The Living age ... / Volume 39, Note on Digital Production Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 834 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABR0102-0039 /moa/livn/livn0039/

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The Living age ... / Volume 39, Note on Digital Production 0039 000
The Living age ... / Volume 39, Note on Digital Production A-B

The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 489 [an electronic edition] Creation of machine-readable edition. Cornell University Library 834 page images in volume Cornell University Library Ithaca, NY 1999 ABR0102-0039 /moa/livn/livn0039/

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The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 489 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. October 1, 1853 0039 489
The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 489, miscellaneous front pages i-viii

LITTE LLS LIVING AGE. CONDUCTED BY E. LITTELL. B PLURIBUS tTKUM. These publications of the day should from time to time be winnowed, the wheat carefully preserved, and the chaff thrown away. Made up of every creatures best. Various, that the mind Of desultory man, studious of change, And pleased with novelty, may be indulged. SECOND SERIES, VOLUME III. FROM THE BEGINNING, VOL~JME XXXIX. OCTOBER, NOVEMBER, DECEMBER, 1853. LITTE,,,LL, SON AND COMPANY: BOSTON, NEW YORK AN]) PHILADELPHIA. 5TKREOTTPED By HOBART AND BOBBINS, BOSTON.. L p %4 ~ ;, ~,_ 0 TABLE OF THE PRINCIPAL CONTENTS or THE LIVING AGE, VOL. XXXIX. THE THIRD QUARTERLY VOLUME OF THE SECOND SERIES. OCTOBER, NOVEMBER, AND DECEMBER, 1853. EDINBURGH REvIEW. Church Partjes, 451 The Arctic Regions 608 QUARTERLY REVIEW. Murder of Thomas i~ Becket, 515 The Dauphin in the Temple, 579 Electro~Biology and Mesmerism, 707 NORTH BRITISH REVIEW. Liis and Times of Madame de Stadi 771 WESTMINSTER REVIEW. Pedigree and Heraldry 8 Progress of Fiction as an Art, 356 EDINBURGH NEW PHILOSOPHICAL JOURNAL. Address, Ethnological Society, 586 On Fish as Diet 569 BI~& cKwooDs MAGAZINE. Lady Lees Widowhood, 29, 299 FRASERS MAGAZINE. American Diplomacy, 167 Morals of Queen Elizabeth, 887,648 Sketches of the House of Brunswick,. . . . 620 Dartmoor Prison 671 DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. Syria and the Holy Land 195,422 Cities of the Plain 422 France, Past and Present 545 Leaves of October, 685 Day in the Savoy Alps, 688 NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. Oliver Wendell Holmes 100 Sir Thomas N. Talfourd 166 Tents of the Tuski 178 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 417 R. C. Trench 491 William Cullen Bryant 658 BENTLEYS MISCELLANY. Railway Incident 17 Journals and Journal-Keepers 541 GENTLEMANS MAGAZINE. Original Ancient Mariner 488 Malchus, the Captive Monk 486 Some Account of Relics 559 SHARPES MAGAZINE. Taking Stock, 425 Isola Bella 448 BRITISIS JOURNAL. Les Feinsnes 513 HoGGs INSTRUCTOR. Arts before the Flood 50 Bright Tin1~s on Dark Ground 689 TNE CRITIC. Plains of Moldavia . . . . . 401 TnIEs. Necessity of the Portes Acceptance 60 History of Oliinese Insurrection 180 Church of Rome 284 Chinese Revolution . . 285 Limbo of Incapables 850 Cruelty to London Women 851 Macaulay on Junius, 540 Turkey and Russia, . 702 Churches of England and America 765 The Bourbons Again . . . . . 819 MORNING.,CHRGNICLE. Woman, Ill-Treatment of 22S Macaulays Speeches 34~ Ascent of Mt. Etna 682 Course of the Frenoh Government 708 DAILY NEWS. European Storm, . 237 V TABLE OF CONTENTS. SPECTATOR. Client and Lawyer The Greek and the Turk Characteristics of Wellington Future of Cuba Question C ~ociety in New Zealand Alliances East and West America and Austria False Positions Turkish Modifications rejected, . Russia vs. Europe and Turkey, . Kossuth Opinion of Turkish Question,. Future Course of England in the East, American Competition China and the Chinese Results of the Arctic Expedition, Home Life in Germany Life of Abernethy 16 24 49 59 84 121 125 238 249 373 379 380 558 638 629 656 662 Ex~isixmt. Licut. Maury Clarendons Explanation Debate in House of Commons America and Austria Lord Mahons Hist. of England Bulwers Poetical and Dramatic