceforth the same and cannot and ought not and must not be separated._ Whatever sources the West Indian colonies may and must look to for immediate relief it is in civilized and enlightened Africa that they can only depend for a future and permanent support. Abandon this principle and this course and the error committed will at an early day be fatal and final. Yet if the labour of Africa is continued to be abstracted to any considerable extent by Europeans and from any points except from free European settlements in Africa in order to cultivate other quarters of the world all hope of improving the condition of Africa is at an end; because the abstraction of such labour can only be obtained by the continuation of internal slavery and a slave trade within Africa; because labour if generally abstracted from Africa as heretofore whether in freemen or slaves will tend to enhance the cost of that which remains to such an extent as will render it all but impossible for any industrious capitalist whether European or native to extend and maintain successfully cultivation in Africa. Had the 9 000 000 of slaves which from first to last have been torn from Africa to cultivate America been employed in their native land supported by European (British) capital and guided by British intelligence how much more beneficial and secure than it is would every thing have been to Africa to England and to the world? Europe has been acting wrong: let her not continue in error; and at the same time let England meet and grapple with the question with enlarged and liberal views--views that look to future times and future circumstances--views such as England ought to entertain and such as Great Britain only can yet see carried into effect. We first established cultivation in the West Indies by a population not natives of the soil but which required to be imported from another and distant quarter of the globe. This politically and commercially speaking was a great error; but it has been committed and it would be a greater error to leave those people now free British subjects and the large British capital there vested to decay misery and general deterioration. They must be supported and it is fortunate that they can be supported through their present difficulties without inflicting a grievous wrong on Africa by taking her children from her by wholesale to cultivate distant and foreign lands. If European nations generally adopt the system of transporting labourers as freemen from Africa then Africa would continue to be as much distressed tortured and oppressed as ever she has been; while with the great strength of slave labour which those vast and fertile countries Brazils Cuba &c. possess they would by the unlimited introduction of people called free from Africa but which once got into their power they could coerce to labour for stated hire overwhelm by increased production all the British colonies both in the west and in the east. Such abstraction of the African population from their country would give a fearful impulse to an internal slave trade in Africa. The unfeeling chiefs on the coast the most profligate debased and ferocious of mankind would by fraud force or purchase in the character of emigration agents drag as many to the coast as they pleased and might be wanted; and while they did not actually sell nor the European technically speaking buy the people so brought from interior parts these chiefs by simply fixing high port charges and fiscal regulations for revenue purposes would obtain from the transfer of the people--a transfer which these people could not resist or oppose--a much higher income than they before received from the _bona fide_ sale of slaves; and with which income they could and they would purchase European articles from European traders to enable them to furnish additional and future supplies. In this way millions after millions of Africans--for millions after millions would most unquestionably be demanded--would certainly be carried away. The poor creatures unable to pay their own passage would no more be their own masters from the moment they got on board the foreign ship than if they were really slaves. Such a traffic as this on the part of foreign nations Great Britain could neither denounce nor oppose while she herself resorted to a similar course. In one way only she could reasonably resist and oppose it; namely by urging that she only took people from her own African settlements which are free to her West Indian settlements which are free also; while foreign nations such as Brazils had no possessions of any kind on the coast of Africa and at the same time retained slavery in their dominions. Great Britain could only urge this plea in opposition to such proceedings on the part of other powers; but would such reasoning however proper and just be admitted or listened to? I do not think that it would. The consequences of the adoption of such a course by the nation alluded to or by any other European power which has Tropical colonies (France Spain Denmark and Holland have ) will prove fatal to the best interests of Great Britain. Already the people in the Brazils have begun to moot the question--that they ought in sincerity to put an end to the African slave trade and in lieu thereof to bring labourers from Africa as free people. The supply of such that will be required both to maintain the present numbers of the black population and to extend cultivation in that country will certainly be great and lasting. The disparity of the sexes in Brazils is undoubtedly great. In Cuba it is in the proportion of 275 000 males to 150 000 females and amongst the whole the number of young persons is small. To keep up the population only in these countries will probably require 130 000 people from Africa yearly; while interest will lead the agricultural capitalist in those countries to bring only effective labourers and these as a matter of course chiefly males; which will tend to perpetuate the evils arising from the inequality of the sexes and thus continue to a period the most remote the demand from Africa and consequently a continued expense equal perhaps to £30 each for every effective free labourer brought from that continent. It is thus obvious that African immigration in any shape and to any nation is a most serious matter. Unless the subject is considered in all its bearings with reference not only to the present but to future times and above all with reference to the steps which France Portugal or any other European power may take in Africa and also with reference to the steps which Great Britain may or may not take with regard to that great continent--most embarrassing results must follow; while on the steps which may be taken by other nations the British colonial interests henceforward depend. There remains but one certain and efficient way to prevent fatal evils and destructive results and that is the simple and ready and rational course; namely to oppose free labour _within_ Africa and the West Indies and the East Indies to African labour whether free or bond abstracted from her soil and carried by foreign nations to distant parts of the globe. In Africa where the soil the climate the productions are equal and the same _one-sixth_ part of the capital in labour would obtain labour equally efficient nay more efficient because removing Africans from their own country either as slaves or freemen even to other Tropical climates must be attended with considerable risk and loss. Produce supplied cheaper from Africa than it can be obtained from the places above alluded to would speedily and completely terminate not only the foreign African slave trade but the slave trade and slavery in Africa itself. This is the only safe secure and certain way to accomplish the great object. It is safe because it is just; it is secure because it is profitable to all concerned the giver as well as the receiver of the boon. It is neither prudent patriotic nor safe to attempt to confine the productions of colonial commodities to the present British Tropical possessions; while the production of these in other countries and places will be increased by the capital and industry of other nations and even by British capital and skill more especially while capital cannot find room for profitable employment in England. During the war Great Britain exported to the continent of Europe colonial produce to the extent of five millions yearly; and which in every case but especially in bad seasons when large supplies of continental grain were necessary for the food of her population always secured a large balance of trade in her favour and which would again be the case if she adopts the course here pointed out. Adopting the course recommended Great Britain at an early day would be able to supply not only her own extensive markets both home and colonial with sugar coffee cotton and dye-stuffs &c. &c. but in every other market of the world she would come in for a large share of the external traffic. Her ships and her seamen would carry both to her own and to foreign markets the productions raised by British subjects and British capital instead of carrying from foreign port to foreign port as her ships and her seamen do at this moment the productions raised by foreign people capital and industry. Great additional wealth would thus be drawn to this country; Tropical produce of every description would be obtained at a reasonable yet remunerating rate; now extensive and profitable markets would be opened up to our manufactures. They would become and remain prosperous; and all classes of the community would be benefited and relieved. Prosperity would increase the power of the people to consume; increased consumption would produce increased revenue; and the government would be relieved from unceasing applications for relief which under existing circumstances they have it not in their power to give. The point under consideration also important as it is becomes still more important when the fact is considered that if Great Britain does not set about the work to raise that produce in Africa and command the trade proceeding from it other nations most assuredly will; when she will lose not only the advantages which that cultivation and trade would give her but that trade also which she at present holds with her own colonies; for it is plain that the proceedings of foreign countries such as have been adverted to both in Africa America and other places would cover the British colonies with poverty and ruin. The geographical position of Africa is peculiarly favourable for commerce with all other countries and especially with Great Britain and her vast and varied possessions. Africa or rather Tropical Africa is equally distant from America and Europe and the most civilized parts of Asia besides her proximity to Arabia and by means of the Red Sea with Egypt and the Mediterranean. Africa whether we look to the Cape of Good Hope or the Red Sea is the impregnable halfway house to India--the quarter to make good the loss of an Indian empire. She has numerous good harbours many navigable rivers a most fruitful soil valuable productions of every kind known in every other quarter of the Tropical world besides some peculiarly her own; and a climate and a country take it all in all equal if not superior to any other Tropical quarter of the world in point of salubrity. Her population are indeed ignorant and debased; but generally speaking and especially over large portions of her surface they are even more active and intelligent and industrious than the Indians of America or the people in some parts of Asia are or than the population of Europe was before the arms of Rome coerced and civilized them. Why then is Africa overlooked and neglected? Let us attend to the following facts. They are both in a political and commercial point of view of great importance as showing the progress of the opinions and efforts of foreign nations as directed towards Africa. The great energies of France are it is well known at present strongly directed to the more important points of Tropical Africa for the purpose of extending colonization cultivation and commerce therein in order that she may thereby obtain supplies of colonial produce from the application of her own capital and at the same time and by this measure to raise up a more extensive commercial marine and consequently a more powerful and commanding navy. Under such circumstances the real question to be solved is--Shall Great Britain secure and keep as she may do the superiority in Tropical cultivation commerce and influence? or Shall foreign countries be suffered to acquire this supremacy not only as regards themselves specifically but even to the extent of supplying British markets with the produce of their fields their labour and their capital to the abandonment and destruction of her own? This is the true state of the case; and the result is a vital question as regards the future power and resources of Great Britain. France is already securely placed at the mouth of the Senegal and at Goree extending her influence eastward and north-eastward from both places. She has a settlement at Albreda on the Gambia a short distance above St Mary's and which commands that river. She has just formed a settlement close by Cape Palmas and another at the mouth of the Gaboon and a third by this time near the chief mouth of the Niger in the Bight of Benin. She has fixed herself at Massuah and Buro on the west shore of the Red Sea commanding the inlets into Abyssinia. She is endeavouring to fix her flag at Brava and the mouth of the Jub; and she has just taken permanent possession of the important island of Johanna situated in the centre of the northern outlet of the Mozambique channel by which she acquires the command of that important channel. Her active agents are placed in Southern Abyssinia and are traversing the borders of the Great Bahr-el-Abiad; while the northern shores of Africa will speedily be her own. Spain has planted herself in the island of Fernando Po which commands all the outlets of the Niger and the rivers from Cameroons to the equator; and from which she can readily obtain at any time any number of people from the adjacent coasts for her West Indian possessions either as slaves or freemen. About six years ago the government of Portugal appointed a commission to enquire into the state and condition of her once fine and still important colonies in Tropical Africa and to report upon the best course to adopt to render them beneficial to the mother country. They have reported and wisely recommended that Portuguese knowledge and capital should as far as possible be again sent to Africa in order to instruct enlighten and cultivate these valuable possessions; and instead of allowing as heretofore labour in slaves to be abstracted from Africa that native labourers should be retained and employed in Africa itself; and further that it should to the utmost be aided and directed by European skill capital and labour. Thus fourteen degrees of latitude on the east coast and twenty degrees of latitude on the west coast will at an early day be set free from the slave trade. From these points the Brazil markets were chiefly supplied with slaves; but Brazils being now separated from Portugal the latter has and can have no interest in allowing the former to carry on the slave trade from her African dominions but quite the reverse. The discovery of the route to India by the Cape of Good Hope changed the course of eastern commerce. The exertions of Portugal in the manner proposed will now and most certainly and severely affect Tropical productions and commerce in every market. In this case England ought to encourage and support Portugal and by following her footsteps in other eligible parts of Africa share in the advantages which such a state of things and the cultivation and improvement of Africa is certain to produce. The Iman of Muscat the sovereign of Zanzibar has lately put an end to the slave trade in his dominions in Africa extending northwards from the Portuguese boundary eight degrees of latitude on the eastern coast. His envoy who was lately in England was so delighted with the treatment which he received and with all that he heard and saw here that he has influenced his master to carry out sincerely the views and objects recommended by England. I have in my possession a most interesting account of the country extending into the interior of Africa from the coast opposite Zanzibar all the way to the great lake Maravi. The country is intersected with noble rivers one especially which issues out of the lake; is generally healthy and well cultivated especially as the lake is approached. The population are generally of Arabian descent industrious and clothed. A wide field therefore for commercial operations is open in this quarter. The powerful sovereign of Dahomey has agreed to abolish the slave trade. Independent of his considerable dominions his fine country was one of the greatest high-roads for the slave caravans from the interior. He has received welcomed and encouraged the Wesleyan missionaries lately sent to that quarter. The missionaries from this society and also one from the Church Missionary Society have penetrated to Abekuta a town containing 40 000 inhabitants and about 106 miles north-east of Lagos and north of Benin. The country immediately after quitting the coast becomes most fertile pleasant and healthy as all that country to the north of the Formosa is well known to be. The population are eager for instruction; they are comparatively industrious and civilized; they manufacture all their necessary agricultural implements bits for bridles hoes &c. from their own iron; they tan their own leather and manufacture therefrom saddles bridles shoes &c. The great sovereign of Ashantee has also received w

th royal honours and welcomed the ministers of the gospel encouraged them and listened to them in the most gratifying manner. The Almamy of Teembo--a state which commands the fine districts around the Niger in its early course and the roads from populous interior parts on the east to the western coast--has lately evinced the strongest desire to extend cultivation and commerce in lieu of the slave trade and to have a ready communication with Europeans and especially with the English. In other portions of Africa important movements are also going on most gratifying to the friends of humanity and religion. The United States of America as a nation is about to incorporate with her dominions the whole coast of Africa on Cape Palmas to the borders of the Gallinas--a fertile and healthy part of that continent and wherein several settlements have of late years been made by the free people of colour from those states. This effected there will hardly remain a spot of any consequence in Tropical Africa worth looking after for Great Britain to plant her foot either for the purpose of obtaining labourers for her West Indian colonies or to extend agriculture and commerce with Africa. The present British Tropical African possessions have been and are very badly selected for any one of the purposes alluded to or for extending political power and influence in Africa. Still much more may be made of them than has ever hitherto been done. But there is a still higher and more important consideration as regards Africa alone--the eternal salvation of her people. This consideration is addressed to the rulers of a Christian nation. The appeal cannot fall on deaf ears. The debt which Great Britain owes to Africa it is undeniable is incalculably great. The sooner it is put in course of liquidation the better. To spread Christianity throughout Africa can only atone for the past. Our duty as Christians and our interests as men call on us to undertake the work. It is the cause the safety the improvement and the salvation of a large portion of the human race; it is the cause of our country the cause of our colonies the cause of truth the cause of justice the cause of Christianity the cause and the pleading of a Christian nation--and a cause like this cannot plead in vain. To secure these important objects no great or immediate expenditure is necessary; nay if properly gone about a saving in the present African expenditure may be effected. JAMES MACQUEEN. LONDON _3d May 1844_. FOOTNOTES: {A} This bend is represented in a map constructed in Paris and said to be from information obtained in a second voyage; but no such bend is indicated in the journal of the original voyage by Captain Selim. {B} Under date Yaush September 21 1842 Dr Beke states the curious and important fact that the people of Enarea and Kaffa communicate with the west coast of Africa and that one of the articles of merchandise brought from that coast to these places was salt. NARRATION OF CERTAIN UNCOMMON THINGS THAT DID FORMERLY HAPPEN TO ME HERBERT WILLIS B.D. It had pleased Heaven in the year 1672 when I had finished my studies in Magdalen College Oxford whereof I was a Demy and had taken my degree of bachelor of arts in the preceding term to visit me with so severe an affliction of fever which many took at first for the commencement of the small-pox that I was recommended by the physicians when the malady had abated to return to my father's house and recover my strength by diet and exercise. This I was fain to do; and having hired a small horse of Master John Nayler in the corn market to take me as far as to the mansion of a gentleman an ancient friend of my father's who had a house near unto Reading in Berkshire and in those troubled times when no man knew whereunto things might turn from day to day did keep himself much retired. I bade adieu to the university with a light heart but a weakened habit of body and turned my horse's head to the south. I performed the journey without accident in one day; but the exertion thereof had so exhausted my strength that Mr Waller (which was the name of my father's friend and of kin to the famous poet Edmund Waller Esquire who hath been ever in such favour with our governors and kings ) perceiving I was nigh discomfited did press me to go to my chamber without delay. He was otherwise very gracious in his reception of me and professed great amity to me as being the son of his fast friend and companion; but yet I marked as it were a cloud that lay obscure behind his external professions as if he was uneasy in his mind and was not altogether pleased with having a stranger within his gates. Howbeit I thanked him very heartily for his hospitality and betook myself to the chamber that was assigned for my repose. It was a pretty small room whereof I greatly admired the fashion; and the furnishing thereof was extreme gay for the bed hangings were of bright crimson silk and on a table was placed a mirror of true Venetian glass. Also there were chests of mahogany wood and other luxurious devices which my weariness did not hinder me from observing; but finally I was overcome by my weakness and I threw myself on the bed without removing my apparel and sustained as I believe though I have no certain warranty thereof an access of deliquium or fainting. When I did recover my senses after this interval of suspended faculty (whether proceeding from sleep or the other cause above designated ) I lay for many minutes revolving various circumstances in my mind. I resolved if by any means my bodily powers were thereunto sufficient to depart on the morrow and borrow one of Mr Waller's horses to convey me on my way for I was uneasy to be thought an intruder; but when I had settled upon this in my mind a new incident occurred which altered the current of my thoughts for I perceived a slight noise at the door of my chamber as of one stealthily turning the handle and I lay without making any motion to watch whereunto this proceeding would tend. The door was put gently open and a figure did enter the room so disguised with fantastical apparel that I was much put to it to guess what the issue would be. It was of a woman tall and majestical with a red turbaund round her head and over her shoulders a shawl much bedizened with needlework. Her gown was of green cloth and I was made aware by the sound as she passed along the floor that the heels of her shoes were more than commonly high. With this apparition of which I took only a very rapid observation through my half-closed eyelids I was greatly astonished; for she was an exact resemblance to those bold Egyptian queans who were at first called Bohemians but are nothing better than thieves and vagabonds if indeed they be not the chosen people of the prince of darkness himself. She looked carefully all round the room and after opening one of the drawers of mahogany wood and taking something therefrom which I could not discern she approached to the side of my bed and looked earnestly upon me as I lay. I could not keep up the delusion any longer and opened my eyes. She continued gazing steadfastly upon me without alteration of her countenance or uttering any word whether of apology or explanation; and I was so held in by the lustre of her large eyes and the fixed rigidity of her features that for some time I was unable to give utterance to my thoughts. ""Woman "" I said at last ""what want you with me?"" ""Your help if you will be gracious to poor mourners such as we."" I interrogated her much and curiously as to what service she required at my hands; for I had a scrupulosity to promise any thing to one whose external made me think her a disciple of Mahomet as those gipsies are said to be. After much hesitating she could not conceal from me that she was in this disguise for some special and extraordinary purpose; nevertheless she condescended on no particulars of her state or condition; but when I finally promised to satisfy her demand if it might be done by a Christian gentleman and a poor candidate for the holy ministry she cautioned me not to be startled by whatever I should see and beckoned me to follow her--the which I did in no easy frame of mind. Opening a little door which I had not seen when I took observation of the apartment she disappeared down two or three steps where I pursued the slight sound of her footfall; for there was great darkness so that I could see nothing. We went as I conjectured through several passages of some length till finally she paused; and knocked very gently three times at a door. The door was speedily opened; and in answer to a question of my guide whether godly Mr Lees was yet arrived a voice answered that he was there and expecting us with impatience. When I passed through the door I found myself in a small chamber dimly lighted by one small lamp which was placed upon a table by the side of a bed; and when I looked more fixedly I thought I perceived the figure of a person stretched on the bed but lying so fixed and still that I marvelled whether it was alive or dead. At the foot of the bed stood a venerable old man in the dress of a clergyman of our holy church with a book open in his hand and my strange guide led me up to where he was standing and whispered to him but so that I could hear her words ""This gentleman hath promised to assist us in this matter."" But hereupon I interposed with a few words to the same revered divine. ""Sir "" I said ""I would be informed wherefore I am summoned hither and in what my assistance is needful?"" ""He hath not then been previously informed?"" he said to the Egyptian; and receiving some sign of negation from her he closed the book and leading me apart into a corner of the apartment discovered the matter in a very pious and edifying manner. ""It is to be godfather in the holy rite of baptism to one whom it is our duty as Christian men to rescue from the dangerous condition of worse than unregenerate heathenism."" ""The child of that Egyptian woman?"" I asked; but he said ""No. She who is now disguised in that attire is no Egyptian but a true Samaritan who hath been the means of working much good in the evil times past and is likely to be a useful instrument in the troubled times yet to come. If this dissolute court and Popish heir-presumptive do proceed in their attempts to overthrow our pure Reformed church depend on it young man that that woman will not be found wanting in the hour of trial. But for the matter in hand will you be godfather to the person now to be received into the ark?"" I told him I could not burden my conscience with so great and important duties without some assurance that I should be able to fulfil them. Whereto he replied that such scrupulosities however praiseworthy in calmer tines ought now to yield to the paramount consideration of saving a soul alive. A faint voice proceeding from the bed was here heard mournfully asking if the ceremony was now to begin for death was near at hand. I went up to the bed and saw the face of a pale dying woman whose eyes albeit they encountered mine had no sense of sight in them for the shadows of the Great King were already settled upon her countenance. ""Begin then "" I said to the clergyman; and on a motion from him the woman who had conducted me went out and shortly returned leading by the hand a child of two or haply three years of age exceeding beautiful to look on and dressed in the same style of outlandish apparel as her conductor. I had little time to look attentively at her for her hand was put into mine while the other was held by the Egyptian (as I still call her notwithstanding I knew she was a devout woman ) and another person whom I guessed to be an attendant on the sick lady stationed herself near; whereupon the clergyman commenced from our book of common prayer the form of baptism. The lady seemed to acquire strength at the sound of his low solemn voice and half raised herself in the bed and looked anxiously towards where we were; when the name was given which was Lucy Hesseltine she stretched herself back on her pillow with a faint smile. The ceremony was soon over and the Egyptian took the new Christian to the side of the bed and whispered in the lady's ear ""Jessica the child is now one of the Christian flock; she prays your blessing."" She waited for an answer during which time the clergyman took me apart and had again entered into discourse. But the Egyptian came to us. ""Hush!"" she said ""the ways of God are inscrutable; our friend is gone to her account."" Hereupon she hurried me through the same passages by which we had come and bidding me God-speed at the hidden door of my chamber told me to keep what I had seen a secret from all men yea if possible to forget it myself as there might be danger in having it spread abroad. Tormented with many thoughts and uneasy at the great risk I ran of bringing guilt on my own soul by having made sponsorial promises which I could not execute I rested but indifferently that night. The next day I pursued my journey home in the manner I had proposed and was glad to avoid the chance of being interrogated by Mr Waller as to what had occurred. In a short time my good constitution and home restored me to my former strength and the memory of that strange incident grew more faint as other things came to pass which made deeper impressions on my heart and mind. Among these is not to be forgotten the death of my father which happened on the 14th of June in the following year _videlicet_ 1673; and the goodness of the lord bishop of Oxford in giving me priests' orders on my college Demyship whereby I was enabled to present myself to this living and hold it having at that time attained the canonical age. My courtship also and marriage which befell in the year 1674 had great effect in obliterating past transactions. I was married on Thursday the 24th day of June. * * * * * (Here several pages are omitted as irrelevant containing family incidents for some years.) Howbeit things did not prosper with us so much as we did expect; for the payers of tithes were a stiff-necked generation as were the Jews of old and withheld their offerings from the priest at the very time when Providence sent a plentiful supply of mouths to which the offerings would have been of use. Charles was our only son and was now in his third year--the two girls Henrietta and Sophia were six and seven--my eldest girl was nine years past and I had named her in commemoration of my father's ancient friend by the prenomen of Waller. It hath been remarked by many wise men of old and also by our present good bishop that industry and honesty are the two Herculeses that will push the heaviest waggon through the mire; and more particularly so if the waggoner aids also by putting his shoulder to the wheel. And easy was it to see that the wheel of the domestic plaustrum--wherein after the manner of that ancient Parthians I included all my family from the full beauty of my excellent wife to the sun-lighted hair of my prattling little Charles (the which reminds me of those beautiful lines which are contained in a translation of the _Iliad_ of Homer by Mr Hobbes descriptive of the young Astyanax in his mother Andromache's arm-- ""And like a star upon her bosom lay His beautiful and shining golden head"")-- It was easy I say to see that with such an additional number of passengers the domestic plaustrum would sink deeper and deeper in the miry ways of the world. And consultations many and long did my excellent wife and I hold over the darkening prospect of our future life. At last she bethought her of going to take counsel of her near friend and most kind godfather Mr William Snowton of Wilts which was a managing man for many of the nobility and much renowned for probity and skilful discernment. He was steward on many great estates and gave plentiful satisfaction to his employers without neglecting his own interest which is a thing that does always go with the other namely a care for your master's affairs; for how shall a man pretend to devote his time and services to another man's estate and take no heed for himself? The thing is contra the nature of man and the assertion thereof is fit only for false patriots and other evil men. It was with much weariness of heart and anxious tribulation that I parted from that excellent woman even for so short a period of time; but Master George Sprowles of this parish having it in mind to travel into the village where the said Mr William Snowton kept his abode I availed myself of his friendly offer to conduct my wife thither upon a pillion; and thereupon having sent forward her luggage two days before by a heavy waggon which journeyeth through Sarum I took leave of the excellent woman commending her heartily unto the care of Providence and Master George which (Providence I mean) will not let a sparrow fall to the ground much less the mother of a family which moreover was riding on a strong sure-footed horse which also was bred in our parish and did sometimes pasture on the glebe. It was the first time we had been separated since our wedding-day. I took little Charles into my room that night and did carefully survey the other children before I went to rest. They did all sleep soundly and some indeed did wear a smile upon their innocent faces as I looked upon them and I thought it was perhaps the reflection of the prayers which their mother I well knew was pouring out for them at that hour. That was on a Tuesday and as the distance was nearly sixty miles I could not hear of her safe arrival till the return of Master George which could not be till the following Monday; not being minded (for he was a devout man and had imbibed his father's likings in his youth which was a champion for the late Man ) and would rather have done a murder on a Thursday than have travelled on the Sabbath-day. ""Better break heads "" he was used to say ""than break the Sabbath."" I did always find him the father I mean a sour hand at a bargain; and when he was used to drive me hard upon his tithes and agistments I could fancy he took me for one of the Amalekites or one of the Egyptians whom he thought it a meritorious Christian deed to spoil. The Monday came at last and Master George Sprowles before he rode to his own home trotted his horse up our church avenue and delivered into my hands a packet of writing carefully sealed with a seal whereof the device was a true-love knot. Great was my delight and great my anxiety to read what was written therein and all that evening I pored over the manuscript on which she had bestowed great pains and crossed all the t's without missing one. But it is never an easy task to decipher a woman's meaning particularly when not addicted to penmanship; and although my excellent wife had attended a penman's instructions and had acquired the reputation in her native place of being an accomplished clerk still since her marriage she had applied her genius to the making of tarts and other confections rather than to the parts of scholarship and it was difficult for me to make out the significance of her epistle in its whole extent. Howbeit it was a wonderful effort of calligraphy considering she had only had two days wherein to compose and write it and she had been so little used to this manner of communication and it consisted of three whole sides of a large sheet of paper. She said therein that Mr Snowton was a father unto her in his affection and urbanity and that he highly approved the motion for us to make provision of the meat that perishes seeing it is indispensable for young children and also for adults; and that he had already bethought him of a way wherein he might be serviceable to us--viz. in procuring for me certain youth of the upper kinds to be by me instructed in the learned tongues and such other branches as I had proficiency in; and in addition thereto he said that peradventure he might obtain a similar charge for my excellent wife in superintending the perfectionment of certain young ladies of his acquaintance in samplers and millinery and cookery and such other of the fine and useful arts as she was known to excel in; and he subjoined thereto that the charges for each pupil would be so large being only those of consideration which he recommended unto me that a few years would be sufficient wherein to consolidate portions for all my children. Such with some misgivings touching my own interpretation did I make out to be the substance of my excellent wife's letter; and I rejoiced greatly that such an opening was made for me by the which I might attain to such eminence of estate that I might place my Charles in the first ranks of the law yea might live to see him raised to the fulness of temporal grandeur and sitting as Lord High Keeper among the peers and princes of the land with a crown of pure gold upon his head. But there was no crown but a heavenly one that fadeth not nor groweth dim that could have added a fresh beauty to the fair head of my Charles. But the sweetest part of her missive was contained in the _post scriptum_. Therein she said and in this I could not be wrong that Mr Snowton had undertaken to forward her in his light wheeled cart by reason of the conveniency it would be of to her in the transportation of herself and luggage and also of Miss Alice Snowton of Mr Snowton's kindred a young lady which he had adopted (being the only child of his only brother Mr Richard Snowton deceased ) and advised my wife to accept the care of her as a beginning and for the charges of the same he would be answerable for fifty golden Caroluses at Ladyday and Michaelmas. A hundred Caroluses each year! My heart bounded with joy. Great were my preparations for the reception of my new inmate and busy were we all from my busy Waller down to Charles. He with much riotousness did superintend all and rejoiced greatly at the noise caused by the hammering and taking down and putting up of bed-hangings and did in no slight measure add thereto by strange outbreaks of riotous mirth such as whooping and screaming; causing confusion at the same time by various demonstrations of his enjoyments such as throwing nails against the windows beating on the floor with the poker and occasionally interrupting our operations by tumbling down stairs and causing us for a moment to believe him killed outright or at least maimed for life. But there is a special providence over happy children; and save that he fell on one occasion into the bucket of soap and water wherewith a domestic was scowering the chintz room floor and suffered some inconvenience from the hotness thereof he escaped in a manner truly miraculous from any accident affecting life or limb. When the time drew near in the which I expected the return of my excellent wife I took all the children to the upper part of the church field which faces the high-road upon which the large stones have recently been laid down in the manner of a causeway but which at that period was left to the natural hardness or rather softness of the soil and was in consequence thereof dangerous to travel on by reason of the ruts and hollows; to that portion I say of the church field I conveyed all my little ones to give the gratulations necessary on such an occasion to their excellent mother. The spot whereon we were stationed commanded a view of the hill which superimpends our village and we were therefore gratified to think that we should have an early view of the expected travellers; and many quarrels and soft reconcilements did take place between my younger ones upon the point of who would be the first to see their approach. In the midst of these sweet contentions whilst I was in the undignified and scarcely clerical act of carrying little Charles upon my shoulder having decorated his head with my broad-brimmed hat in order to enable him--vain imagination which pleased the boy's heart--to see over and beyond the hill there did pass in all her wonted state and dignity with two outriders in the Mallerden livery two palfreniers at her side and four mounted serving-men behind the ancient Lady Mallerden which was so famous an upholder of our venerated church in the evil days through which it so happily passed; and with no little perturbation of mind and great confusion of face did I see the look of astonishment not to say disdain with which she regarded my position; more particularly as little Charles elevated as I have said upon my shoulders with his legs on each side of my neck did lift up the professional hat which did entirely absorb his countenance with great courtesy and made a most grave and ceremonious obeisance unto the lofty lady. She pursued her path returning the salutation with a kind of smile and at the same easy ambling pace as was her wont proceeded up the hill. Just as she reached the summit thereof our eyes were gladdened with the sight so long desired of the light equipage on two wheels of the kind Mr Snowton containing my excellent wife and her young charge and also various boxes of uncommon size in which were laid great store of bodily adornment for both the ladies; as was more fully seen thereafter on the opening of the boxes by reason of Mr Snowton having privily conveyed into them various changes of apparel for the use of my excellent wife as also for each of the three girls. To Charles he also sent the image of an ass which by touching a certain string did open its mouth and wave its ears in a manner most curious to behold wherewith the infant was infinitely delighted as was I without enquiring at that time into the exquisite mechanism whereby the extraordinary demonstrations were produced. But in the course of little more than a month he was led by his enquiring turn of mind to pry into the mystery; and in the pursuit of knowledge--laudable surely in a person of his years and demonstrative of astonishing sagacity and research--he did take the animal entirely to pieces and saw the inward parts thereof. The great lady with all the retinue stopped short as she encountered with my excellent wife at the top of the hill and did most courteously make tender enquiries of her state of health and also of her plans--whereof she seemed some little instructed--and expressed her satisfaction therein and did make many sweet speeches to her and also to the pupil and trusted that she would be good and dutiful and an earnest and affectionate daughter of the Church of England. To all which my excellent wife replied in fitting terms and Alice Snowton--so was she named--made promise so to do God being her helper and I her teacher; and thereupon the great lady bended her head with smiles and rode on. When they got down to where we stood in the church field the flush of modesty and perhaps of pride at being spoken to in such friendly guise by the haughty Lady Mallerden had not yet left the cheek of my excellent wife upon which I impressed a kiss of true love and held up little Charles as high as I could to enable him to do likewise which he did with a pretty set speech which I had taught him in gratulation of her return. Alice Snowton also did blush and held out her cheek whereon I pressed my lip with fervent prayers for her advance in holiness and virtue and also in useful learning under my excellent wife's instructions. She was a short girl not much taller than my Waller though she seemed to be three or even four years more advanced in age. She was a sweet engaging child of thirteen and I loved her as one of my flock from the moment I saw her as in duty bound. My children were divided between joy at seeing their excellent mother and wonder at the stranger. But a short period wore off both these sentiments of the human mind or rather the outward manifestation of them; and I will venture to assert that the quietude of night and the clearness of the starry heavens fell on no happier household on that evening than the parsonage of Welding. And next day it was the same; and next and next and a great succession of happy useful days. Alice was a dear girl and we loved her as our own; and she loved Charles above all and was his friend his nurse his playfellow. Their gambols were beautiful to behold; and to complete the good work which was so well begun good Mr Snowton did send to my care at the same remuneration two young gentlemen of tender years Master Walter Mannering and Master John Carey--the elder of them being eight and the other seven; and as if fortune never tired of raining down on us her golden favours the great Lady Mallerden herself did use her interest on my behalf and obtained for me the charge of a relative of her noble house--the honourable Master Fitzoswald of illustrious lineage in the north of the age of nine years. But doubtless as the philosopher has remarked there is no sweet without its bitter or as the poet has said ""no rose without its thorn "" or better perhaps as another great poet of antiquity has clothed the sentiment-- ----""Medio de fonte leporum Surgit amari aliquid;"" for it was made an express stipulation of the latter office--namely the charge of the honourable young gentleman being the second son of the noble Earl Fitzoswald in Yorkshire--that the great Lady Mallerden should have joint superintendence of his studies with me and the direction of his conduct and also his religious education. And this was a sore drawback to the pleasure I experienced for I knew her to be proud and haughty beyond most women or even men; and also that she was of so active and inquisitive a turn of mind that she would endeavour to obtain all power and authority unto herself whereto I determined by no means to submit. Two hundred golden guineas was the _honorarium_ per annum for his education; and my excellent wife who was addicted like the most of her sex to dreams and omens did very often have a vision in the night of the Right Hon. the Earl Fitzoswald presenting me to a great office in the church--yea even a seat among the right reverend the lord bishops of the Upper House of Parliament. Nor were portents and auguries wanting such as this--which made an uncommon impression on my excellent wife's mind--_videlicet_ it chanced that Alice Snowton did make a hat of paper to be placed on Charles's head when he was more than usually naughty to be called the fool's-cap out of derision; but this same paper hat which was of a fantastic shape being conical and high the boy with scissors did dexterously mutilate and nearly destroy and coming quietly behind me when I was meditating the future with my excellent wife he placed it on my head; and to all our eyes there was no mistaking the shape into which fortuitously and with no view or knowledge of such emblems he had cut the paper-cap. It was evidently a mitre and nothing else! But this and various other concurring incidents I pass over having frequently rebuked my excellent wife for thinking more highly of such matters than she ought to think. The course pursued in our studies was the following which I particularly write down having had great experience in that sort and considering it may be useful if perchance this account should fall into the hands of any who follow the honourable and noble calling of educating the rising generation. The _Colloquies_ of Corderius as also the _Fables_ of Æsopus with those also of Phædrus his Roman continuator.... * * * * * (Many pages are here omitted as irrelevant.) ... And my excellent wife after much entreaty consented thereto. Accordingly on the very next Sunday the great Lady Mallerden attended at my house after church and did closely question not only the young gentlemen on the principles of their faith but also Alice Snowton and did above all clearly and emphatically point out to them the iniquities of the great Popish delusion; and exhorted them whatever might be their future fate or condition to hold fast by the pure Reformed church. And so much did my eldest daughter who was now a great tall girl of twelve years of age win upon the heart of the great lady that she invited her to come up for several days and reside with her at Mallerden Court which was a great honour to my daughter invitations not being extended to any to enter that noble mansion under the degree of nobility. Nor did her beneficence end here; for she did ask Alice Snowton who was now a fine young woman of fifteen or thereby to be her guest at the same time. Alice was not so stout in proportion to her years as my Waller; but there was a certain gracefulness about her when she moved and a sweet smile when she spoke which was very gainful on the affections as Charles could testify; for he loved her and made no secret thereof better than any of his sisters and also I really and unfeignedl