Works, Cardinal Wisemans Essays Good Fishing to be sold Predicament of Turkey B~au~hesnes Louis XVII. Bremers New World, New Phase Turkish Question Bones of Contention Resources of Turkey Austria no Barrier to Russia Warren Hastings Slaves in Scotland Home in Tasmania Mask thrown off Threatened Coercion of the Turks, Ships of War in Dardanelles The Crazy Popedom Bankruptcies of Austria The Kosta Affair Mismanagements Times and Examiner Travellers Hand-book to Copenhagen, Results of the Arctic Expedition Death of Princess Lamballe, Correspondence of Thomas Gray and William Mason Russian Shores of the Black Sea, Going too Fast 23 55 57 126 94 97 112 120 123 210 217 240 244 248 249 252 291 295 374 377 381 383 446 509 504 505 625 628 799 801 813 818 EcONoMIsT. Lieut. Maury on Navigation Eastern Question Carey on Slave Trade, Italian Wrongs and Desperation Louis XVII. Russian Design explained by Russia, 104 127 191 230 293 505 ATMENA~UM. Passage of Pruth Three Years Residence in China, Twenty Years in the Philippines, Works of William H. Seward, 117 340 563 567 CHAMBERS REPOSITORY. Trial of Charles I. Search for Sir John Franklin, Constancia de Gonsalvo The Old Witchcrafts The Rock Republic 67 131 259 323 745 PRESS. A Day with Pitt Answer of the Czar Letter, Turkish Government, Cabinet Card Party, . Cabinet Council Bible and Working Classes, 106 280 241 242 510 631 CHAMBERS JOURNAL. Embroidered Gloves Duck-Shooting on Chesapeake St. Simon Touch at the Touchy What is Coal Secrets Exposed London Talk Malachite Visit to a Gullery Sir Charles Napier Spots on the Sun Sir W. Scott Capt. Tightfitts Dinner Party Saras Venture Agricultural Revolution Wife of the Great Condd Jottings about Maps 44 86 148 166 233 342 .411 414 432 .439 679 693 696 737 741 794 HOUSEHOLD WORDS. Quicksilver Sick Grapes, Crowns in Lead, Kensington Dead Secret Slang, Air Maps, Old Bones Frauds on the Fairies, A Locust Hunt, Eternal Lamps, Color-tilindness, 90 93 118 161 276 404 427 441 574 735 762 797 ELIZA COOKS JOURNAL. Fancys Sketch, Strikes Mozart, . . . Fern Leaves,. 153 27 286 484 PUNCH. French Taste in 1~ress 353 El Verdadero Descubrimiento DIximaya, . 447 MUSEE DES FAMrnar.,. Feuillaneourt, 490 ALLGEMEINE ZEITUNO. Russian Statement 507 INDEX. V JOHN BuLr~. Mental Portraits 354 PROCEEDINGS OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY. N. Y. JOURNAL OP COMMERCE. Railroad Romance 225 Memoirs of a Bourgeois 792 N. Y. COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER. Currents in the Arctic Seas 409 St. Augustine 818 PLACERVILLE (CAUF.) HERALD. NATIONAL ERA. Ancient American Pyramid 62 Mauvaises Terres, Nebraska 110 INDEX. Australian Climate 22 Emigration 48 Sunday 111 Australia, Americans in 116 Arts before the Flood, 50 Allen, Ethan, Grave of, 92 American Authorship, 100, 417, 658 Diplomacy 167 Competition, . . 558 and English Church 765 Atheism, Philosophy of, 111 America and EnglandAlliance, 121 America and Austria 125,509 Austria, Movements of 2 and America 126 no Barrier to Russia 249 Bankruptcies of 446 Agricultural Revolution 292,787 Assyrian Society 298 Aberdeen, Epitaph on, 884 Arctic Currents, . . . 409 Regions 603 Air Maps 427 Ancient Mariner, The Original 488 Antoinette, Marie 589 Abernethy, Life of 652 Autographs, Sale of 740 American Pianos, 822 Burton and its Bitter Beer, 16 British Museum 22 Bulwers Poetical and Dramatic Works, 97 Bremers Homes of the New World, . . . 217 British America, Union of Provinces, . . 252 Bathurst, Fate of Mr 884 Barnes, Albert 416 Bones, Old 441 Bible in Separate Volumes, 490, 544 and Working Classes 681 Rocket, Thomas i, Murder of 515 Brunswick, House of 620 Braces Home Life in Germany, 656 Bryant, William Cullen 658 Bright Tints on Dark Ground, 687 Biology and Mesmerism 707 Bourgeois, Memoirs of a 792 Black Sea, Russian Shores of, 815 Bourbons Again 819 Client and Lawyer, 16 California, Cedar Tree in, 43 Condamine, Anecdote of 54 Coal for Mail Steamers, 54 , what is it 283 Cuban Question, Future of, 59 Chinese Revolution, History of 180,285 Charles I., Trial of 67 Crowns in Lead 118 Cucumber Superstition 152 Careys Slave-trade, Domestic and Foreign, . 191 Cabinet Card Party 242,510 Constantinople, Female Education 256 Constancia de Gonsalvo 259 China, Three Years Residence in 840 and Chinese, 638 Cities of the Plain 422 Church Parties 451 Climate, English 512 Copenhagen, Hand-book to 625 Cond6, Wife of the Great, 741 Church in England and America 765 Color-blindness 797 Child and the Man 804 Chickering, Jonas 820 Duck-Shooting, Chesapeake 86 Diplomacy, American 167 Dead Secret 276 Dress, French Taste in 853 Dartmoor Prison 671 Dining Late~ 688 Embroidered Gloves, 44 Epitaphs 54 Eastern Christians 282 Elilabeth, Queen, Morals of, 887,648 English Climate 512 Ethnological Society, Address to 585 Etna, Ascent of 682 Electro-biology and Mesmerism, 707 Food, Manufacture of,~ 99 Fishery Question Fishing to be sold, 120 Franklin, Sir John, 131 History of Search 181 , Results of the Expedition 628 Fancys Sketch 153 French Explorations, Asia Minor 320 Fiction as an Art, Progress of 856 Fern Leaves 484 VI INDEX. Feuillancourt Femmes, Les France, Past and Present, Fish as Diet Written Fairies, Frauds on, Greek and Turk Grapes, Sick, Gallery, Visit to, Guano, Supply of, Germany, Home Life in, Gray and Mason, Correspondence of, Going too Fast, . . . . Heraldry and Pedigree, . Holmes, Oliver Wendell Hume, Mary C., Hastings, Warren, Haberzettel, the Painter, . Harp, The, Hill, Rowland, Hair, Color of Hosmers Poems, Hungary, Crown of St. Stephen, 496 537 545 569 695 574 24 93 432 495 656 801 818 l0t~ 152 252 294 400 402 410 513 578 Italian Wrongs and Desperation 230 Isola Bela Journals and Journal-Keepers, 541 Kensington, 161 Kossuths Opinion of Turkey and Russia,. . 379 Speeches 503 Lawyer and Client, 16 Lady Lees Widowhood, 29, 299 Louis XVII., 210, 293, 372, 579 Lichens, 320 Life Insurance 320 Limbo of Incapables 350 London Talk, 411 Longfellow, II. W., 417 Lemercier, 602 Locust Hunt, 785 Lamps, Eternal 762 Lithography, Improvements in 706 Life and Times ofMadame de Sta~l, . . . . 771 Lamballa, Princess, Death of 799 Maury, Lieutenant, Mahons History of Eug1ax~d, Montgomery, James, Mozart Macaulays Speeches on Junius, Mental Portraits, Moldavia, Plains of, Marriage, Mysterious, Malachite,. Maichus, the Captive Monk, Moores Poems, Mackenzie, Mrs. Cohn, Her Journal, Mountains in Moon, Money, How it goes, Mesmerism and Eleetro-biology, Museum at Paris, Memoirs of a Bourgeois, Maps, Jottings about,. 23, 104 94 254 286 345 540 354 401 403 414 486 490 541 640 704 707 761 792 794 New Books (British), 28, 85,111, 116, 160, 179, 216, 286, 294 (American), 63, 179, 256, 275, 512, 601, 642, 701, 823, 824 New Zealand, Society in 84 Nebraska, Mauvaises Terres of 110 Neuralgia, Downings 255 Napier and Swordsman 403 Sir Charles 439 Old House by River, October, Leaves of, Orleans, Duchess of, Ossianic Surnames, 558 635 667 740 Pedigree and Heraldry, 3 Pyramid, American, Ancient, 62 PUNCH: Answers to Correspondents, . To Faraday Reaping Machine King Cholera, El Verdadero, Potato Prophecy, Pitt, A Day with, Popedom, The Crazy, Postage, Penny, Philippines, Twenty Years Residence in, Praeds Poems Pebbles at Sea4hore, Paris Museum Prussia, On the Revolution in, Princess Lamballe, Death of, Pianos, American, POETRY: Adam and Flower, Autumn, by Keats _______ Flowers Voice, . . . Sonnet, Aberdeen, Epitaph on, Aged Disciple Comforting, Age of Dress, Bright, J. H. bugle Song, Childs Garden Prayer Captive, Song of,. Copenhagen Watchman,. Charade, Cholera, Carnival at Venice, Dont tell the World, Donnybrook Fair, Dominics d~ve 194 819 258 447 627 106 383 402 553 566 578 761 767 799 822 624 258 822 573 577 884 821 349 129 431 2 2 66 627 92 258 413 449 706 636 99 180 194 450 63~ 637 Echoes, Epigraph, Earthly Honors, Faraday, Professor, Fisher Boy, Flower of Tropics, False One, INDEX. Guneopathy God knows it all Gone, Good Thoughts, Hudson, Evening on, Hume, Mary C., How can I Sing, Haunted Spring, In Cmlo Quies,. Imagination I would that I were, .1 66 322 450 130 152 2~7 770 129 513 642 July and Julius, 513 Keats, 513 Life and Death 841 Little Sleeper, 450 Lark, 495 Memory in Music, Modesty and Beauty, Moonrise, Memories, Morning Land,. 886 705 886 424 769 Ninety-ninth Birth Day of Dr. Routh, . 