believe better than that excellent woman his mother. And so great was the impression made on the great lady by my Waller's cleverness and excellent manner of conducting herself that on her return at the end of three days a letter in the noble lady's own land bore testimony to her satisfaction and a request or rather a command was laid on me to send her under charge as she expressed it of Alice Snowton to the Court for a longer period the following week. And such was the mutual happiness of the noble lady and of that young girl (my Waller I mean ) who could now write a beautiful flowing hand and spell with uncommon accuracy and expedition that erelong it was an arranged thing that three days in each week were spent by the two children at Mallerden Court; and a horse at last on every Wednesday was in waiting to convey them on a double pillion to the stately mansion. I have not alluded to the state of public affairs of which I was far from cognizant saving that the writhings and strugglings which this tortured realm did make shook also the little parsonage of Welding. We heard at remote intervals of time rumours of dangers and difficulties hanging over this church and nation; but were little alarmed thereat putting faith in the bill of exclusion and the honour of our most gracious and religious lord the king. Nor did I anticipate great harm even if the Duke of York in the absence of lawful posterity of his brother should get upon the throne trusting in the truth of his royal word and the manifold declarations of favour and amicableness to the church which he from time to time put forth. But Æsopus hath it when bulls fight in a marsh the frogs are crushed to death. It was on the tenth day of February in the year of our Lord 1685 I was busy with my dear friends the youths under my charge in the Campus Martius (which was a level space of ground in one of the glebe fields by the side of the river whereon we performed our exercises of running jumping wrestling and other athletic exercitations ) when we were startled by the hearing the sound of many horses galloping up the hill above the village; and looking over the hedge on to the road we saw a cavalier going very fast on a fine black horse which had fire in its eyes and nostrils as the poet says followed by a goodly train of serving-men all well mounted and proceeding at the same rate. We went on with our games for an hour or two when all at once I was peremptorily sent for to go to my house without delay; and accordingly I hurried homewards much marvelling what the summons could portend. I went into my study and sitting in my arm-chair I saw the great Lady Mallerden; but she was so deep in thought that for some minutes she kept me standing and waiting her commands. At last she started to herself and ordered me to be seated and in her rapid glancing manner began to speak-- ""I have been visited by my son who rode post haste from London to tell me the king was dead. He has been dead four days."" I was astonished and much saddened at the news. ""Sorry--yes--but there is no time for sorrow "" said the noble lady; ""we must be up and doing. We are betrayed."" ""Did your son the noble Viscount Mallerden tell you this?"" ""He is one of the betrayers--know you not what manner of man he is?--Then I will tell you."" And here a strange light flashed from her eyes and her lips became compressed till all the colour disappeared--""He is a viper that stung me once--and would sting me again if I took him to my bosom and laid it open for his poisonous tooth. I tell you the Lord Mallerden is a godless hopeless faithless man--bound hand and foot to the footstool of the despotic cruel monster--the Jesuit who has now his foot upon the English throne. He is a Papist fiercer bitterer crueller because he has no belief neither in priest nor pope--but he is ambitious reckless base a courtier. He prideth himself in his shame and says he has openly professed. It is to please the hypocritical master he serves. And he boasts that our late king--defender of the faith--was shrived on his deathbed by a Popish friar."" ""I cannot believe it my lady."" ""You are a good man--a good simple man Master Willis "" she said; and although the words of her designation were above my deserts seeing that simplicity and goodness are the great ornaments of the Christian character still the tone in which she spoke did not pertake of the nature of a compliment and I bowed but made no observation in reply. ""But it needs men of other minds in these awful times which I see approaching--men of firmness men of boldness--yea who can shed blood and shudder not; for great things are at stake."" ""I trust not my lady--albeit the shedding of blood""---- ""I know is generally condemned; yet be there texts which make it imperative and I think I foresee that the occasion for giving them forth is at hand. All means in their power they will try; yes though James of York has been but four days a king he had already made perquisition for such as may be useful to him not in settling the crown upon his head but in carrying off this people and kingdom a bound sacrifice to the blind idol which he worshippeth at Rome. You know not the history of that man; no nor of my son. Alas! that a mother's lips should utter such words about her own flesh and blood! The one of them I tell you is a bigot a pursuer a persecutor--the other a sensualist a Gallio a tool. For many years he has never beheld his mother's face; he married in his youth; he injured deserted yea he killed his wife--not with his own hand or with the dagger but by the surer weapons of hatred neglect unkindness. And she died. He has but one child; that child was left in charge of my honoured and loving daughter the Lady Pevensey of Notts and hath been brought up in a Christian manner; but now he--this man of Belial--wishes to get this infant in his own hands; nay he boldly has made a demand of her custody both on me and Pevensey my daughter. We will not surrender her; he is now great and powerful. The king will back his efforts with all the weight of the crown; and we have considered if we could confide the persecuted dove to the hands of some assured friend--some true son of our holy church--some steady firm-hearted strong-nerved man who in such cause would set lord and king at defiance""---- Here she paused and looked upon me with her eyes dilated and her nostrils panting with some great thought which was within her; and I availed myself of the pause to say-- ""Oh my lady! if you did mean me for such charge I confess my deficiency for such a lofty office; for I do feel in me no stirrings of an ambitious spirit. Sufficient is it for me to take care of the innocent flock committed to my care in the performance of which charge I have the approbation of my own heart and also I make bold to hope it of your ladyship seeing that I have instructed them in the true principles both of faith and practice; and although there are shortcomings in them all by reason the answers in the Catechism are not adapted to the capacities of the younger ones especially of Charles (who notwithstanding has abilities and apprehensions above his years ) yet are they all embued with faithful doctrine from Alice Snowton which is the most advanced in stature to the honourable Master Fitzoswald which is somewhat deficient in growth being only three inches taller than my little Charles."" The great lady looked at me while I spoke and made no answer for long time. At last she said with a sort of smile which at the same time was not hilarious or jocular in its nature-- ""Perhaps 'tis better as it is. There is a providence in all things and our plans and proposals are all overruled for the best--for which may God be praised! Therefore I will press you no more on the subject of the guardianship of my grandchild. But Mallerden will move heaven and earth to get her into his power--yes though he has neglected her so long never caring to see her since her childhood; yet now when he sees 'twill gain him the treasurership of the royal household to sell the greatest heiress and noblest blood in England to the Papists he will make traffic of his own child and marry her to some prayer-mumbler to a wooden doll. Let us save her good sir--but I forgot. No--I will save her myself. I that have steered her through so many quicksands will not let her make shipwreck at last. I will guard her like the apple of my eye and possess my soul in patience until this tyranny be overpast."" And so ended the interview during which my heart was tossed to and fro with the utmost agitation and my whole frame so troubled that I various times lost all mastery of myself and only saw before me a great black gulf of ruin into which some invisible power was pushing me and all my little ones. Great therefore was my delight and sweet the relief to my soul when the great lady left me unconnected with her quarrels. For in the crash of such contending powers there was no chance of escape for such a weak instrument as I was; and fervent were my hopes and deep my prayers that the perils and evils prognosticated by the religious fears of my great protectress might be turned aside and all good subject and sincere churchmen left each under his own vine and his own fig-tree with nobody to make them afraid. But vain are the hopes of men. We read in no long time in all men's looks the fate we were condemned to; for it seemed as if a great cloud filled with God's wrath was spread out over this realm of England and the faces of all men grew dark. We heard the name of Jeffreys whispered in corners and trembled as if it had been a witch's spell to make our blood into water. The great lady kept herself much in solitude in the ancient Court and saw not even her favourite companion my daughter Waller for many months; but did ever write affectionate letters to her and sent presents of rich fruits and other delectations in which the young take pleasure. There was much riding to and fro of couriers but whither or whence she did never tell and it was not my province to enquire; but at last an order came for me to send up my Waller and her friend to the mansion. And at evening they were conveyed on horseback as before; but on this occasion their escort was not Master Wilkinson the under butler but no less a person than my lady's kinsman the senior brother of my honourable pupil the honourable Master Fitzoswald of Yorkshire a stately young cavalier as could be seen strong and tall and his style and title was the Lord Viscount Lessingholm--being the eldest son and heir to that ancient earldom. He was an amiable and pleasant gentleman full of courtesies and kindness and particularly pleased with the newfangled fashion of a handsome cap which formed the headpiece of my excellent wife. He said also many handsome things about the brightness of my Waller's eyes and assured my excellent wife that he saw so promising an outsprout of talent in my Charles that he doubted not to see him one of the judges of the realm if so be he applied his intellectuals to the bar. He was also extreme civil to Alice Snowton which answered his civilities in like manner; and seldom in so short a space as half an hour has any person made so favourable an impression as he did particularly on his brother by reason of his bestowing on him a large Spanish doubloon and promising him a delicate coloured maneged horse immediately on his return to Yorkshire. It is a pleasant sight to see (and reflected some credit on my ministration of the moralities in this particular instance) the disinterested love of brethren one towards another and I failed not to ascertain that the Lord Lessingholm had been boarded in the house of an exemplary divine to wit Mr Savage of Corpus Christi College Oxford--a fact which I think it proper to mention to the honour of that eloquent member of our church--inasmuch as any man might be proud of having had the training up in the way he should go of so excellent and praiseworthy a youth. It was many days before my young ones came back (I would be understood to include in this Alice Snowton whom I looked upon with the tenderness of a father and the pride of a teacher all in one;) and when they returned to me I thought I perceived that they were both more sorrowful than of wont. Alice (and my Waller also) looked oppressed with some secret that weight upon their hearts and I was fearful the great lady had made them partakers of her cares in the matter of her son and her grandchild. Yet did I not think such a thing possible as that either of them should have been taken into her confidence on so high and momentous a concernment by reason of my Waller being so young though thoughtful and considerate and also fuller grown than persons much more advanced in life; and Alice Snowton was of so playful and gentle a disposition that she seemed unfitted for the depository of any secret unless those more strictly appertaining to her youth and sex and moreover was a stranger to this part of the country being of a respectable family as I have observed in Wilts--namely a brother of Mr Snowton my kind patron and friend. I called them into my study after my labours were over with the other pupils and I said to them-- ""Dear children ill would it become me to pry into the secrets of my honoured lady the Lady Mallerden; yet may there arise occasions wherein it is needful for one in my situation (parent to the one of you and _in loco parentis_ to the other ) to make perquisition into matters of weight and importance to your well-being even at the risk of appearing inquisitive into other peoples' affairs. Answer me therefore Alice my dear child has the Lady Mallerden instructed you in any portion of her family story?"" ""She has in some degree Sir "" said Alice Snowton ""but not deeply."" ""You know of her disagreement on certain weighty points with her son the Lord Viscount and how that he is a wicked man seeking to break into the pasture of the Lord and tear down the hedges and destroy the boundaries thereof; and that in this view he is minded to get his daughter into his power to use her as an instrument towards his temporal elevation?"" ""Something of all this we have heard but not much "" said Alice Snowton. ""And furthermore I must tell you that overtures were made to me to aid and assist in the resistance to be offered to this man of sin and I did for deep and wholesome reasons refuse my assent thereto and in this refusal I meant you my children to be included; therefore whatever propositions may be made to you to hear or know or receive or in any manner aid in the concealment of the Lord Viscount's daughter--which is at present in charge of an honourable lady in the north--I charge you refuse them; they may bring ruin on an unambitious and humble household and in no case can do good. We must fear God ever and honour the king while he is entrusted with the sword of power; and family arrangements we must leave to the strong hands and able head of the great Lady Mallerden herself. In this caution I know I fulfil the intentions of my honoured friend your esteemed uncle Mr William Snowton which is concerned with too many noble families to desire to get into enmity with any--and therefore be grateful for all the kindness you experience from my honoured lady; but if perchance she brings her grandchild to the Court and wishes to make you of her intimates inform me thereof; and greatly as it would be to be regretted I would break off the custom of your visits to the noble house for even that honour may be too dearly purchased by the enmity of powerful and unscrupulous men--if with sceptres in their hands so much the more to be held in awe."" And I ended with Æsopus his fable of the frogs and bulls. This discourse (whereof I had prepared the heads in the course of the morning) I delivered with the full force of my elocution and afterwards I dismissed them leaving to my excellent wife the duty of enlarging on the same topic and also of giving such advice to Alice which was now a full grown young woman and very fair to look on in respect of the young cavaliers she might see at the great house particularly the noble lord the Lord Lessingholm. Such advice I considered useless in regard to my Waller she being only about fourteen years of age but in other respects a fair and womanly creature to see; for her waist was nearly twice as large as Alice Snowton's and her shoulders also and in weight she would have been greatly an overmatch; and certes putting aside all parental fondness which we know to be such a beautifier of one's own kindred as to make the crow a more lovely animal than the dove (in the eyes of the parent crow ) I will confess that in my estimation and also in that of my excellent wife there was no comparison between the two fair maidens either in respect of fulness of growth or redness of complexion the advantage being in both these respects on the side of the junior. Some sentiment of this sort I saw at the time must have possessed the honourable breast of the Viscount Lessingholm; for although he made much profession of visiting at the parsonage for the sake of seeing his juvenile brother still there were certain looks and tokens whereby I was clearly persuaded that the magnet was of a different kind; and whereas it would have been vain and ambitious in me to lift my eyes so high in view of matrimonial proposals as to nearly the topmost branch in the peerage of England (the Earls Fitzoswald being known to have been barons of renown at the period of the Norman Conquest;) still it would ill have become me to prevent my daughter from gathering golden apples if they fell at her feet because they had grown on such a lofty bough of the tree; and I will therefore confess that it was with no little gratification I saw the unfoldings of a pure and virtuous disposition in the honourable young nobleman. And I will further state that it seemed as if his presence when he came (and that was often nay sometimes twice in one day ) did make holiday in the whole house; and Charles was by no means backward in his friendship--receiving the fishing-rods presented unto him by the right honourable with so winning an eagerness and pressing Alice (his constant friend) to go with him and the noble donor with so much zeal to the brook therein to try the virtues of the gift that I found it impossible to refuse permission; and therefore did those three often consume valuable hours (yet also I hope not altogether wasted)--_videlicet_ Alice and Charles and the honourable Viscount--in endeavouring to catch the finny tribe yet seldom with much success. But whatever was the result of their industry--yea though it was but a minnow--it was brought and presented to my Waller by the honourable hands of the young man with so loving an air that it was easy to behold how gladly he would have consented if she had been the companion of their sports if by any means Charles could have been persuaded to have exchanged Alice Snowton for her. But the very mention of such an idea did throw the child into such wrathful indignation that the right honourable was fain to bestow on him whole handfuls of sugar-plums and promise that Alice should not be left behind. So fared the time away; and at last I began to hope that the fears of the great lady were unfounded and that nothing would occur to trouble her repose. The manner of living had been resumed again with the difference that on the days the young maidens did not visit the noble mansion the honourable viscount was as it were domiciled in the parsonage; and I perceived that by this arrangement the great lady was highly pleased; perhaps because the presence of a kinsman a courageous gentleman gave her some security against the rudenesses she seemed to be afraid of on the part of her own son--a grievous state of human affairs when the fifth commandment is not held in honour and reducing us below the level of puppy-dogs and kittens to whom that commandment along with the rest of the decalogue is totally unknown. Sundry times I did observe symptoms of alarm; and care did write a sad story of mental suffering on the brow of the great lady which was a person of the magnanimity of an ancient matron and bore up in a manner surprising to behold in one who stood as it were with one hand upon her coffin while her other stretched backward through the shadow of fourscore years to touch her cradle. And ever from time to time couriers came to the noble mansion while others flew in various directions on swift horses at utmost speed; and looking up into that lofty atmosphere we saw clouds and ominous signs of coming storms before we could hear the voice of the thunder. And once a royal messenger (called a pursuivant-at-arms) came down in person and carried the great lady to London and there she stayed many days and was threatened with many things and great punishments yea even to be tried by the Lord Jeffreys for high treason in resisting the king's order to deliver up her grandchild to its natural guardian--which was its father the Viscount Mallerden now created by royal favour Marquis of Danfield. But even this last danger she scorned; and after months of confinement near the royal court her enemies gave up persecuting her for that season and at last she came back to Mallerden Court. In the meanwhile we went on in a quiet and comfortable manner in the parsonage--the Viscount Lessingholm frequently with us (almost as if he were a pupil of the house;) and on one or two occasions we had a visit for an evening from my honoured friend Mr William Snowton of Wilts. He was pleased to use great commendations both of my excellent wife and me for the mode in which we attended to the mind and manners of his niece the culinary and other accomplishments and the rational education wherein he saw her advanced. He never stayed later than day-dawn on the following morning and kept himself reserved as one used to the intimacy of the great and not liking to make his news patent to humble people such as we; and he would on no account open his mouth on the quarrels of our great lady and her son the new Marquis of Danfield but kept the conversation in equable channels of everyday matters and expounded how my glebe lands might be made to yield a greater store of provision by newer modes of cultivation--the which I considered however a tampering with Providence which gives to every field its increase and no more. But by this time my glebe was not the only land on which I could plant my foot and say Lo thou art mine! for I had so prospered in the five years during which I had held a ladder for my pupils to the tree of knowledge that much golden fruit had fallen to my share (being kicked down as it were by their climbing among the branches;) so that I had purchased the fee simple of the estate of my friend Master George Sprowles who had taken some alarm at the state of public affairs and gone away over the seas to the plantation called I think Massachusets in the great American continent. It was in the beginning of October 1688 that another call was made on the great lady to make her appearance within a month from that time in the city of London to give a final answer for her contumacy in refusing obedience to the King and the lord high Treasurer. I felt in hopes the object of their search (namely the young maiden his daughter for it was bruited they rummaged to find her out in all directions) was safe with some foreign friends which the great lady possessed in the republic of Holland where the Prince of Orange was then the chief magistrate; but of this I had no certain assurance. For some days no preparations were made at the noble mansion for so momentous a journey; but at length there were great signs of something being in prospect. First of all the Viscount Lessingholm rode up from Yorkshire whither he had been gone three weeks attended by near a score of fine dressed serving-men and took up his abode at Mallerden Court; then came sundry others of the great lady's kinsfolk attended also by their servants in stately liveries; and we did expect that the proud imperial-minded lady was to go up with such great escort as should impress the king with a just estimate of her power and dignity. With this expectation we kept to ourselves ready to see the noble procession when it should start on its way; but far other things were in store for me and an instrument called a pea-spitter wherewith Charles had provided himself for the purpose of saluting various of the serving-men as they passed was rendered useless. It was on the first day of November that the Lord Viscount Lessingholm (who had conveyed the young maidens _videlicet_ Alice Snowton and my Waller to the Court on the previous day ) did ride post haste up to my door making his large grey horse jump over the gate at the end of the walk as if he had been Perseus flying on his winged steed to the rescue of Andromede (as the same is so elegantly described in the ancient poet ) and did summon me to go that moment to the noble mansion on matter of the highest import. Much marvelling and greatly out of breath I followed the noble gentleman's motions as rapidly as was beseeming one of my responsible situation in regard to the spiritual ministrations in the parish while in sight of any of my flock; for nothing detracts more from the dignity of the apostolical character than rapid motions--such as running or jumping or an unordered style of apparel without hatband or cassock. When out of the village street I put (as the vulgar phrase expresses it) my best foot foremost and enacted the part of a running serving-man in the track of my noble conductor; and finally I arrived in such state as may be conceived at the entrance-hall of the noble mansion. In the court-yard were numerous serving-men mounted in silent gravity and ranged around the wall. Each man was wrapped up in a dark-coloured cloak; and underneath it I saw depending from each the clear polished extremity of a steel sword-sheath. They did bear their reins tightened and their heels ornamented with spurs as if ready to spring forth at a word and great tribulation came over my soul. Howbeit I mounted the grand staircase and following the western corridor I opened the door of the green-damask withdrawing-room and found myself in the middle of a large and silent company. There were perhaps a dozen persons there assembled--motionless in their chairs; and at the further end of the apartment sat the great lady in whispered conversation with a tall dark gentleman of mature years say fifty or thereabouts and with a wave of her hand having instructed me to be seated she pursued her colloquies in the same under tones as before. When I had placed myself in a chair and was in somewhat recovering my breath which much hurrying and the surprising scene I saw had greatly impaired a hand was laid upon my shoulder and I turned round and sitting in the next chair to me I beheld my honoured friend Mr William Snowton of Wilts. ""Good Master Willis "" he said ""you little expected to see me here I do well believe; but it was but lately I was summoned."" ""And know you wherefore we are here assembled?"" I enquired. ""Somewhat I know but not all. The persons here be men of great power some of them being those by whom I am employed in managing their worldly affairs and shortly we shall hear what is determined on."" ""On what subject do they mean to consult us? I shall be ready "" said I ""to give what advice may be needed if peradventure it suits with my sacred calling."" ""I fear they will hardly consult a person of your holy profession "" said Mr Snowton with a sober kind of smile. ""It is of life or death we are now to take our choice."" A great fear fell upon me as a great shadow falls upon the earth before a thunder storm. ""What mean ye?"" I whispered. ""There is no shedding of blood."" ""There will be _much_ shedding of blood good Master Willis; yea the rivers in England will run red with the same unless some higher power interferes to deliver us."" ""And wherefore am I summoned to such fearful conference? I am no man of blood. I meddle not with lofty matters. I""---- But here I was interrupted by Mr Snowton in a low grave tone. ""Then you have not heard that the wicked man of sin the false Papist the Marquis of Danfield hath discovered his child?"" ""No I have not been informed thereof. And hath he gained possession of her?"" ""No nor shall not!"" and hereupon he frowned a great frown and let his sword-sheath strike heavily upon the floor. All the company looked sharply round; but seeing it was by hazard they took no notice of what occurred. ""And where then is the maiden bestowed?"" I demanded. ""In this house; you shall see her soon."" ""And what have I to do with these matters? They are above my concernment!"" I exclaimed in great anguish of mind. ""You have to unite her in the holy bands of wedlock."" ""Nay that is clearly impossible! Where I pray thee is the license?"" ""All that has been cared for by means of a true bishop of our church. There can be no scruple on canonical grounds; and if there be hesitation in obeying the Lady Mallerden's orders (provided she finally takes up her mind to deliver the same ) I would not answer for the recusant's life no not for an hour."" ""But wherefore in such secrecy with such haste?"" I said in dreadful sort. ""Because we know that the father slept at Oxford last night with store of troops and that he will be here this night with a royal warrant to enforce his right to the bestowal of his child; and he hath already promised her to the leader of the malignant Papists."" ""And are we here to resist the king's soldiers and the mandate of the king?"" ""Yea to the death!"" he said and sank into gloomy thoughts and said no more. I looked around among the assembly and recognized no other faces that I knew and in a short space the great lady having finished her colloquy with her next neighbour rose up and said--""My lords I believe ye be all of kin to this house and the other gentlemen be its friends--a falling house as represented by a feeble woman of fourscore years and five. Yet in the greatness of the cause may we securely expect a gift of strength even to so frail an instrument as I am. I have consulted with you all and finally have taken counsel with my kind cousin and sweet friend the Earl of Fitzoswald now at my side and he hath agreed to what I have proposed. It now then but remains to carry our project into effect; and for that purpose I have summoned hither a good man and excellent divine Master Willis of this neighbourhood to be efficacious in that behalf."" I started up and said in great agitation--""Oh my lady!""--but had not proceeded further when I was broken in upon by a voice of thunder-- ""Silence I say! What is it for the frailness of a reed like you that such noble enterprise must perish? Make no remonstrance sir but do what is needed or""---- Although the great lady did not finish her words I felt an assurance steal like ice over my soul that my hours were numbered if I hesitated and I bowed low while Mr William Snowton did privily pull me down into my seat by the hinder parts of my cassock. ""You--you Master Willis of all men should least oppose this godly step. For the noise thereof will sound unto the ends of the earth and make the old Antichrist on his seven hills quake and tremble and shake the pitiful spirit of the apostate of Whitehall. Say I not well my lords?"" ""You say well "" ran round the room in a murmur of consent. ""And you--you Master Willis "" she went on ""least of all should object to keep a lamb within the true fold--yea a lamb which you did see with your own eyes introduced into the same. Remember you nought of godly Master Waller's in Berkshire or of the scene you saw in a certain chamber where the baptismal waters were poured forth and murmured like a pleasant fountain in the dying ears of a devout Christian woman?"" I was so held back with awe that I said not a word and she went on-- ""Oh if good Master Lees had yet been spared we should not have asked for the ministry of trembling and unwilling hands like yours! And now my lords--and you kind gentlemen my plan as arranged with good Lord Fitzoswald is this:--I give my grandchild's hand where her heart has long been bestowed; I then go with her through lanes and byways; under good escort to the city of Exeter where erelong we shall cast in our lot with certain friends. The bridegroom shall see nought of his bride till happier days arrive except at this altar; and you shall go directly to your respective stations and be ready at the first blowin

of the horns before which the walls of this Jericho are to fall. In the next chamber I have made preparation for the ceremony and in a few minutes when I have arranged me for the journey I will summon you."" Something of this I heard--the sense namely forced its way into my brain; but I was confused and panic-stricken. The whole sad scene enacted so many years before at the house of good Master Waller on my way home from Oxford came back upon my heart and I marvelled at the method whereby the great lady had acquired a knowledge of the secret. I was deep sunk in these cogitations when the door of the inner library was at last thrown open and such light flashed upon us from the multitude of candles which were illuminated in all parts of the chamber that my eyes were for some time dazzled. When I came to myself I looked and at a table under the eastern window on which was spread out a golden-clasped prayer-book opened at the form of solemnization of matrimony I saw along with two young men of about his own age (all girt with swords and booted and spurred ) the right honourable the Viscount Lessingholm which I at once concluded was acting as bridegroom's man to one of the other youths. The company which had been assembled in the withdrawing-room placed themselves gravely as if some solemn matter was in hand at the side of the table; and I took my place by a motion from the Earl Fitzoswald and laid my hand upon the prayer-book as ready to begin. The door at the other end of the room which leadeth to the outer staircase was opened and there came noiselessly in a tall woman dressed in the same fantastical apparel like the apparel of the Bohemians or gipsies which I remembered so well on the fatal night of the christening; and when she cast her eyes on me I could not have thought an hour had passed since that time and I recognised in her with awe and wonderment the features of the great lady the Lady Mallerden herself. In each hand she led a young person in her left my daughter Waller and I will not deny that at the sight my heart leapt up with strange but not unpleasing emotion as remembering the habitudes of the noble Viscount Lessingholm I thought there was a possibility of a double wedding; and in her other hand dressed as for a journey with close fitting riding-coat and a round hat with sable feathers upon her head she conducted Alice Snowton the which looked uncommon lovely though by no means so healthy or stout-looking as her other companion--_videlicet_ my Waller. They walked up to the place whereat we stood and the Lord Viscount springing forward did give his hand to Alice Snowton and did not let it go for some time; but looked upon her with such soft endearing looks that she held down her head and a red blush appeared upon her cheek as if thereupon there had been reflected the shadow of a rose. For it was not of the deep tinge which formed the ornament of the complexion of my Waller. ""This is no time for useless dalliance "" said the great lady; ""let us to work. By no other means can we root out for ever the hopes of our enemies."" ""Where then madam "" I said ""is the bride?--and who I pray you is the bridegroom?"" ""The bridegroom is the Viscount Lessingholm. This maiden is the bride."" ""But Alice Snowton my lady. I did think it was your honourable grandchild who was to be united to this noble gentleman."" ""And so it is--and so it is! She is Alice Snowton no longer. Our good friend Master Snowton the steward on my daughter Pevensey's Wiltshire manor was good enough to adopt her as his niece; and for her better concealment we placed her in the charge of a person whose character for meekness and simplicity was too notorious to raise suspicion of his being concerned in such a plot. Even to herself till lately her parentage was unknown as Master Snowton kept well the secret."" ""And one other question "" I said; ""the child to whom I became bound as godfather?"" ""'Tis the same. This is the poor Lucy Hesseltine whose orphanship you witnessed in that lone and yet comfortable death."" The lady Lucy Hesseltine or rather Alice Snowton for by that name I loved her best did throw her arms about my neck and kissed my cheek and said I had been a kind godfather to her yea had been a father to her and my excellent wife a mother. At this my heart was much moved and I saw tears come to the eyes of several of the bystanders but no tear came to the eyes of the great lady herself. ""Let this be enough "" she said. ""Let us finish what we have yet to do."" And thereupon all being ready and in their due places I began; but when I came to the question--""Lucy Hesseltine wilt thou have this man to be thy lawful husband?""--a sudden noise in the court-yard under the window made me pause; but the great lady commanded me with a frown to go on and I concluded the question and received in reply a sweet but audible ""yes."" But the noise was again repeated and the assistants sprang to their feet for it was the sound of the sharp shooting off of pistols. ""Stir not for your lives till the ceremony is over!"" cried the great lady; and I hurried with trembling lips over the remainder of the service. A loud voice in the yard was heard amid the trampling of much horse. ""In the king's name surrender!"" the voice said. ""We have a warrant here and soldiers!"" ""For as much as Frederick and Lucy Hesseltine "" (I said as calmly as I could though with my heart quaking within me) ""have consented together in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God and this company and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to other and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring and by joining of hands--I pronounce that they be man and wife together!"" ""Now then my lords and gentlemen "" cried the great lady springing to her feet ""to the defence! We are witnesses of this marriage and clashing swords must play the wedding peel. If need be fear not in such quarrel to do your best; yea to the shedding of blood! Though the blood were my son's it were well shed in such a holy cause. Now then Lucy come! Guard the front entrance but an hour and we shall be beyond pursuit."" And so saying she glided rapidly with the nearly fainting bride towards the hidden stairs while Viscount Lessingholm rushed rapidly with drawn sword down the grand flight and sprang on his grey horse. In the confusion my Waller had disappeared and in great agonies of fear I slipped into the court-yard. Oh what a sight met my eyes! There were several men lying dead which had been shot or otherwise killed and their horses were galloping hither and thither with loose reins and stirrups flapping; other men were groaning and writhing in great pains tearing the ground with bleeding hands and dragging themselves if such were possible away from the _mêlée_. Meanwhile horsemen drawn up on either side were doing battle with sword and pistol; and the trampling and noise of the shouting the groans and deep execrations all resounding at once in that atmosphere of smoke and approaching night were fearful to listen to and I bethought me of some way of escape. I slipped within the piazza of the servants' court and made my way towards the gate; but here the battle raged the fiercest the noble Viscount Lessingholm being determined to keep it closed and the furious Marquis resolute to force it open whereby an accession of men might come to him which were shut out on the other side--the warder of the door having only admitted the marquis himself and about fifty of the king's dragoons. The retainers which I had seen on my entrance amounted to seventy or more; and seeing they had most of them been soldiers yea some which had grizzled locks having been among the shouters at Dunbar and on many fields besides under the cruel eye of the ferocious Oliver himself they did cry ""Ha ha! at the spear of the rider and smelt the battle afar off."" The Marquis of Danfield did spur his black war-horse with his sword poised high in air towards the noble Viscount of Lessingholm and with fierce cries the noble viscount raised also his sword and was in act to strike the undefended head of his assailant. ""Stop Frederick!"" cried a voice which proceeded from the Earl Fitzoswald; ""it is Danfield himself!"" whereupon the young gentleman did ward off the blow aimed at him by the marquis and passed on. All this I saw ere I gave up hopes of getting out by the gate; but seeing this was hopeless I pursued my way back again with intent to get out by one of the postern windows and hurry homeward across the fields; and having opened a window near unto the buttery I hung by my hands and then shutting my eyes and commending my soul to Heaven I let go and dropt safely down upon the greensward. But ere I could recover myself sufficiently I was set upon as if I had been an armed enemy by a large number of mounted men which were of the company of the marquis whereby I saw that the house was surrounded and feared the great lady and Alice (I would say the Viscountess Lessingholm) were intercepted in their retreat. Howbeit I gave myself up prisoner by reason of various blows with the flats of sabres and sundry monitions to surrender or die. I was led in great fear to the front of the court and brought before a proud fierce-browed commander which interrogated me ""of all that was going on and whether the Lady Lucy Mallerden was in the Court?"" Whereto I answered that I was so overcome with terror that I knew little of what I had seen and with regard to the noble lady I was persuaded she was not within the walls. ""If you answer me "" he said ""truly and tell me what road she has taken I will send you away in safety and secure you his majesty's pardon for any thing you may have done against his crown and dignity; but if you refuse I will assuredly hang you on the court-yard gate the moment we gain possession thereof. Now say which way went they?"" I was sore put to it for it was like betraying innocent blood to tell these savage men the course my godchild pursued in her escape; and yet to tell an untruth was repugnant to my nature and I said to the captain ""It is a hard matter for me to point out where my friends are fleeing unto."" ""Then you'll be hung as high as Haman at daybreak; so you can take your choice "" said he. ""If I direct you unto the place whereunto she is gone "" I said ""it will be a hard matter to find her."" ""That's our business not yours. Tell us where it is."" ""For suppose she were in hiding in a city a large busy place like Bristol and waited for a conveyance to a foreign land""---- ""In Bristol! Oho say no more! Ensign Morley take ten of the best mounted of the troop and scour the northern roads towards Bristol. You will overtake them ere they are far advanced."" ""I pray you captain "" I said ""to observe--I have not told you she is gone towards Bristol."" ""I know you haven't "" he said smiling ""I will bear witness you have kept her secret well; but here we are about to enter the Court for the firing is finished. The rebels will be on gibbets within twenty-four hours every one."" But there was no sign of the gate being opened. Contrariwise there did appear in the dimness of the evening-sky certain dark caps above the outside wall which I did recognize as being worn by the serving-men of the great lady's friends; and while we were yet talking a flight of bullets passed close over our heads and three or four of the troopers fell off dead men leaving their saddles empty and their horses masterless. ""Draw close my men "" cried the captain ""right wheel;"" and setting his men an example he did gallop with what speed he might from the propinquity of the wall. As for myself I was in some sort relieved by the knowledge that the noble mansion still continued in possession of the Viscount Lessingholm; and comforting myself with the assurance that no evil could befall my daughter Waller while under his protection I did contrive to seize by the bridle one of the dragoons' horses (a stout black horse which being never claimed did do my farming work for fifteen years ) and climbing up into the saddle betook me home to inform my excellent wife of all these dreadful events. All next day and all the next--yea for three whole days--I stayed in my quiet home receiving information quietly by means of a note brought to me by my servants that the mansion still held out that Waller was quite safe and that provided no artillery was brought to bear against them that they could hold out _till the time came_. What was the meaning of the latter phraseology I did not know; but considering it desirable at that period to cut down certain trees on my recently purchased estate I proceeded with Thomas Hodge the carpenter and various other artificers of my parishioners (all being friends and dependents of the great lady ) and with saws and other instruments did level the whole row of very large oaks and elm trees which bordered the only high-road from Oxford; and by some strange accident all the trees did fall exactly across the same and made it utterly impossible to move thereupon with cart or waggon; so that it was much to be suspected that the guns which we heard were ordered to come up from Wallingford could by no means get over the obstruction. It is also to be observed that Master George Railsworth the mason who had contracted to repair the strong bridge over our stream did take this opportunity of taking down two of the arches of the same and could find no sufficient assistance to enable him to restore them which made the road impassable for horse or man. On the following day namely the fifth day of November we heard that all the king's soldiers were suddenly ordered from all parts up to London and that the Marquis of Danfield had been left to his imprisonment in Mallerden Court. Whereupon I bethought me it would be safe to venture up once more and bring my daughter Waller to the securer custody of my excellent wife. Next morning at early dawn I accordingly did go up and was admitted after a short parley by the gate-keeper which had a helmet on his head and a sword in his hand. Speedily I was in the arms of my daughter Waller who looked as happy as if none of these scenes had been transacted before her eyes; and moreover did refuse in very positive terms to leave the Court till her dear friend Alice--I would say the Lady Lucy--returned. I reasoned with her and reprimanded her and showed her in what a fearful state of danger we all were by reason of the rebellion we had been guilty of against his majesty the king. Whereupon the child did only laugh and told me ""Here she would abide until the time came."" And with this enigmatical expression I was fain to be content; for she would vouchsafe me no other. And corroborative of all which she said she relied on the assurances made unto her to that effect by Sir Walter Ouseley one of the young gentlemen which had acted as bridegroom's man to the noble Viscount Lessingholm and was now in the Court as his lieutenant in the defence of the same. A goodly young gentleman he was and fair to look upon and extraordinary kind to me soothing my fears and encouraging me to hope for better things than those my terrors made me anticipate. I enquired of the behavings of the Marquis of Danfield and learned to my surprise that it was expected that before this day was over if he did receive a courier as was thought from the Lord Churchill one of the king's favourite officers he would withdraw all his objections to the marriage and rather be an encourager and advocate of the same. In these discourses the time passed away and about three of the clock after we had dined in the great hall we were looking out from the battlements and saw a dust on the western road. ""It is Churchill's letter "" said the noble Viscount Lessingholm ""and he has kept his promise for once."" ""There is too much dust for only one courier's heels--there be twenty in company at least "" replied Sir Walter Ouseley which had the arm of my Waller closely locked in his. ""There may be a surprise intended "" cried the noble viscount. ""Hoist the flag man the walls treble the watchers and sound for the men into the yard."" We of the peaceful professions--_videlicet_ my daughter Waller and I--did descend from the bartizan and betook ourselves to the great withdrawing room to wait for the result of the approach. We had not waited long when the door opened and no other than the great lady herself and my loved and lovely godchild the Viscountess Lessingholm came into the apartment. The great lady was now appareled as became her rank having discarded those Bohemian habiliments which were her disguise in times of danger. Oh! it was a great sight to behold the meeting between the Lady Lucy and my daughter Waller; but when hurried steps sounded on the stairs and the door opened and the noble viscount rushed into her arms it was impossible to keep from tears. My feeble pen can venture on no such lofty flights of description and therefore I will not attempt it. Meanwhile in the outer court great shouting was heard. Sir Walter Ouseley came up to us and announced that the Marquis of Danfield ""presented his respects to his noble mother and congratulated her on the glorious news."" ""I knew how it would be "" she said ""with base natures such as his and Churchill's. We accept their assistance but despise the instrument. He will now be fierce against his benefactor (who though a bad king was tender to his friends ) and bitterer against his faith than if he had never been either a courtier or a bigot. I receive his congratulations Sir Walter Ouseley but I decline an interview for some time to come."" ""He desired me also my lady "" said Sir Walter ""to convey his blessing to the bride and his tender love to his new son the Viscount Lessingholm."" ""Well let them not reject it. The blessing even of such a father has its value. But we must now make preparation for the celebration of the happy nuptials in a style fitting the rank of the parties. The prince is pleased with what we have done""---- The young man Sir Walter Ouseley who had been whispering in my ear here broke in on the great lady's speech. ""If it would please you madam at the same time to permit two others to be happy I have obtained Master Willis's consent thereto and also the consent of this fair maiden."" The viscountess took Waller in her arms and kissed her cheek and the great lady smiled. ""I knew not Sir Walter Ouseley that you were so perfect a soldier as to sustain an attack and lay siege at the same time; but since in both you have been successful I give you my hearty good wishes. And so dear friends and true supporters let us be thankful for the great deliverance wrought for this land and nation as well as for ourselves. Our defender the noble William landed three days ago at Torbay and is now in Hampton Court. The king has taken flight never to be restored. Therefore God save the Prince of Orange and the Lady Mary the props and ornaments of a true Protestant throne!"" BEAU BRUMMELL.{A} All things change; ours is the age of masses and classes the last was the age of individuals. Half a dozen remarkable men then represented the London world in politics poetry bon-mots dining out and gaming. Pitt and Fox the Dukes of Queensberry and Norfolk Sheridan and General Scott were the substitutes for mankind in the great metropolis. George Brummell was the last of the beaus. The flame of beauism was expiring; but it flamed in its socket brighter than ever and Beau Brummell made a more conspicuous figure in the supreme _bon-ton_ of elegant absurdity than any or all his predecessors. The only permanent beau on earth is the American savage. The Indians who have been lately exhibiting their back-wood deformities in our island at shilling a-head were prodigious dressers; Greek taste might probably have dissented from their principles of costume but there could be no doubt of the study of their decoration. Their _coiffeur_ might not altogether supersede either the Titus or the Brutus in the eye of a Parisian but it had evidently been twisted on system; and if their drapery in general might startle Baron Stulz it evidently cost as dexterous cutting out and as ambitious tailoring as the most _recherché_ suit that ever turned a ""middling man"" into a figure for Bond Street. But the charm which is the very soul of European fashion is scorned by the Indian. Change--the ""Cynthia of the minute "" the morning thought and midnight dream of the dilettanti in human drapery--has no captivation for the red man. He may like variety in his scalps or his squaws; but not a feather not a stripe of yellow on one cheek or of green on another exhibits a sign of the common mutabilities of man. He struts in the plumes which his fathers wore is attired in the same nether garments exhibits the same head-gear and decorates his physiognomy with the sane proportion of white-wash red-lead bear's-grease and Prussian blue. Beauism in England scarcely goes farther back than the days of Charles II. It may be said that Elizabeth had her beaux; but the true beau being an existence of which no man living can discover the use and which is in fact wholly useless except to his tailor and the caricaturists the chevaliers of the time of Queen Bess are not entitled to the honour of the name. Raleigh no doubt was a good dresser; but then he could write and fight and was good for something. Leicester is recorded as a superb dresser; but then he dabbled in statesmanship war and love-making and of course had not much time on his hands. The Sedleys Rochesters and their compeers had too much actual occupation good and bad to be fairly ranked among those gossamery ornaments of mankind; they were idle enough in their hearts for the purpose but their lives were _not_ shadows their sole object was _not_ self. They were more nice about swords than snuff-boxes and if they were spendthrifts their profusion was not limited to a diamond ring or a Perigord pie. They loved hated read wrote frolicked and fought; they could frown as well as smile and see the eccentricity of their own follies as well as enjoy them. But the true beau is a _beau-ideal_ an abstraction substantialized only by the scissors a concentrated essence of frivolity infinitely sensitive to his own indulgence chill as the poles to the indulgence of all others; prodigal to his own appetites never suffering a shilling to escape for the behoof of others; magnanimously mean ridiculously wise and contemptibly clever; selfishness is the secret the spring and the principle of _par excellence_ the beau. In the brief introduction prefixed to the ""Life "" some of those individuals who approached closest to perfection of old times are mentioned. One of those was Sir George Hewitt on whom Etheridge the comic writer sketched his Sir Fopling Flutter. This beau found a place in poetry as well as in prose ""Had it not better been than thus to roam To stay and tie the cravat-string at home? To strut look big strike pantaloon and swear With Hewitt--D----me There's no action here?"" Wilson followed. He was a personage who first established the fashion of living by one's wits. Returning from the army in Flanders with forty shillings in his pocket he suddenly started into high life in the most dashing style eclipsed every body by his equipage stud table and dress. As he was not known at the gaming-table conjecture was busy on the subject of his finances; and he was charitably supposed to have commenced his career by robbing a Dutch mail of a package of diamonds. Still he glittered until involved in a duel with Mississippi Law; the latter financier probably jealous of so eminent a rival ran a rapier through his body. The next on the list is Beau Fielding. He was intended for the bar but intending himself for nothing his pursuit was fashion. He set up a showy equipage went to court and led the life of ""a man about town."" He was remarkably handsome attracted the notice of Charles II. and reigned as the monarch of beauism. He was rapidly ruined but repaired his fortune by marrying an heiress. She died; and the beau was duped by an Englishwoman whom he married under the idea that she was a Madame Delaune a widow of great wealth. Finding out the deception he cast her off and married the Duchess of Cleveland though in her sixty-first year. For this marriage he was prosecuted and found guilty of bigamy. He then became reconciled to his former wife and died in 1712 at the age of sixty-one. He was the Orlando of the _Tatler_. Beau Edgeworth lives only in the record of Steele in the 246th number of the _Tatler_ as a ""very handsome youth who frequented the coffeehouses about Charing-Cross and wore a very pretty ribbon with a cross of jewels on his breast."" Beau Nash completes the list of the ancient heroes dying in 1761 at the age of eighty-eight--a man of singular success in his frivolous style; made for a master of the ceremonies the model of all sovereigns of water-drinking places; absurd and ingenious silly and shrewd avaricious and extravagant. He _created_ Bath; he taught decency to ""bucks "" civility to card-players care to prodigals and caution to Irishmen! Bath has never seen his like again. In English high life birth is every thing or nothing. Men of the lowest extraction generally start up and range the streets arm-in-arm with the highest. Middle life alone is prohibited to make its approach; the line of demarcation there is like the gulf of Curtius not to be filled up and is growing wider and wider every day. The line of George Brummell is like that of the Gothic kings--without a pedigree; like that of the Indian rajahs--is lost in the clouds of antiquity; and like that of Romulus--puzzles the sagacious with rumours of original irregularity of descent. But the most probable existing conjecture is that his grandfather was a confectioner in Bury Street St James's. We care not a straw about the matter though the biographer is evidently uneasy on the subject doubts the trade and seems to think that he has thrown a shade of suspicion a sort of exculpatory veil over this fatal rumour by proving that this grandfather and his wife were both buried as is shown by a stone still to be seen by the curious in St James's church-yard. We were not before aware that Christian burial was forbidden to confectioners. The biographer further adds the convincing evidence of gentility that this grandfather was buried within a few feet of the well-known ribald Tom Durfey. Scepticism must now hang down its head and fly the field. We come to a less misty and remote period. In the house of this ancestor who (_proh dedecus!_) let lodgings lived Charles Jenkinson then holding some nondescript office under government. We still want a history of that singularly dexterous shy silent and successful man; who like Jupiter in Homer did more by a nod than others by a harangue--made more as a scene-shifter than any actor on the stage of Westminster--continually crept on while whole generations of highfliers dropped and died; and at length like a worm at the bottom of a pool started up to the surface put on wings and fluttered in the sunshine Earl of Liverpool! The loss of such a biography is a positive injury to all students of the art of rising. Jenkinson was struck by the neatness of the autograph in which ""Apartments to be Let"" was displayed on the door; and probably conscious that the ""art of letting"" was the true test of talents made the young writer his amanuensis and finally obtained for him a clerkship in the treasury. He was next in connexion with Lord North for the twelve years of that witty and blundering nobleman's unhappy administration and enjoyed no less than _three offices_ by which he netted L.2500 a-year. He was abused a good deal by the party-ink of his time; but the salary enabled him to bear spattering to any amount and probably only increased Lord North's sympathy for his fellow-sufferer until that noble lord was suffocated in the public mire. But after the crush of the minister the man felt that his day was done; and he retired to ""domestic virtue"" as it is termed took a good house in the country enjoyed himself and in 1794 died leaving two sons and a daughter and L.65 000 among them. George Bryan Brummell the second son was born in June 1778. The biographer observes characteristically that the beau avoided the topic of his genealogical tree with a sacred mystery. It appears that he avoided with equal caution all mention of the startling fact that one of his Christian names was _Bryan_. It never escaped his lips; it never slipped into his signature; it was never suffered to ""come between the wind and his nobility."" If it had by any unhappy chance transpired he must have fainted on the spot have fled from society and hid his discomfiture in ""Deserts where no men abide."" Brummell was a dandy by instinct a good dresser by the force of original genius; a first-rate tyer of cravats on the _in_voluntary principle. When a boy at Eton in 1790 he acquired his first distinction not by ""longs and shorts "" but by the singular nicety of his stock with a gold buckle the smart cut of his coat and his finished study of manners. Others might see glory only through hexameters and pentameters; renown might await others only through boating or cricket; with him the colour of his coat and the cut of his waistcoat were the materials of fame. Fellows and provosts of Eton might seem to others the ""magnificoes"" of mankind--the colossal figures which overtopped the age by their elevation or eclipsed it by their splendour--the ""dii majorum gentium "" who sat on the pinnacle of the modern Olympus; but Brummell saw nothing great but his tailor--nothing worthy of respect among the human arts but the art of cutting out a coat--and nothing fit to ensure human fame with posterity but the power to create and to bequeath a new fashion. But the name of dandy was of later date; the age had not attained sufficient elegance for so polished a title; it was still buck or macaroni; the latter having been the legacy of the semi-barbarian age which preceded the eighteenth century. Brummell was called Buck Brummell when an urchin at Eton--a preliminary evidence of the honours which awaited him in a generation fitter to reward his skill and acknowledge his superiority. Dandy was a thing yet to come but which in his instance was sure to come. ""The force of title could no further go-- The 'dandy was the heirloom of the beau.'"" Yet even in boyhood the sly and subtle style the Brummellism of his after years began to exhibit itself. A party of the boys having quarreled with the boatmen of the Thames had fallen on one who had rendered himself obnoxious and were about to throw him into the river. Brummell who never took part in those affrays but happened to pass by at the time said ""My good fellows don't throw him into the river; for as the man is in a high state of perspiration it amounts to a certainty that he will catch cold."" The boys burst into laughter and let their enemy run for his life. At Eton however he was a general favourite for his pleasantry the gentleness of his manner and the smartness of his repartee. He had attained tolerable scholarship was in the fifth form in 1793 the year in which he left Eton and wrote good Latin verses an accomplishment which he partially retained to his last days. From Eton he went to Oriel and there commenced that cutting system of which he so soon became the acknowledged master. He cut an old Eton acquaintance simply because he had entered at an inferior college and discontinued visiting another because he had invited him to meet two students of a hall which he was pleased to consider obnoxious. In his studies he affected to despise college distinctions but yet wrote for the Newdigate prize and produced the second best poem. But his violation of college rules was systematic and contemptuous. He always ordered his horse at hall time was the author of half the squibs turned a tame jack-daw with a band on into the quadrangle to burlesque the master and treated all proctors' and other penalties with contempt. Such at least is the character given him by Mr Lister in Granby. But he was now to commence a new career. In 1794 he was gazetted to a cornetcy in the Tenth Hussars the gift of its colonel the Prince of Wales. Brummell's own account of this origin of his court connexions is that when a boy at Eton he had been presented to the Prince and that his subsequent intimacy grew out of the Prince's notice on that occasion. But a friend of his told the biographer that the Prince hearing of the young Etonia

as a second Selwyn had asked him to his table and given him the commission to attach him to his service. This was a remarkable distinction and in any other hands would have been a card of fortune. He was then but sixteen; he was introduced at once into the highest society of fashion; and he was the favourite companion of a prince who required to be amused delighted in originality and was fond of having the handsomest and pleasantest men of the age in his regiment. Brummell though an elegant appendage to the corps was too much about the person of the Prince to be a diligent officer. The result was that he was often late on parade and did not always know his own troop. However he evaded the latter difficulty in general by a contrivance peculiarly his own. One of his men had a large blue-tinged nose. Whenever Brummell arrived late he galloped between the squadrons till he saw the blue nose. There he reined up and felt secure. Once however it happened unfortunately that during his absence there was some change made in the squadrons and the place of the blue nose was shifted. Brummel on coming up late as usual galloped in search of his beacon and having found his old friend he reined up. ""Mr Brummell "" cried the colonel ""you are with the wrong troop."" ""No no "" said Brummell confirming himself by the sight of the blue nose and adding in a lower tone--""I know better than that; a pretty thing indeed if I did not know my own troop!"" His promotion was rapid; for he obtained a troop within three years being captain in 1796. Yet within two years he threw up his commission. The ground of this singular absurdity is scarcely worth enquiring into. He was evidently too idle for any thing which required any degree of regularity. The command of a troop requires some degree of attention from the idlest. He had the prospect of competence from his father's wealth; and his absolute abhorrence of all exertion was probably his chief prompter in throwing away the remarkable advantages of his position--a position from which the exertion of a moderate degree of intellectual vigour or even of physical activity might have raised him to high rank in either the state or the army. Of course various readings of his resignation have been given; some referred it to his being obliged to wear hair-powder which was then ceasing to be fashionable; others more probably to an original love for doing nothing. The reason which he himself assigned was comic and characteristic. It was his disgust at the idea of being quartered for however short a time in a manufacturing town. An order arrived one evening for the hussars to move to Manchester. Next morning early he waited on the Prince who expressing surprise at a visit at such an hour from him was answered--""The fact is your royal highness I have heard that we are ordered to Manchester. Now you must be aware how disagreeable this would be to _me_; I really could not go. _Think! Manchester!_ Besides you would not be there. I have therefore with your permission determined to sell out.""--""Oh by all means Brummell!"" said the Prince; ""do as you please."" And thus he stripped himself of the highest opportunity in the most showy of all professions before he was twenty-one. He now commenced what is called the bachelor life of England; he took a house in Chesterfield Street May Fair; gave small but exquisite dinners; invited men of rank and even the Prince to his table; and avoiding extravagance--for he seldom played and kept only a pair of horses--established himself as a refined voluptuary. Yet for this condition his means though considerable if aided by a profession were obviously inadequate. His fortune amounted only to L.30 000 though to this something must be added for the sale of his troop. His only resources thenceforth must be play or an opulent marriage. Nature and art had been favourable to him; his exterior though not distinguished was graceful and his countenance though not handsome was intelligent. He possessed in a certain degree the general accomplishments and exactly in the degree which produce a flattering reception in society. He was a tolerable musician he used his pencil with tolerable skill and he wrote tolerable verses; more would have been worse than useless. He dressed admirably and as his _cheval de battaile_ he talked with a keenness of observation and a dexterity of language scarcely less rare than wit and still more exciting among the exhausted minds and in the vapid phraseology of fashion. His person was well formed and his dress was a matter of extreme study. But it is rather libellous on the memory of this man of taste to suppose that he at all resembled in this important matter the strutting display which we have seen in later times and which irresistibly strikes the beholder with surprise that any man capable of seeing himself in the glass could exhibit so strong a temptation to laughter; while to the more knowing in the affairs of costume it betrays instantly the secret that the exhibitor is simply a walking placard for a tailor struggling for employment and supplying the performer on the occasion with a wardrobe for the purpose. Brummell's dress was finished with perfect skill but without the slightest attempt at exaggeration. Plain Hessian boots and pantaloons or top boots and buckskins which were then more the fashion than they are now; a blue coat and a buff coloured waistcoat--for he somewhat leaned to Foxite politics for form's-sake however he despised all politics as unworthy of a man born to give the tone to fashion--was his morning dress. In the evening he appeared in a blue coat and white waistcoat black pantaloons closely fitting and buttoning tight to the ankle striped silk stockings and opera hat. We may thus observe how much Brummell went _before_ his age; for while he thus originated a dress which no modern refinement has yet exceeded and which contained all that is _de bon ton_ in modern equipment he was living in the midst of a generation almost studiously barbarian--the Foxite imitators of the French republicans--where every man's principle was measured by the closeness of his approach to savagery; and nothing but the War interposed to prevent the _sans-culottism_ alike of the body and the mind. Brummell though not possessing the patronage of a secretary of state had the power of making men's fortunes. His principal tailors were Schweitzer and Davidson of Cork street Weston and Meyer of Conduit street. Those names have since disappeared but their memory is dear to dandyism; and many a superannuated man of elegance will give ""the passing tribute of a sigh"" to the incomparable neatness of their ""fit "" and the unrivaled taste of their scissors. Schweitzer and Meyer worked for the Prince and the latter was in some degree a royal favourite and one of the household. He was a man of genius at his needle; an inventor who even occasionally disputed the palm of originality with Brummell himself. The point is not yet settled to whom was due the happy conception of the trouser opening at the ankle and closed by buttons. Brummell laid his claim openly at least to its improvement; while Meyer admitting the elegance given to it by the tact of Brummell persisted in asserting his right to the invention. Yet if as was said of gunpowder and printing the true inventor is the man who first brings the discovery into renown the honour is here Brummell's for he was the first who _established_ the trouser in the Bond street world. The Prince at this period cultivated dress with an ardour which threatened to dethrone Brummell himself and his wardrobe was calculated to have cost L.100 000. But his royal highness had one obstacle to encounter which ultimately drove him from the field and restricted all his future chances of distinction to wigs; he began to grow corpulent. A scarcely less formidable evil arose in his quarreling with Brummell. In the course of hostilities the Prince pronounced the beau a tailor's block fit for nothing but to hang clothes on; while the retaliation came in the shape of a caricature in which a pair of leather breeches is exhibited lashed up between the bed-posts and an enormously fat man lifted up to them is making a desperate struggle to get his limbs properly seated in their capacity: another operation of a still more difficult nature the making the waistband meet still threatening to defy all exertion. Brummell's style was in fact simplicity but simplicity of the most studied kind. Lord Byron defined it ""a certain exquisite propriety of dress."" ""_No_ perfumes "" the Beau used to say ""but fine linen plenty of it and _country_ washing."" His opinion on this subject however changed considerably in after time; for he used perfumes and attributed a characteristic importance to their use. Meeting a gentleman at a ball with whom he conversed for a while some of the party enquired the stranger's name. ""Can't possibly tell "" was the Beau's answer. ""But he is evidently a gentleman--his perfumes are good."" He objected to country gentlemen being introduced into Watier's on the ground ""that their boots always smelt of horse-dung and bad blacking."" His taste in matters of _virtu_ was one of the sources of his profusion; but it always had a reference to himself. He evidently preferred a snuff-box which he could display in his hand to a Raphael which he could exhibit only on his wall. His snuff-boxes were numerous and costly. But even in taking snuff he had his style: he always opened the box with _one_ hand the left. The Prince imitated him in this _tour de grace_. A fashion always becomes more fashionable as it becomes more ridiculous. People cling to it as they pet a monkey for its deformity. The high head-dresses of France which must have been a burden made the tour of Europe and endured through a century. The high heels which almost wholly precluded safe walking lasted their century. The use of powder was universal until it was driven out of France by republicanism and out of England by famine. The flour used by the British army alone for whitening their heads was calculated to amount to the annual provision for 50 000 people. Snuff had been universally in use from the middle of the seventeenth century; and the sums spent on this filthy and foolish indulgence the time wasted on it and the injury done to health if they could all have been thrown into the common form of money would have paid the national debt of England. The common people have their full share in this general absurdity. The gin drunk in England and Wales annually amounts to nearly twenty millions of pounds sterling; a sum which would pay all the poor rates three times over and turned to any public purpose might cover the land with great institutions--the principal result of this enormous expenditure now being to fill the population with vice misery and madness. In the matter of coats Brummell had but one rival the Prince whose rank of course gave him a general advantage yet whose taste was clearly held as inferior by the royal _artistes_ themselves. A baronet who went to Schweitzer's to get himself equipped in the first style asked him what cloth he recommended. ""Why sir "" was the answer ""the Prince wears superfine and Mr Brummell the Bath coating. Suppose sir we say Bath coating; I think Mr Brummell has a trifle the preference."" Brummell's connexion with the Prince his former rank in the hussars and his own agreeable manners introduced him to the intercourse of the principal nobility. In the intervals of his visits to the Prince at Brighton he visited Belvoir Chatsworth Woburn &c. But he was absolutely _once_ in town in the month of November as is proved by the following note from Woburn:-- MY DEAR BRUMMELL --By some accident which I am unable to account for your letter of Wednesday did not reach me till Wednesday. I make it a rule never to lend my box; but you have the _entrée libre_ whenever you wish to go there as I informed the boxkeeper last year. I hope Beauvais and you will do great execution at Up-Park. I shall probably be there shortly after you.--Ever yours sincerely ""BEDFORD."" At Belvoir he was _l'ami de la famille_ and at Cheveley another seat of the Duke of Rutland's his rooms were as sacred as the Duke of York's who was a frequent visitor there. On the Duke of Rutland's coming of age in 1799 great rejoicings took place at Belvoir and Brummell was one of the distinguished party there among whom were the Prince of Wales the late Duke of Argyll the Marquis of Lorn and the other chief fashionable people of the day. This _fête_ was memorable for it was said to have cost L.60 000. Brummell was not altogether effeminate; he could both shoot and ride but he liked neither: he was never a Melton man. He said that he could not bear to have his tops and leathers splashed by the greasy galloping farmers. The Duke of Rutland raised a corps of volunteers on the renewal of the war in 1803; and as Brummell had been a soldier the duke gave him a majority. In the course of the general inspections of the volunteer corps an officer was sent from the Horse Guards to review the duke's regiment the major being in command. On the day of the inspection every one was on parade except the major-commandant. Where is Major Brummell was the indignant enquiry? He was not to be found. The inspection went on. When it was near its close Brummell was soon coming full gallop across the country in the uniform of the Belvoir Hunt terribly splashed. He apologized for himself by saying that having left Belvoir quite early he had expected to be on the parade in time the meet being close at hand. However his favourite hunter had landed him in a ditch where having been dreadfully shaken by the fall he had been lying for an hour. But the general was inexorable and Brummell used to give the worthy officer's speech in the following style--""Sir this conduct is wholly inexcusable. If I remember right sir you once had the honour of holding a captain's commission under his royal highness the Prince of Wales the heir-apparent himself sir! Now sir I tell you; I tell you sir that I should be wanting in a proper zeal for the honour of the service; I should be wanting sir if I did not this very evening report this disgraceful neglect of orders to the commander-in-chief as well as the state in which you present yourself in front of your regiment; and this shall be done sir. You may retire sir."" All this was very solemn and astounding; but Brummell's presence of mind was not often astounded. He had scarcely walked his horse a few paces from the spot when he returned and said in a subdued tone--""Excuse me general; but in my anxiety to explain this most unfortunate business I forgot to deliver a message from the Duke of Rutland. It was to request the honour of your company at dinner."" The culprit and the disciplinarian grinned together; the general coughed and cleared his throat sufficiently to express his thanks in these words--""Ah! why really I feel and am very much obliged to his grace. Pray Major Brummell tell the duke I shall be most happy;"" and melodiously raising his voice (for the Beau had turned his horse once more towards Belvoir ) ""Major Brummell as to this little affair I am sure no man can regret it more than you do. Assure his grace that I shall have great pleasure in accepting his very kind invitation;"" and they parted amid a shower of smiles. But Brummell had yet but half completed his performance; for the invitation was extempore and he must gallop to Belvoir to acquaint the duke of the guest he was to receive on that day. Brummell always appeared at the cover side admirably dressed in a white cravat and white tops which latter either he or Robinson his valet introduced and which eventually superseded the brown ones. The subtlety of Brummell's sneers which made him so highly amusing to the first rank of society made him an object of alarm if not of respect to others. ""Do you see that gentleman near the door?"" said a woman of rank to her daughter who had been brought for the first time to Almack's. ""Yes! Who is he?"" replied the young lady. ""A person my dear who will probably come and speak to us; and if he enters into conversation be careful to give him a favourable impression of you for he is the celebrated Mr Brummell."" The _debutante_ was the daughter of a duke. It has been said that Madame de Stael considered herself as having failed to attract his approval and that she spoke of it as the greatest _malheur_ which had occurred to her during her stay in London the next in point of calamity being that the Prince had not called on her in person. The Beau perfectly knew his own value. In reply to a nobleman who charged him with involving his son in a gaming transaction he said--""Really I did my best for the young man; I gave him my arm all the way from White's to Watier's."" However there can be no doubt that he was very often intolerably impudent; and as impudence is always vulgar he was guilty of vulgarity. Dining at a gentleman's house in Hampshire where the champagne did not happen to suit his taste he refused his glass when the servant came to help him a second time with--""No thank you I don't drink cider!"" The following anecdote is rather better known. ""Where were you yesterday Brummell?"" said one of his club friends. ""I think "" said he ""I dined in the city."" ""What! you dined in the city?"" said his friend. ""Yes the man wished me to bring him into notice and I desired him to give a dinner to which I invited Alvanley Mills Pierrepoint and some others."" ""All went off well of course?"" said the friend. ""Oh yes! perfectly except one _mal-à-apropos_: the fellow who gave the dinner had actually the assurance to seat himself at the table."" Dining at a large party at the house of an opulent but young member of London society he asked the loan of his carriage to take him to Lady Jersey's that evening. ""I am going there "" said his entertainer ""and will be happy to take you."" ""Still there is a difficulty "" said Brummell in his most delicate tone. ""You do not mean to get up behind that would not be quite right in your own carriage; and yet how would it do for me to be seen in the same carriage with you?"" Brummell's manner probably laughed off impertinences of this order; for given without their colouring from nature they would have justified an angry reply. But he seems never to have involved himself in personal quarrel. He was intact and intangible. Yet he too had his mortifications. One night in going to Lady Dungannon's he was actually obliged to make use of a hackney coach. He got out of it at an unobserved distance from the door and made his way up her ladyship's crowded staircase conceiving that he had escaped all evidence of his humiliation; however this was not to be. As he was entering the drawing-room a servant touched his arm and to his amazement and horror whispered--""Beg pardon sir perhaps you are not aware of it that there is a straw sticking to your shoe."" His style found imitations in the public prints and one sufficiently characteristic thus set forth the merits of a new patent carriage step:--""There is an art in every thing; and whatever is worthy of being learned cannot be unworthy of a teacher."" Such was the logical argument of the professor of the art of stepping in and out of a carriage who represented himself as much patronised by the sublime Beau Brummell whose deprecation of those horrid coach steps he would repeat with great delight:-- ""Mr Brummell "" he used to say ""considered the sedan was the only vehicle for a gentleman it having no steps; and he invariably had his own chair which was lined with white satin quilted had down squabs and a white sheepskin rug at the bottom brought to the door of his dressing-room on that account always on the ground-floor from whence it was transferred with its owner to the foot of the staircase of the house that he condescended to visit. Mr Brummell has told me "" continued the professor ""that to enter a coach was torture to him. 'Conceive ' said he 'the horror of sitting in a carriage with an iron apparatus afflicted with the dreadful thought the cruel apprehension of having one's leg crushed by the machinery. Why are not the steps made to fold _outside_? The only detraction from the luxury of a _vis à vis_ is the double distress! for _both_ legs--excruciating idea!'"" Brummell's first reform was the neckcloth. Even his reform has passed away; such is the transitory nature of all human achievements. But the art of neckcloths was once more than a dubious title to renown in the world of Bond Street. The politics of the time were disorderly; and the dress of politicians had become as disorderly as their principles. The fortunes of Whiggism too had run low; and the velvet coat and embroidered waistcoat the costly buckles and gold buttons of better days were heavier drains on the decreasing revenues of the party than could be long sustained with impunity. Fox had already assumed the sloven--the whole faction followed; and the ghosts of the old oppositionists in their tie wigs and silver-laced coats would have been horrified by the sight of the shock-headed leather-breeched and booted generation who howled and harangued on the left side of the Speaker's chair from 1789 to 1806. All was _canaille_. Fox could scarcely have been more shabby had he been the representative of a population of bankrupts. The remainder of the party might have been supposed without any remarkable stretch of imagination to have emerged from the workhouse. All was sincere squalidness patriotic pauperism--the _un_washing principle. One of the cleverest caricatures of that cleverest of caricaturists the Scotchman Gilray was his sketch of the Whigs preparing for their first levee after the Foxite accession on the death of Pitt. The title was ""_Making decent!_"" The whole of the new ministry were exhibited in all the confusion of throwing off their rags and putting on their new clothing. There stood Sheridan half-smothered in the novel attempt to put on a clean shirt. In another corner Fox Grey and Lord Moira straining to peep into the same shaving-glass were all three making awkward efforts to use the long-forgotten razor. Others were gazing at themselves in a sort of savage wonder at the strangeness of new washed faces. Some _sans culottes_ were struggling to get into breeches; and others whose feet were accustomed to the ventilation of shoes which let their toes through were pondering over the embarrassment of shoes impervious to the air. The minor apparatus of court costume scattered round on the chairs the bags and swords the buckles and gloves were stared at by the groups with the wonder and perplexity of an American Indian. Into this irregular state of things Brummell made his first stride in the spirit of a renovator. The prevailing cravat of the time was certainly deplorable. Let us give it in the words of history:--""It was without stiffening of any kind and bagged out in front _rucking_ up to the front in a roll."" (We do not precisely comprehend this expression whose _precision_ however we by no means venture to doubt.) Brummell boldly met this calamity by slightly starching the too flexible material--a change in which as his biographer with due seriousness and truth observes--""a reasoning mind must acknowledge there is not much objectionable."" Imitators of course always exceed their model and the cravat adopted by the dandies soon became _excessively_ starched; the test being that of raising three parts of their length by one corner without bending. Yet Brummell though he adhered to the happy medium and was moderate in his starch was rigorous in his tie. If his cravat did not correspond to his wishes in its first arrangement it was instantly cast aside. His valet was seen one morning leaving his chamber with an armful of tumbled cravats and on being asked the cause solemnly replied ""These are our _failures_."" Perfection is slow in all instances; but talent and diligence are sure to advance. Brummell's ""tie"" became speedily the admiration of the _beau monde_. The manner in which this dexterous operation was accomplished was perfectly his own and deserves to be recorded for the benefit of posterity. The collar which was always fixed to his shirt was so large that before being folded down it completely hid his head and face and the neckcloth was at least a foot in height. The first _coup d'archet_ was made with the shirt-collar which he folded down to its proper size; but the delicate part of the performance was still to come. Brummell ""standing before the glass with his chin raised towards the ceiling now by the gentle and gradual declension of his lower jaw creased the cravat to reasonable dimensions; the form of each succeeding crease being perfected with the shirt which he had just discarded."" We were not aware of the nicety which was demanded to complete the folds of this superior swathing; but after this development who shall pronounce a dandy idle? Brummell was as critical on the dress of others as he was _recherché_ in his own and this care he extended to all ranks. He was once walking up St James's Street arm-in-arm with a young nobleman whom he condescended to patronize. The Beau suddenly asked him ""what he called _those things_ on his feet.""--""Why shoes.""--""Shoes are they?"" said Brummell doubtfully and stooping to look at them; ""I thought they were slippers?"" The late Duke of Bedford asked him his opinion of a new coat. ""Turn round "" said Mr Beau. When the examination was concluded in front and rear the Beau feeling the lapel delicately with his finger and thumb asked in a most pathetic manner ""Bedford do you call this _thing_ a coat?"" Somebody told him among a knot of loungers at White's ""Brummell your brother William is in town. Is he not coming here?""--""Yes "" was the reply ""in a day or two; but I have recommended him to walk the _back streets_ till his new clothes come home."" Practical jokes are essentially vulgar and apt to be hazardous besides; two reasons which should have prevented their performance by an individual whose object was to be the standard of elegance and whose object at no time was to expose himself to the rougher remonstrances of mankind; but the following piece of sportiveness was at least amusing. Meeting an old _emigré_ marquis at the seat of some noble friend and probably finding the Frenchman a bore he revenged himself by mixing some finely powdered sugar in his hair-powder. On the old Frenchman's coming into the breakfast-room next morning highly powdered as usual the flies attracted by the scent of the sugar instantly gathered round him. He had scarcely begun his breakfast when every fly in the room was busy on his head. The unfortunate marquis was forced to lay down his knife and fork and take out his pocket-handkerchief to repel these troublesome assailants but they came thicker and thicker. The victim now rose from his seat and changed his position; but all was in vain--the flies followed in fresh clusters. In despair he hurried to the window; but every fly lingering there was instantly buzzing and tickling. The marquis feverish with vexation and surprise threw up the window. This unlucky measure produced only a general invasion by all the host of flies sunning themselves on the lawn. The astonishment and amusement of the guests were excessive. Brummell alone never smiled. At last M. le Marquis gave way in agony and clapping his hands on his head and followed by a cloud of flies rushed out of the room. The secret was then divulged and all was laughter. ""Poodle B--g "" so well known in the world of fashion owed his _soubriquet_ to Brummell. B--g was fond of letting his hair which was light-coloured curl round his forehead. He was one day driving in his curricle with a poodle by his side. The Beau hailed him with--""Ah B--g how do you do?--A _family_ vehicle I see."" Some of those oddities of expression are almost too well known now for effect; but they must have sparkled prodigiously among the exhausted circles of his West-end day. ""You seem to have caught cold Brummell "" said a lounging visitor on hearing him cough. ""Yes--I got out of my carriage yesterday coming from the Pavilion and the wretch of an innkeeper put me into the coffee-room with a damp stranger."" In a stormy August--""Brummell did any one ever see such a summer day?""--""Yes _I_ did last winter."" On returning from a country mansion of which he happened to disapprove he defined it ""An exceedingly good house for stopping a _single_ night in."" On the whole the biographer has given a tolerable selection of Brummell's _hits_ some of which however were so intolerably impertinent that he must have either thoroughly ""known his man "" or he must have smoothed down their severity by some remarkable tone of voice or pleasantry of visage. Without those palliations it is not easy to comprehend his occasional rudeness even to friends. One day standing and speaking at the carriage-door of a lady she expressed her surprise at his throwing away his time on so quiet and unfashionable a person.--""My dear friend don't mention it: there is _no one to see us_."" But his admiration for the sex must have often brought him close on the edge of serious inconvenience. Once at the house of a nobleman he requested a moment's interview in the library and then and there communicated the formidable intelligence ""that he must immediately leave the house--on that day."" ""Why you intended to stay a month "" said his hospitable entertainer. ""True--but I must be gone--I feel I am in love with your countess."" ""Well my dear sir I can't help that. I was in love with her myself twenty years ago "" said the good-humoured husband. ""But is she in love with you?"" The Beau cast down his eyes and in all the modesty of impudence said faintly ""I believe she is."" ""Oh! that alters the case. I shall send for your post-horses. Good morning."" His life was flirtation a matter which could not be indulged in matrimony and he therefore never married. Yet once he went so far as to elope with a young person of rank from a ball: the pair were however immediately overtaken. The affair was of course the talk of the clubs. But Brummell had his own way of wearing the willow. ""On the whole "" said he ""I consider I have reason to congratulate myself. I lately heard from her favourite maid that her ladyship had been seen--_to drink beer_!"" Some of the Beau's letters at this period are given; but they are not fortunate specimens of his taste: even in writing to women they are quaint affected and approaching to that unpardonable crime dulness. His letters written in his wane of life and under the realities of suffering are much more striking contain some pathetic and even some powerful language and show that fashion and his own follies had obscured a mind of natural talent if not of original tenderness. The following letter we look upon as quite sufficient to have excluded him from the recollections of any Lady Jane on earth if she happened to know the difference between coxcombry and common feeling:-- ""MY DEAR LADY JANE --With the miniature it seems I am not to be trusted even for two _pitiful_ hours. My own memory must be then my only _disconsolate_ expedient to obtain a resemblance. ""As I am unwilling to merit the imputation of committing myself by too flagrant a liberty in retaining your glove which you charitably sent at my head yesterday as you would have extended an _eleemosynary sixpence_ to the _supplicating hat_ of a mendicant I restore it to you. And allow me to assure you that I have too much regard and respect for you and too little practical vanity myself (whatever appearances may be against me ) to have entertained for one _treacherous_ instant the impertinent intention to defraud you of it. You are angry perhaps irreparably incensed against me for this _petty larceny_. I have no defence to offer in mitigation but that of _frenzy_. But you know that you are an _angel_ visiting these sublunary spheres and therefore your first quality should be that of mercy. Yet you are sometimes wayward and volatile in your _seraphic_ disposition. Though you have no wings yet you have weapons and those are resentment and estrangement from me.--With sentiments of the deepest _compunction_ I am always your _miserable slave_ ""GEORGE BRUMMELL."" We have not a doubt that he perused this toilsome performance a dozen times before he folded it up advanced to his mirror to see how so brilliant a correspondent must look after so astonishing a production mo