598 Napier, Death of Gen 636 November 641 Outer Light, 65 Prediction, Old, Pilgrim Pope and Beggar, Pictures in the Fire, Phantoms, . Path across the Hills, Pain, a Season of, 65 97 98 285 641 706 706 Ring Taken from the Dead 180 Ruins 257 Reaping Machine, 319 Sabbath 98 Stream Singing 193 Scripture Pieces, 885 Sennet 450 Shakspeare and April, 518 Starlight in Garden, 514 Sorrow on the Sea 638 Sunsetting, 705 Truisms . . . 2 Thebes, On Leaving, 449 Toast, The 602 Vision, by Cradock Newton, 1 Village Church in England, 514 Withered Tree in June, 98 Work for the Poet 194 What though Age oertake Thee, . . . 577 Werter, Serrows of, 642 Quicksilver, 90 Railway Incident, 17 Smoking on, 49 Railway Romance, Russia and Turkey. (See Turkey.) Rome, Church of Relics, Some Account of, Rock Republic, Russian Shores of the Black Sea, St. Simon, Shakspeare Pilgrims, Slave Trade, Carey on, ______ Scotland, Syria and the Holy Land, Strikes, St. Augustine, Letter from, Secrets Exposed, Spanish Women Slang Seward, Win. H., Works of, Scott, Sir W., Spots on Sun, Savoy Alps Saras Venture, VII 225 234 559 745 815 148 165 191 291 195,422 227,298 318 842 400 404 567 79 683 696 Turk and Greek, 24 TuRKIsH QuEsTION: Clarendons Explanations, 55 Debate on, in Parliament, 57 Necessity of the Portes Acceptance of Note, 60 Passage of Pruth 117 Predicament of Turkey, 3 Eastern Question, by the Economist, . . 127 Christians in East, 232 European Storm 286 False Positions 238 New Phase 240 Letter of the Turkish Government, . . 241 Bones of Contention 244 Resources of Turkey 248 Nicholas Rejects Modification 249 Answer of the Czar 250 Russia vs. Europe 873 Mask thrown off 374 Threatened Coercion of Turks, . . . . 377 Kossuths Opinion 879 Future Course of England 380 Ships of War in Dardanelles 381 Mismanagements 504 Times an~d Examiner 505 Russian Designs Explained, 505 A Voice from St. Helena 506 Russian Statement 507 Take, 0 take these ships away 511 Prince Albert, the Czar and Turk, . . 511 Russia compared with America, . . . 702 Turkish Proclamation, 702 Course of French Government, . . . . 703 Talfourd, Sir Thomas K~ Touchy, A Touch at the,. Tuski, Tents of the Tasmania, Home in Tuckermans Mental Portraits, Taking Stock, Trench, Prof. R. C. Tanning without Bark, Tightfitts Dinner Party, 156 166 173 295 854 425 491 503 693 viii: TALss: Constancia de Gonsalvo,. Child and ~Ian. Duck-Shooting on Chesapeake, Dead Secret Embroidered Gloves Fancys Sketch Lady Lees Widowhood, Maichus, the Captive Monk, INDEX. . . . 259 . . . 804 . . . 86 276 . . 44 . . . 153 . 29, 299 . . 436 Railroad Romance, . Rock Republic Sar& s Venture, Vestris Family, Vaccination, Compulsory, . Wellington, Characteristics of, Wiseman, Cardinal, Essays of, Woman-Murdering in London, Witchcrafts, The Old 225 746 898 66~ 744 112 .223,351 323

The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 489 1-64

LITTELLS LIVING AGE.No. 489.i OCTOBER, 1853. CONTENTS. 1. Pedigree and Heraldry Westminster Review, 3 2. Relation of Client and Lawyer Spectator 16 3. A Railway Incident Bentleys Miscellany, 17 4. Lieutenant ~Iaury Examiner 23 5. The Greek and the Turk Spectator 24 6. Lady Lees Widowhood, Part IX Blackwoods Magazine, 29 7. The Embroidered Gloves Chambers Journal, 44 S. Characteristics of the Duke of Wellington Spectator 49 9. The Arts before the Flood Hoggs Instructor, 50 10. Lord Clarendons Explanations Respecting the East, Examiner 55 11. The Debate in the House of Commons E aminer, 57 12. The Future of the Cuba Question Spectator 59 13. Necessity of the Portes Acceptance of the Joint Note, London Times, . 60 14. Discovery of An Ancient Pyramid Placerville (Cal.) Herald, 62 POETRY: A Vision Guneopathy, 1; Truisms The Childs Garden The Childs Prayer, 2. SHORT ARTICLES: British Museum Australian Climate, 12; Labor in Australia Passage in Bishop Horsley Cedar Tree in California, 43; Smoking in Railway Carriages, 49; Philosophers Coal for the Mail Steamers Epitaph, 54. NEW BooKs: Burton and its Bitter Beer, 16; British Catalogue of Books Sketches and Characters, 28; The Law and the Testimony, & c., 63, 64 From lloggs Instructor. A VISION. DT CRADOCK NEwTON. OFTEN, when stars are watching human slumbers, And earth on heavens bosom lies asleep, And