ed round the room in a minuet step; and when he sent it away at last followed it with a sigh at the burial of so much renown in a woman's escritoire and a regret that it could not be stereotyped to make its progress round the world. And yet as it appeared that the lady had thrown the glove at him and even lent him her miniature it would be difficult to discover any ground for her wrath or his compunction. Both were evidently equally imaginary. The Beau always regarded the city as a _terra incognita_. A merchant once asked him to dine there. Brummell gave him a look of intense enquiry. The merchant pressed him. ""Well "" said the Beau (who probably had excellent reasons for non-resistance to the man of money;) ""well if it _must_ be--but you must first promise faithfully _never_ to say a word on the subject."" A visitor full of the importance of a tour in the north of England asked him which of the lakes he preferred. ""I can't possibly remember "" was the reply; ""they are a great way from St James's Street and I don't think they are spoken of in the clubs."" The visitor urged the question. ""Robinson "" said the Beau turning in obvious distress to his valet ""Robinson pray tell this gentleman which of the lakes I preferred.""--""Windermere sir I think it was "" said the valet. ""Well "" added Brummell ""probably you are in the right Robinson. It may have been. Pray sir will Windermere do?"" ""I wonder Brummell you take the trouble of driving to the barracks of the 10th with four horses. It certainly looks rather superb "" said one of the officers. ""Why I dare say it does; but that is not _the_ point. What could I do when my French valet the best dresser of hair in the universe gave me warning that he must leave me to myself unless I gave up the vulgarity of posting with _two_?"" We come in the course of this goodly history to the second great event of the Beau's life--the first being his introduction to Carlton House. The second was his being turned out of it. Brummell always denied and with some indignation the story of ""Wales ring the bell!""--a version which he justly declared to be ""positively vulgar "" and therefore with due respect for his own sense of elegance absolutely impossible for _him_. He gave the more rational explanation that he had taken the part of lady who was presumed to be the rival of Mrs Fitzherbert and had been rash enough even to make some remarks on Mrs Fitzherbert's _en bon point_ a matter of course never to be forgiven by a belle. This extended to a ""declining love"" between him and the Prince whose foible was a horror of growing corpulent and whom Brummell therefore denominated ""Big Ben "" the nickname of a gigantic porter at Carlton House; adding the sting of calling Mrs Fitzherbert Benina. Moore in one of his satires on the Prince's letter of February the 13th 1812 to the Duke of York in which he _cut_ the Whigs thus parodies that celebrated ""sentence of banishment:""-- ""Neither have I resentments nor wish there should come ill To mortal except now I think on't Beau Brummell Who threaten'd last year in a super-fine passion To cut _me_ and bring the old king into fashion."" Brummell now since the sword was drawn resolved to throw away the sheath and his hits were keen and ""damaging "" as those things are now termed. In this style he said to little Colonel M'Mahon the Prince's secretary--""I made him and I shall unmake him."" The ""fat friend"" hit was more pungent in reality than in its usual form. The Prince walking down St James's Street with Lord Moira and seeing Brummell approaching arm-in-arm with a man of rank determined to show the openness of the quarrel stopped and spoke to the noble lord with an apparent unconsciousness of ever having seen the Beau before. The moment he was turning away Brummell asked in his most distinct voice ""Pray _who_ is your _fat_ friend?"" Nothing could be more dexterously impudent; for it repaid the Prince's pretended want of recognition precisely in his own coin and besides stung him in the very spot where he was known to be most thin-skinned. It is sufficiently remarkable that the alienation of the Prince from Brummell scarcely affected his popularity with the patrician world or his reception by the Duke and Duchess of York. He was a frequent guest at Oatlands and seems to have amused the duke by his pleasantry and cultivated the taste of the duchess by writing her epigrams and making her presents of little dogs. The Duke of York though not much gifted with the faculty of making jests greatly enjoyed them in others. He was a good-humoured easy-mannered man wholly without affectation of any kind; well-intentioned with some sagacity--mingled however with a good deal of that abruptness which belonged to all the Brunswicks; and though unfortunate in his domestic conduct a matter on which it would do no service to the reader to enlarge yet a brave soldier and a zealous and most useful commander-in-chief at the Horse Guards. He too could say good things now and then. One day at Oatlands as he was mounting his horse to ride to town seeing a poor woman driven from the door he asked the servant what she was. ""A beggar your royal highness: nothing but a soldier's wife.""--""Nothing but a soldier's wife! And pray sir what is your mistress?"" Of course the poor woman was called back and relieved. Still Brummell continued in high life and was one of the four who gave the memorable _fête_ at the Argyll Rooms in July 1813 in consequence of having won a considerable sum at hazard. The other three were Sir Henry Mildmay Pierrepoint and Lord Alvanley. The difficulty was whether or not to invite the Prince who had quarrelled with Mildmay as well as with Brummell. In this solemn affair Pierrepoint sounded the Prince and ascertained that he would accept the invitation if it were proposed to him. When the Prince arrived and was of course received by the four givers of the _fête_ he shook hands with Alvanley and Pierrepoint but took no notice whatever of the others. Brummell was indignant and at the close of the night would not attend the Prince to his carriage. This was observed and the Prince's remark on it next day was--""Had Brummell taken the cut I gave him last night good-humouredly I should have renewed my intimacy with him."" How that was to be done however without lying down to be kicked it would be difficult to discover. Brummell however on this occasion was undoubtedly as much in the right as the Prince was in the wrong. Brummell in conformity to the habits of the time and the proprieties of his caste was of course a gambler and of course was rapidly ruined; but we have no knowledge that he went through the whole career and turned swindler. One night he was playing with Combe who united the three characters of a lover of play a brewer and an alderman. It was at Brookes's and in the year of his mayoralty. ""Come Mash Tub what do you set?"" said the Beau. ""Twenty-five guineas "" was the answer. The Beau won and won the same sum twelve times running. Then putting the cash in his pocket said with a low bow ""Thank you alderman; for this I'll always patronize your porter.""--""Very well sir "" said Combe dryly ""I only wish every other blackguard in London would do the same."" At this time play ran high at the clubs. A baronet now living was said to have lost at Watier's L.10 000 at one sitting at _ecarté_. In 1814 Brummell lost not only all his winnings but ""an unfortunate L.10 000 "" as he expressed it the last that he had at his bankers. Brummell was now ruined; and to prevent the possibility of his recovery at any future period he raised money at ruinous interest and finally made his escape to Calais. Still when every thing else forsook him his odd way of telling his own story remained. ""He said "" observed one of his friends at Caen when talking about his altered circumstances ""that up to a particular period of his life every thing prospered with him and that he attributed this good luck to the possession of a silver sixpence with a hole in it which somebody had given him some years before with an injunction to take good care of it as every thing would go well with him so long as he kept it and everything the contrary if he happened to lose it."" And so it turned out; for having at length in an evil hour given it by mistake to a hackney coachman a complete reverse of his affairs took place and one misfortune followed another until he was obliged to fly. On his being asked why he did not advertise a reward for it he answered--""I did; and twenty people came with sixpences with holes in them for the reward but not _my_ sixpence."" ""And you never heard any more of it?"" ""No "" he replied; ""no doubt that rascal Rothschild or some of that set have got hold of it."" But the Beau's retreat from London was still to be characteristic. As it had become expedient that he must make his escape without _eclat_ on the day of his intended retreat he dined coolly at his club and finished his London performances by sending from the table a note to his friend Scrope Davies couched in the following prompt and expressive form:-- ""MY DEAR SCROPE --Lend me two hundred pounds: the banks are shut and all my money is in the 3 per cents. It shall be repaid to-morrow morning.--Yours GEORGE BRUMMELL."" The answer was equally prompt and expressive-- ""MY DEAR GEORGE --It is very unfortunate but all _my_ money is in the 3 per cents.--Yours S. DAVIES."" Such is the story; ""I cannot tell how the truth may be I tell the tale as 'twas told to me."" Nothing daunted the Beau went to the opera allowed himself to be seen about the house then quickly retiring stepped into a friend's chaise and met his own carriage which waited for him a short distance from town. Travelling all night with four horses he reached Dover by morning hired a vessel to carry him over and soon left England and his creditors behind. He was instantly pursued; but the chase stopped on reaching the sea. Debtors could not then be followed to France and Brummell was secure. The little rude and thoroughly comfortless town of Calais was now to be the place of residence for nearly the rest of his life to a man accustomed to the highest luxuries of London life trained to the keenest sensibility of London enjoyment and utterly absorbed in London objects of every kind. Ovid's banishment among the Thracians could scarcely be a more formidable change of position. Yet Brummell's pleasantry did not desert him even in Calais. On some passing friend's remark on the annoyance of living in such a place--""Pray "" said the Beau ""is it not a general opinion that a gentleman might manage to spend his time pleasantly enough _between_ London and Paris?"" At Calais he took apartments at the house of one Leleux an old bookseller which he fitted up to his own taste; and on which as if adversity had no power to teach him common prudence he expended the greater part of the 25 000 francs which by some still problematical means he had contrived to carry away with him. This was little short of madness; but it was a madness which he had been practising for the last dozen years and habit had now rendered ruin familiar to him. At length a little gleam of hope shone across his fortunes. George IV. arrived at Calais on his way to Hanover. The Duke d'Angoulême came from Paris to receive his Majesty and Calais was all in a tumult of loyalty. The reports of Brummell's conduct on this important arrival of the King's notice of him and of the royal liberality in consequence were of every shape and shade of invention. But all of them except the mere circumstance of the King's pronouncing his name seem to have been utterly false. Brummell mingling in the crowd which cheered his Majesty in his progress was observed by the King who audibly said ""Good heavens Brummell!"" But the recognition proceeded no further. The Beau sent his valet who was a renowned maker of punch to exhibit his talent in that art at the royal entertainment and also sent a present of some excellent maraschino. But no result followed. The King was said to have transmitted to him a hundred pound note; but even this is unluckily apocryphal. Leleux his landlord thus gives the version. The English consul at Calais came to Mr Brummell late one evening and intimated that the King was out of snuff saying as he took up one of the boxes lying on his table ""Give me one of yours.""--""With all my heart "" was the reply; ""but not that box for if the King saw it I should never have it again""--implying that there was some story attached to it. On reaching the theatre the consul presented the snuff and the King turning said ""Why sir where did you get your snuff? There is only one person that I know that can mix snuff in this way!""--""It is some of Mr Brummell's your Majesty "" replied the consul. The next day the King left Calais; and as he seated himself in the carriage he said to Sir Arthur Paget who commanded the yacht that brought him over ""I leave Calais and have not seen Brummell."" From this his biographer infers that he had received neither money nor message and his landlord is of the same opinion. But slight as those circumstances are it seems obvious that George IV. had a forgiving heart towards the Beau notwithstanding all his impertinences that he would have been glad to forgive him and that he would in all probability have made some provision for his old favourite if Brummell had exhibited any signs of repentance. On the other hand Brummell was a man of spirit and no man ought to put himself in the way of being treated contemptuously even by royalty; but it seems strange that with all his adroitness he should not have hit upon a middle way. There could have been no great difficulty in ascertaining whether the King would receive him in sending a respectful message in offering his loyal congratulations on the King's arrival or even in expressing his regret at his long alienation from a Prince to whom he had been once indebted for so many favours and who certainly never harboured resentment against man. Brummell evidently repented his tardiness on this occasion; for he made up his mind to make a more direct experiment when the King should visit the town-hall on his return. But opportunities once thrown away are seldom regained. The king on his return did not visit the town-hall but hurried on board and the last chance of reconciliation was gone. Yet during his long residence in Calais the liberality of his own connexions in England enabled him to show a good face to poverty. He paid his bills punctually whenever the remittance came and was charitable to the mendicants who probably for the last thousand years have made Calais their headquarters. The general name for him was the _Roi de Calais_. An anecdote of his pleasantry in almsgiving reached the public ear. A French beggar asked him for a two-sous piece. ""I don't know the coin "" said Brummell ""never having had one; but I suppose you mean a franc. There take it."" His former celebrity had also spread far and wide among the population. A couple of English workmen in one of the factories of the town one day followed a gentleman who had a considerable resemblance to Brummell. He heard one of them say to the other ""Now I'll bet you a pot that's him."" Shortly after one of them strolled up to him with ""Beg pardon sir--hope no offence but we two have got a bet--now a'n't you George Ring the Bell?"" Brummell's habits of flirtation did not desert him in France; and in one instance he paid such marked attention to a young English lady that a friend was deputed to enquire his purposes. Here Brummell's knowledge of every body did him good service. The deputy on this occasion having once figured as the head of a veterinary hospital or some such thing but being then in the commissariat --""Why Vulcan!"" exclaimed Brummell ""what a humbug you must be to come and lecture me on such a subject! You who were for two years at hide-and-seek to save yourself from being shot by Sir T. S. for running off with one of his daughters."" ""Dear me "" said the astonished friend ""you have touched a painful chord; I will have no more to do with this business."" The business died a natural death. His dressing-table was _recherché_. Its _batterie de toilette_ was curious complete and of silver; one part of it being a spitting-dish he always declaring that ""it was impossible to _spit in clay_."" His ""making up"" every morning occupied two hours. When he first arrived in Caen he carried a cane but often exchanged it for a brown silk umbrella which was always protected by a silk case of remarkable accuracy of fit--the handle surmounted by an ivory head of George the Fourth in well-curled wig and gracious smile. In the street he _never_ took off his hat to any one not even to a lady; for it would have been difficult to replace it in the same position it having been put on with peculiar care. We finish by stating that he always had the _soles_ of his boots blackened as well as the upper leathers; his reason for this being that in the usual negligence of human nature he never could be sure that the polish on the _edge_ of the sole would be accurately produced unless the whole underwent the operation. He occasionally polished a single boot himself to show how perfection on this point was to be obtained. Clogs so indispensable in the dirt of an unpaved French street he always abhorred; yet under cover of night he _could_ now and then condescend to wear them. ""Theft "" as the biographer observes ""in Sparta was a crime--but only when it was _discovered_."" But after this life of fantasy and frivolity on which so much cleverness was thrown away the unfortunate Beau finished his career miserably. On his application to the Foreign Office representing his wish to be removed to any other consulate where he might serve more effectually and of course with a better income; the former part of his letter was made the ground of abolishing the consulate while the latter received no answer. We say nothing of this measure any further than that it had the effect of utter ruin on poor Brummell. The total loss of his intellect followed; he was reduced to absolute beggary and finally spent his last miserable hours in an hospital for lunatic mendicants. Surely it could not have been difficult in the enormous patronage of office to have found some relief for the necessities of a man whose official character was unimpeached; who had been expressly put into government employ by ministers for the sake of preserving him from penury; who had been the companion the _friend_ of princes and nobles; and whose faults were not an atom more flagrant than those of every man of fashion in his time. But he was now utterly ruined and wretched. Some strong applications were made to his former friends by a Mr Armstrong a merchant of Caen who seems to have constantly acted a most humane part to him and occasional donations were sent. A couple of hundred pounds were even remitted from the Foreign Office; and by the exertions of Lord Alvanley and the present Duke of Beaufort who never deserted him and this is much to the honour of both a kind of small annuity was paid to him. But he was already overwhelmed with debt for his income from the consulate netted him but L.80 a-year the other L.320 being in the hands of the banker his creditor; and it seems probable that his destitution deprived him of his senses after a period of wretchedness and even of rags. Broken-hearted and in despair concluding with hopeless imbecility this man of taste and talent for he possessed both in no common degree was left to die in the hands of strangers--no slight reproach to the cruel insensibility of those who wallowing in wealth and fluttering from year to year through the round of fashion suffered their former associate nay their envied example to perish in his living charnel. He was buried in the Protestant cemetery of Caen under a stone with this inscription:-- In Memory of GEORGE BRUMMELL ESQ. who departed this life On the 29th of March 1840. Aged 62 years. Mr Jesse deserves credit for his two volumes. There is a good deal in them which has no direct reference to Brummell; but he has collected probably all that could be known. The books are _very_ readable the anecdotes pleasantly told the style is lively and frequently shows that the biographer could adopt the thought as well as the language of his hero. At all events he has given us the detail of a character of whom every body had heard something and every body wished to hear more. FOOTNOTES: {A} _The Life of George Brummell Esq._ By Captain Jesse. 2 volumes. THE ACTUAL CONDITION OF THE GREEK STATE. ""Say why That ancient story of Prometheus chain'd? The vulture--the inexhaustible repast Drawn from his vitals? Say what meant the woes By Tantalus entail'd upon his race And the dark sorrows of the line of Thebes? Fictions in form but in their substance truths-- Tremendous truths!--familiar to the men Of long past times; nor obsolete in ours.""--_Excursion._ In an article on the bankruptcy of the Greek kingdom (No. CCCXXXV. September 1843 ) we gave an account of the financial condition of the new state; and we ventured to suggest that a revolution was unavoidable. That revolution occurred even sooner than we expected; for our number had hardly reached Athens ere King Otho was compelled to summon a national assembly to aid him in framing the long promised constitution. As our former number explained the immediate causes of the discontent in Greece we shall now furnish our readers with a description of the revolution of its results and of the great difficulties which still oppose serious barriers to the formation of an independent _kingdom_ in Greece. The late revolution was distinguished by an open rebellion of the army; and as a rebellion in which the troops have been covered with decorations and have received a gratification of some months' pay is not the era from which we should wish to date the civil liberty and national prosperity of a monarchy founded by Great Britain France and Russia we shall use great delicacy in describing the movement and record no fact which we cannot substantiate by legal or documentary evidence. It is not to be supposed when we in Edinburgh were informed of the approaching storm in Greece that the people of the country were without anxiety. The _Morning Post_ (23d September 1843 ) which has generally contained very accurate information from Athens published a letter written from that city on the 5th September. This Athenian correspondent declared ""that the Greeks have so fully made up their minds to put an end to the Bavarian dynasty as to be resolved not even to accept a constitution at the hands of the king. They declare that they will abstain from all outrage and personal violence; and that they only desire the embarkation of King Otho and his German followers who shall be free to leave the country without the slightest injury."" We solicit the attention of her majesty's ministers to these memorable words written before the revolution. The danger in short was visible to every body but King Otho his German camarilla and his renegade Greek ministers. At this time Kalergy was inspector of the cavalry. He had always expressed his dissatisfaction with the system of Bavarian favouritism in the army; and his gallant and disinterested conduct during the war against the Turks rendered him universally popular. Infinitely more of a gentleman and a man of the world than any of the court faction it is said that he was viewed with feelings of personal as well as political aversion. It happened that about a week before the revolution the king reviewed the garrison of Athens and in the order of the day which followed this review General Kalergy was noticed in such a way that he felt himself deeply insulted. A Bavarian Captain Hess then marshal of the palace was supposed to be the author of this document. As the attack on Kalergy was evidently caused by his political conduct the whole Greek army took his part and the cry was raised that the Bavarians must be driven out of Greece. The prominent part which General Kalergy has taken in the late revolution and the romantic incidents of his life induce us to offer our readers a short sketch of his earlier career. We have known him in circumstances when intercourse ensures intimacy; for we have sat together round the same watch-fires on the mountains of Argolis and Attica. To parody the words of Anastasius we saw him achieve his first deed of prowess and we were present when he heard his first praises. Hastings's lips have long been silenced by death but the music of his applause still rings in our ears. Demetrius Kalergy is descended from a Cretan family whose name is famous in the annals of Candia. He was born in Russia and was studying in Germany when the Greeks took up arms against the Turks. His elder brothers Nicolas and Manolis having resolved to join the cause of their countrymen repaired to Marseilles where with the assistance of their uncle a man of great wealth in Russia they freighted a vessel and purchased a small train of artillery consisting of sixteen guns and a considerable supply of muskets and ammunition. Demetrius though then only fifteen years of age could not be restrained from joining them and the three brothers arrived in Greece together. The young Kalergy soon gave proofs of courage and military talents. His second brother Manolis was killed during the siege of Athens; but the eldest Nicolas a man who unites the accomplishments of a court to the sincerest feelings of patriotism still resides in Greece universally respected. During the Bavarian sway he took no part in political affairs; but he was elected a member of the national assembly which has just terminated its labours in preparing the constitution. Demetrius Kalergy was first entrusted with an independent command in 1824 when the Peloponnesian chiefs and primates Kolokotroni Londos Notaras Deliyani Zaimi and Sessini endeavoured to divide the Morea into a number of small principalities of which they expected to secure the revenues for themselves. In spite of Kalergy's youth he was ordered to take the field against the first corps of the rebels that had acted in open hostility to the existing government. With his usual promptitude and decision he attacked Panos Kolokotroni the son of the old Klepht and Staïkos a Moreote captain of some reputation in the plain of Tripolitza where they were posted for the despicable purpose of intercepting the trains of mules laden with merchandise for the supply of the shops of Tripolitza then the great market of all the central parts of the Morea. The affair was really brilliant. The rebels were encamped on a low hill and not expecting that Kalergy would depart from the usual practice of carrying on a long series of skirmishes they had paid no attention to their position. The attack opened in the usual way by a fierce fire at a very long distance; but Kalergy on perceiving the careless arrangements of his enemy soon induced his troops to creep up pretty close to the Moreotes when he suddenly jumped up and shouted to his followers ""The shortest way is the best. Follow me!"" and rushed forward. His whole band was within the hostile lines in an instant. The manoeuvre was so unexpected that few of the rebels fired; many were loading their muskets and none had time to draw their swords or yatagans. About 170 were slain and if report may be trusted one of the rebel chiefs was struck down by Kalergy and the other taken prisoner after receiving a wound in personal combat with the young hero. The faction of the Moreote barons as these greedy plunderers of the Greek shopkeepers would fain have been called was dissolved by this unexpected victory. Many laid down their arms and made peace with the government. General Kalergy was afterwards present in the town of Navarin when it was besieged by Ibrahim Pasha and marched out with his band when the place capitulated. This defeat though he had only held a subordinate command afflicted him greatly and he looked round for some means of avenging his country's loss on the Turks. He resolved at last to endeavour to make a diversion by recommencing the war in Crete; but without a strong fortress to secure the ammunition and supplies necessary for prosecuting a series of irregular attacks it was evident that nothing important could be effected. In this difficulty Kalergy determined to attack the impregnable island-fortress of Grabusa as it was known that the strength of the place had induced the Turks to leave it with a very small garrison. Kalergy having learned that the greater part of this garrison was absent during the day disguised a few of his men in Turkish dresses and appeared on the beach at the point from which the soldiers of the garrison crossed to this island Gibraltar. The commander of Grabusa ordered the boat to transport them over as usual and the Greeks entered the fort before the mistake was discovered. The place was in vain attacked by all the forces of Mohammed Ali; the Greeks kept possession of it to the end of the war. The sagacity and courage displayed by Kalergy in this affair placed him in the rank of the ablest of the Greek chiefs. When General Gordon (whose excellent history of the Greek revolution we recommend to our readers{A}) attempted to relieve Athens then besieged by Kutayhi (Reschid Pasha ) Kalergy and Makriyani commanded divisions of the troops which occupied the Piræus. Subsequently when Lord Cochrane and General Church endeavoured to force the Turkish lines Kalergy was one of the officers who commanded the advanced division. In the engagement which ensued his adventures afford an illustration of the singular vicissitudes of Eastern warfare. The Greek troops landed at Cape Kolias during the night and pushed forward to within a mile and a half of the Turkish lines where they formed a slight intrenchment on some undulating hills. They threw up some ill-constructed tambouria (as the redoubts used in Turkish warfare are termed ) and of these some remains are still visible. A ravine descending from the lower slopes of Hymettus ran in front of this position deep enough to shelter the Turkish cavalry and enable them to approach without exposing themselves to the Greek artillery. This movement of the Turks was distinctly seen from the Greek camp at the Piræus and the approaching attack on the advanced posts of the army was waited for in breathless anxiety. The map of the plain of Athens is sufficiently familiar to most of our readers to enable then to picture to themselves the scene which ensued with perfect accuracy. The Greek troops destined for the relief of Athens amounted to about 3000 men and of these about 600 were posted far in advance of their companions in three small redoubts. The main body drawn up in a long line remained inactive with the artillery and a smaller corps as a rear-guard seemed destined to communicate with the fleet of Lord Cochrane at Cape Kolias. At the Piræus about 700 men were scattered about in all the disorder of an Eastern encampment without making the slightest attempt to distract the attention of the Turkish troops. The French General Gueheneuc and the Bavarian General Heideck both witnessed the battle. The Turkish cavalry to the number of about 700 having formed in the ravine rode slowly up towards the brow of the hill on which the tambouria of the Cretans the Suliots and the regular regiment were placed. As soon as their appearance on the crest of the ridge exposed them to the fire of the Greeks they galloped forward. The fire of the Greeks however seemed almost without effect yet the Turks turned and galloped down the hill into the shelter of the ravine. In a short time they repeated their attack with a determination which showed that the preceding attempt had been only a feint to enable them to examine the ground. As they approached this time very near the intrenchments the fire of the Greeks proved more effectual than on the former occasion and several of the Delhis horse and man rolled on the ground. Again the Turks fled to conceal themselves in the ravine and prepared for another attack by dividing their force into three divisions one of which ascended and another descended the ravine while the third prepared to renew the assault in the old direction. The vizier Kutayhi himself moved forward to encourage his troops and it became evident that a desperate struggle would now be made to carry the Greek position where the few troops who held it were left unsupported. The Turkish cavalry soon rushed o

the Greeks assailing their position in front and flanks; and in spite of their fire forced the horses over the low intrenchments into the midst of the enemy.{B} For the space of hardly three minutes pistol shots and sabre cuts fell so thick that friends and foes were in equal danger. Of the Greeks engaged not one had turned to flee and but few were taken alive. The loss of the Turks was however but trifling--about a dozen men and from fifteen to twenty horses. The centre of the Greek army on beholding the destruction of the advanced guard showed little determination; it wavered for a minute and then turned and fled towards the shore in utter confusion abandoning all its artillery to the Turks. The Delhis soon overtook their flying enemies and riding amongst them coolly shot down and sabred those whose splendid arms and dresses excited their cupidity. The artillery itself was turned on the fugitives who had left the ammunition undestroyed as well as the guns unspiked. But our concern with the battle of the 6th May 1827 is at present confined to following the fortunes of Kalergy. He was one of the prisoners. His leg had been broken by a rifle-ball as the Turks entered the tambouri of the Cretans and as he received an additional sabre cut on the arm he lay helpless on the ground where his youthful appearance and splendid arms caught the eye of an Albanian bey who ordered him to be secured and taken care of as his own prisoner. On the morning after the battle the prisoners were all brought out before the tent of Kutayhi who was encamped at Patissia very near the site of the house subsequently built by Sir Pulteney Malcolm. George Drakos a Suliot chief had killed himself during the night; and the Pasha in consequence ordered all the survivors to be beheaded wishing probably to afford Europe a specimen of Ottoman economy and humanity by thus saving the lives of these Greeks from themselves. Two hundred and fifty were executed when Kalergy unable to walk was carried into the circle of Turkish officers witnessing the execution on the back of a sturdy Albanian baker. Kutayhi calmly ordered his instant execution; but the prisoner having informed his captor that he would pay 100 000 piastres for his ransom; the Albanian bey stepped forward and maintained his right to his prisoner so stoutly that the Pasha whose army was in arrears and whose military chest was empty found himself compelled to yield. As a memento of their meeting however he ordered one of Kalergy's ears to be cut off. The ransom was quickly paid and Kalergy returned to Poros where it was some time before he recovered from his wounds. Capodistrias on his arrival in Greece named Kalergy his aide-de-camp and as he was much attached to the president he was entrusted with the command of the cavalry sent against Poros and Nisi when those places took up arms against the arbitrary and tyrannical conduct of Capodistrias. We are not inclined to apologize for the disorders which the Greek cavalry then committed; they were unpardonable even during the excitement of a civil war. The marriage of Kalergy was as romantic as the rest of his career. Two chiefs both of the family of Notaras (one of the few Greek families which can boast of territorial influence dating from the times of the Byzantine empire ) had involved the province of Corinth in civil war in order to secure the hand of a young heiress. The lady however having escaped from the scene of action conferred her hand on Kalergy whose fame as a soldier far eclipsed that of the two rivals. As soon as the Bavarians arrived in Greece they commenced persecuting Kalergy. An unfounded charge of treason was brought against him; but he was honourably acquitted by a court-martial of which our country-man General Gordon of Cairness was the president; and from that period down to the publication of the order of the day last September he has been constantly an object of Bavarian hatred. About twenty-four hours before the revolution of the 15th of September broke out the court of Greece received some information concerning the extent and nature of the plot and orders were given by King Otho to hold a council of his trusted advisers. The Bavarians Hess and Graff and the Greeks Rizos Privilegios Dzinos and John the son of Philip (for one of the courtly councillors of the house of Wittelspach rejoices in this primitive cognomen ) met and decided on the establishment of a court-martial to try and shoot every man taken in arms. Orders were immediately prepared for the arrest of upwards of forty persons. A good deal has been said about the revolution as having been a mere military movement. This however is not a correct view of the matter either with reference to the state of parties or to the intensity of the national feeling at the time. Sir Robert Inglis most justly observed in Parliament--""That revolution in Greece had been prepared during years of intolerable despotism and the soldiery merely shared in and did not by any means lead the proceedings of the great body of the nation."" The fact is that a plot for seizing the king and sending him to Trieste had been formed by the Philorthodox or Russian party in the early part of 1843; but the party from some distrust of its own strength and from the increasing unpopularity of King Otho was induced to admit a few of the most determined of the constitutionalists into the plot without intending to entrust them with the whole of the plan. The rising was at last fixed for the month of September. This occurred in consequence of the universal outcry raised by the Greeks on finding that the representations of Great Britain in favour of the long-promised constitution and the warnings which Sir Robert Peel threw out on the discussion of Greek affairs on Mr Cochrane's motion were utterly neglected by King Otho. This indignation was reduced to despair when it was known that Mr Tricoupis on his recall from London had assured the king that the English cabinet was so determined to maintain the _statu quo_ that the constitutional party would meet with no countenance from England. Every party in Greece then prepared for action and entered into negotiations in which the opinions of the constitutionalists prevailed because they were actively supported by the great body of the people. In order to prevent the country from becoming a scene of anarchy in case a civil war proved unavoidable it was necessary to employ all the regular authorities who could be induced to join the national cause in their actual functions without any reference to party feelings. This was done; and the fact that it was so proves the intenseness of the public feeling. The constitutional party decided that the recognition of Greece as a constitutional state and the immediate convocation of a national assembly were to be the demands made on King Otho. The Russian party allowed these two questions to be first mooted in the firm persuasion that the king would be induced by his own pride his despotic principles and the mistaken views of several of the foreign ministers at Athens to refuse these demands; and in that case the throne would infallibly have been declared vacant. About midnight on the 14th of September the _gendarmes_ were ordered to surround the house of General Makriyani an officer of irregulars on half-pay and to arrest him on a charge of treason. On approaching the house they were warned off; but pressing forward they were fired on and one _gendarme_ was killed and one or two wounded. In consequence of the alarm given by the minister of war for the purpose of supporting the arrests to be made the garrison was all in readiness. In the mean time the greater part of the officers had been admitted into the secret that a general movement of all Greece was to be made that night and that their duty would be to maintain the strictest order and enforce the severest discipline. Kalergy therefore as soon as he was informed that the movement had been made to arrest Makriyani assembled all the officers and in a few words declared to them that the moment for saving their country from the Bavarian yoke had arrived; and that they must now if they wished to be free call on the king to adopt a constitutional system of government. The importance of this step which Kalergy adopted with his usual decision can only be understood when it is recollected that there existed a strong party determined to avail itself of every opportunity of driving King Otho from the throne. Had Kalergy therefore delayed pledging the officers and the army to the constitution or allowed them to march out of their barracks before making the constitution the rallying word of the revolution there can be no doubt that the agents of the Russian and Philorthodox parties would have raised the cry of ""Death to the Bavarians! down with the tyrant!"" Kalergy however put the garrison in motion amidst shouts of _Long live the constitution_; and as the cavalry moved from their barracks these shouts were echoed enthusiastically by the citizens who were waiting anxiously without. As soon as Kalergy had taken the command he marched all the troops to the square before the palace. Two squadrons of cavalry two battalions of infantry a company of Greek irregulars and a number of half-pay officers and pensioners were soon drawn up under King Otho's windows. His monstrous palace had begun to produce its effects. Strong patrols were detached to preserve order in the town and to compel the _gendarmes_ to retire to their quarters. Makriyani on being relieved from his blockade repaired to the square collecting on the way as large a body of armed citizens as he was able. The king had been waiting at one of the windows of the palace in great anxiety to witness the arrest of Makriyani; and on seeing the shots fired from the house and the suspension of the attack by the _gendarmes_ he had dispatched a Bavarian aide-de-camp named Steinsdorff to order the artillery to the palace. The young and inexperienced Bavarian returned without the guns; but assured his Majesty that they would soon arrive. In the mean time the whole garrison appeared in the square and was ranged opposite the palace: the king however expected that the arrival of the artillery would change their disposition. In a short time the guns came galloping up; but to the utter dismay of King Otho they were ranged in battery against the palace while the artillerymen as soon as the manoeuvre was executed gave a loud shout of ""long live the constitution."" His Majesty after a long period of profound silence appeared at a window of the lower story of the palace attended by the Bavarian captain Hess--the most unpopular man in Greece unless Dzinos the agent in the celebrated cases of judicial torture could dispute with him that ""bad eminence."" One of the servants of the court called for General Kalergy in a loud voice; and when he approached the window the king asked--""What is the meaning of this disturbance? What am I to understand by this parade of the garrison?"" To this Kalergy replied in a loud and clear voice ""The people of Greece and the army desire that your Majesty will redeem the promise that the country should be governed constitutionally."" King Otho then said ""Retire to your quarters; I shall consult with my ministers with the council of state and the ambassadors of the three protecting powers and inform you of my determination."" This appeared to the audience to be acting the absolute sovereign rather too strongly under the circumstances and a slight movement of the officers who overheard the king's words was conveyed like lightning to the troops so that the king received a distinct reply from the whole army in a sudden clang of sabres and noise of arms. Kalergy however immediately replied in the same distinct tone in which he had before spoken--""Sire neither the garrison of Athens nor the people will quit this spot until your Majesty's decisions on the proposals of the council of state which will be immediately laid before you is known."" At this moment Captain Hess put himself forward beside the king and said--""Colonel Kalergy; that is not the way in which it becomes you to speak to his Majesty."" But to this ill-timed lesson in politeness Kalergy replied sharply--""Draw your head back sir: you and such as you have brought the king and the country into their present unfortunate circumstances. You ought to be ashamed of your conduct."" The Bavarian hero at these words disappeared; and this was the last occasion in which this champion of Bavarianism appeared in a public character. At this time Count Metaxas Lieutenant-General Sir Richard Church and Major-General Londos members of the council of state who had been in the square with the troops were engaged preparing the council for its share in the revolution. At the meeting which took place Spiro Milios the commandant of the military school and an active member of the Russian party was present as a representative of the army. It was evident that the council of state comprised three parties. One was willing to support King Otho and the actual system. This party included Kondouriotis the president; Tricoupis the late minister in London; and a German Greek named Theocharis. Another party was eager to drive King Otho from the throne in order to proceed to the nomination of a regency preparatory to the choice of an orthodox prince. We are not sure that any individual is now anxious to identify his name with this party. The third party made the demand for a constitution their primary object; and as this party was led by Metaxas Londos Church Palamidhis and Mansolas it was soon joined by the majority. The meeting was long and it is said that the conduct of the members was much more disorderly than that of the people and the troops in the square; but at last a proclamation and an oath were drawn up by which the council of state the army and the people all pledged themselves to support the constitution. A committee consisting of Metaxas Londos and Palamidhis was also charged to prepare an address to the king recommending his majesty to convoke a national assembly in order to prepare a constitution for the state; at the same time they invited his majesty to appoint new ministers and in the list presented they of course took care to insert their own names. As soon as this business was terminated the council dispatched a deputation to wait on his majesty consisting of the president and five members who were to obtain the king's consent. The conduct of King Otho on receiving this deputation was neither wise nor firm. He delayed returning any answer for two hours and attempted to open a negotiation with the council of state by means of one of the members of the camarilla. The delay excited some distrust even among the best disposed in the square and the report was spread that the king was endeavouring to communicate with the _corps diplomatique_ in order to create a diversion. At this very time a train of carriages suddenly appeared at the gates of the palace and the ministers of the three protecting powers--Sir Edmund Lyons Mr Katakazy and Mr Piscatory accompanied by General Prokesch d'Osten and Mr Brassier de St Simon the representatives of Austria and Prussia--requested to be admitted to see the king. General Kalergy however declared that he had orders to refuse all entry to the palace until his majesty had terminated his conference with the deputation of the council of state; and repeated in the presence of the ministers of Austria and Prussia the assurance he had given at an early hour of the morning to Sir Edmund Lyons Mr Katakazy and Mr Piscatory that the greatest respect would be shown to the person of his majesty. Mr Katakazy the _doyen_ of the _corps diplomatique_ satisfied that any parade of foreign interference could only increase the difficulties of the king's position accepted the answer of Kalergy and began to withdraw. The representatives of the powers which had never protected Greece deemed the moment favourable for a display of a little independent diplomacy and accordingly the Prussian minister asked Kalergy in a tone neither mild nor low if he durst refuse to admit him to see his majesty. To this Kalergy who was extremely anxious to avoid any dispute with the foreign ministers at such a moment politely replied that he was compelled to refuse even the minister of Prussia. Mr Brassier however returned to the charge aided by his Austrian colleague; but as the Greeks place all Germans in the category of Bavarians they gave some manifestations of their dislike to any German interference which could not be otherwise than displeasing to the Prussian who addressed Kalergy in a very rough tone. His words were lost to the spectators but they were supported by General Prokesch d'Osten with a good deal of gesticulation. The patience of Kalergy gave way under these repeated attacks and he turned to Mr Brassier saying--""Monsieur le ministre you are generally unlucky in your advice and I am afraid his majesty has heard too much of it lately."" The thrust was a home one and the Prussian minister rather discomposed addressed himself to Sir Edmund Lyons who while waiting till his carriage drew up had been quietly contemplating the scene and said--""Colonel Kalergy is insolent; but he only repeats what he has heard in the drawing-rooms of Athens."" Sir Edmund Lyons replied--""I do not see Mr Brassier how that makes your case better "" and withdrew to his carriage leaving Austria and Prussia to battle out their dispute with Greece in the presence of the mob. The spectators considered the scene a very amusing one for they laughed heartily as the _corps diplomatique_ retired; but if all the reports current in diplomatic circles be true Mr Katakazy the _doyen_ of the Athenian diplomatists was made to suffer severely for his prudent conduct; for it is said that his recall took place because he did not support with energy the foolish attempt of his enterprising colleagues. It is certain that any very violent support given to any feeling in direct hostility to the national cause at the time could hardly have failed to vacate the throne or at least to push the people on to commit some disorders of which the Russian court and the friends of despotism at Vienna and Berlin might have taken advantage. The king finding at last that there was no hope of his deriving any assistance from without signed the ordinances appointing a new ministery and convoking a national assembly. The troops after having remained more than thirteen hours under arms were marched back to their barracks as if from a review; and every thing at Athens followed its usual course. Thus was a revolution effected in the form of government in Greece without any interruption in the civil government--without the tribunals' ceasing to administer justice for a single day--without the shops' remaining closed beyond the usual hours or the mercantile affairs of the country undergoing the slightest suspension. Such a people must surely be fit for a constitution. The national assembly has now met and terminated its labours; and Greece is in possession of a constitution made by Greeks. In three months the first representative chamber will meet. It will consist of about 120 members. The senate which is to consist of members named by the king for life cannot exceed one-half the number of the representatives elected by the people. Faults may be found with some of the details of the constitution; but on the whole it must be regarded as a very favourable specimen of the political knowledge of the Greeks; and the manner in which the different articles were discussed and the care with which every proposal and amendment were examined gave all those who witnessed the debates a very high opinion of the legislative capacity of the people. The form of the Greek government as a constitutional monarchy may now be considered as settled. We shall therefore proceed to examine the difficulties of a social and political nature which still obstruct the advancement of the nation and render its prosperity problematical. Some of our statements may appear almost paradoxical to travellers whose hasty glance at distant countries enables them to come to rather more positive conclusions than those who devote years to study the same subject. We shall however strive to expose our facts in such a way as to show that we state the plain truth nothing but the truth and as far as our subject carries us the whole truth. That Greece has not hitherto improved either in her wealth population or civilization as fast as the energy of her people led her friends to expect would be the case after she was freed from the Turks is universally admitted. The great bar to improvement exists in an evil rooted in the present frame of social life but fortunately one which good and just government would gradually remove. In Greece there is no clear and definite idea of the sacred right of property in land. The god Terminus is held in no respect. No Greek from the highest to the lowest understands the meaning of that absolute right of property ""which "" as Blackstone says ""consists in the free use enjoyment and disposal by every Englishman of all his acquisitions without control or diminution save only by the laws of the land."" The appropriation of Mr Finlay's land by King Otho without measurement valuation or payment to make a garden for his palace--the formation of a great road leading to the French minister's house by the municipality of Athens without indemnifying the owners of the land though a road sufficiently good already existed--and the confiscation of half the estates purchased by foreigners from the Turks by Maurocordatos when Minister of Finance under the Bavarian Regency in a ministerial circular deciding on rights of property are mere trifling examples of the universal spirit. When Maurocordatos wrote his memorable declaration ""that every spot where wild herbs fit for the pasturage of cattle grow is national property and that the Greek government recognises no individual property in the soil except the exclusive right of cultivation "" he only in deference to the Bavarian policy of the time which wished to copy Mohammed Ali's administration in Egypt caricatured a misconception of the right of property equally strong in every Greek whether he be the oppressor or the oppressed. Even the late National Assembly has not thought it necessary to correct any of the invasions of private property by the preceding despotism. Individuals almost ruined by the plunder of their land have not even received the offer of an indemnity though the justice of their claims is not denied.{C} The origin of this national obtuseness of mind on a question of interest is to be found in the system of taxing the land. A Greek really views land somewhat as English labourers view game. The owner of the soil is absolute proprietor only during those months in which he is engaged in the labours of preparing the land and sowing the seed. As soon as the harvest time arrives he ceases to be master of his estate and sinks into the condition of a serf of the revenue officer or of the farmer of the land revenue. It is true that the government tax only amounts to a tenth of the gross produce of the soil; but in virtue of this right to a tenth government assumes the entire direction of all the agricultural operations relating to the crops and the cultivator's nine-tenths (for it is really a misnomer to call him proprietor) become a mere adjunct of the government tenth. Many of our readers who are unacquainted with Eastern life may suppose that we colour our picture too strongly. In order therefore to divest our statement of all ornament we shall describe the whole of the events of an agricultural year. Our classic readers will then comprehend practically how the vulture could feast on the perpetually growing heart of Prometheus--why Tantalus tempted the gods by murdering Pelops--and they will see that the calamities of the Theban race are an allegorical representation of the inevitable fate which awaits a people groaning under the system of taxation now in force in Greece. The tenths in Greece are usually farmed to speculators and as the collection is a matter of difficulty extraordinary powers are conferred on the farmers; hence it happens that the social position of the cultivators and the farmers is one of constant hostility. If the cultivator has it in his power he cheats the farmer of the revenue and if the farmer is able to do so he cheats the cultivator. The result is that probably not one individual in the Greek kingdom really pays the exact tenth of the produce of his land. A few of the most active rogues contrive to cheat the farmers of the revenue; but these gentlemen in virtue of the great powers with which the law invests them contrive to cheat the greater part of the proprietors. As soon as the grain is ripe the cultivator is compelled to address himself to the tax-farmer for permission to cut his crop; but as the farmer must keep a very sharp look-out after his interest he only grants such permissions as accord with the arrangements he may have established for watching the cultivators at the smallest possible expense to himself making the over-ripeness of the crop of the majority a very secondary consideration. It happens consequently that in Greece two-thirds of the grain are not gathered until it is over-ripe and the loss is consequently very great. When the grain is cut it must be carried to a certain number of authorized threshing-floors collected together in order that the tax farmer may take every possible care to secure his tenth. To these threshing-floors the whole grain of a district must be transported from the fields in the straw though the straw may be wanted as fodder for cattle at the very spot from which it is taken and will require to be carried back a very great distance. An immense loss of grain and labour is sustained by this regulation; but it is a glorious season for the donkeys;--long trains of these animals lively under their heavy loads of sheaves may be seen galloping one after the other each endeavouring to seize a mouthful from his neighbour. The roads are strewed with grain and the broken-hearted cultivators follow cursing man and beast. The grain is at last collected in immense stacks round the threshing-floors--a cultivator perched on the top of each stack defending it from the attacks of man and beast; and a tax-gatherer seated with his pipe cross-legged in the middle of the circle is watching the manoeuvres of the cultivators. No person who has not examined the subject with attention can imagine the scenes of fraud and violence which a Greek harvest produces. The grain is usually kept piled round the threshing-floors under various pretexts for at least two months unless the cultivator pay the farmer an additional sum to facilitate the housing of his crops. Even in the vicinity of Athens the operations of the wheat and barley harvest generally occupy the exclusive attention of the agricultural population for three months. The grain is trodden out by cattle; and a Greek who bought a winnowing machine at Athens was not allowed to make use of it as the farmers of the revenue contended that the introduction of such instruments would facilitate frauds. The farmers of the tenths likewise increase the evils of this ruinous system by throwing every difficulty in the way of the cultivators in order to compel them to consent to pay for each facility they may require. We have known regular contracts entered into with the peasantry by which they agreed to pay from 3 to 5 per cent more than the legal tenth. We believe no honest man ever paid less than from 12 to 13 per cent on his crop even in the neighbourhood of the capital. It may be supposed that some redress can be obtained in cases of gross oppression by applying to the courts of law; but this is not the case. A special tribunal consisting of administrative officers of the Crown and municipal authorities and from which lawyers have been always carefully excluded is appointed to judge summarily all cases relating to the tenths. The infamous conduct of these administrative tribunals excited general discontent and an article has been inserted in the constitution abolishing them and sending all the pending cases to the ordinary courts of law. Government however defended them to the last and even pressed for decisions down to the very hour in which King Otho took his oath to the constitution. There is here however some ground for consolation; for it is clear that the Greek ministers fear the ordinary administration of justice as being above their control. It is needless to say that under such laws the improvement of agriculture in Greece is impossible. No green crops can be grown with profit at any distance from a large town. The tenth of garden produce and green crops being generally valued and paid for in money the disputes concerning the valuation and the impossibility of obtaining any redress in case of injustice have induced the cultivators to give up such cultivation. We have known proprietors pay half the value of a crop of potatoes as the value of the tenth; and in one case on our asking the farmer of the tenths who after all was not a bad fellow at heart though he wished to make his farming of the revenues turn out a good speculation in his hands what he would recommend a proprietor to do in order not to lose money by cultivating potatoes; he looked grave and after a few moments' thought candidly replied--""Never to plant them as long as the present law remains in force!"" Vineyards which have been planted with care and cultivated for eight years have been lately abandoned as the high valuation of their produce renders them unprofitable. The only agriculture which can be pursued in Greece without loss is that in which only the simplest and rudest methods of cultivation are followed. The land only yields a rent when it is in the immediate vicinity of a large market or when it is of the richest quality; the employment of capital in improvements only opens new channels for the extortions of the farmers of the revenue. No money can be safely invested on mortgage in such a country and no loans by the Three Allied powers to the Government no national bank no manufactory of beet-root sugar no model farms and no schools of agriculture can introduce prosperity into a country taxed in such a manner. We do not intend to discuss any plan for ameliorating the condition of the Greeks; but we can easily point out what it is necessary for them to do before they can by any possibility better their condition. The system of selling the tenths must be abolished; for a government so inefficient as to be unable to collect them by its own officers is incompetent to perform the functions for which it was created and ought to be destroyed. The owners of the land must be rendered the real masters of their property. They must be allowed to reap their crops when they are ripe and to thresh their grain when and where they please. Until this is the case we can assure the Three Protecting Powers they count without the people if they suppose that they have established a permanent monarchy in Greece. We do not hesitate to say that the royal dignity even with the support of England and France is not worth ten years' purchase until this is accomplished. Every traveller who visits Greece declaims against the number of coffee-houses throughout the country and the hosts of idle people with which they are filled. But nothing else can be expected in a country where the system of agriculture keeps the cultivators idle for three months annually and deprives the proprietor of all profit from his land. Under such circumstances the demand for labour becomes extremely irregular. Many of the lower classes turn brigands and plunder their neighbours; the educated and higher classes turn government _employés_ and plunder the country. This evil has arrived at an alarming pitch; the Greek army contains almost as many officers as privates; the navy has officers enough to man a fleet twice as large as that which Greece possesses for she has three admirals a hundred and fifty captains and two hundred and seventy commanders. It has been in vain pressed on every successive administration that a list of the army navy and civil _employés_ ought to be published in order to put an end to the shameful system of jobbing which has always existed. No minister would however adopt a principle which would so effectually have put an end to his own arbitrary power of quartering his friends and rela

ions on the public. The loans of the three powers might be doubled to-morrow and it is evident that unless all the population of Greece were made pensioners no surplus would be found to employ for any public improvement. Indeed the national revenues of the Greek kingdom as of old those of Athens and Rome seem to be considered the property of that body of citizens who pursue no useful occupation and possess no taxable property; while the unlucky proprietors are viewed as a species of serfs existing to supply a revenue to the state. This political principle has been exemplified in a decree of the late national assembly excluding every Greek or foreigner from public employment who happens not to be a born subject of the new kingdom or who did not take part in the war against the Turks before the end of 1827 and perhaps even more strongly in a very unconstitutional private vote of a committee of the whole house giving 800 drachmas to each member--this vote being in direct violation of one of the articles of the constitution which requires that all grants of money should originate from the crown. We do not deny the necessity of allowing the deputies this small grant; many of them were poor and their conduct had been disinterested; but we are bound to complain of the slightest infraction of constitutional principles by those who frame a constitution. The length of this article compels us to leave a few observations we desire to make on the municipal government of the Greeks and on the state of education and of their judicial and ecclesiastical affairs to another opportunity. The late debates in the House of Commons and the able statement which Sir Robert Peel gave of the principles of our policy with regard to Greece render it unnecessary for us to say one word on that subject. We can assure our readers that the policy of our present ministers has been applauded by every party in Greece except the Philorthodox; and they as they could find no fault remained silent. We believe that no two governments ever acted more disinterestedly to a third than Great Britain end France have lately done to Greece and that no ministers ever acted more fairly in any international question than Lord Aberdeen and M. Guizot have done on the subject of the Greek revolution; but for this very reason we feel inclined to warn our countrymen against the leaven of old principles which still exists in the palace at Athens. Let us judge of the new government of Greece by its acts and let Great Britain and France remember that they are not looked on without some suspicion. +Enesti gar pôs touto tê tyrannidi Nosêma tois philoisi mê pepoithenai+. FOOTNOTES: {A} 2 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh 1832. {B} The tambouria are always constructed with the ditch in the inside in order that they may afford a better cover from artillery. {C} One English sufferer has for several years vainly attacked the king for justice even with the assistance of the English Minister in Greece and the Foreign Office at home. INDEX TO VOL. LV. Aborigines of New Holland the 193. Achilles Tatius account of his romance of Clitophon and Leucippe 33. Actual condition of the Greek state the 785. Aden the British position of 272. Adventures in Texas.--No. III. the Struggle 18. Adventures of Clitophon and Leucippe the 33. Africa ignorance of the interior of 269. Africa--the Slave Trade--and Tropical Colonies 730 various expeditions to explore 731 its principal rivers and countries watered by them 734. Agriculture causes of the decline of in the Roman empire 391. Ameer Ali a Thug account of 326. Ameers of Scinde case of the 580. Anti-corn-law League measures of the 121. Ancient Greek romances--Clitophon and Leucippe 33. Arabs of Cordova sketch of the history of the 431. Australia statistics of the various colonies of 184. Banking in Australia on 186. Banking-House the a history in three part. Part III. Chap. I. Symptoms of rottenness 50 Chap. II. A meeting 56 Chap. III. A chapter of loans 61 Chap. IV. A dissolution of partnership 65 Chap. V. The crisis 69 Chap. VI. The crash 75 Chap. VII. The vicarage 79. Beau Brummell Jesse's memoirs of reviewed 769. Beauclerk Topham 182. Beke Dr. T. C. his travels in Africa 740. Belfront castle a retrospective review 334. Benton Mr on the treaty of Washington 112. Bewailment from Bath a or Poor Old Maids 199. Bristol the Earl of 180. British fleet the 462. Brummell Jesse's memoirs of reviewed 769. Bumbo Khan sketch of 223. Bundelcund Colonel Davidson's travels in 325. Canadian insurgents trials of the 3. Catholicism effects of in Ireland 520. Chartists state trials of the in 1842 5. Cheap labour and cheap bread connection of 125. Chudleigh Miss career of 180. Church of Scotland the secession from the 221. Churkaree town of 327. Circulating libraries on 556. Circulating medium of Great Britain amount of the 388. Clitophon and Leucippe account of the romance of 33. Cobden Mr on the effects of corn-law repeal 125. Colonies importance of to England 740. Columbus a poem by B. Simmons 687. Conservatism advance of since the passing of the reform bill 103 as exhibited by the general elections 104. Cordova history of the Moorish kingdom of 431. Corn-law the new and its effects 116. Corn-laws on the 385 viewed in connexion with the manufacturing distress 105 effects of their repeal on wages &c. 125. Corn question letter from Lemuel Gulliver on the 98 Sir Robert Peel on the 106. Crime the increase of 533 table of it since 1805 534 not attributable to its surer detection by a more efficient police 535 nor to defects in the law 540 nor to deficiency in education 541 its diminution in India and France 538. Cry from Ireland review of the 638. Customs revenue improvement of the since the new tariff 114. Davidson's travels in India review of 321. Delta lines by on the snow 617. Dhacca account of the city of 331. Difficulties of the present government on its accession the 108. Diligence the a leaf on a journal 692. Disruption of the Scottish church the 221. Dublin state trials the 1. Duelling in Germany 555. Dumas Alexander; thrush-hunting a tale by 150 extracts from his work on Italy 347 and from his Rhine and Rhinelanders 546. Education statistics of with reference to crime 541. Elections results of the since 1832 104. Ellenborough Lord his Indian policy 113. Emigration to Australia letter on 184 from Africa on 745. England efforts made by in favour of free trade 261. Ethiopia Harris's Highlands of reviewed 269. Europe diminution of British exports to 263. Eusebius letter to on sitting for a portrait 243. Exports diminution of to Europe 263. Fairies' Sabbath the a tradition of Upper Lusatia 665. Fireman's Song the 101. Foreign policy of the government the 111. France increased commercial restrictions of 261 statistics of crime in 538. Freethinker the a tale 593. Free trade and protection on 259 efforts made by England to introduce free trade 261 protective system pursued by France Germany &c. _ib._ true principles of 268. No. II. The corn-laws 385 failure of the reciprocity system _ib._ comparison of a young and old state as to manufacturing and agricultural productiveness 386 effects of free trade on the Roman empire 391 impracticability of that system 396 and its inexpediency 397. Frost and others the trials of 4. Gama circumnavigation of Africa by 271. General elections results of the since 1832 104. Germany Customs League the 262. Germany Dumas in 546. Gil Blas on the authorship of 698. Glum Tabitha letter from 199. Goethe lines to 380. Gopal a Hindu robber account of 326. Government position and prospects of the 103. Greece the actual condition of 785. Greek romances the ancient: Clitophon and Leucippe 33. Gulliver letter from on the corn question 98. Gunnings career of the 176. Gwalior history and present state of 579. Hackman murder of Miss Ray by 178. Harris's Highlands of Ethiopia review of 269 notices of it 730. Hawash river the 277. Henley orator notices of 171. Heretic the a novel translated from the Russian of Lajétchnikoff review of 133. Hervey Captain 180. High life in the last century 164. Hill's Fifty days on board a Slave vessel review of 425. Home policy of the government the 110. Hurdwar account of the fair of 324. Huskisson Mr first attempts to introduce the free trade system 262. Hydrabad battle at 580. Hymn of a hermit the 382. Imprisonment and transportation--No. I.; the increase of crime 533. Increase of crime the since 1808 534 not attributable to greater number of detections 535 nor to defect in the law 540 nor to deficiency of education 541. India Colonel Davidson's travels in review of 321 diminution of crime in 538. Indian affairs Gwalior 579. Ireland its present position and effects of the government measures on 127 its present state and policy of ministers 518 objections brought against the ministerial measures 519 defence of them 524 the landlord and tenant question 638. Irish state trials the 1. J. S. poems by; the Olympic Jupiter 378 a Roman idyl 379 Goethe 380 hymn of a hermit 382 the luckless lover 383. Jervis Sir John career of 465. Jesse's Memoirs and Correspondence of George Selwyn review of 164 of George Brummell 769. Kalergy General sketch of the life of 785. Kieff a poem translated from the Russian of Iván Kozlóff by T. B. Shaw 80. Kingston the Duchess of 180. Krapf Mr notices of his mission to Africa 730. Labour gradual reduction in the cost of in Great Britain 125. Lahore revolution at 581. Lajétchnikoff the Heretic by reviewed 133. Lanarkshire statistics of crime in and its police 537 539. Land of slaves the a poem 257. Landlord and tenant question in Ireland the 638. Larresse on Portrait Painting extracts from 246. Law administration of the in India 333. Lazzaroni of Naples anecdotes of the 354. League measures of the 121. Lemuel Gulliver letter from to the editor 98. Le Sage not the author of Gil Blas 698. Letter from an exiled contributor 184. Literature the monster misery of 556. Llorente M. on the authorship of Gil Blas 698. Lorgnon; a word or two of the opera-tive classes by 292. Love in the wilderness. Chap. I. 621 Chap. II. 624 Chap. III. 627 Chap. IV. 631 Chap. V. 635. Luckless lover the a poem 383. Lusatia traditions and tales of; No. I. the Fairies' Sabbath 665. Mahratta war origin &c. of the 584. Manufacturing distress Sir Robert Peel on the causes of the 105. Marston or Memoirs of a Statesman. Part VII. 81 Part VIII. 202 Part IX. 362 Part X. 483 Part XI. 561. Meeanee battle of 580. Melbourne in Australia letter from with account of the colony &c. 184. Memoirs of a Statesman--_see_ Marston. Memoirs of Earl St Vincent review of 462. Mexico two nights in 449. Michael Kalliphournas a tale 725. Monster misery of literature the 556. Monmouthshire rioters trial of the 4. Moslem histories of Spain; the Arabs of Cordova 431. My friend; a poem 256. Naples account of by Dumas 347. Narration of certain uncommon things that did formerly happen to me Herbert Willis B. D. 749. Nelson notices of the early services of 477. New art of printing by a designing devil 45. News from an exiled contributor a letter from New Holland 184. Non-intrusionists secession of the from church of Scotland 221. O'Connell and others trial of 1 his trial in 1831 3 his present trial and demeanour during it 7 his probable policy in agitating for Repeal 128. O'Connor Fergus state prosecutions of 6. Olympic Jupiter the a poem 378. Opera-tive classes a word or two of the 292. Oude a sporting excursion to 329. Oxford trial of 5. Peel Sir Robert on the progress of Conservatism 103 104 on the causes of the manufacturing distress 105 defence of his conduct on the corn-law question 107. Phenicians circumnavigation of Africa by the 271. Pirates of Segna the a tale of Venice and the Adriatic. Part I. Chap. I. The Studio 299 Chap. II. The Cavern 303 Chap. III. The Jewels 310 Chap. IV. The Ball 316. Part II. Chap. I. The Battle of the Bridge 401 Chap. II. The Picture 409 Chap. III. The Pirates 415 Chap. IV. The Recognition 421. Poetry:--Kieff from the Russian of Kozlóff 80 The Proclamation 100 the Fireman's Song 101 The Prophecy of the Twelve Tribes 196 My Friend 256 The Land of Slaves 257 the Priest's Burial _ib._ Prudence 258 The Olympic Jupiter 378 A Roman Idyl 379 Goethe 380 Hymn of a Hermit 382 The Luckless Lover 383 The Snow by Delta 617 Columbus by B. Simmons 687 To Swallows on the eve of departure by the same 690. Police repugnance to assessment for 536. Poor old maids a bewailment from Bath 199. Porter Mr on the decrease of our European exports 263. Portrait painting in a letter to Eusebius 213. Portugal restrictive commercial system adopted by 262. Portuguese circumnavigation of Africa by the 271. Position and Prospects of the government on the: its position on the secession of the Whigs 103 advance of Conservatism since the passing of the Reform Bill _ib._ the manufacturing distress 105 the sugar and corn question 106 difficulties with which it had to contend 108 its home policy and what it has done 110 its foreign policy 111 the new tariff and corn-law 113 results of its measures in the revival of trade tranquillity &c. 120 its measures with reference to Ireland 127. Priest's burial the a poem 257. Printing the new art of by a designing devil 45. Proclamation the 100. Prophecy of the twelve tribes the poem 196. Prosecution the State 1. Prudence a poem 258. Rampore city of 322. Ray Miss murder of by Hackman 178 Rebeccaites trials of the 6. Reciprocity system effect of in diminishing the exports to Europe 263 failure of the 385. Repeal agitation the 128. Revenue improvement of the 114. Reviews: the Heretic 133 George Selwyn and his contemporaries 164 Harris's Highlands of Ethiopia 269 Davidson's Travels in India 321 Hill's Fifty days on board a Slave Ship 425 Tucker's Memoirs of Earl St Vincent 462 Cry from Ireland 638 Jesse's memoirs of Beau Brummell 769. Rhine the and Rhinelanders 546. Rigby Richard notices of 172. Roman empire effects of free trade on the 391. Roman Idyl a 379. Sahela Selassee King of Abyssinia British mission to 282. St Vincent Earl Tucker's Memoirs of reviewed 462. Sandwich Lord notices of 177. Scinde subjugation of by the British 580. Segna Pirates of--_see_ Pirates. Selim Captain expedition under to explore Central Africa 731. Selwyn and his contemporaries review of 164. Shaw T. B. translation of Kieff a poem from the Russian by 80 review of his translation of the Heretic 133. Shoa mission to the kingdom of 275. Simmons B. poems by:--Columbus 687 To swallows on the eve of departure 690. Sindiah history of the house of 582. Sitting for a portrait on in a letter to Eusebius 243. Slave trade the 425 730 741. Sliding scale effects of the 119. Snow the a poem by Delta 617. Song of the Fireman the 101. Southern Mexico two nights in 449. Spain condition of under the Arabs of Cordova 431. Speculation in grain diminution of under the new corn law 118. State prosecutions comparison of in ancient and modern times 1 that of O'Connell in 1831 3 those of the Canadian insurgents _ib._ of the Monmouthshire rioters 4 of Oxford 5 of the Chartists in 1842 _ib._ of the Welsh rioters 6 the present of O'Connell and others for conspiracy 7. Statesman memoirs of a--_see_ Marston. Struggle in Texas the 18. Sugar question Sir Robert Peel on the 106. Swallows on the eve of departure address to by B. Simmons 690. Tariff the new and its results 113. Tatius Achilles account of his romance Clitophon and Leucippe 33. Texas adventures in. No. III.; the struggle 18. Thrush-hunting a tale; by Alexander Dumas 150. Traditions and tales of Upper Lusatia. No. I. The Fairies' Sabbath 665. Tropical colonies on 730 741. Tucker's Memoirs of Earl St Vincent review of 462. Twelve tribes prophecy of the a poem 196. Two nights in Southern Mexico a fragment from the journal of an American traveller 449. Two patrons the a tale. Chapter I. 500 Chap. II. 503 Chap. III. 505 Chap. IV. 509 Chap. V. 511 Chap. VI. 514 Chap. VII. 515. Vardarelli account of the 358. Wages gradual reduction of in Great Britain 125. Washington the treaty of 112. Welsh rioters trial of the 6. Who wrote Gil Blas? 698. Wiggins' Cry from Ireland review of 638 William John letter from to the editor 184. Williams Sir Charles Hanbury 174 Gilly 175. Willis Herbert B. D. narration of 749. Word or two of the opera-tive classes a 292. END OF VOL. LV. * * * * * _Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne and Hughes Paul's Work._ "

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Proofreading Team and The Internet Library of Early Journals; BLACKWOOD'S Edinburgh MAGAZINE. VOL. LVI. JULY-DECEMBER 1844. [Illustration] 1844. * * * * * BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. * * * * * No. CCCXLV. JULY 1844. VOL. LVI. * * * * * CONTENTS. CAUSES OF THE INCREASE OF CRIME THE HEART OF THE BRUCE MEMORANDUMS OF A MONTH'S TOUR IN SICILY THE LAST OF THE KNIGHTS POEMS AND BALLADS OF GOETHE. NO. I. MY FIRST LOVE.--A SKETCH IN NEW YORK HYDRO-BACCHUS MARTIN LUTHER.--AN ODE TRADITIONS AND TALES OF UPPER LUSATIA. NO. II. THE FAIRY TUTOR PORTUGAL MARSTON; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN. PART XII. THE WEEK OF AN EMPEROR * * * * * EDINBURGH: WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS 45 GEORGE STREET; AND 22 PALL-MALL LONDON. To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed. SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS THE UNITED KINGDOM. * * * * * PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES EDINBURGH. * * * * * BLACKWOOD'S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE. * * * * * No. CCCXLV. JULY 1844. VOL. LVI. * * * * * CAUSES OF THE INCREASE OF CRIME. If the past increase and present amount of crime in the British islands be alone considered it must afford grounds for the most melancholy forebodings. When we recollect that since the year 1805 that is during a period of less than forty years in the course of which population has advanced about sixty-five _per cent_ in Great Britain and Ireland crime in England has increased seven hundred per cent in Ireland about eight hundred per cent and in Scotland above _three thousand six hundred per cent_;[1] it is difficult to say what is destined to be the ultimate fate of a country in which the progress of wickedness is so much more rapid than the increase of the numbers of the people. Nor is the alarming nature of the prospect diminished by the reflection that this astonishing increase in human depravity has taken place during a period of unexampled prosperity and unprecedented progress during which the produce of the national industry had tripled and the labours of the husbandman kept pace with the vast increase in the population they were to feed--in which the British empire carried its victorious arms into every quarter of the globe and colonies sprang up on all sides with unheard-of rapidity--in which a hundred thousand emigrants came ultimately to migrate every year from the parent state into the new regions conquered by its arms or discovered by its adventure. If this is the progress of crime during the days of its prosperity what is it likely to become in those of its decline when this prodigious vent for superfluous numbers has come to be in a great measure closed and this unheard-of wealth and prosperity has ceased to gladden the land? [Footnote 1: See No. 343 _Blackwood's Magazine_ p. 534 Vol. lv.] To discover to what causes this extraordinary increase of crime is to be ascribed we must first examine the localities in which it has principally arisen and endeavour to ascertain whether it is to be found chiefly in the agricultural pastoral or manufacturing districts. We must then consider the condition of the labouring classes and the means provided to restrain them in the quarters where the progress of crime has been most alarming; and inquire whether the existing evils are insurmountable and unavoidable or have arisen from the supineness the errors and the selfishness of man. The inquiry is one of the most interesting which can occupy the thoughts of the far-seeing and humane; for it involves the temporal and eternal welfare of millions of their fellow-creatures;--it may well arrest the attention of the selfish and divert for a few minutes the profligate from their pursuits; for on it depends whether the darling wealth of the former is to be preserved or destroyed and the exciting enjoyments of the other arrested or suffered to continue. To elucidate the first of these questions we subjoin a table compiled from the Parliamentary returns exhibiting the progress of serious crime in the principal counties agricultural pastoral and manufacturing of the empire during the last fifteen years. We are unwilling to load our pages with figures and are well aware how distasteful they are to a large class of readers; and if those results were as familiar to others as they are to ourselves we should be too happy to take them for granted as they do first principles in the House of Commons and proceed at once to the means of remedy. But the facts on this subject have been so often misrepresented by party or prejudice and are in themselves so generally unknown that it is indispensable to lay a foundation in authentic information before proceeding further in the inquiry. The greatest difficulty which those practically acquainted with the subject experience in such an investigation is to make people believe their statements even when founded on the most extensive practical knowledge or the more accurate statistical inquiry. There is such a prodigious difference between the condition of mankind and the progress of corruption in the agricultural or pastoral and manufacturing or densely peopled districts that those accustomed to the former will not believe any statements made regarding the latter. They say they are incredible or exaggerated; that the persons who make them are _têtes montées_; that their ideas are very vague and their suggestions utterly unworthy the consideration either of men of sense or of government. With such deplorable illusions does ignorance repel the suggestions of knowledge; theory of experience; selfishness of philanthropy; cowardice of resolution. Thus nothing whatever is done to remedy or avert the existing evils: the districts not endangered unite as one man to resist any attempt to form a general system for the alleviation of misery or diminution of crime in those that are and the preponderance of the unendangered districts in the legislature gives them the means of effectually doing so. The evils in the endangered districts are such that it is universally felt they are beyond the reach of local remedy or alleviation. Thus between the two nothing whatever is done to arrest or guard against the existing or impending evils. Meanwhile destitution profligacy sensuality and crime advance with unheard-of rapidity in the manufacturing districts and the dangerous classes there massed together combine every three or four years in some general strike or alarming insurrection which while it lasts excites universal terror and is succeeded when suppressed by the same deplorable system of supineness selfishness and infatuation. [Footnote 2: Table showing the number of committments for serious crimes and population in the year 1841 in the under-mentioned counties of Great Britain;-- I.--PASTORAL. Names of Counties. Population Commitments Proportion of in 1841. for serious crime committments in 1841. to population. Cumberland 178 038 151 1 in 1 194 Derby 272 217 277 1 in 964 Anglesey 50 891 13 1 in 3 900 Carnarvon 81 093 33 1 in 2 452 Inverness-shire 97 799 106 1 in 915 Selkirkshire 7 990 4 1 in 1 990 Argyleshire 97 371 96 1 in 1 010 Total 785 399 680 1 in 1 155 II.-AGRICULTURAL AND MANUFACTURING. Commitments Proportion of Population for serious crime commitments Names of Counties. in 1841. in 1841. to population. Shropshire 239 048 416 1 in 574 Kent 548 337 962 1 in 569 Norfolk 412 664 666 1 in 518 Essex 344 979 647 1 in 533 Northumberland 250 278 226 1 in 1 106 East Lothian 35 886 38 1 in 994 Perthshire 137 390 116 1 in 1 181 Aberdeenshire 192 387 92 1 in 2 086 Total 2 160 969 3 163 1 in 682 III.-MANUFACTURING AND MINING. Commitments Proportion of Population for serious crime commitments Names of Counties. in 1841. in 1841. to population. Middlesex 1 576 636 3 586 1 in 439 Lancashire 1 667 054 3 987 1 in 418 Staffordshire 510 504 1 059 1 in 482 Yorkshire 1 591 480 1 895 1 in 839 Glamorganshire 171 188 189 1 in 909 Lanarkshire 426 972 513 1 in 832 Renfrewshire 155 072 505 1 in 306 Forfarshire 170 520 333 1 in 512 Total 6 269 426 12 067 1 in 476 --PORTER'S _Parl. Tables_ 1841 163; and _Census_ 1841.] The table in the note exhibits the number of commitments for serious offences with the population of each of eight counties--pastoral agricultural and manufacturing--in Great Britain during the year 1841[2]. We take the returns for that year both because it was the year in which the census was taken and because the succeeding year 1842 being the year of the great outbreak in England and violent strike in Scotland the figures both in that and the succeeding year may be supposed to exhibit a more unfavourable result for the manufacturing districts than a fair average of years. From this table it appears that the vast preponderance of crime is to be found in the manufacturing or densely-peopled districts and that the proportion per cent of commitments which they exhibit as compared with the population is generally three often five times what appears in the purely agricultural and pastoral districts. The comparative criminality of the agricultural manufacturing and pastoral districts is not to be considered as accurately measured by these returns because so many of the agricultural counties especially in England are overspread with towns and manufactories or collieries. Thus Kent and Shropshire are justly classed with agricultural counties though part of the former is in fact a suburb of London and of the latter overspread with demoralizing coal mines. The entire want of any police force in some of the greatest manufacturing counties as Lanarkshire by permitting nineteen-twentieths of the crime to go unpunished exhibits a far less amount of criminality than would be brought to light under a more vigilant system. But still there is enough in this table to attract serious and instructive attention. It appears that the average of seven pastoral counties exhibits an average of 1 commitment for serious offences out of 1155 souls: of eight counties partly agricultural and partly manufacturing of 1 in 682: and of eight manufacturing and mining of 1 in 476! And the difference between individual counties is still more remarkable especially when counties purely agricultural or pastoral can be compared with those for the most part manufacturing or mining. Thus the proportion of commitment for serious crime in the pastoral counties of Anglesey is 1 in 3900 Carnarvon 1 in 2452 Selkirk 1 in 1990 Cumberland 1 in 1194 In the purely agricultural counties of Aberdeenshire is 1 in 2086 East-Lothian 1 in 994 Northumberland 1 in 1106 Perthshire 1 in 1181 While in the great manufacturing or mining counties of Lancashire is 1 in 418 Staffordshire 1 in 482 Middlesex 1 in 439 Yorkshire 1 in 839 Lanarkshire 1 in 832[3] Renfrewshire 1 in 306 [Footnote 3: Lanarkshire has no police except in Glasgow or its serious crime would be about 1 in 400 or 350.] Further the statistical returns of crime demonstrate not only that such is the present state of crime in the densely peopled and manufacturing districts compared to what obtains in the agricultural or pastoral but that the tendency of matters is still worse;[4] and that great as has been the increase of population during the last thirty years in the manufacturing and densely peopled districts the progress of crime has been still greater and more alarming. From the instructive and curious tables below constructed from the criminal returns given in _Porter's Parliamentary Tables_ and the returns of the census taken in 1821 1831 and 1841 it appears that while in some of the purely pastoral counties such as Selkirk and Anglesey crime has remained during the last twenty years nearly stationary and in some of the purely agricultural such as Perth and Aberdeen it has considerably _diminished_ in the agricultural and mining or manufacturing such as Shropshire and Kent it has _doubled_ during the same period: and in the manufacturing and mining districts such as Lancashire Staffordshire Yorkshire and Renfrewshire more than _tripled_ in the same time. It appears from the same authentic sources of information that the progress of crime during the last twenty years has been much more rapid in the manufacturing and densely peopled than in the simply densely peopled districts; for in Middlesex during the last twenty years population has advanced about fifty per cent and serious crime has increased in nearly the same proportion having swelled from 2480 to 3514: whereas in Lancashire during the same period population has advanced also fifty per cent but serious crime has considerably _more than doubled_ having risen from 1716 to 3987. [Footnote 4: Table showing the comparative population and committals for serious crime in the under-mentioned counties in the years 1821 1831 and 1841. I.--PASTORAL 1821. 1831. 1841. Pop. Com. Pop. Com. Pop. Com. Cumberland 156 124 66 169 681 74 178 038 151 Derby 213 333 105 237 070 202 272 217 277 Anglesey 43 325 10 48 325 8 50 891 13 Carnarvon 57 358 12 66 448 36 81 893 33 Inverness 90 157 ... 94 797 35 97 799 106 Selkirk 6 637 ... 6 833 2 7 990 4 Argyle 97 316 ... 100 973 41 97 321 96 II.--AGRICULTURAL AND MANUFACTURING. 1821. 1831. 1841. Pop. Com. Pop. Com. Pop. Com. Shropshire 266 153 159 222 938 228 239 048 416 Kent 426 916 492 479 155 640 548 337 962 Norfolk 344 368 356 390 054 549 412 664 666 Essex 289 424 303 317 507 607 344 979 647 Northumberland 198 965 70 222 912 108 250 278 226 East Lothian 35 127 ... 36 145 23 35 886 38 Perthshire 139 050 ... 142 894 140 137 390 116 Aberdeenshire 155 387 ... 177 657 161 192 387 92 III.--MANUFACTURING AND MINING. 1821. 1831. 1841. Pop. Com. Pop. Com. Pop. Com. Middlesex 1 144 531 2 480 1 358 330 3 514 1 576 636 3 586 Lancashire 1 052 859 1 716 1 336 854 2 352 1 667 054 3 987 Staffordshire 345 895 374 410 512 644 510 504 1 059 Yorkshire 801 274 757 976 350 1 270 1 154 111 1 895 Glamorgan 101 737 28 126 612 132 171 188 189 Lanark 244 387 ... 316 849 470 426 972 513 Renfrew 112 175 ... 133 443 205 155 072 505 Forfar 113 430 ... 