thy sweet soul, soothed by celestial numbers, Doth sate herself with happy dreams and deep I have a vision giv,en to me, A vision all of thee; For as to the wild Chaldee is the star Above him beautiful, adored, divine Such art thou unto me, and een so far Is thy souls orbit nearer God than mine. Thus in my vision come I, weak and faint, With weary, bleeding feet, Unto the sapphire gate of bliss, where saint And angel meet; And through the gate half open I descry How, far and wide, the happy valleys lie, how sweetly the scent-laden breezes swell, And all the sward is bright with asphodel; Then passing slowly by, in robes of bliss, Pure as the whiteness of thy pure soul is, With look nor sad nor glad, but calm, serene, And lit with sweet and holy ~ward thought, And amaranth-crowned brow, and eyes with naught Of earth in their clear lustre to be seen CGCCLXXXIX. LIVING AGE. VOL. III. I gaze upon thee! but thou dost not wait To look upon the beggar at thy gate. Could I, so spent and footsore, with this heart So earth-stained, only toil to where thou art! Ah, could I reach thee but one word to speak, Then shower wild kisses on thy brow and cheek! Vainly, alas ! to enter in I think, I have no strength to succor my endeavor, But at the threshold sink, And the heaven-gate is closed on me forever. From the Journal of Commerce. GUNEOPATHY. I sAw a lady yesterday, A regular M. D., Who d taken from the Faculty Her medical degree And I thoughtif ever I was sick My doctor she should be! I pity the deluded man Who foolishly consults Another man, in hopes to find Such magical results As when a pretty woman lays Her hand upon his pulse! 2 TRUISMS.THE CHILD~ S GARDEN.THE CHILD~ S PRAYER. I had a strange disorder once, A kind of chronic chill, That all the doctors in the town, With all their vaunted skill, Could never cure, I m very sure, With powder nor with pill I dont know what they called it In their pompous terms of art, Nor if they thought it mortal In such a vital part I only know t was reckoned Something icy round the heart ! A lady came her presence brought The blood into my ears! She took my hand and something like A fever now appears! Great Galen ! I was all aglow, Though I ~d been cold for years Perhaps it is nt every case That s fairly in her reach, But should I eer be ill again, I fervently beseech That I may have, for life or death, A lady for my leech ! United States Hotel, Saturday evening. From Iloggs Instructer. TRUISMS. 13Y CARDER CAMPBELL. T is true that clouds But momently bar out the sunshine; true That stars invisible by day in crowds Spangle the skies, but come into the view In darkness only; true that flowers will die, And be renewed, as fair, beneath a vernal sky. T is true that grief Is not eternal; that our bitterest tears, As well as that which makes them, find relief In fewer moments than we give them years To wear away our hearts in ; true it is That almost every sorrow hath its sister-bliss T is true that graves (Within whose close-shut lips dear treasures lie Which the death-kiss pollutes) give forth green waves Of grass all flush with flowers which no keen eye Could guess for growth proceeding from decay, Where nothing sweet there is that hath not soured away! When Spring is dead Upon rich Summers bosom, which, in turn, Lays the last clusters of its lovely head Upon pale Autumns breast, till, in his urn Of withered leaves, old Winter buries all We know that timc shall back each dear-loved presence call. We know that all we lose~ May be restored; we know that flowers which fade May flourish, and that even loves sweet rose (Sore-girt with thorns) may make, as it has made, Our happiness again. We know all this; Yet douhts oerwhelm all knowledge fear sub- dues all bliss. Our hopes are mists That mount up from the very earth around us, Till lost in heaven above, where heaven resists All earthly exhalations. Pain may wound us, And trials mark us with full many a scar But time brings certainty than hope a brighter star. Yet sweet are hopes, And fair their presence is, with sorrow by us But though their rosy hands the portals ope Of joy ideal, care can still defy us For we shall find, if we regard it near, The