139 666 124 l70 520 333 --PORTER'S _Parl. Tables and Census_ 1841.] Here then we are at length on firm ground in point of fact. Several writers of the liberal school who had a partiality for manufactures because their chief political supporters were to be found among that class of society have laboured hard to show that manufactures are noways detrimental either to health or morals; and that the mortality and crime of the manufacturing counties were in no respect greater than those of the pastoral or agricultural districts. The common sense of mankind has uniformly revolted against this absurdity so completely contrary to what experience every where tells in a language not to be misunderstood; but it has now been completely disproved by the Parliamentary returns. The criminal statistics have exposed this fallacy as completely in reference to the different degrees of depravity in different parts of the empire as the registrar-general's returns have in regard to the different degrees of salubrity in employments and mortality in rural districts and manufacturing places. It now distinctly appears that crime is greatly more prevalent in proportion to the numbers of the people in densely peopled than thinly inhabited localities and that it is making far more rapid progress in the former situation than the latter. Statistics are not to be despised when they thus at once and decisively disprove errors so assiduously spread maintained by writers of such respectability and supported by such large and powerful bodies in the state. Nor can it be urged with the slightest degree of foundation that this superior criminality of the manufacturing and densely peopled districts is owing to a police force being more generally established than in the agricultural or pastoral and thus crime being more thoroughly detected in the former situation than the latter. For in the first place in several of the greatest manufacturing counties particularly Lanarkshire in Scotland there is no police at all; and the criminal establishment is just what it was forty years ago. In the next place a police force is the _consequence_ of a previous vast accumulation or crime and is never established till the risk to life and insecurity to property had rendered it unbearable. Being always established by the voluntary assessment of the inhabitants nothing can be more certain than that it never can be called into existence but by such an increase of crime as has rendered it a matter of necessity. We are far however from having approached the whole truth if we have merely ascertained upon authentic evidence that crime is greatly more prevalent in the manufacturing than the rural districts. That will probably be generally conceded; and the preceding details have been given merely to show the extent of the difference and the rapid steps which it is taking. It is more material to inquire what are the causes of this superior profligacy of manufacturing to rural districts; and whether it arises unavoidably from the nature of their respective employments or is in some degree within the reach of human amendment or prevention. It is usual for persons who are not practically acquainted with the subject to represent manufacturing occupations as necessarily and inevitably hurtful to the human mind. The crowding together it is said young persons of different sexes and in great numbers in the hot atmosphere and damp occupations of factories or mines is necessarily destructive to morality and ruinous to regularity of habit. The passions are excited by proximity of situation or indecent exposure; infant labour early emancipates the young from parental control; domestic subordination the true foundation for social virtue is destroyed; the young exposed to temptation before they have acquired strength to resist it; and vice spreads the more extensively from the very magnitude of the establishments on which the manufacturing greatness of the country depends. Such views are generally entertained by writers on the social state of the country; and being implicitly adopted by the bulk of the community the nation has abandoned itself to a sort of despair on the subject and regarding manufacturing districts as the necessary and unavoidable hotbed of crimes strives only to prevent the spreading of the contagion into the rural parts of the country. There is certain degree of truth in these observations; but they are much exaggerated and it is not in these causes that the principal sources of the profligacy of the manufacturing districts is to be found. The real cause of the demoralization of manufacturing towns is to be found not in the nature of the employment which the people there receive so much as in the manner in which they are brought together the unhappy prevalence of general strikes and the prodigious multitudes who are cast down by the ordinary vicissitudes of life or the profligacy of their parents into a situation of want wretchedness and despair. Consider how during the last half century the people have been brought together in the great manufacturing districts of England and Scotland. So rapid has been the progress of manufacturing industry during that period that it has altogether out-stripped the powers of population in the districts where it was going forward and occasioned a prodigious influx of persons from different and distant quarters who have migrated from their paternal homes and settled in the manufacturing districts never to return.[5] Authentic evidence proves that not less than _two millions_ of persons have in this way been transferred to the manufacturing counties of the north of England within the last forty years chiefly from the agricultural counties of the south of that kingdom or from Ireland. Not less than three hundred and fifty thousand persons have during the same period migrated into the two manufacturing counties of Lanark and Renfrew alone in Scotland chiefly from the Scotch Highlands or north of Ireland. No such astonishing migration of the human species in so short a time and to settle on so small a space is on record in the whole annals of the world. It is unnecessary to say that the increase is to be ascribed chiefly if not entirely to immigration; for it is well known that such is the unhealthiness of manufacturing towns especially to young children that so far from being able to add to their numbers they are hardly ever able without extraneous addition to maintain them. [Footnote 5: Table showing the Population in 1801 1891 and 1841 in the under-mentioned counties of Great Britain. Increase in 1801 1821 1841 forty years. Lancashire 672 731 1 052 859 1 667 054 994 323 Yorkshire W.R. 565 282 801 274 1 154 101 588 819 Staffordshire 233 153 343 895 510 504 277 351 Nottingham 140 350 186 873 249 910 109 560 Warwick 208 190 274 322 401 715 193 155 Gloucester 250 809 335 843 431 383 180 574 2 070 515 2 995 066 4 412 667 2 343 782 Lanark 146 699 244 387 434 972 288 273 Renfrew 78 056 112 175 155 072 77 016 224 755 356 562 590 044 365 289 --_Census of_ 1841. Preface p. 8 and 9.] Various causes have combined to produce demoralization among the vast crowd thus suddenly attracted by the alluring prospect of high wages and steady employment from the rural to the manufacturing districts. In the first place they acquired wealth before they had learned how to use it and that is perhaps the most general cause of the rapid degeneracy of mankind. High wages flowed in upon them before they had acquired the artificial wants in the gratification of which they could be innocently spent. Thence the general recourse to the grosser and sensual enjoyments which are powerful alike on the savage and the sage. Men who in the wilds of Ireland or the mountains of Scotland were making three or four shillings a-week or in Sussex ten suddenly found themselves as cotton-spinners iron-moulders colliers or mechanics in possession of from twenty to thirty shillings. Meanwhile their habits and inclinations had undergone scarce any alteration; they had no taste for comfort in dress lodging or furniture; and as to laying by money the thing of course was not for a moment thought of. Thus this vast addition to their incomes was spent almost exclusively on eating and drinking. The extent to which gross sensual enjoyment was thus spread among these first settlers in the regions of commercial opulence is incredible. It is an ascertained fact that above a million a-year is annually spent in Glasgow on ardent spirits;[6] and it has recently been asserted by a respectable and intelligent operative in Manchester that in that city 750 000 _more_ is annually spent on beer and spirits than on the purchase of provisions. Is it surprising that a large part of the progeny of a generation which has embraced such habits should be sunk in sensuality and profligacy and afford a never-failing supply for the prisons and transport ships? It is the counterpart of the sudden corruption which invariably overtakes northern conquerors when they settle in the regions of southern opulence. [Footnote 6: ALISON _on Population_ ii. Appendix A.] Another powerful cause which promotes the corruption of men when thus suddenly congregated together from different quarters in the manufacturing districts is that the restraints of character relationship and vicinity are in a great measure lost in the crowd. Every body knows what powerful influence public opinion or the opinion of their relations friends and acquaintances exercises on all men in their native seats or when living for any length of time in one situation. It forms in fact next to religion the most powerful restraint on vice and excitement to virtue that exists in the world. But when several hundred thousand of the working classes are suddenly huddled together in densely peopled localities this invaluable check is wholly lost. Nay what is worse it is rolled over to the other side; and forms an additional incentive to licentiousness. The poor in these situations have no neighbours who care for them or even know their names; but they are surrounded by multitudes who are willing to accompany them in the career of sensuality. They are unknown alike to each other and to any persons of respectability or property in their vicinity. Philanthropy seeks in vain for virtue amidst thousands and tens of thousands of unknown names; charity itself is repelled by the hopelessness of all attempts to relieve the stupendous mass of destitution which follows in the train of such enormous accumulation of numbers. Every individual or voluntary effort is overlooked amidst the prodigious multitude as it was in the Moscow campaign of Napoleon. Thus the most powerful restraints on human conduct--character relations neighbourhood--are lost upon mankind at the very time when their salutary influence is most required to enable them to withstand the increasing temptations arising from density of numbers and a vast increase of wages. Multitudes remove responsibility without weakening passion. Isolation ensures concealment without adding to resolution. This is the true cause of the more rapid deterioration of the character of the poor than the rich when placed in such dense localities. The latter have a neighbourhood to watch them because their station renders them conspicuous--the former have none. Witness the rapid and general corruption of the higher ranks when they get away from such restraint amidst the profligacy of New South Wales. In the foremost rank of the causes which demoralize the urban and mining population we must place the frequency of those strikes which unhappily have now become so common as to be of more frequent occurrence than a wet season even in our humid climate. During the last twenty years there have been six great strikes: viz. in 1826 1828 1834 1837 1842 and 1844. All of these have kept multitudes of the labouring poor idle for months together. Incalculable is the demoralization thus produced upon the great mass of the working classes. We speak not of the actual increase of commitments during the continuance of a great strike though that increase is so considerable that it in general augments them in a single year from thirty to fifty per cent.[7] We allude to the far more general and lasting causes of demoralization which arise from the arraying of one portion of the community in fierce hostility against another the wretchedness which is spread among multitudes by months of compulsory idleness and the not less ruinous effect of depriving them of _occupation_ during such protracted periods. When we recollect that such is the vehemence of party feeling produced by these disastrous combinations that it so far obliterates all sense of right and wrong as generally to make their members countenance contumely and insult sometimes even robbery fire-raising and murder committed on innocent persons who are only striving to earn an honest livelihood for themselves by hard labour but in opposition to the strike; and that it induces twenty and thirty thousand persons to yield implicit obedience to the commands of an unknown committee who have power to force them to do what the Sultan Mahmoud or the Committee of Public Safety never ventured to attempt--to abstain from labour and endure want and starvation for months together for an object of which they often in secret disapprove--it may be conceived how wide-spread and fatal is the confusion of moral principle and habits of idleness and insubordination thus produced. Their effects invariably appear for a course of years afterwards in the increased roll of criminal commitments and the number of young persons of both sexes who loosened by these protracted periods of idleness never afterwards regain habits of regularity and industry. Nor is the evil lessened by the blind infatuation with which it is uniformly regarded by the other classes of the community and the obstinate resistance they make to all measures calculated to arrest the violence of these combinations in consequence of the expense with which they would probably be attended--a supineness which by leaving the coast constantly clear to the terrors of such associations and promising impunity to their crimes operates as a continual bounty on their recurrence. [Footnote 7: Commitments:-- Lanarkshire. Lancashire. Staffordshire. Yorkshire. 1836 451 2 265 686 1 252 1837[8] 565 2 809 909 1 376 1841 513 3 987 1 059 1 895 1842[9] 696 4 497 1 485 2 598 PORTER'S _Parl. Tables_ xi. 162.--_Parl. Paper of Crime_ 1843 p. 53.] [Footnote 8: Strike.] [Footnote 9: Strike.] Infant labour unhappily now so frequent in all kinds of factories and the great prevalence of female workers is another evil of a very serious kind in the manufacturing districts. We do not propose to enter into the question recently so fiercely agitated in the legislature as to the practicability of substituting a compulsory ten-hours' bill for the twelve hours' at present in operation. Anxious to avoid all topics on which there is a difference of opinion among able and patriotic men we merely state this prevalence and precocity of juvenile labour in the manufacturing and mining districts as _a fact_ which all must deplore and which is attended with the most unhappy effects on the rising generation. The great majority probably nine-tenths of all the workers in cotton-mills or printfields are females. We have heard much of the profligacy and licentiousness which pervade such establishments; but though that may be too true in some cases it is far from being universal or even general; and there are numerous instances of female virtue being as jealously guarded and effectually preserved in such establishments as in the most secluded rural districts. The real evils--and they follow universally from such employment of juvenile females in great numbers in laborious but lucrative employment--are the emancipation of the young from parental control the temptation held out to idleness in the parents from the possibility of living on their children and the disqualifying the girls for performing all the domestic duties of wives and mothers in after life. These evils are real general and of ruinous consequence. When children--from the age of nine or ten in some establishments of thirteen or fourteen in all--are able to earn wages varying from 3s. 6d. to 6s. a-week they soon become in practice independent of parental control. The strongest of all securities for filial obedience--a sense of dependence--is destroyed. The children assert the right of self-government because they bear the burden of self-maintenance. Nature in the ordinary case has effectually guarded against this premature and fatal emancipation of the young by the protracted period of weakness during childhood and adolescence which precludes the possibility of serious labour being undertaken before the age when a certain degree of mental firmness has been acquired. But the steam-engine amidst its other marvels has entirely destroyed within the sphere of its influence this happy and necessary exemption of infancy from labour. Steam is the moving power; it exerts the strength; the human machine is required only to lift a web periodically or damp a roller or twirl a film round the finger to which the hands of infancy are as adequate as those of mature age. Hence the general employment of children and especially girls in such employments. They are equally serviceable as men or women and they are more docile cheaper and less given to strikes. But as these children earn their own subsistence they soon become rebellious to parental authority and exercise the freedom of middle life as soon as they feel its passions and before they have acquired its self-control. If the effect of such premature emancipation of the young is hurtful to them it is if possible still more pernicious to their parents. Labour is generally irksome to man; it is seldom persevered in after the period of its necessity has passed. When parents find that by sending three or four children out to the mills or into the mines they can get eighteen or twenty shillings a-week without doing any thing themselves they soon come to abridge the duration and cost of education in order to accelerate the arrival of the happy period when they may live on their offspring not their offspring on them. Thus the purest and best affections of the heart are obliterated on the very threshold of life. That best school of disinterestedness and virtue the _domestic hearth_ where generosity and self-control are called forth in the parents and gratitude and affection in the children from the very circumstance of the dependence of the latter on the former is destroyed. It is worse than destroyed it is made the parent of wickedness: it exists but it exists only to n

urish the selfish and debasing passions. Children come to be looked on not as objects of affection but as instruments of gain; not as forming the first duty of life and calling forth its highest energies but as affording the first means of relaxing from labour and permitting a relapse into indolence and sensuality. The children are practically speaking sold for slaves and--oh! unutterable horror!--_the sellers are their own parents_! Unbounded is the demoralization produced by this monstrous perversion of the first principles of nature. Thence it is that it is generally found that all the beneficent provisions of the legislature for the protection of infant labour are so generally evaded as to render it doubtful whether any law how stringent soever could protect them. The reason is apparent. The parents of the children are the chief violators of the law; for the sake of profit they send them out the instant they can work to the mills or the mines. Those whom nature has made their protectors have become their oppressors. The thirst for idleness intoxication or sensuality has turned the strongest of the generous into the most malignant of the selfish passions. The habits acquired by such precocious employment of young women are not less destructive of their ultimate utility and respectability in life. Habituated from their earliest years to one undeviating mechanical employment they acquire great skill in it but grow up utterly ignorant of any thing else. We speak not of ignorance of reading or writing but of ignorance in still more momentous particulars with reference to their usefulness in life as wives and mothers. They can neither bake nor brew wash nor iron sew nor knit. The finest London lady is not more utterly inefficient than they are for any other object but the one mechanical occupation to which they have been habituated. They can neither darn a stocking nor sew on a button. As to making porridge or washing a handkerchief the thing is out of the question. Their food is cooked out of doors by persons who provide the lodging-houses in which they dwell--they are clothed from head to foot like fine ladies by milliners and dressmakers. This is not the result of fashion caprice or indolence but of the entire concentration of their faculties mental and corporeal from their earliest years in one limited mechanical object. They are unfit to be any man's wife--still more unfit to be any child's mother. We hear little of this from philanthropists or education-mongers; but it is nevertheless not the least because the most generally diffused evil connected with our manufacturing industry. But by far the greatest cause of the mass of crime of the manufacturing and mining districts of the country is to be found in the prodigious number of persons especially in infancy who are reduced to a state of destitution and precipitated into the very lowest stations of life in consequence of the numerous ills to which all flesh--but especially all flesh in manufacturing communities--is heir. Our limits preclude the possibility of entering into all the branches of this immense subject; we shall content ourselves therefore with referring to one which seems of itself perfectly sufficient to explain the increase of crime which at first sight appears so alarming. This is the immense proportion of _destitute widows with families_ who in such circumstances find themselves immovably fixed in places where they can neither bring up their children decently nor get away to other and less peopled localities. From the admirable statistical returns of the condition of the labouring poor in France prepared for the _Bureau de l'Intérieure_ it appears that the number of widows in that country amounts to the enormous number of 1 738 000.[10] This out of a population now of about 34 000 000 is as nearly as possible _one in twenty_ of the entire population! Population is advancing much more rapidly in Great Britain than France; for in the former country it is doubling in about 60 years in the latter in 106. It is certain therefore that the proportion of widows must be greater in this country than in France especially in the manufacturing districts where early marriages from the ready employment for young children are so frequent; and early deaths from the unhealthiness of employment or contagious disorders are so common. But call the proportion the same: let it be taken at a twentieth part of the existing population. At this rate the two millions of strangers who during the last forty years have been thrown into the four northern counties of Lancaster York Stafford and Warwick must contain at this moment _a hundred thousand widows_. The usual average of a family is two and a half children--call it two only. There will thus be found to be 200 000 children belonging to these 100 000 widows. It is hardly necessary to say that the great majority probably four-fifths of this immense body must be in a state of destitution. We know in what state the fatherless and widows are in their affliction and who has commanded us to visit them. On the most moderate calculation 250 000 or an eighth of the whole population must be in a state of poverty and privation. And in Scotland where during the same period of forty years 350 000 strangers have been suddenly huddled together on the banks of the Clyde the proportion may be presumed to be the same; or in other words _thirty thousand_ widows and orphans are constantly there in a state deserving of pity and requiring support hardly any of whom receive more from the parish funds than _a shilling a-week_ even for the maintenance of a whole family. The proportion of widows and orphans to the entire population though without doubt in some degree aggravated by the early marriages and unhealthy employments incident to manufacturing districts may be supposed to be not materially different in one age or part of the country from another. The widow and the orphan as well as the poor will be always with us; but the peculiar circumstance which renders their condition so deplorable in the dense and suddenly peopled manufacturing districts is that the poor have been brought together in such prodigious numbers that all the ordinary means of providing for the relief of such casualties fails; while the causes of mortality among them are periodically so fearful as to produce a vast and sudden increase of the most destitute classes altogether outstripping all possible means of local or voluntary relief. During the late typhus fever in Glasgow in the years 1836 and 1837 above 30 000 of the poor took the epidemic of whom 3300 died.[11] In the first eight months of 1843 alone 32 000 persons in Glasgow were seized with fever.[12] Out of 1000 families at a subsequent period visited by the police in conjunction with the visitors for the distribution of the great fund raised by subscription in 1841 680 were found to be widows who with their families amounted to above 2000 persons all in the most abject state of wretchedness and want.[13] On so vast a scale do the causes of human destruction and demoralization act when men are torn up from their native seats by the irresistible magnet of commercial wealth and congregated together in masses resembling rather the armies of Timour and Napoleon than any thing else ever witnessed in the transactions of men. [Footnote 10: _Statistique de la France publiée par le Gouvernement_ viii. 371-4. A most splendid work.] [Footnote 11: Fever patients Glasgow 1836 37. Fever patients. Died. 1836 . . 10 092 . 1187 1837 . . 21 800 . 2180 ------ ---- 31 892 3367 --COWAN'S _Vital Statistics of Glasgow_ 1388 p 8 the work of a most able and meritorious medical gentleman now no more.] [Footnote 12: Dr Alison on the Epidemic of 1843 p. 67.] [Footnote 13: Captain Millar's Report 1841 p. 8.] Here then is the great source of demoralization destitution and crime in the manufacturing districts. It arises from the sudden congregation of human beings in such fearful multitudes together that all the usual alleviations of human suffering or modes of providing for human indigence entirely fail. We wonder at the rapid increase of crime in the manufacturing districts forgetting that a squalid mass of two or three hundred thousand human beings are constantly precipitated to the bottom of society in a few counties in such circumstances of destitution that recklessness and crime arise naturally it may almost be said unavoidably amongst them. And it is in the midst of such gigantic causes of evil--of causes arising from the extraordinary and unparalleled influx of mankind into the manufacturing districts during the last forty years which can bear a comparison to nothing but the collection of the host with which Napoleon invaded Russia or Timour and Genghis Khan desolated Asia--that we are gravely told that it is to be arrested by education and moral training; by infant schools and shortened hours of labour; by multiplication of ministers and solitary imprisonment! All these are very good things; each in its way is calculated to do a certain amount of good; and their united action upon the whole will doubtless in process of time produce some impression upon the aspect of society even in the densely peopled manufacturing districts. As to their producing any immediate effect or in any sensible degree arresting the prodigious amount of misery destitution and crime which pervades them you might as well have tried by the schoolmaster to arrest the horrors of the Moscow retreat. That the causes which have now been mentioned are the true sources of the rapid progress of crime and general demoralization of our manufacturing and mining districts must be evident to all from this circumstance well known to all who are practically conversant with the subject but to a great degree unattended to by the majority of men and that is --that the prodigious stream of depravity and corruption which prevails is far from being equally and generally diffused through society even in the densely peopled districts where it is most alarming but is in a great degree confined to the _very lowest class_. It is from that lowest class that nine-tenths of the crime and nearly all the professional crime which is felt as so great an evil in society flows. Doubtless in all classes there are some wicked many selfish and inhumane men; and a beneficent Deity in the final allotment of rewards and punishments will take largely into account both the opportunities of doing well which the better classes have abused and the almost invincible causes which so often chain as it were the destitute to recklessness and crime. But still in examining the classes of society on which the greater part of the crime comes it will be found that at least three-fourths probably nine-tenths comes from the very lowest and the most destitute. It is incorrect to say crime is common among them; in truth among the young at least a tendency to it is there all but universal. If we examine who it is that compose this dismal substratum this hideous _black band of society_ we shall find that it is not made up of any one class more than another--not of factory workers more than labourers carters or miners--but is formed by an aggregate of the most unfortunate or improvident of _all classes_ who variously struck down from better ways by disease vice or sensuality are now of necessity huddled together by tens of thousands in the dens of poverty and held by the firm bond of necessity in the precincts of contagion and crime. Society in such circumstances resembles the successive bands of which the imagination of Dante has framed the infernal regions which contain one concentric circle of horrors and punishments within another until when you arrive at the bottom you find one uniform mass of crime blasphemy and suffering. We are persuaded there is no person practically acquainted with the causes of immorality and crime in the manufacturing districts who will not admit that these are the true ones; and that the others about which so much is said by theorists and philanthropists though not without influence are nevertheless trifling in the balance. And what we particularly call the public attention to is this--Suppose all the remedies which theoretical writers or practical legislators have put forth and recommended as singly adequate to remove the evils of the manufacturing classes were to be in _united_ operation they would still leave these gigantic causes of evil untouched. Let Lord Ashley obtain from a reluctant legislature his ten-hours' bill and Dr Chalmers have a clergyman established for every 700 inhabitants; let church extension be pushed till there is a chapel in every village and education till there is a school in every street; let the separate system be universal in prisons and every criminal be entirely secluded from vicious contamination; still the great fountains of evil will remain unclosed; still 300 000 widows and orphans will exist in a few counties of England amidst a newly collected and strange population steeped in misery themselves and of necessity breeding up their children in habits of destitution and depravity; still the poor will be deprived from the suddenness of their collection and the density of their numbers of any effective control either from private character or the opinion of neighbourhood; still individual passion will be inflamed and individual responsibility lost amidst multitudes; still strikes will spread their compulsory idleness amidst tens of thousands and periodically array the whole working classes under the banners of sedition despotism and murder; still precocious female labour will at once tempt parents into idleness in middle life and disqualify children in youth for household or domestic duties. We wish well to the philanthropists: we are far from undervaluing either the importance or the utility of their labours; but as we have hitherto seen no diminution of crime whatever from their efforts so we anticipate a very slow and almost imperceptible improvement in society from their exertions. Strong and in many respects just pictures of the state of the working classes in the manufacturing districts have been lately put forth and the _Perils of the Nation_ have with reason been thought to be seriously increased by them. Those writers however how observant and benevolent soever give a partial and in many respects fallacious view of the _general_ aspect of society. After reading their doleful accounts of the general wretchedness profligacy and licentiousness of the working classes the stranger is astonished on travelling through England to behold green fields and smiling cottages on all sides; to see in every village signs of increasing comfort in every town marks of augmented wealth and the aspect of poverty almost banished from the land. Nay what is still more gratifying the returns of the sanatary condition of the whole population though still exhibiting a painful difference between the health and chances of life in the rural and manufacturing districts present unequivocal proof of a general amelioration of the chances of life and consequently of the general wellbeing of the whole community. How are these opposite statements and appearances to be reconciled? Both are true--the reconciliation is easy. The misery recklessness and vice exist chiefly in one class--the industry sobriety and comfort in another. Each observer tells truly what he sees in his own circle of attention; he does not tell what nevertheless exists and exercises a powerful influence on society of the good which exists in the other classes. If the evils detailed in Lord Ashley's speeches and painted with so much force in the _Perils of the Nation_ were universal or even general society could not hold together for a week. But though these evils are great sometimes overwhelming in particular districts they are far from being general. Nothing effectual has yet been done to arrest them in the localities or communities where they arise; but they do not spread much beyond them. The person engaged in the factories are stated by Lord Ashley to be between four and five hundred thousand: the population of the British islands is above 27 000 000. It is in the steadiness industry and good conduct of a large proportion of this immense majority that the security is to be found. Observe that industrious and well-doing majority; you would suppose there is no danger:--observe the profligate and squalid minority; you would suppose there is no hope. At present about 60 000 persons are annually committed in the British islands for serious offences[14] worthy of deliberate trial and above double that number for summary or police offences. A hundred and eighty thousand persons annually fall under the lash of the criminal law and are committed for longer or shorter periods to places of confinement for punishment. The number is prodigious--it is frightful. Yet it is in all only about 1 in 120 of the population; and from the great number who are repeatedly committed during the same year the individuals punished are not 1 in 200. Such as they are it may safely be affirmed that four-fifths of this 180 000 comes out of two or three millions of the community. We are quite sure that 150 000 come from 3 000 000 of the lowest and most squalid of the empire and not 30 000 from the remaining 24 000 000 who live in comparative comfort. This consideration is fitted both to encourage hope and awaken shame--hope as showing from how small a class in society the greater part of the crime comes and to how limited a sphere the remedies require to be applied; shame as demonstrating how disgraceful has been the apathy selfishness and supineness in the other more numerous and better classes around whom the evil has arisen but who seldom interfere except to RESIST all measures calculated for its removal. It is to this subject--the ease with which the extraordinary and unprecedented increase of crime in the empire might be arrested by proper means and the total inefficiency of all the remedies hitherto attempted from the want of practical knowledge on the part of those at the head of affairs and an entirely false view of human nature in society generally that we shall direct the attention of our readers in a future Number. [Footnote 14: Viz. in round numbers-- England 30 000 Ireland 26 000 Scotland 4 000 60 000] THE HEART OF THE BRUCE. A BALLAD. It was upon an April morn While yet the frost lay hoar We heard Lord James's bugle-horn Sound by the rocky shore. Then down we went a hundred knights All in our dark array And flung our armour in the ships That rode within the bay. We spoke not as the shore grew less But gazed in silence back Where the long billows swept away The foam behind our track. And aye the purple hues decay'd Upon the fading hill And but one heart in all that ship Was tranquil cold and still. The good Earl Douglas walk'd the deck And oh his brow was wan! Unlike the flush it used to wear When in the battle van.-- ""Come hither come hither my trusty knight Sir Simon of the Lee; There is a freit lies near my soul I fain would tell to thee. ""Thou knowest the words King Robert spoke Upon his dying day How he bade me take his noble heart And carry it far away: ""And lay it in the holy soil Where once the Saviour trod Since he might not bear the blessed Cross Nor strike one blow for God. ""Last night as in my bed I lay I dream'd a dreary dream:-- Methought I saw a Pilgrim stand In the moonlight's quivering beam. ""His robe was of the azure dye Snow-white his scatter'd hairs And even such a cross he bore As good Saint Andrew bears. ""'Why go ye forth Lord James ' he said 'With spear and belted brand? Why do ye take its dearest pledge From this our Scottish land? ""'The sultry breeze of Galilee Creeps through its groves of palm The olives on the Holy Mount Stand glittering in the calm. ""'But 'tis not there that Scotland's heart Shall rest by God's decree Till the great angel calls the dead To rise from earth and sea! ""'Lord James of Douglas mark my rede That heart shall pass once more In fiery fight against the foe As it was wont of yore. ""'And it shall pass beneath the Cross And save King Robert's vow But other hands shall bear it back Not James of Douglas thou!' ""Now by thy knightly faith I pray Sir Simon of the Lee-- For truer friend had never man Than thou hast been to me-- ""If ne'er upon the Holy Land 'Tis mine in life to tread Bear thou to Scotland's kindly earth The relics of her dead."" The tear was in Sir Simon's eye As he wrung the warrior's hand-- ""Betide me weal betide me woe I'll hold by thy command. ""But if in battle front Lord James 'Tis ours once more to ride Nor force of man nor craft of fiend Shall cleave me from thy side!"" And aye we sail'd and aye we sail'd Across the weary sea Until one morn the coast of Spain Rose grimly on our lee. And as we rounded to the port Beneath the watch-tower's wall We heard the clash of the atabals And the trumpet's wavering call. ""Why sounds yon Eastern music here So wantonly and long And whose the crowd of armed men That round yon standard throng?' ""The Moors have come from Africa To spoil and waste and slay And Pedro King of Arragon Must fight with them to-day."" ""Now shame it were "" cried good Lord James ""Shall never be said of me That I and mine have turn'd aside From the Cross in jeopardie! ""Have down have down my merry men all-- Have down unto the plain; We'll let the Scottish lion loose Within the fields of Spain!""-- ""Now welcome to me noble lord Thou and thy stalwart power; Dear is the sight of a Christian knight Who comes in such an hour! ""Is it for bond or faith ye come Or yet for golden fee? Or bring ye France's lilies here Or the flower of Burgundie?' ""God greet thee well thou valiant King Thee and thy belted peers-- Sir James of Douglas am I call'd And these are Scottish spears. ""We do not fight for bond or plight Nor yet for golden fee; But for the sake of our blessed Lord That died Upon the tree. ""We bring our great King Robert's heart Across the weltering wave To lay it in the holy soil Hard by the Saviour's grave. ""True pilgrims we by land or sea Where danger bars the way; And therefore are we here Lord King To ride with thee this day!"" The King has bent his stately head And the tears were in his eyne-- ""God's blessing on thee noble knight For this brave thought of thine! ""I know thy name full well Lord James And honour'd may I be That those who fought beside the Bruce Should fight this day for me! ""Take thou the leading of the van And charge the Moors amain; There is not such a lance as thine In all the host of Spain!"" The Douglas turned towards us then Oh but his glance was high!-- ""There is not one of all my men But is as bold as I. ""There is not one of all my knights But bears as true a spear-- Then onwards! Scottish gentlemen And think--King Robert's here!"" The trumpets blew the cross-bolts flew The arrows flash'd like flame As spur in side and spear in rest Against the foe we came. And many a bearded Saracen Went down both horse and man; For through their ranks we rode like corn So furiously we ran! But in behind our path they closed Though fain to let us through For they were forty thousand men And we were wondrous few. We might not see a lance's length So dense was their array But the long fell sweep of the Scottish blade Still held them hard at bay. ""Make in! make in!"" Lord Douglas cried ""Make in my brethren dear! Sir William of St Clair is down We may not leave him here!"" But thicker thicker grew the swarm And sharper shot the rain And the horses rear'd amid the press But they would not charge again. ""Now Jesu help thee "" said Lord James ""Thou kind and true St Clair! An' if I may not bring thee off I'll die beside thee there!"" Then in his stirrups up he stood So lionlike and bold And held the precious heart aloft All in its case of gold. He flung it from him far ahead And never spake he more But--""Pass thee first thou dauntless heart As thou were wont of yore!"" The roar of fight rose fiercer yet And heavier still the stour Till the spears of Spain came shivering in And swept away the Moor. ""Now praised be God the day is won! They fly o'er flood and fell-- Why dost thou draw the rein so hard Good knight that fought so well?"" ""Oh ride ye on Lord King!"" he said ""And leave the dead to me For I must keep the dreariest watch That ever I shall dree! ""There lies beside his master's heart The Douglas stark and grim; And woe is me I should be here Not side by side with him! ""The world grows cold my arm is old And thin my lyart hair And all that I loved best on earth Is stretch'd before me there. ""O Bothwell banks! that bloom so bright Beneath the sun of May The heaviest cloud that ever blew Is bound for you this day. ""And Scotland thou may'st veil thy head In sorrow and in pain; The sorest stroke upon thy brow Hath fallen this day in Spain! ""We'll bear them back into our ship We'll bear them o'er the sea And lay them in the hallow'd earth Within our own countrie. ""And be thou strong of heart Lord King For this I tell thee sure The sod that drank the Douglas' blood Shall never bear the Moor!"" The King he lighted from his horse He flung his brand away And took the Douglas by the hand So stately as he lay. ""God give thee rest thou valiant soul That fought so well for Spain; I'd rather half my land were gone So thou wert here again!"" We bore the good Lord James away And the priceless heart he bore And heavily we steer'd our ship Towards the Scottish shore. No welcome greeted our return Nor clang of martial tread But all were dumb and hush'd as death Before the mighty dead. We laid the Earl in Douglas Kirk The heart in fair Melrose; And woful men were we that day-- God grant their souls repose! W.E.A. MEMORANDUMS OF A MONTH'S TOUR IN SICILY. THE MUSEUM OF PALERMO. The museum of Palermo is a small but very interesting collection of statues and other sculpture gathered chiefly they say from the ancient temples of Sicily with a few objects bestowed out of the superfluities of Pompeii. In the lower room are some good bas-reliefs to which a story is attached. They were discovered fifteen years ago at _Selinuntium_ by some young Englishmen the reward of four months' labour. Our guide who had been also theirs had warned them not to stay after the month of June when malaria begins. They did stay. All (four) took the fever; one died of it in Palermo and the survivors were deprived by the government--that is by the king--of the spoils for which they had suffered so much and worked so hard. No one is permitted to excavate without royal license; _excavation_ is like _Domitian's fish res fisci_. Even Mr Fagan who was consul at Palermo having made some interesting underground discoveries was deprived of them. We saw here a fine Esculapius in countenance and expression exceedingly like the _Ecce Homo_ of Leonardo da Vinci with all that god-like compassion which the great painter had imparted without any sacrifice of dignity. He holds a poppy-head which we do not recollect on his statue or gems and the Epidaurian snake is at his side. Up-stairs we saw specimens of fruits from Pompeii barley beans the carob pod pine kernels as well as bread sponge linen: and the sponge was obviously such and so was the linen. A bronze Hercules treading on the back of a stag which he has overtaken and subdued is justly considered as one of the most perfect bronzes discovered at Pompeii. A head of our Saviour by Corregio is exquisite in conception and such as none but a person long familiar with the physiognomy of suffering could have accomplished. These are exceptions rather than specimens. The pictures in general are poor in interest; and a long gallery of _casts_ of the _chef-d'oeuvres_ of antiquity possessed by the capitals of Italy Germany England and France looks oddly here and shows the poverty of a country which had been to the predatory proconsuls of Rome an inexhaustible repertory of the highest treasures of art. A VERRES REDIVIVUS would now find little to carry off but toys made of amber lava snuff-boxes and WODEHOUSE'S MARSALA--one of which he certainly would not guess the _age_ of and the other of which he would not _drink_. LUNATIC ASYLUM. We saw nothing in this house or its arrangements to make us think it superior or very different from others we had visited elsewhere. The making a lunatic asylum a show-place for strangers is to be censured; indeed we heard Esquirol observe that nothing was so bad as the admission of many persons to see the patients at all; for that although some few were better for the visits of friends it was injurious as a general rule to give even friends admittance and that it ought to be left discretionary with the physician _when_ to admit and _whom_. Cleanliness good fare a garden and the suppression of all violence--these have become immutable canons for the conduct of such institutions and fortunately demand little more than ordinary good feeling and intelligence in the superintendent. But we could not fail to observe a sad want of suitable inducement to _occupation_ which was apparent throughout this asylum. That not above one in ten could read may perhaps be thought a light matter for few can be the resources of insanity in books; yet we saw at _Genoa_ a case where it had taken that turn and as it is occupation to read with how much profit it matters not. Not one woman in four as usually occurs in insanity could be induced to _dress according to her sex_; they figured away in men's coats and hats! The dining-room was hung with portraits of some merit by one of the lunatics; and we noticed that every face if indeed all are _portraits_ had some insanity in it. They have a dance every Sunday evening. What an exhibition it must be! MISCELLANEA That the vegetation of Palermo excels that of Naples partly depends on the superior intelligence of the agriculturist and partly upon soil and climate: the fruits here are not only more advanced but finer in quality. We left a very meagre dessert of cherries beginning to ripen at Naples; the very next day a superabundance of very fine and mature ones were to be had on all the stalls of Palermo. This must be the result of industry and care in a great measure; for on leaving that city after a _séjour_ of three weeks for Messina Catania and Syracuse although summer was much further advanced we relapsed into miserably meagre supplies of what we had eaten in perfection in the capital; yet Syracuse and Catania are much warmer than Palermo. The vegetables here are of immense growth. The fennel root (and there is no better test of your whereabouts in Italy) is nearly twice as large as at Naples and weighs accordingly nearly double. The cauliflowers are quite colossal; and they have a blue cabbage so big that your arms will scarcely embrace it. We question however whether this hypertrophy of fruit or vegetables improves their flavour; give us _English vegetables_--ay and _English fruit_. Though Smyrna's _fig_ is eaten throughout Europe and Roman _brocoli_ be without a rival; though the _cherry_ and the Japan _medlar_ flourish only at Palermo and the _cactus_ of Catania can be eaten nowhere else; what country town in England is not better off on the whole if quality alone be considered? But we have one terrible drawback; for _whom_ are these fruits of the earth produced? Our _prices_ are enormous and our supply scanty; could we _forget this_ and the artichoke the asparagus the peas and beans of London and Paris are rarely elsewhere so fine. To our palates the _gooseberry_ and the _black currant_ are a sufficient indemnity to Britain for the _grape_ merely regarded as a fruit to _eat. Pine-apples_ those ""illustrious foreigners "" are so successfully _petted_ at home that they will scarcely condescend now to flourish out of England. _Nectarines_ refuse to ripen and _apricots_ to have any taste elsewhere. Our _pears_ and _apples_ are better and of more various excellence than any in the world. And we really prefer our very figs grown on a fine _prebendal_ wall in the close of _Winchester_ or under _Pococke's_ window in a canon's garden at _chilly Oxford_. Thus has the kitchen-garden refreshed our patriotism and made us half ashamed of our long forgetfulness of home. But there are good things abroad too for poor men; the rich may live any where. An enormous salad crisp cold white and of delicious flavour for a halfpenny; olive oil for fourpence a pound to dress it with; and wine for fourpence a gallon to make it disagree with you;[15] fuel for almost nothing and bread for little are not small advantage