shadow of each hope to be a nameless fear. THE CHILD S GARDEN. BENEATH the budding lilacs A little maiden sighed The first flower in her garden That very morn had died. A primrose tuft, transplanted, And watered every day, One yellow bud had opened, And then it pined away. I thought, as that childs sorrow Rose wailing on the air, My heart gave forth an echo, Long bound in silence there. For though time brings us roses, And golden fruits beside, We ye all some desert garden Where lifes first primrose died. From the N. Y. Churchman. THE CHILDS PRAYER. GREAT Father! make me good to-day Bless me and keep me good aiway! I am naughty now, I know Many wicked thiiigs I do But my mother says that Jesus Can from all our sins release us! Bless my fiether dear, and mother, Bless my darling baby-brother Keep them through the sunny day And, when evening shadows play, May there come no gloomy sorrow Ere we greet t~e rosy morrow! Bless the poor mans toil and labor ! Bless our wealthy next-door neighbor Make us all as good and mild As the sinless Saviour Child Thy beloved redeeming Son Jesus Christ the Holy one! PEDiGREE AND HERALDRY. From the Westminster Review. PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. 1. The Peerage and Baroneta~ e of Great Britain and Ireland. By JOHN BERNARD BURKE. Colburn. London. 2. Dictionary of the Landed Gentry. By JOHN BERNARD BURKE. Colburn. London. 3. Family Romance. By JOHN BERNARD BURKE. Hurst and Blnckett. London. 4. Birth and VVorth; or, The Practical Uses of a Pedigree. [Printed for private cir- culation. 1852.] 5. Observations on Heraldry. By the Rev. T. ITAMERTON. Churton. London. 1851. 6. The Pursuivant of Arms; or, heraldry founded upon Facts. By J. R. PLANCHE, F. S. A. Churton. London. 1851. Two preliminary remarks must commence our essay on this comprehensive and fertile subject, and must meet two difficulties, the fear of which retards our footsteps in enter- ing upon its threshold. In the first place, then, we disclaim any intention of trenching on the province of the disciples of Dugdale of exposing mistakes in the marriages in the Barona~ e or affecting to settle the Scrope and Grosvenor controversy. In the second place, we desire to acquaint those who profess liberal and enlarged views, that we are not conscious of any particular mental contraction as the result of our studies in this department, or of any indifference to any kind of progress whatever, in consequence of the same. Our object here, in fact, is with the literature of aristocracy and heraldry as a subject of genial, and human, and historic interest. We propose to look at the dim emblazonings and the purple glories of the ancient and armorial shields of Europe with impartiality, though not with indifference, and in such a way as shall neither displease Garter King-of-Arms nor Mr. Cobden. A little of the common daylight nay, even of the gas-li~,lit of the nineteenth century let in upon venerable walls and solemn escutch- eons can do them no harm; and, on the other band, the mere pulling down of them, and scraping off their arru go, in the hope of being able to prove them brick-made, or pot- lids, is a task which can be performed by any scullery menial, and, though highly useful, is not the most honorable in the world, nor the one for which we feel any particular inclina- tion at this moment. We prefer constructive to destructive criticism the criticism that does not so much love to dissect the subject in its decayed state, in order to show its un- sound parts, as to endeavor to know what the subject was in its beginning, and how and for what purpose it attained its organiza- tion. Such is our general view. We may add, that we have always thought it extraordinary, in a country so aristocratic in feeling as Eng- land really is, that so little should be known by people generally about these matters. One has only to go down Rotten-row, and linger by the Serpentine, on any of the pleasant evenings which are now passing over us, to see Heraldry, for example, in both copiousne~ and detail; yet to the many of the woi~thy cultivated classes, generally, what is Heraldry as a matter of knowledge or specuhition Little more, we