to frugal housekeepers; but when dispensed by a despotic government where one must read those revolting words _motu proprio_ at the head of every edict let us go back to our carrots and potatoes our Peels and our income-tax our fogs and our frost. The country mouse came to a right conclusion and did not like the fragments of the feast with the cat in the cupboard-- Give me again my hollow tree My crust of bread and liberty."" [Footnote 15: ----_Lactuca_ innatat acri Post vinum stomacho.--HOR.] Fish though plentiful and various is not fine in any part of the _Mediterranean_; and as to _thunny_ one surfeit would put it out of the bill of fare for life. On the whole though at Palermo and Naples the pauper starves not in the streets the gourmand would be sadly at a loss in his requisition of delicacies and variety. Inferior bread at a penny a pound is here considered palatable by the sprinkling over of the crust with a small rich seed (_jugulena_) which has a flavour like the almond; it is also strewn like our caraway seeds in biscuits _into_ the paste and is largely cultivated for that single use. The _capsici_ somewhat similar in flavour to the pea are detached from the radicles of a plant with a flower strikingly like the potatoe and is used for a similar purpose to the jugulena. This island was the granary of Athens before it nourished Rome; and wheat appears to have been first raised in Europe on the plains of eastern Sicily. In Cicero's time it returned eightfold; and to this day one grain yields its eightfold of increase; which however is by a small fraction less than our own as given by M'Culloch in his ""Dictionary of Commerce."" We plucked some _siligo_ or bearded wheat near Palermo the beard of which was eight inches long the ear contained sixty grains eight being also in this instance the average increase; how many grains then must perish in the ground! In Palermo English gunpowder is sold by British sailors at the high price of from five to seven shillings per English pound; the ""Polvere _nostrale_"" of the Sicilians only fetches 1s. 8d.; yet such is the superiority of English gunpowder that every one who has a passion for popping at sparrows and other _Italian sports_ (complimented by the title of _La caccia_ ) prefers the dear article. When they have killed off all the robins and there is not a twitter in _the whole country_ they go to the river side and shoot _gudgeons_. The Palermo donkey is the most obliging animal that ever wore long ears and will carry you cheerfully four or five miles an hour without whip or other _encouragement_. The oxen no longer white or cream-coloured as in Tuscany were originally importations from Barbary (to which country the Sicilians are likewise indebted for the _mulberry_ and _silk-worm_.) Their colour is brown. They rival the Umbrian breed in the herculean symmetry of their form and in the possession of horns of more than Umbrian dimensions rising more perpendicularly over the forehead than in that ancient race. The lizards here are such beautiful creatures that it is worth while to bring one away and to _pervert_ a quotation ""UNIUS _Dominum sese fecisse_ LACERTAE."" Some are all green some mottled like a mosaic floor others green and black on the upper side and orange-coloured or red underneath. Of snakes there is a _Coluber niger_ from four to five feet in length with a shining coat and an eye not pleasant to watch even through glass; yet the peasants here put them into their Phrygian bonnets and handle them with as much _sang-froid_ as one would a walking-stick. The coarse earthen vessels pitchers urns &c. used by the peasants are of the most beautiful shapes often that of the ancient _amphora_; and at every cottage door by the road-side you meet with this vestige of the ancient arts of the country. The plague which visited Palermo in 1624 swept away 20 000 inhabitants; Messina in 1743 lost 40 000. The cholera in 1837 destroyed 69 253 persons. The present population of the whole island is 1 950 000; the female exceeds the male by about three per cent which is contrary to the general rule. It is said that nearly one-half the children received into the foundling hospital of Palermo die within the first year. Formerly the barons of Sicily were rich and independent like our English gentlemen; but they say that since 1812 the king's whole pleasure and business as before our _Magna Charta_ times have been to lower their importance. In that year a revolt was the consequence of an income-tax even of two per cent for they were yet unbroken to the yoke; but now that he has saddled property with a deduction _said_ to be eventually equal to fifteen per cent if not more; now that he doubles the impost on the native sulphur which is therefore checked in its sale; now that he keeps an army of 80 000 men to play at soldiers with; now that he constitutes himself the only referee even in questions of commercial expediency and _a fortiori_ in all other cases which he settles _arbitrarily_ or does not settle at all; now that he sees so little the signs of the times that he will not let a professor go to a science-congress at Florence or Bologna without an express permission and so ignorant as to have _refused_ that permission for fear of a political bias; now that he diverts a nation's wealth from works of charity or usefulness to keep a set of foreigners in his pay--they no doubt here remember in their prayers with becoming gratitude ""the holy alliance "" or as we would call it the _mutual insurance company of the kings of Europe_ of which Castlereagh and Metternich were the honorary secretaries. In the midst of all the gloomy despotism beautiful even as imagination can paint it is Palermo beautiful! One eminent advantage it possesses over Naples itself--its vicinity presents more ""drives;"" and all the drives here might contest the name given to one of them which is called ""_Giro delle Grazie_ "" (the Ring or Mall of the Graces.) It has a _Marina_ of unrivaled beauty to which the noblesse and the citizens repair and form a promenade of elegant equipages. A fine pavement for foot passengers is considerately raised three or four feet above the carriage road; so that the walking population have nothing to annoy them. The sea is immediately below both and you see the little rock-encircled bays animated with groups of those sturdy fishermen with bare legs; which you admire in Claude and Salvator throwing before them with admirable precision their _épervier_ net whose fine wrought meshes sometimes hang veil-like between you and the ruddy sunset or plashing as they fall nightly into the smooth sea contribute the pleasure of an agreeable sound to the magic of the scenery. Some take the air on donkeys which go at a great rate; some are mounted on Spanish mules all mixed together freely amidst handsome and numerous equipages; and the whole is backed by a fine row of houses opposite the sea built after the fashion of our terraces and crescents at watering-places. And finally that blue _æquor_ as it now deserves to be termed studded over with thunny boats and coasting craft with the haze latine sail that we should be sorry to trust in British hands is walled in by cliffs so bold so rugged and standing out so beautifully in relief that for a moment we cannot choose but envy the citizen of _Panormus_. But we may not tarry even here; _we have more things_ to see and every day is getting hotter than the last. JOURNEY TO SEGESTE. Leaving Palermo early we pass _Monreale_ in our way to the Doric columns of _Segeste_ and find ourselves before the heat of day has reached its greatest intensity at a considerable elevation above the plain on which the capital stands amidst mountains which except in the difference of their vegetation remind us not a little of the configuration of certain wild parts of the Highlands where Ben Croachin flings his dark shadow across Loch Awe. Indeed we were thinking of this old and favourite fishing haunt with much complacency when two men suddenly came forth from behind the bristly aloes and the impenetrable cactus--ill-looking fellows were they; but moved by the kindest intentions for our safety they offer to conduct us through the remainder of the defile. This service our hired attendant from Palermo declined and we push on unmolested to Partenico our halting-place during the heat of the day. It is a town of some extent large enough to afford two fountains of a certain pretension but execrably dirty within. Twelve thousand inhabitants has Partenico and five churches. Out of its five locandas who shall declare the worst? Of that in which we had first taken refuge (as in a snow-storm on the Alps any _roof_ is Paradise ) we were obliged to quit the shelter and walk at _noon_ at _midsummer_ and in _Sicily_ a good mile _up_ a main street which beginning in habitations of the dimensions of our almshouses ends in a few huts intolerably revolting about which troops of naked children defy vermin and encrust themselves in filth. At one door we could not help observing that worst form of _scabies_ the _gale à grosses bulles;_ so we had got it appeared from _Scylla_ into _Charybdis_ and were in the very preserves of Sicilian _itch_ and we prognosticate it will spread before the month expires wherever human skin is to be found for its entertainment. Partenico lies in a scorching plain full of malaria. Having passed the three stifling hours of the day here we proceed on our journey to _Alcamo_ a town of considerable size which looks remarkably well from the plain at the distance of four miles--an impression immediately removed on passing its high rampart gate. Glad to escape the miseries with which it threatens the _détenu_ we pass out at the other end and zigzag down a hill of great beauty and commanding such views of sea and land as it would be quite absurd to write about. Already a double row of aloë planted at intervals marks what is to be your course afar off and is a faithful guide till it lands you in a Sicilian plain. This is the highest epithet with which any plain can be qualified. This is indeed the month for Sicily. The goddess of flowers now wears a morning dress of the newest spring fashion; beautifully _made up_ is that dress nor has she worn it long enough for it to be sullied ever so little or to require the washing of a shower. A delicate pink and a rich red are the colours which prevail in the tasteful pattern of her voluminous drapery; and as she _advances_ on you with a light and noiseless step over a carpet which all the looms of Paris or of Persia could not imitate scattering bouquets of colours the most happily contrasted and impregnating the air with the most grateful fragrance we at once acknowledge her beautiful impersonation in that ""_monument of Grecian art_ "" the _Farnese Flora_ of which we have brought the fresh recollection from the museum of Naples. The _Erba Bianca_ is a plant like southernwood presenting a curious hoar-frosted appearance as its leaves are stirred by the wind. The _Rozzolo a vento_ is an ambitious plant which grows beyond its strength snaps short upon its overburdened stalk and is borne away by any zephyr however light. Large crops of _oats_ are already cut; and oxen of the Barbary breed brown and coal-black are already dragging the simple aboriginal plough over the land. Some of these fine cattle (to whom we are strangers as they are to us) stood gazing at us in the plain their white horns glancing in the sun; others recumbent and ruminating exhibit antlers which as we have said before surpass the Umbrian cattle in their elk-like length and imposing majesty. Arrived at the bottom of our long hill we pass a beautiful stream called _Fiume freddo_ whose source we track across the plain by banks crowned with _Cactus_ and _Tamarisk_. Looking back with regret towards _Alcamo_ we see trains of mules which still transact the internal commerce of the country with large packsaddles on their backs; and when a halt takes place these animals during their drivers' dinner obtain their own ready-found meal and browse away on three courses of vegetables and a dessert. SICILIAN INNS. ""A beautiful place this _Segeste_ must be! One could undergo any thing to see it!"" Such would be the probable exclamation of more than one reader looking over some _landscape annual_ embellished with perhaps _a view_ of the celebrated temple and its surrounding scenery; but find yourself at any of the inexpressibly horrid inns of _Alcamo_ or _Calatafrini_ (and these are the two principal stations between Palermo and Segeste--one with its 12 000 the other with its 18 000 inhabitants;) let us walk you down the main street of either and if you don't wish yourself at Cheltenham or some other unclassical place which never had a Latin name we are much mistaken! The ""_Relievo dei Cavalli_"" at Alcamo offers no _relief_ for you! The _Magpie_ may prate on her sign-post about _clean_ beds for magpies can be made to say any thing; but pray do not construe the ""_Canova Divina_"" Divine Canova! _He_ never executed any thing for the _Red Lion_ of Calatafrini whose ""Canova"" is a low wine-shop full of wrangling Sicilian boors. Or will you place yourself under the _Eagle's_ wing seduced by its _nuovi mobili e buon servizio_? Oh we obtest those broken window-panes whether it be not _cruel_ to expose _new furniture_ to such perils! For us we put up at the ""_Temple of Segeste_ "" attracted rather by its name than by any promise or decoy it offers. Crabbe has given to the inns at Aldborough each its character: here all are equal in immundicity and all equally without provisions. Some yellow beans lie soaking to soften them. There is salt-cod from the north moist and putrid. There is no milk; eggs are few. The ham at the Pizzicarolo's is always bad and the garlicked sausage repulsive. Nothing is painted or white-washed let alone dusted swept or scoured. The walls have the appearance of having been _pawed_ over by new relays of dirty fingers daily for ten years. This is a very peculiar appearance at many nasty places _out_ of Sicily and we really do not know its _pathology_. You tread loathingly an indescribable earthen floor and your eye on entering the apartment is arrested by a nameless production of the fictile art certainly not of _Etruscan_ form which is invariably placed on the _bolster_ of the truck-bed destined presently for your devoted head. Oh! to do justice to a Sicilian _locanda_ is plainly out of question and the rest of our task may as well be sung as said verse and prose being alike incapable of the hopeless reality:-- ""Lodged for the night O Muse! begin To sing the true Sicilian inn Where the sad choice of six foul cells The least exacting traveller quells (Though crawling things not yet in sight Are waiting for the shadowy night To issue forth when all is quiet And on your feverish pulses riot;) Where one wood shutter scrapes the ground By crusts stale-bones and garbage bound; Where unmolested spiders toil Behind the mirror's mildew'd foil; Where the cheap crucifix of lead Hangs o'er the iron tressel'd bed; Where the huge bolt will scarcely keep Its promise to confiding sleep Till you have forced it to its goal In the bored brick-work's crumbling hole; Where in loose flakes the white-wash peeling From the bare joints of rotten ceiling Give token sure of vermin's bower And swarms of bugs that bide their hour! Though bands of fierce musquittos boom Their threatening bugles round the room To bed! Ere wingless creatures crawl Across your path from yonder wall And slipper'd feet unheeding tread We know not what! To bed! to bed! What can those horrid sounds portend? Some waylaid traveller near his end From ghastly gash in mortal strife Or blow of bandit's blood-stained knife? No! no! They're bawling to the _Virgin_ Like victim under hands of surgeon! From lamp-lit _daub_ proceeds the cry Of that unearthly litany! And now a train of mules goes by! ""One wretch comes whooping up the street For whooping's sake! And now they beat Drum after drum for market mass Each day's transactions on the _place!_ All things that go or stay or come They herald forth by tuck of drum. Day dawns! a tinkling tuneless bell Whate'er it be has news to tell. Then twenty more begin to strike In noisy discord all alike;-- Convents and churches chapels shrines In quick succession break the lines. Till every gong in town at last Its tongue hath loos'd and sleep is past. So much for nights! New days begin Which land you in another Inn. O! he that means to see _Girgenti_ Or _Syracuse!_--needs patience plenty!"" Crossing a rustic bridge we pass through a garden (for it is no less though man has had no spade in it) of pinks marigolds cyclamens and heart's-ease &c. &c.; the moist meadow land below is a perfect jungle of lofty grasses all fragrant and in flower gemmed with the unevaporated morning dew and colonized with the _Aphides Alticæ_ and swarms of the most beautiful butterflies clinging to their stalks. _Gramina læta_ after Virgil's own heart were these. Their elegance and unusual variety were sufficient to throw a botanist into a perfect HAY fever and our own first paroxysm only went off when after an hour's hard collecting we came to a place which demanded _another_ sort of enthusiasm; for THERE stood without a veil the _Temple of Segeste_ with one or two glimpses of which we had been already astonished at a distance in all its Dorian majesty! This almost unmutilated and glorious memorial of past ages here reigns alone--the only building far or near visible in the whole horizon; and what a position has its architect secured! In the midst of hills on a bit of table-land apparently made such by smoothing down the summit of one of them with a greensward in front and set off behind by a mountain background stands this eternal monument of the noblest of arts amidst the finest dispositions of nature. There is another antiquity of the place also to be visited at Segeste--its _theatre_; but we are too immediately below it to know any thing about it at present and must leave it in a parenthesis. To our left at the distance of eight miles this hill country of harmonious and graceful undulation ends in beetling cliffs beneath which the sea now full in view lies sparkling in the morning sunshine. We shall never never forget the impressions made upon us on first getting sight of Segeste! _Pæstum_ we had seen and thought that it exhausted all that was possible to a temple or the site of a temple. Awe-stricken had we surveyed those monuments of ""immemorial antiquity"" in that baleful region of wild-eyed buffaloes and birds of prey--temples to death in the midst of his undisputed domains! We had fully adopted Forsyth's sentiment and held Pæstum to be probably the most impressive monument on earth; but here at Segeste a nature less austere and more RIANTE in its wildness lent a quite different charm to a scene which could scarcely be represented by art and for which a reader could certainly not be _prepared_ by description. We gave an antiquarian's devoutest worship to this venerable survivor of 2000 years and of many empires--we _felt_ the vast masses of its time-tried Doric and even the wild flowers within its precincts its pink valerians; its _erba di vento_ its scented wallflower. The whole scene kept our admiration long tasked but untired. A smart shower compelled us to seek shelter under the shoulder of one of the grey entablatures: it soon passed away leaving us a legacy of the richest fragrance while a number of wild birds of the hawk kind called ""chaoli"" from their shrill note issued from their hiding-places and gave us wild music as they scudded by! A few bits of wall scattered over the corn-fields are all that now remains of the dwellings of the men who built this temple for their city and who by its splendour deluded the Athenians into a belief of greater wealth than they possessed. Our ascent to the theatre the day after proved to be a very steep one of half an hour on mule-back; in making which we scared two of those prodigious birds the _ospreys_ who having reconnoitred us forthwith began to wheel in larger and larger sweeps and at last made off for the sea. We found the interior of the theatre occupied by an audience ready for our arrival; it consisted of innummerable _hawks_ the chaoli just mentioned which began to scream at our intrusion. The ospreys soon returned and were plainly only waiting our departure to subside upon their solitary domain. We would not be a soft-billed bird for something in this neighbourhood; no song would save them from the hawks' supper. Having luxuriated on the 24th of May for full four hours in this enchanting neighbourhood we were sorry to return to our inn--and such an inn! We departed abruptly and probably never to return; but we shall think of Segeste in Hyde Park or as we pass the candlestick Corinthians of Whitehall. Thucydides[16] relates that a prevailing notion in his time was that the _Trojans_ after losing _Troy_ went first to _Sicily_ and founded there Egesta and Eryx. Now as on the same authority the first _Greek_ colony was _Naxos_ also in Sicily Greeks and Trojans (strange coincidence!) must have _met again_ on new ground after the _Iliad_ was all acted and done with like a tale that is told. [Footnote 16: _Vide_ THUCYDIDES Book iv. chap. 15.] On our return towards Palermo one of our party having a touch of ague we crossed the street to the apothecary (at Calatafrini our night's halt ) and smelling about his musty galenicals amidst a large supply of _malvas_ which were drying on his counter the only wholesome-looking thing amidst his stores we asked if he had any _quinine_. ""_Sicuro!_"" and he presented us with a white powder having a slightly bitter taste which together with an ounce of green tea to be dispensed in pinches of five grains on extraordinary occasions comes he says from the East. On our observing that the quinine if such at all was adulterated and that this was too bad in a country of malaria where it was the poor man's only protection he looked angry; but we rose in the esteem of peasants in the shop who said to each other--""Ed ha ragione il Signor."" Wanting a little _soda_ we were presented with sub-carbonate of potash as the nearest approach to it--a substitution which suggested to us a classical recollection from Theocritus; namely that in this same Sicily 2000 years ago a Syracusan husband is rated by his dame for sending her _soda_ for her washing in place of potash the very converse of what our old drug-vender intended to have washed our inside withal. The Roman Catholic religion patronises painting oddly here; not a cart but is adorned with some sacred subject. Every wretched vehicle that totters under an unmerciful load with one poor donkey to draw six men has its picture of _Souls in Purgatory_ who seem putting their hands and heads out of the flames and vainly calling on the ruffians inside to _stop_. We read _Viva la Divina Providenza_ in flaming characters on the front board of a carriole while the whip is goading the poor starved brute who drags it; for these barbarians in the rear of European civilization plainly are of opinion that a cart with a sacred device shall not _break down_ though its owner commit every species of cruelty. The next day found us again installed at our old quarters in Palermo where during our brief remaining stay we visit a conchologist before which event we had no notion that Sicily was so rich in shells. Two sides of a moderately large room are entirely devoted to his collection. Here we saw a piece of wood nearly destroyed by the _Teredo navalis_ or sailor's bore who seems more active and industrious here than elsewhere and seldom allows himself to be taken whole. Out of hundreds of specimens three or four perfect ones were all that this collector could ever manage to extract the molluscous wood-destroyer being very soft and fragile. His length is about three inches his thickness that of a small quill; he lodges in a shell of extreme tenuity and the secretion which he ejects is it seems the agent which destroys the wood and pushes on bit by bit the winding tunnel. But his doings are nothing to the working of another wafer-shelled bivalve whose tiny habitations are so thickly imbedded in the body of a nodule of _flint_ as to render its exterior like a sieve _diducit scopulos aceto_. What solvent can the chemist prepare in his laboratory comparable to one which while it dissolves silex neither harms the insect nor injures its shell. Amongst the _fossils_ we notice cockles as big as ostrich eggs clam-shells twice the size of the largest of our Sussex coast and those of oysters which rival soup-plates. We had indeed once before met with them of equal size in the lime-beds at _Corneto_. Judging by the _oysters_ there must indeed have been _giants_ in those days. But this collection was chiefly remarkable for its curious fossil remains of _animals_ from _Monte Grifone_. In this same Monte Grifone which we went to visit is one of the largest of the caves of bones of which so many have been discovered--bones of various kinds some of small some of very large animals mixed together pell-mell and constituting a fossil paste of scarcely any thing besides. None of the geologists in attempting to explain these deposits sufficiently enter into the question of the origin of the enormous _quantity_ and _close juxtaposition_ of such heterogeneous specimens. By eight o'clock we are on board the _Palermo_ steamer which is to convey us hence to _Messina_. The baked deck which has been saturated with the sun's heat all day is now cooling to a more moderate warmth and soothing would be the scene but for the noise of women and children. Large liquid stars twinkle here and there like so many moons on a reduced scale over the sea and the night is wholly delightful! A bell rings which diminishes our numbers and somewhat clears our deck. The boats which carry off the last loiterers are gone shaking phosphorus from their gills and leaving a train of it in their tails; and the many-windowed Pharos of the harbour has all its panes lit up and twinkles after its own fashion. Round the bay an interrupted crescent of flickering light is reflected in the water strongest in the middle where the town is thickest and runs back; and far behind all lights comes the clear outline of the darkly defined mountain rising over the city. Our own lantern also is up the authorities have disappeared Monte Pelegrino begins to change its position we are in motion and a mighty light we are making under us as our leviathan turning round her head and _snuffing_ the sea begins to wind out of the harbour. A few minutes more and the luminous tracery of the receding town becomes more and more indistinct; but the sky is _all stars_ and the water save where we break its smoothness a perfect mirror. Wherever the paddles play there the sea foams up into yellow light and _gerbes_ of amber-coloured fireballs caught up by the wheels and flung off in our track to float past with incredible rapidity. Men are talking the language of Babel in the cabin; there is amateur singing and a guitar on deck--_Orion_ is on his dolphin--adieu Palermo! APPROACH TO MESSINA. The Italian morning presents a beautiful sight on deck to eyes weary and sore with night as night passes on board steamers. We pass along a coast obviously of singular conformation and to a geologist we suppose full of interest. We encounter a herd of classical dolphins out a-pleasuring. We ask about a pretty little town perched just above the sea and called _Giocosa_. By its side lies _Tyndaris_--classical enough if we spell it right. The snow on Etna is as good as an inscription and to be read at any distance; but what a deception! they tell us it is thirty miles off and it seems to rise immediately from behind a ridge of hills close to the shore. The snow cone rises in the midst of other cones which would appear equally high but for the difference of colour. _Patti_ is a picturesque little _borgo_ on the hillside celebrated in Sicily for its manufacture of hardware. In the bay of _Melazzo_ are taken by far the largest supplies of thunny in the whole Mediterranean. From the embayed town so named you have the choice of a cross-road to Messina (twenty-four miles;) but who would abridge distance and miss the celebrated straits towards which we are rapidly approaching or lose one hour on land and miss the novelties of volcanic islands and the first view of Scylla and Charybdis? It is but eight o'clock but the awning has been stretched over our heads an hour ago. As to breakfast--the meal which is associated with that particular hour of the four-and-twenty to all well regulated _minds_ and _stomachs_--it consists here of thin _veneers_ of old mahogany-coloured thunny varnished with oil and relieved by an incongruous abomination of capers and olives. The cold fowls are infamous. The wine were a disgrace to the sorriest tapster between this and the Alps and also fiery like every thing else in this district. Drink it and doubt not the old result--_de conviva Corybanta videbis_. (Oh for muffins and dry toast!) Never mind we shall soon be at Messina. And now we approach a point from which the lofty Calabrian coast opposite and the flinty wall of the formidable Scylla first present themselves but still as distant objects. In another half hour we are just opposite the redoubtable rock; and here we turn abruptly at right angles to our hitherto course and find ourselves _within_ the straits from either side of which the English and the French so often tried the effect of cannon upon each other. It is now what it used to be--fishing ground. The Romans got their finest muræna from the whirlpools of _Charybdis_.[17] The shark (_cane di mare_) abounding here would make bathing dangerous were the water smooth; but the rapid whirlpools through which our steam-boat dashes on disdainfully would at the same time make it impossible to any thing but a fish. A passenger assured us he had once seen a man lost in the Vistula who from being a great swimmer trusted imprudently to his strength and was sucked down by a vortex of far less impetuosity he thought than this through which we were moving. From this point till we arrived at Messina as every body was ripe for bathing the whole conversation turned naturally on the Messina shark and his trick of snapping at people's legs carelessly left by the owners dangling over the boat's side. We steam up the straits to our anchorage in about three-fourths of an hour. The approach is fine very fine. A certain Greek (count he called himself ) a great traveller and we afterwards found not a small adventurer increases the interest of the approach by telling us that the hills before us bubbling up like blisters on chalcedony have a considerable resemblance though inferior in character to those which embellish the Bosphorus and the first view of Constantinople. Inferior no doubt in the imposing accessories of mosque and minaret and of cypresses as big as obelisks which rising thickly on the heights give to the city of Constantinople an altogether peculiar and inimitable charm. Messina is beautifully land-locked. The only possible winds that can affect its port are the north-west and south-east. In summer it is said to enjoy more sea breeze than any other place on the Mediterranean. Our Greek friend however says that Constantinople is in this respect not only superior to Messina but to any other place in the seas of Europe. Pity that the fellows are Turks! We did not find much to interest us within the walls of Messina. There was to be sure a fine collection of Sicilian birds amongst which we were surprised to see several of very exotic shape and plumage. One long-legged fellow dressed in a dirty white Austrian uniform with large web-feet on which he seemed to rest with great complacency particularly arrested our attention. He stood as high as the _Venus di Medici_ but by no means so gracefully and thrust his thick carved beak unceremoniously in your face. His card of address was _Phoenicopterus antiquorum_. The ancients ate him and he looked as if he would break your nose if you disputed with him. A very large finch which we have seen for sale about the streets here and elsewhere in Sicily rejoices in the imposing name of _Fringilla cocco thraustis_. He wears his black cravat like a bird of pretension as he evidently is. The puffin (_Puffinus Anglorum_) also frequents these rocks though a very long way from the Isle of Wight. No! Messina though very fine is not equal to _Palermo_ with its unr

valed _Marina_ compared to which Messina is poorly off indeed in her straggling dirty commerce-doing quay. We went out to see a little garden which contains half a dozen zare-trees and as many beautiful birds in cages. We are disappointed at the poverty of our dessert in this region of fruitfulness--a few bad oranges some miserable cherries and that abomination the green almond. We observe for the first time to-day folks eating in the streets the crude contents of a little oval pod which contains one or two very large peas twice the size of any others. These are the true _cicer_ the proper Italian pea. Little bundles of them are tied up for sale at all the fruit stalls and men are seen all the day long eating these raw peas and offering them to each other as sugar-plums. [Footnote 17: ""Virroni muræna datur quo maxima venit Gurgite de Siculo: nam dum se continet Auster Contemnunt mediam tem eraria lina Charybdim."" JUVENAL _Sat._ v. 99.] In the Corso we see a kind of temporary theatre the deal sides of which are gaudily lined with Catania silk and on its stage a whole _dramatis personæ_ of sacred puppets. It is lighted by tapers of very taper dimensions and its _stalle_ are to be let for a humble consideration to the faithful or the curious. It turns out to be a religious spectacle supported on the voluntary system--but there is something for your money. A vast quantity of light framework to which fireworks chiefly of the detonating kind are attached are already going off and folk are watching till it be completed. Then the evening's entertainment will begin and a miser indeed must he be or beyond measure resourceless who refuses halfpence for such choice festivities. Desirous to make out the particular representation we get over the fence in order to examine the figures of the drama on a nearer view. A smartly dressed saint in a court suit but whom mitre and crosier determine to be a bishop kneels to a figure in spangles a virgin as fond of fine clothes as the Greek Panageia; while on the other side with one or two priests in his train is seen a crowd in civil costume. A paper cloud above surrounded by glories of glass and tinsel is supported by two solid cherubs equal to the occasion and presents to the intelligent a representation of--we know not what! Fire-works here divide the public with the drum--to one or other all advertisement in Sicily is committed. A sale of fish and flesh theatric entertainments processions and church invitations are all by tuck of drum or by squib and cracker. How did they get on before the invention of gunpowder? If a new coffeehouse is established a couple of drums start it advantageously and beat like a recruiting party up and down the street to the dismay of all _Forestieri_. The drum tells you when the thunny is at a discount and _fire-works_ are let off at _fish stalls_ when customers are slack. An old tower five miles off is called the telegraph. People go there for the panorama at the expense of three horses and two hours; but you are repaid by two sea views either of which had been sufficient. Messina its harbour the straits the opposite coast of Calabria Scylla and _Rhegium_ (famed for its bergamot ) are on the immediate shore and a most striking chain of hills for the background which at a greater distance have for their background the imposing range of the _Abruzzi_. The Æolian islands rise out of the sea in the happiest positions for effect. _Stromboli_ on the extreme right detaches his grey wreath of smoke which seems as if it proceeded out of the water (for Stromboli is very low ) staining for a moment the clear firmament which rivals it in depth of colour. Some of the volcanic group are so nearly on a level with the water that they look like the backs of so many leviathans at a halt. The sea itself lies a waveless mirror smooth shining slippery and treacherous as a serpent's back--""miseri quibus intentata _nites_ "" say we. JOURNEY TO TAORMINA. We left Messina under a sky which no painter would or could attempt; indeed it would not have looked well on paper or out of reality. There are certain unusual yet magnificent appearances in nature from which the artist conventionally abstains not so much from the impotence of art as that the nearer his approach to success the worse the picture. At one time the colours were like shot or clouded silk or the beautiful uncertainty of the Palamida of these shores or the matrix of opal; at another the Pacific Ocean above of which the continuity is often for whole months _entire_ was broken into gigantic continents and a Polynesia of rose-coloured islands that no ships might approach; while in this nether world the middle of the Calabro-Sicilian strait was occupied by a condensation of vapour (one could never profane them by the term of _sea-mist_ or _fog_ ) the most subtile and attenuated which ever came from the realms of cloud-compelling Jove. This fleecy tissue pursued its deliberate progress from coast to coast like a cortege of cobwebs carrying a deputation from the power-looms of _Arachne_ in _Italy_ to the rival silk-looms at Catania. We pass the dry beds of mountain torrents at every half mile ugly gashes on a smooth road; and requiring too much caution to leave one's attention to be engaged by many objects altogether new and beautiful. The rich yellow of the _Cactus_ and the red of the _Pomegranate_ and the most tender of all vegetable greens that of the young _mulberry_ together with a sweet wilderness of unfamiliar plants are not to be perfectly enjoyed on a fourfooted animal that stumbles or on a road full of pitfalls. We shall only say that the _Cynara cardunculus_ (a singularly fine thistle or _wild artichoke_;) the prickly uncultivated _love-apple_ (a beautiful variety of the _Solanum_ ) of which the decoction is not infrequently employed in nephritic complaints; the _Ferula_ sighing for occupation all along the sea-shore and shaking its scourge as the wind blows; the _Rhododendron_ in full blossom planted amongst the shingles; the _Thapsia gargarica_ with its silver umbel looking at a short distance like mica (an appearance caused by the shining white fringe of the capsule encasing its seed ) and many other strange and beautiful things were the constant attendants of our march. We counted six or seven varieties of the spurge (_Euphorbium_ ) each on its milky stem and in passing through the villages had _Carnations_ as large as _Dahlias_ flung at us by sunburnt urchins posted at their several doors. The sandy shore for many miles is beautifully notched in upon by tiny bays like basins on which boats lie motionless and baking in the sun or oscillate under a picturesque rock immersed up to its shoulders in a green _hyaloid_ which reflects their forms from a depth of many fathoms. On more open stretches of the shore long-drawn ripples of waves of tiny dimension are overrunning and treading on one another's heels for miles a-head and tapping the anchored boat ""with gentle blow."" The long-horned oxen already spoken of toil along the seaside road like the horses on our canal banks and tug the heavy felucca towards Messina--a service however sometimes executed by men harnessed to the towing-cord who as they go offend the Sicilian muses by sounds and by words that have little indeed of the [Greek: Dôriz aoida]. The gable ends of cottages often exhibit a very primitive windmill for sawing wood within doors. It is a large wheel to the spokes of which flappers are adjusted made of coarse matting and so placed as to profit by the ordinary sea breeze; and while the _wind_ is thus _sawing_ his planks for him the carpenter at his door carries on his craft. We pass below not a few fortresses abutting over the sea or perched on the mountain tops. Many of these are of English construction and date from the occupation of the island during the French war: in a word the whole of this Sicilian road is so variously lovely that if we did not know the _cornice_ between _Nice_ and _Genoa_ we should say it was quite unrivaled being at once in lavish possession of all the grand and most of the milder elements of landscape composition. It is long since it became no wonder to us that the greatest and in fact the only real pastoral poet should have been a Sicilian; but it is a marvel indeed that having forgotten to bring his _Eclogues_ with us we cannot through the whole of Sicily find a copy of Theocitus for sale though there is a _Sicilian_ translation of him to be had at Palermo. As he progresses thus delightfully a long-wished for moment awaits the traveller approaching towards _Giardini_--turning round a far projecting neck of land _Etna_ is at last before him! A disappointment however on the whole is Etna himself thus introduced. He looks far below his stature and seems so _near_ that we would have wagered to get upon his shoulders and pull his ears and return to the little town to dine; the ascent also to the eye seems any thing but steep; nor can you easily be brought to believe that such an expedition is from Giardini a three days' affair except indeed that yonder belt of snow in the midst of this roasting sunshine has its own interpretation and cannot be mistaken. Alas! In the midst of all our flowers there was as there always is the _amari aliquid_--it was occasioned here by the _flies_. They had tasked our _improved_ capacity for bearing annoyances ever since we first set foot in Sicily; but _here_ they are perfectly incontrollable stinging and buzzing at us without mercy or truce not to be driven off for a second nor persuaded to drown themselves on any consideration. Verily the honey-pots of Hybla itself seem to please these troublesome insects less than the _flesh_-pots of Egypt. The next day begins inauspiciously for our ascent to Taormina; but the attendants of the excursion are already making a great noise without which nothing can be done in either of the two Sicilies. A supply of shabby donkeys are brought and mounted and once astride we begin to ascend the poor beasts tottering under our weight and by their constant stumbling affording us little inclination to look about. It takes about three-fourths of an hour of this donkey-riding to reach the old notched wall of the town. Two Taorminian citizens at this moment issue from under its arch in their way down and guessing what we are offer some indifferent coins which do not suit us but enable us to enter into conversation. We demand and obtain a _cicerone_ of whom we are glad to get rid after three hours' infliction of his stupidity and endurance of his ignorance without acquiring one idea Greek Roman Norman or Saracen out of all his erudition. After going through the whole tour with such a fellow for a Hermes we come at last upon the far-famed theatre where we did not want him. Here however a very intelligent attendant supported by the king of Naples on a suitable pension of five baiocchi a-day takes us out of the hands of the Philistine and with a plan of the ground to aid us proceeds to give an intelligible and as appears to us a true explanation of the different parts of the huge construction in the area of which we stand delighted. He directed our attention to a large arched tunnel under and at right angles to the pulpita and we did not want direction to the thirty-six niches placed at equal distances all round the ellipse and just over the lowest range of the CUNEI. All niches were no doubt for statues; but these might also have been it pleases some to suppose for the reverberation of applause; and they quote something about _""Resonantia Vasa""_ from Macrobius adding that such niches were once probably lined with brass. Of bolder speculatists some believe the _kennel_ to have been made with a similar intention. Others hold that it may have been a concealed way for introducing lions and tigers to the arena! Now what if it were a _drain_ for the waters which in bad weather soon collect to a formidable height in such a situation? Whether for voice or wild beasts or drainage or none of these objects there it is. As to the first we cannot help being sceptical. Did it ever occur to an audience to wish the noise they make _greater_ and contrive expedients for _making it so?