fear, than what our old friend, the elder Mr. Weller, would describe as a something well known to he a collection of fabulous animals! And Pedigree? Here the general information is still thinner and vaguer. The Briton believes in his Peerage; the prosperous Briton hopes that his grandson may be a peer, or his granddaughter a peers wife. He vaguely associates coronets with Norman knights, and other fine objects seen through the haze of the popular knowledge of history; but of the actual constituency of the body of the Peerage he knows scarcely, anything. A peer passes for a peer, as a pound does for a pound, in this country; but in ~vhat proportion of gold and alloy the coin rejoices, the multitude qui stupet in titulis et imaginibus, as Horace saw it do of old is more ignorant than it is of public matters generally. With regard to the union of the subjects which combine to form our title, it is a very natural one the union of Fact and Symbol. Heraldry is the symbol of gentility, histori- cally speaking. We are well aware what disputes there are about its origin, and what changes have attended its history; but the general fact about it the historic fact which constitutes its importance is, that it is the symbol of aristocracy. England has a shield; a family has a shield. In each case the shield is the symbol of the hearer. The figures, quaint and rude though they be, visible on the pennons found stained and bloody on the field of Flodden when the fight was done the crosses and the wild cats, the crescents mind the roses these were the dearest symbols in life to the gentlemen who bore them. Two characters attached to them; they distinguished the family as well as the individual, and thus united the senti- ment of home with the sentiment of honor: but, further than that, they distinguished the noble from the many, and marked out their possessor as one of the leading class of his age. To bear arms i~i the old days amounted to much. The times~bmight be better or worse than other times, but, at all events, their work had to he done by somebody, and it gradually came about that coat-armor, as it was called, distinguished those who distin- guished themselves. Its prime characteristic, then, is this, that it was the symbolic out- come cf the age, a kind of ornamental bios- 3 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. soming-out of the life of those violent old days, even as a flower sprang out, according to th~ fable, from Ajaxs blood. In this respect, if in this only, Heraldry ~vould al- ways have an interest among the things that have attained a strong vitality that it drew, in its way, upon Nature, as an object of human sentiment; men who depicted on their instruments of war, and made sacred the various animals of the field, the flowers, the stars, the moon, the shells on the Syrian coast where they had warred so many ob- jects, with such artistic variety were mak- ing poetry the companion of war. In a cer- tain way, then, poetry was represented by heraldry or armory. So much may be said of the philosophy of it as a preliminary; and it must be borne in mind that in a practical way it constituted a stringent system of dis- tinction. Nothing is more cLar than that bearing arms was from the first considered a distinction of aristocracy, and the peculiar privilege of the well-born. Hence, in grants conferring nobility deeds, the object of which was to elevate a man into the higher class the privilege was accompanied with a grant of the Arms accompanying it, in signum nobilitctis, * which arms were depicta, and referred to in the deed, accord- ingly. And Sir Edward Coke, in an often- quoted passage, lays down this rule on the subject generally, Nobiles sunt qui arma gentilicia antecessorum suorum proferre p05- sunt. The essential characteristic, then, of Heraldry, is its symbolic nature; we must always bear that in mind; and, now, looking at the system, as having long since hardened itself into the fossil state, we know not how we could better illustrate it than by likening it, with all its ornament, quaintness, and yet meaning, to a system of shells mere orna- ments, it is true, yet still pregnant with in- terest, when