_ We are here high up amidst the mountains where we are to remember as the ancients came not to spend like ourselves an idle hour but to consume most of the day _shelter_ would be wanted. Two large lateral spaces or as it were side chambers have received this destination at the hands of the antiquary and have been supposed lobbies for foul weather or for shade at noon. We were made to notice by our guide what we should else have overlooked how the main passage described above communicates with several smaller ones in its progress and that a small stair was a subsequent contrivance or afterthought meant to relieve on emergency the overcharged large one; its workmanship and style showed it plainly to have been added when the edifice had already become _an antiquity_. This altogether peculiar and most interesting building has also suffered still later interpolations: a Saracenic frieze runs round the wall; so that the hands of three widely different nations have been busy on the mountain theatre which received its _first audience_ twenty-five centuries ago! The view obtained from this spot has often been celebrated and deserves to be. Such mountains we had often seen before; such a sky is the usual privilege of Sicily; these indented _bays_ which break so beautifully the line of the coast had been an object of our daily admiration; the hoary side of the majestic Etna and Naxos with its castellated isthmus might be seen from _other_ elevated situations; and the acuminated tops of Mola with its Saracenic tower were commanded by neighbouring sites--Taormina _alone_ and for its _own_ sake was the great and paramount object in our eyes and possessed us wholly! We had been following _Lyell_ half the day in antediluvian remains; but what are the bones of _Ichthyosauri_ or _Megalotheria_ to this gigantic skeleton of Doric antiquity round which lie scattered the sepulchres of its ancient audiences Greek Roman and Oriental--tombs which had become already an object of speculation and been rifled for arms vases or gold rings before Great Britain had made the first steps beyond painted barbarism! The eruptions of Etna have all been recorded. Thucydides mentions one of them episodically in the Peloponesian war. From the cooled caldron that simmers under all that snow has proceeded all the lava that the ancients worked into these their city walls. The houses of Taurominium were built of and upon _lava_ which it requires a thousand years to disintegrate. After dinner we walk to Naxos saluting the statue of the patron of a London parish _St Pancras_ on our way. He stands on the beach here and claims by inscription on his pedestal to have belonged to the apostolic times St Peter himself having he says appointed him to his bishopric. He is patron of Taormina where he has possessed himself of a Greek temple; and he also protects the faithful of Giardini. Lucky in his _architects_ has been St Pancras; for many of our readers are familiar with his very elegant modern church in the New Road modelled if we have not forgotten on the Erechtheum with its _Pandrosean Vestries_ its upright tiles and all the subordinate details of Athenian architecture. We _met_ here the subject of many an ancient _bas relief_ done into flesh and blood--a dozen men and boys tripping along the road to the music of a bagpipe one old _Silenus_ leading the jocund throng and the whole of them as the music such as it was inspired leaping about and gesticulating with incredible activity. It was a bacchanalian subject which we had seen on many a sarcophagus only that the fellows here were not _quite_ naked and that we looked in vain for those nascent horns and tails by which the children of Pan and Faunus ought to be identified. We always look out for _natural history_. Walking in a narrow street we saw a tortoise awake for the season come crawling out to peep at the poultry; his hybernation being over he wants to be social and the hens in astonishment chuckle round him and his tortoiseshell highness seems pleased at their kind enquiries and keeps bobbing his head in and out of his _testudo_ in a very sentimental manner. Women who want his shell for _combs_ do not frequent these parts and so unless a cart pass over him as he returns home he is in clover. A bird frequents these parts with a blue chest called _Passer solitarius;_ he abounds in the rocky crevices. The notes of one which was shown to us in a cage sounded sweetly; but as he was carnivorous the weather was too hot for us to think of taking him away. We saw two snakes put into the same box: the one a viper presently killed the other and much the larger of the two. Serpents then like men do _not_ as the _Satirist_ asserts spare their kind. We are disappointed at not finding any coins nor any other good _souvenirs_ to bring away with us. The height of Taormina is sufficient to keep it from fever which is very prevalent at Giardini below. Its bay was once a great place for catching _mullet_ for the Roman market. It seems to have been the _Torbay_ of Sicily. Some fish love their ease and rejoice not in turbulent waters. The _muræna_ or lamprey on the contrary was sought in the very whirlpools of _Charybdis_. The modern Roman on his own side of Italy has few turbot but very good ones are still taken off Ancona in the Adriatic where the _spatium admirabile Rhombi_ as the reader will or ought to recollect was taken and sent to Domitian at Albano by _Procaccio_ or _Estafetta_. Juvenal complains that the Tyrrhene sea was exhausted by the demand for fish though there was no _Lent_ in those times. If the Catholic clergy insist that there _was_ we beg to object that the keepers thereof were probably not in a condition to compete with the _Apiciuses_ of the day who bought fish for their _bodies'_ and not for their SOULS' SAKE. CATANIA. Tum Catane nimium ardenti vicina Typhæo. After a pleasant drive of twenty miles we find ourselves at _Aci-Reale_ where a street called ""Galatea "" reminds us unexpectedly of a very classical place called Dean's Yard where we once had doings with _Acis_ as he figures in Ovid's _Metamorphoses_. We were here in luck and having purchased some fine coins of several of the tyrants of Sicily from the apothecary proceeded on our way to Catania. In half an hour we reach the basaltic Isles of the Cyclops and the Castle of Acis whom the peasants hereabouts tell you was their king when Sicily was under the Saracenic yoke. The river _Lecatia_ now lost is supposed formerly to have issued hereabouts in the port of Ulysses. Our next move placed us amidst the silk-slops of Catania. We have hardly been five minutes in the town when offers abound to conduct us up Ætna in whom as so much national wealth the inhabitants seem to take as much interest as in her useful and productive silk-looms. Standing fearless on the pavement of lava that buried their ancient city they point up with complacency to its fountains above. The mischievous exploits of Ætna in past times are in every mouth and children learn their Ætnean catechism as soon as they are breeched. Ætna here is all in all. Churches are constructed out of his quarried _viscera_--great men lie in tombs of which the stones once ran liquid down his flames--snuff is taken out of lava boxes--and devotion carves the crucifix on lava and numbers its beads on a lava rosary--nay the apothecary's mortar was sent him down from the great mortar-battery above and the village _belle_ wears fire-proof bracelets that were once too hot to be meddled with. Go to the museum and you will call it a museum of Ætnean products. Nodulated porous condensed streaked spotted clouded granulated lava here assumes the colour rivals the compactness sustains the polish of jasper of agate and of marble; indeed it sometimes surpasses in beautiful veinage the finest and rarest Marmorean specimens. You would hardly distinguish some of it worked into jazza or vase from _rosso antico_ itself. A very old and rusty armoury may as here be seen any where; but a row of formidable shark skulls taken along the coast and some in the very port of Catania are rarities on which the _ciceroni_ like to prelect being furnished with many a story of bathers curtailed by them and secure a large portion of attention especially if you were just thinking of a dip. A rather fine collection of bronzes has been made from excavations in the neighbourhood which indeed must always promise to reward research. A figure of Mercury two and a half feet high and so exactly similar to that of John of Bologna that his one seemed an absolute plagiarism particularly attracted our attention on that account. The great Italian artist however had been dead one hundred and fifty years before this bronze was dug up. Next in importance to the bronzes we esteem the collection of Sicilian or Græco-Sicilian vases though inferior in number and selectness to those of the Vatican or Museo-Borbonico. There is also some ancient sculpture and some pretty mosaic. Of this composition is a bathfloor where a family of Cupids in the centre of the pavement welcome you with a _utere feliciter_ (may it do you good.) Round the border a circle of the personified _""months""_ is artistically chained together each bearing his _Greek_ name for fear of a mistake--names not half so good as Sheridan's translation of the Revolutionary calendar--snowy flowy blowy--showery flowery bowery--moppy croppy poppy--breezy sneezy freezy. In Catania we find no lack of coins nor of sharp-eyed dealers who know pretty generally their value throughout Europe; but in order to be quite sure of the price _current _ ask double what they take from one another and judge by your abatement of it of the state of the market elsewhere. Now mind sir when they present you the most impudent forgeries you are not to get into a passion; but glancing from the object to the vender quietly insinuate your want of _absolute_ conviction in a _""che vi pare di questa moneta.""_ He now looks at it again and takes a squint at _you;_ and supposing you smell a rat probably replies that certainly he _bought_ it for _genuine;_ but you _have suggested a doubt _ and the piece really begins even to _him_ to look suspicious _""anzi à me.""_ You reply coolly and put it down--""That was just what I was thinking;"" and so the affair passes quietly off. And now you _may_ if you happen to be tender-hearted say something compassionate to the poor innocent who has been _taken in_ and proceed to ask him about another; and when you see any thing you long to pocket enquire what can he afford to let a _brother collector_ (give him a step in rank) have _it_ for; and so go on feeling your way and never ""putting your arm so far out that you cannot comfortably draw it back again."" He will probably ask you if you know Mr B---- or C---- (English collectors ) with whom he has had dealings calling them ""_stimabili signori;_"" and of course you have no doubt of it though you never heard of them before. It is also always conciliative to congratulate him on the possession of such and such rare and ""_belle cose;_"" and if you thus contrive to get into his good graces he will deal with you at _fair prices_ and perhaps amuse you with an account of such tricks as he is not ashamed to have practised on _blockheads_ who will buy at any cost if the die is fine. Indeed it has passed into an aphorism among these _mezzo-galantuomini_ as their countrymen call them that a fine coin is always worth _what you can get for it._ We heard the celebrated organ of St Benedict which has been praising God in tremendous hallelujahs ever since it was put up and a hundred years have only matured the richness of its tones. Its voice was gushing out as we entered the church and filling nave and aisle with a diapason of all that was soft and soothing as if a choir of Guido's angels had broke out in harmony. A stream of fresh water issues under the old town-wall and an immense mass of incumbent lava of at least ninety feet high impends just above its source the water struggling through a mass of rock once liquefied by fire in as limpid a rill as if it came from limestone and so excellent in quality that no other is used in Catania. Women with buckets were ascending and descending to fetch supplies out of the lava of the dead city below for the use of the living town above. Moreover this is the only point in Catania where the accident of a bit of wall arresting for some time the progress of the lava current has left the level of the old town to be rigidly ascertained. Here as at _Aci-Reale_ balconies at windows for the most part supported by brackets terminating in human heads give a rich though rather a heavy appearance to the street. Much amber is found and worked at Catania. It has been lately discovered in a fossil state and in contiguity with fossil wood; but we were quite _electrified_ at the price of certain little scent-bottles and other articles made of this production. You see it in all its possible varieties of colour opacity or transparency. The green opalized kind is the most prized and four pounds was demanded for a pair of pendants of this colour for earrings. Besides the yellow sort which is common every where we see the ruby red which is very rare: some varieties are freckled and some of the sort which afforded subjects for Martial and for more than one of the Greek anthologists with insects in its matrix. _This_ kind they say is found exclusively on the coast of Catania. There are such pieces the size of a hand but it is generally in much smaller bits. Amber lies under or is formed _upon_ the sand and abounds most near the _embouchure_ of a small river in this neighbourhood. Many beautiful shells fossils and other objects of natural history appear in the dealers' trays; and polished knife-handles of Sicilian _agate_ may be had at five dollars a dozen. THE LAST OF THE KNIGHTS. DON JOHN AND THE HERETICS OF FLANDERS. It would almost seem as though chivalry were one of the errors of Popery; so completely did the spirit of the ancient orders of knighthood evaporate at the Reformation! The blind enthusiasm of ignorance having engendered superstitions of every kind and colour the blow struck at the altar of the master idol proved fatal to all. In Elizabeth's time the forms and sentiment of chivalry were kept up by an effort. The parts enacted by Sidney and Raleigh appear studied rather than instinctive. At all events the gallant Sir Philip was the last of English knights as he was the first of his time. Thenceforward the valour of the country assumed a character more professional. But a fact thus familiar to us of England is more remarkable of the rest of Europe. The infallibility of Rome once assailed every faith was shaken. Loyalty was lessened chivalry became extinct; expiring in France with Henri IV. and the League--in Portugal with Don Sebastian of Braganza--and in Spain with Charles V. exterminated root and branch by the pen of Cervantes. One of the most brilliant effervescences however of those crumbling institutions is connected with Spanish history in the person of Don John of Austria;--a prince who if consecrated by legitimacy to the annals of the throne would have glorified the historical page by a thousand heroic incidents. But the sacrament of his baptism being unhappily unpreceded by that of a marriage he has bequeathed us one of those anomalous existences--one of those incomplete destinies which embitter our admiration with disappointment and regret. On both sides of royal blood Don John was born with qualifications to adorn a throne. It is true that when his infant son was entrusted by Charles V. to the charge of the master of his household Don Quexada the emperor simply described him as the offspring of a lady of Ratisbon named Barbara Blomberg. But the Infanta Clara Eugenia was confidentially informed by her father Philip II. and confidentially informed her satellite La Cuea that her uncle was ""every way of imperial lineage;"" and but that he was the offspring of a crime Don John had doubtless been seated on one of those thrones to which his legitimate brother Philip imparted so little distinction. Forced by the will of Charles V. to recognize the consanguinity of Don John and treat him with brotherly regard one of the objects of the hateful life of the father of Don Carlos seems to have been to thwart the ambitious instincts of his brilliant Faulconbridge. For in the boiling veins of the young prince abided the whole soul of Charles V. --valour restlessness ambition; and his romantic life and mysterious death bear alike the tincture of his parentage. That was indeed the age of the romance of royalty! Mary at Holyrood --Elizabeth at Kenilworth--Carlos at the feet of his mother-in-law --the Béarnais at the gates of Paris --have engraved their type in the book of universal memory. But Don John escapes notice--a solitary star outshone by dazzling constellations. Commemorated by no medals flattered by no historiographer sung by no inspired ""godson "" anointed by neither pope nor primate his nook in the temple of fame is out of sight and forgotten. Even his master feat the gaining of the battle of Lepanto brings chiefly to our recollection that the author of Don Quixote lost his hand in the action; and in the trivial page before us we dare not call our hero by the name of ""Don Juan "" (by which he is known in Spanish history ) lest he be mistaken for the popular libertine! And thus the last of the knights has been stripped of his name by the hero of the ""Festin de Pierre "" and of his honours by Cervantes as by Philip II. of a throne.-- Hard fate for one described by all the writers of his time as a model of manly grace and Christian virtue! How charming is the account given by the old Spanish writers of the noble youth extricated from his convent to be introduced on the high-road to a princely cavalier surrounded by his retinue whom he is first desired to salute as a brother and then required to worship as the king of Spain! We are told of his joy on discovering his filial relationship to the great emperor so long the object of his admiration. We are told of his deeds of prowess against the Turks at Lepanto at Tunis against the Moor. We are told of the proposition of Gregory XIII. that he should be rewarded with the crown of Barbary and of the desire of the revolted nobility of Belgium to raise him to their tottering throne; nay we are even assured that ""la couronne d'Hibernie"" was offered to his acceptance. And finally we are told of his untimely death and glorious funeral--mourned by all the knighthood of the land! But we hear and forget. Some mysterious counter-charm has stripped his laurels of their verdure. Even the lesser incidents of the life of Don John are replete with the interest of romance. When appointed by Philip II. governor of the Netherlands in order that he might deal with the heretics of the Christian faith as with the faithful of Mahomet such deadly vengeance was vowed against his person by the Protestant party headed by Horn and the Prince of Orange that it was judged necessary for his highness to perform his journey in disguise. Attired as a Moorish slave he reached Luxembourg as the attendant of Ottavio Gonzaga brother of Prince Amalfi at the very moment the troops of the king of Spain were butchering eight thousand citizens in his revolted city of Antwerp!-- The arrival of the new governor afforded the signal for more pacific measures. The dispositions of Don John were humane--his manners frank. Aware that the Belgian provinces were exhausted by ten years of civil war and that the pay of the Spanish troops he had to lead against them was so miserably in arrear as to compel them to acts of atrocious spoliation the hero of Lepanto appears to have done his best to stop the effusion of blood; and notwithstanding the counteraction of the Prince of Orange the following spring peace and an amnesty were proclaimed. The treaty signed at Marche (known by the name of the Perpetual Edict ) promised as much tranquillity as was compatible with the indignation of a country which had seen the blood of its best and noblest poured forth and the lives and property of its citizens sacrificed without mercy or calculation. But though welcomed to Brussels by the acclamations of the people and the submission of the States Don John appears to have been fully sensible that his head was within the jaws of the lion. The

blood of Egmont had not yet sunk into the earth; the echoes of the edicts of Alva yet lingered in the air; and the very stones of Brussels appeared to rise up and testify against a brother of Philip II.! Right thankful therefore was the young prince when an excuse was afforded for establishing himself in a more tenable position by an incident which must again be accounted among the romantic adventures of his life. For the sudden journey of the fascinating Margaret of Valois to the springs of Spa on pretence of indisposition was generally attributed to a design against the heart of the hero of Lepanto. A prince so remarkable for his gallantry of knighthood could do no less than wait upon the sister of the French king on her passage through Namur; and once established in the citadel of that stronghold of the royalists he quitted it no more. In process of time a camp was formed in the environs and fortresses erected on the banks of the Meuse under the inspection of Don John; nor was it at first easy to determine whether his measures were actuated by mistrust of the Protestants or devotion to the worst and most Catholic of wives of the best and most Huguenot of kings. The blame of posterity enlightened by the journal of Queen Margaret's proceedings in Belgium (bequeathed for our edification by the alienated queen of Henri IV. ) has accused Don John of blindness in the right-loyal reception bestowed on her and the absolute liberty accorded her during her residence at Spa where she was opening a road for the arrival of her brother the Duke of Alençon. It is admitted indeed that her attack upon his heart met with defeat. But the young governor is said to have made up in chivalrous courtesies for the disappointment of her tender projects; and Margaret if she did not find a lover at Namur found the most assiduous of knights. Many indeed believe that his attentions to the French princess were as much a feint as her own illness; and that he was as completely absorbed in keeping at bay his heretic subjects as her highness by the desire of converting them into the subjects of France. It was only those admitted into the confidence of Don John who possessed the clue to the mystery. Ottavio Gonzaga on his return from a mission to Madrid with which he had been charged by Don John was the first to acquaint him with the suspicions to which the sojourn of Margaret had given rise. ""I own I expected to find your highness in better cheer "" said he when the first compliments had been exchanged. ""Such marvels have been recounted in Spain of your fêtes and jousts of honour that I had prepared myself to hear of nothing at headquarters but the silken pastimes of a court."" ""Instead of which "" cried Don John ""you find me as usual in my steel jerkin with no milder music at command than the trumpets of my camp; my sole duty the strengthening of yonder lines "" continued he (pointing from a window of the citadel near which they were standing commanding the confluence of the Sambre and Meuse ) ""and my utmost diversion an occasional charge against the boars in yonder forest of Marlagne!"" ""I cannot but suppose it more than _occasional_ "" rejoined Gonzaga; ""for I must pay your highness the ill compliment of avowing that you appear more worn by fatigue and weather at this moment and in this sunless clime than at the height of your glorious labours in the Mediterranean! Namur has already ploughed more wrinkles on your brow than Barbary or Lepanto."" ""Say rather in my _heart_!"" cried the impetuous prince. ""Since you quitted me six months ago my dear Gonzaga I have known nothing but cares! To you I have no scruple in avowing that my position in this country is hateful. So long accustomed to war against a barbarous enemy I could almost fancy myself as much a Moor at heart as I appeared in visage when in your service on my way to Luxembourg whenever I find my sword uplifted against a Christian breast!--Civil war Ottavio is a hideous and repugnant thing!""-- ""The report is true then that your highness has become warmly attached to the people of these rebel provinces?"" demanded Gonzaga not choosing to declare the rumour prevalent in Spain that an opportunity had been afforded to the prince by the Barlaimont faction of converting his viceroyalty into the sway of absolute sovereignty. ""So much the reverse that the evil impression they made on me at my arrival has increased a hundred-fold! I abhor them yet more and more. Flemings or Brabançons Hainaulters or Walloons Catholic or Calvinist the whole tribe is my aversion; and despite our best endeavours to conceal it I am convinced the feeling is reciprocal!"" ""If your highness was equally candid in your avowals to the Queen of Navarre "" observed Gonzaga gravely --""I can scarcely wonder at the hopes she is said to entertain of having won over the governor of Mons to the French interest during her transit through Flanders."" ""Ay indeed? Is such her boast?"" cried the prince laughing. ""It may indeed be so!--for never saw I a woman less scrupulous in the choice or use of arms to fight her battles. But trust me whatever her majesty may have accomplished is through no aiding or abetting of mine."" ""Yet surely the devoted attentions paid her by your highness""-- ""My highness made them _appear_ devoted in proportion to his consciousness of their hollowness! But I promise you my dear Ottavio there is no tenderer leaning in my heart towards Margaret de Valois than towards the most thicklipped of the divinities who competed for our smiles at Tunis."" Gonzaga shrugged his shoulders. He was convinced that for once Don John was sinking the friend in the prince. His prolonged absence had perhaps discharged him from his post as confidant. ""Trust me "" cried the young soldier discerning his misgivings--""I am as sincere in all this as becomes our friendship. But that God has gifted me with a happy temperament I should scarcely support the disgusts of my present calling. It is much my dear Gonzaga to inherit as a birthright the brand of such an ignominy as mine. But as long as I trusted to conquer a happier destiny--to carve out for myself fortunes as glorious as those to which my blood all but entitles me--I bore my cross without repining. It was this ardent hope of distinction that lent vigour to my arm in battle--that taught prudence to my mind in council. I was resolved that even the base-born of Charles V. should die a king!""-- Gonzaga listened in startled silence. To hear the young viceroy thus bold in the avowal of sentiments which of late he had been hearing imputed to him at the Escurial as the direst of crimes filled him with amazement. ""But these hopes have expired!"" resumed Don John. ""The harshness with which on my return triumphant from Barbary my brother refused to ratify the propositions of the Vatican in my favour convinced me that I have nothing to expect from Philip beyond the perpetual servitude of a satellite of the King of Spain."" Gonzaga glanced mechanically round the chamber at the emission of these treasonable words. But there was nothing in its rude stone walls to harbour an eavesdropper. ""Nor is this all!"" cried his noble friend. ""My discovery of the unbrotherly sentiments of Philip has tended to enlighten me towards the hatefulness of his policy. The reserve of his nature--the harshness of his soul--the austerity of his bigotry--chill me to the marrow!--The Holy Inquisition deserves in my estimation a name the very antithesis of holy."" ""I _beseech_ your highness!"" cried Ottavio Gonzaga--clasping his hands together in an irrepressible panic. ""Never fear man! There be neither spies nor inquisitors in our camp; and if there _were_ both they and you must even hear me out!"" cried Don John. ""There is some comfort in discharging one's heart of matters that have long lain so heavy on it; and I swear to you Gonzaga that instead of feeling surprised to find my cheeks so lank and my eyes so hollow you would rather be amazed to find an ounce of flesh upon my bones did you know how careful are my days and how sleepless my nights under the perpetual harassments of civil war!--The haughty burgesses of Ghent whom I could hate from my soul but that they are townsmen of my illustrious father the low-minded Walloons the morose Brugeois the artful Brabançons--all the varied tribes in short of the old Burgundian duchy seem to vie with each other which shall succeed best in thwarting and humiliating me. And for what do I bear it? What honour or profit shall I reap on my patience? What thanks derive for having wasted my best days and best energies in bruising with my iron heel the head of the serpent of heresy? Why even that Philip for some toy of a mass neglected or an ave forgotten will perchance give me over to the tender questioning of his grand inquisitor as the shortest possible answer to my pretensions to a crown --while the arrogant nobility of Spain when roused from their apathy towards me by tidings of another Lepanto a fresh Tunis will exclaim with modified gratification--'_There_ spoke the blood of Charles the Fifth! Not so ill fought for a bastard!'"" Perceiving that the feelings of his highness were chafed the courtier as in vocation bound assured him he underrated the loyalty towards him of his fellow countrymen of the Peninsula; and that his services as governor of the Low Countries were fully appreciated. ""So fully that I should be little surprised to learn the axe was already sharpened that is to take off my head!"" cried Don John with a scornful laugh. ""And such being the exact state of my feelings and opinions my trusty Gonzaga I ask you whether I am likely to have proved a suitable Petrarch for so accomplished a Laura as the sister of Henry III?""-- ""I confess myself disappointed "" replied the crafty Italian.--""I was in hopes that your highness had found recreation as well as glory in Belgium. During my sojourn at the court of Philip I supported with patience the somewhat ceremonious gravity of the Escurial in the belief that your highness was enjoying meanwhile those festal enlivenments which none more fully understand how to organize and adorn."" ""If such an expectation really availed to _enliven_ the Escurial "" cried Don John recklessly ""your friendship must indeed possess miraculous properties! However you may judge with your own eyes the pleasantness of my position; and every day that improves your acquaintance with the ill blood and ill condition of this accursed army of the royalists ill-paid ill-disciplined and ill-intentioned will inspire you with stronger yearnings after our days of the Mediterranean where I was master of myself and of my men."" ""And all this was manifested to Margaret and all this will serve to comfort the venomous heart of the queen mother!""--ejaculated Gonzaga shrugging his shoulders. ""Not a syllable not a circumstance! The Queen of Navarre was far too much engrossed by the manoeuvres of her own bright eyes to take heed of those of my camp."" ""Your highness is perhaps less well aware than might be desirable of how many things a woman's eyes are capable of doing at one and the same time!""--retorted the Italian. ""I only wish "" cried Don John impatiently ""that instead of having occasion to read me those Jeremiads you had been here to witness the friendship you so strangely exaggerate! A ball an excursion on the Meuse a boar hunt in the forest of Marlagne constitute the pastimes you are pleased to magnify into an imperial ovation."" ""Much may be confided amid the splendour of a ball-room --much in one poor half hour of a greenwood rendezvous!""--persisted the provoking Ottavio. ""Ay--_much_ indeed!"" responded Don John with a sigh so deep that it startled by its significance the attention of his brother in arms. ""But not to such a woman as the Queen of Henri the Béarnais!"" returned the Prince. ""By our Lady of Liesse! I wish no worse to that heretic prince than to have placed his honour in the keeping of the _gente Margot_."" Fain would Gonzaga have pursued the conversation which had taken a turn that promised wonders for the interest of the despatches he had undertaken to forward to the Escurial in elucidation of the designs and sentiments of Don John --towards whom his allegiance was as the kisses of Judas! But the imperial scion (who when he pleased could assume the unapproachability of the blood royal ) made it apparent that he was no longer in a mood to be questioned. Having proposed to the new-comer (to whom as an experienced commander he destined the colonelship of his cavalry ) that they should proceed to a survey of the fortifications at Bouge they mounted their horses and escorted by Nignio di Zuniga the Spanish aide-de-camp of the prince proceeded to the camp. The affectionate deference testified towards the young governor by all classes the moment he made his appearance in public appeared to Gonzaga strangely in contradiction with the declarations of Don John that he was no favourite in Belgium. The Italian forgot that the Duke of Arschot the Counts of Mansfeld and Barlaimont while doffing their caps to the representative of the King of Spain had as much right to behold in him the devoted friend of Don John of Austria as _he_ to regard _them_ as the faithful vassals of his government. A fair country is the country of Namur!--The confluent streams--the impending rocks--the spreading forests of its environs comprehend the finest features of landscape; nor could Ottavio Gonzaga feel surprised that his prince should find as much more pleasure in those breesy plains than in the narrow streets of Brussels as he found security and strength. On the rocks overhanging the Meuse at some distance from the town stands the village of Bouge fortified by Don John; to attain which by land hamlets and thickets were to be traversed; and it was pleasant to see the Walloon peasant children run forth from the cottages to salute the royal train making their heavy Flemish chargers swerve aside and perform their lumbering cabrioles far more deftly than the cannonading of the rebels to which they were almost accustomed. As they cut across a meadow formed by the windings of the Meuse they saw at a distance a group formed like most groups congregated just then in the district of soldiers and peasants; to which the attention of the prince being directed Nignio di Zuniga his aide-de-camp was dispatched to ascertain the cause of the gathering. ""A nothing if it please your highness!"" was the reply of the Spaniard--galloping back hat in hand with its plumes streaming in the breeze;--that the Prince's train which had halted might resume its pace. ""But a nothing of what sort?"" persisted Don John who appreciated the trivialties of life very differently from those by whom he was surrounded. ""A village grievance!--An old woman roaring her lungs out for a cow which has been carried off by our troopers!""--grumbled the aide-de-camp with less respect than was usual to him. ""And call you that a _nothing_?""--exclaimed his master. ""By our lady of Liesse it is an act of cruelty and oppression--a thing calculated to make us hateful in the eyes of the village!--And many villages my good Nignio represent districts and many districts provinces and provinces a country; and by an accumulation of such resentments as the indignation of this old crone will the King of Spain and the Catholic faith be driven out of Flanders!--See to it! I want no further attendance of you this morning! Let the cow be restored before sunset and the marauders punished."" ""But if as will likely prove the case the beast is no longer in its skin?""--demanded the aide-de-camp. ""If the cow should have been already eaten in a score of messes of pottage?"" ""Let her have compensation."" ""The money chest at headquarters if it please your highness is all but empty "" replied Nignio glancing with a smile towards Gonzaga --as though they were accustomed to jest together over the reckless openness of heart and hand of their young chief. ""Then by the blessed shrine of St Jago give the fellows at least the strappado "" cried Don John out of all patience. ""Since restitution may not be be the retribution all the heavier."" ""It is ever thus "" cried he addressing himself to Gonzaga as the aide-de-camp resumed his plumed beaver and galloped off with an imprecation between his lips at having so rustic a duty on his hands instead of accompanying the parade of his royal master. ""It goes against my conscience to decree the chastisement of these fellows. For i' faith they that fight must feed; and hunger that eats through stone walls is apt to have a nibble at honesty. My royal brother or those who have the distribution of his graces is so much more liberal of edicts and anathemas than of orders on the treasury of Spain that money and rations are evermore wanting. If these Protestants persist in their stand against us I shall have to go forth to all the Catholic cities of the empire preaching like Peter the hermit to obtain contributions from the pious!"" ""His Majesty is perhaps of opinion "" observed Gonzaga ""that rebels and heretics ought to supply the maintenance of the troops sent to reduce them to submission."" ""A curious mode of engaging their affections towards either the creed or prince from which they have revolted!"" cried Don John. ""But you say true Ottavio. Such are precisely the instructions of my royal brother; whom the Almighty soften with a more Christian spirit in his upholding of the doctrines of Christianity!--I am bidden to regard myself as in a conquered country. I am bidden to feel myself as I may have felt at Modon or Lepanto. It may not be it may not be!--These people were the loyal subjects of my forefathers. These people are the faithful followers of Christ."" ""Let us trust that the old woman may get back her cow and your highness's tender conscience stand absolved ""--observed Gonzaga with a smile of ill-repressed derision. ""I fear indeed that the Court of the Escurial is unprepared with sympathy for such grievances."" ""Gonzaga!""--exclaimed Don John suddenly reining up his horse and looking his companion full in the face ""these are black and bitter times; and apt to make kings princes nobles ay and even prelates forget that they are men; or rather that there be men in the world beside themselves.""--Then allowing his charger to resume its caracolling to give time to his startled friend to recover from the glow of consciousness burning on his cheek --he resumed with a less stern inflexion. ""It is the vexation of this conviction that hath brought my face to the meagreness and sallow tint that accused the scorching sun of Barbary. I love the rush of battle. The clash of swords or roaring of artillery is music to me. There is joy in contending life for life with a traitor and marshaling the fierce battalions on the field. But the battle done let the sword be sheathed! The struggle over let the blood sink into the earth and the deadly smoke disperse and give to view once more the peace of heaven!--The petty aggravations of daily strife --the cold-blooded oppressions of conquest --the contest with the peasant for his morsel of bread or with his chaste wife for her fidelity --are so revolting to my conscience of good and evil that as the Lord liveth there are moments when I am tempted to resign for ever the music I love so well of drum and trumpet and betake myself like my royal father to some drowsy monastery to listen to the end of my days to the snuffling of Capuchins!"" Scarce could Ottavio Gonzaga so recently emancipated from the Escurial refrain from making the sign of the cross at this heinous declaration!--But he contained himself.--It was his object to work his way still further into the confidence of his royal companion. ""The chief pleasure I derived from the visit of the French princess to Namur "" resumed Don John ""was the respite it afforded from the contemplation of such miseries and such aggressions. I was sick at heart of groans and murmurs --weary of the adjustment of grievances. To behold a woman's face whereof the eyes were not red with weeping was _something_!""-- ""And the eyes of the fair Queen of Navarre are said to be of the brightest!"" observed Gonzaga with a sneer. ""As God judgeth my soul I noted not their hue or brightness!"" exclaimed Don John. ""Her voice was a woman's--her bearing a woman's--her tastes a woman's. And it brought back the memory of better days to hear the silken robes of her train rustling around me instead of the customary clang of mail; and merry laughs instead of perpetual moans or the rude oaths of my Walloons!"" An incredulous smile played on the handsome features of the Italian.-- ""Have out your laugh!"" cried Don John. ""You had not thought to see the lion of Lepanto converted into so mere a lap-dog!--Is it not so?"" ""As little so as I can admit without the disrespect of denial to your highness ""--replied Gonzaga with a low obeisance. ""My smile was occasioned by wonder that one so little skilled in feigning as the royal lion of Lepanto should even hazard the attempt. There at least--and there alone--is Don John of Austria certain of defeat!"" ""I might perhaps waste more time in persuading you that the air of Flanders hath not taught me lying as well as compassion "" replied the Infant; ""but that yonder green mound is our first redoubt. The lines of Bouge are before you."" Professional discussion now usurped the place of friendly intercourse. On the arrival of the prince the drums of headquarters beat to arms; and a moment afterwards Don John was surrounded by his officers; exhibiting in the issuing of his orders of the day the able promptitude of one of the first commanders of his time tempered by the dignified courtesy of a prince of the blood. Even Ottavio Gonzaga was too much engrossed by the tactical debates carrying on around him to have further thought of the mysteries into which he was resolved to penetrate. It was not till the decline of day that the prince and his _état major_ returned to Namur; invitations having been frankly given by Don John to a score of his officers to an entertainment in honour of the return of his friend. Amid the jovialty of such an entertainment Gonzaga entertained little doubt of learning the truth. The rough railleries of such men were not likely to respect so slight a circumvallation as the honour of female reputation; and the glowing vintage of the Moselle and Rhine would bring forth the secret among the bubbles of their flowing tides. And in truth scarcely were the salvers withdrawn when the potations of these mailed carousers produced deep oaths and uproarious laughter; amid which was toasted the name of Margaret with the enthusiasm due to one of the originators of the massacre of St Bartholomew from the most Catholic captains of the founder of the Inquisition of Spain. The admiration due to her beauty was however couched in terms scarcely warranted on the lips of men of honour even by such frailties as Margaret's; and to the surprise of Gonzaga no restraint was imposed by the presence of her imputed lover. It seemed an established thing that the name of Margaret was a matter of indifference in the ears of Don John! That very night therefore (the banquet being of short continuance as there was to be a field-day at daybreak under the reviewal of the prince ) Ottavio Gonzaga more than ever to seek in his conjectures resolved to address himself for further information to Nignio; to whom he had brought confidential letters from his family in Spain and who was an ancient brother in arms. Having made out without much difficulty the chamber occupied by the Spanish captain in a tower of the citadel overlooking the valley of the Sambre there was some excuse for preventing his early rest with a view to the morrow's exercises in the plea of news from Madrid. But as the Italian anticipated ere he had half disburdened his budget of Escurial gossip Nignio de Zuniga had his own grievances to confide. Uppermost in his mind was the irritation of having been employed that morning in a cow-hunt; and from execrations on the name of the old woman enriched with all the blasphemies of a trooper's vocabulary --it was no difficult matter to glide to the general misdemeanours and malefactions of the sex. For Gabriel Nignio was a man of iron --bred in camps with as little of the milk of human kindness in his nature as his royal master King Philip; and it was his devout conviction that no petticoat should be allowed within ten leagues of any Christian encampment --and that women were inflicted upon this nether earth solely for the abasement and contamination of the nobler sex. ""As if that accursed Frenchwoman and the nest of jays her maids of honour were not enough for the penance of an unhappy sinner for the space of a calendar year!""--cried he still harping upon the old woman. ""The visit of Queen Margaret must indeed have put you to some trouble and confusion "" observed Gonzaga carelessly. ""From as much as is _apparent_ of your householding I can scarce imagine how you managed to bestow so courtly a dame here in honour; or with what pastimes you managed to entertain her."" ""The sequins of Lepanto and piastres of his holiness were not yet quite exhausted "" replied Nignio. ""Even the Namurrois came down handsomely. The sister of two French kings and sister-in-law of the Duke of Lorraine was a person for even the thick-skulled Walloons to respect. It was not _money_ that was wanting--it was patience. O these Parisians! Make me monkey-keeper blessed Virgin to the beast garden of the Escurial; but spare me for the rest of my days the honour of being seneschal to the finikin household of a queen on her travels!"" Impossible to forbear a laugh at the fervent hatred depicted in the warworn features of the Castilian captain ""I' faith my clear Nignio "" said Gonzaga ""for the squire of so gallant a knight as Don John of Austria your notions are rather those of Mahound or Termagaunt! What would his highness say were he to hear you thus bitter against his Dulcinea?"" ""_His_ Dulcinea!""--ejaculated the aide-de-camp with a air of disgust. ""God grant it! For a princess of Valois blood reared under the teaching of a Medici had at least the recommendations of nobility and orthodoxy in her favour."" ""As was the case when Anna di Mendoça effected the conquest over his boyish affections so generously pardoned by his royal brother!--But after such proof of the hereditary aspirings of Don John it would be difficult to persuade me of his highness's derogation."" ""Would _I_ could say as much!""--exclaimed Nignio with a groan. ""But such a cow-hunt as mine of this morning might convince the scepticism of St Thomas!"" ""What in the name of the whole calendar have the affections of the prince in common with your exploit?"" said Gonzaga. ""Would you have me infer that the son of Charles V. is enamoured of a dairy wench?""-- ""Of _worse_! of a daughter of the Amalekites!""--cried Nignio--stretching out his widely booted legs as though it were a relief to him to have disburthened himself of his mystery. ""I have not the honour of understanding you "" replied the Italian --no further versed in Scripture history than was the pleasure of his almoner. ""You are his highness's _friend_ Gonzaga!"" resumed the Spanish captain. ""Even among his countrymen none so near his heart! I have therefore no scruple in acquainting you with a matter wherein from the first I determined to seek your counteraction. Though seemingly but a straw thrown up into the air I infer from it a most evil predilection on the part of Don John;--fatal to himself to us his friends and to the country he represents in Belgium."" ""Nay now you are serious indeed!"" cried his companion delighted to come to the point. ""I was in hopes it was some mere matter of a pair of rosy lips and a flaunting top-knot!"" ""At the time Queen Margaret visited Namur "" began the aide-de-camp-- ""I knew it!"" interrupted Gonzaga ""I was as prepared for it as for the opening of a fairy legend--'On a time their lived a king and queen'--"" ""Will _you_ tell the story then or shall I?""--cried Nignio impatient of his interruption. ""_Yourself_ my pearl of squires! granting me in the first place your pardon for my ill manners.""-- ""When Margaret de Valois visited Namur "" resumed Nignio ""the best diversions we had to offer to so fair and pious a princess were first a _Te Deum_ in the cathedral for her safe journey; next an entertainment of dancing and music at the town hall--and a gallant affair it was as far as silver draperies and garlands of roses and a blaze of light that seemed to threaten the conflagration of the city may be taken in praise. The queen had brought with her as with _malice prepense_ six of the loveliest ladies of honour gracing the court of the Louvre""-- ""I _knew_ it!""--again interrupted Gonzaga;--and again did Nignio gravely enquire of him whether (since so well informed) he would be pleased to finish the history in his own way? ""Your pardon! your pardon!"" cried the Italian laying his finger on his lips. ""Henceforward I am mute as a carp of the Meuse."" ""It afforded therefore some mortification to this astutious princess --this daughter of Herodias with more than all her mother's cunning and cruelty in her soul --to perceive that the Spanish warriors who on that occasion beheld for the first time the assembled nobility of Brabant and Namur were more struck by the Teutonic charms of these fair-haired daughters of the north (so antipodal to all we are accustomed to see in our sunburned provinces ) than by the mannered graces of her pleasure-worn Parisian belles.""-- ""Certain it is "" observed Gonzaga (despite his recent pledge ) ""that there is no greater contrast than between our wild-eyed glowing Andalusians and the slow-footed blue-eyed daughters of these northern mists whose smiles are as moonshine to sunshine!"" ""After excess of sunshine people sometimes prefer the calmer and milder radiance of the lesser light. And I promise you that at this moment if there be pillows sleepless yonder in the camp for the sake of the costly fragile toys called womankind those jackasses of lovelorn lads have cause to regret the sojourn of Queen Margaret in Belgium only as having brought forth from their castles in the Ardennes or the froggeries of the Low Country the indigenous divinities that I would were at this moment at the bottom of their muddy moats or of the Sambre flowing under yonder window!""-- ""It is one of these Brabançon belles then who""-- Gabriel Nignio de Zuniga half rose from his chair as a signal for breaking off the communication he was not allowed to pursue in his own way.--Taking counsel of himself however he judged that the shorter way was to tell his tale in a shorter manner so as to set further molestation at defiance. ""In one word "" resumed he with a vivacity of utterance foreign to his Spanish habits of grandiloquence ""at that ball there appeared among the dancers of the Coranto exhibited before the tent of state of Queen Margaret a young girl whose tender years seemed to render the exhibition almost an indiscretion; and whose aerial figure appeared to make her sojourn there or any other spot on earth a matter of wonder. Her dress was simple her fair hair streamed on her shoulders. It was one of the angels of your immortal Titian _minus_ the wings! Such was at least the description given me by Don John to enable me to ascertain among the Namurrois her name and lineage for the satisfaction (he said) of the queen whose attention had been fascinated by her beauty."" ""And you proceeded I doubt not on your errand with all the grace and good-will I saw you put into your commission of this morning?""--cried Gonzaga laughing. ""And nearly the same result!--My answer to the enquiry of his highness was _verbatim_ the same; that the matter was not worth asking after. This white rose of the Meuse was not so much as of a chapteral-house. Some piece of provincial obscurity that had issued from the shade to fill a place in the royal Coranto in consequence of the indisposition of one of the noble daughters of the house of Croy. Still as in the matter of the cow-hunt his highness had the malice to persist! And next day instead of allowing me to attend him in his barging with the royal Cleopatra of this confounded Cydnus of Brabant I was dispatched into all quarters of Namur to seek out a pretty child with silken hair and laughing eyes whom some silly grandam had snatched out of its nursery to parade at a royal fête.--Holy St Laurence!