we consider them as the ofi~pring of the far-distant, vital, loud-sounding, feudal sea. But before speaking further of heraldry as a science, and as influenced by gradual na- tional change, we will direct our attention to the kindred subject of pedigree, or birth, or aristocracy, whereof heraldry was in its crea- tion, and is ideally speaking still the collat- eral relative, the ornament, but also some- thing more than the ornament as the flush in the cheek of the maiden is at once the cause of beauty, and the sign of health. Ho~v stands at present the worlds account with that question I This is a curious in- quiry, but it is also an important one; and, indeed, in a country like England, it is act- ually a practical one. At this hour, while ~ Han. MS., 1507, quoted by Sir James Law- rence, On the Nobility of the British Gentry. Fraser. Europe is tumbling into ruins (as a system of institutions, that is) mass falling after mass of its old fabrics, with a noise that startles everybody (a head or two getting broken in the confusion, also) England makes, on all proper occasions, a profession of its belief in aristocracy. England has pos- sessed, in all ages, Saxon as well as Norman, a division of classes, a race set apart from the others, to govern; and this governing class, or rather this class whose theoretical business it is to govern, goes by a name taken from the old Greek one, and is written down, when described, as comprising the best. Such, at all events, is the nominal state of affairs. But it is characteristic of the times, that at every step you take in attempting to put the question to practical tests, in attempting even to get at the actual opinion in the world on the matter, you meet the most contradic- tory assertions, and certainly nothing like a general faith. Blood, sir we must have blood ! says the young gentleman with the weak legs, in David Copperfield. As Mr. Dickens has given the belief in Blood such an imbecile representative, we can guess at the turn of isis opinions on the mat- ter. We have the contrary view in Lord John Manners celebrated couplet Let arts and manners, laws and commerce die, But leave us still our old nobility! But, far and wide, the discord on the point spreads. We doubt, for instance, whether anywhere, except in some inland county of old-fashioned habits, the proposer of an honorable candidate would not be in danger of ridicule, if he began by emphatically de- scribing him as a man of ancient family. It is the fashion among journals which profess liberalism to assert boldly, that your great men all come from the middle class, and so on while, on the other hand, the success of the laborious, instructive, and interesting books of Mr. Burke, clearly shows that in other quarters of the world very different opinions are entertained. Many who believe in Blood cherish the faith secretly in an utilitarian age persecuted fire-worship- pers, who follow their belief in private. Some who have the personal pretension, pro- claim. it to be of no consequence; some who have not the pretension, pay humble homage to it in others. The question is in the most contradictory condition altogether. Chester- field placed at the head of his pedigree these two names Afr~is de Stanhope Evx de Stanhzope. The ridicule was very felicitous; but what think you he would have said, if you had proposed to deny the long line of intermediate Stanhopes, and to class him with the ordinary clay of the earth I Experience proves that ideas which have once been the animating ones of a nation 4 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. 5 that all, strictly, of a nations historic ideas America, on one of the most important mis- do, in one form or another, survive even sions of his age; he goes down to the coun- to the very dregs of its decay. In Rome, try from which his progenitors derived their for instance, this idea of birth outlived the lineage, and gives to the tracing of the line admission of plebeians to the great offices, out- of the yeomen from whom he sprang, time lived the liberties of the state and the em- that might have added to science and to perorship of men of no family; and even politics. Happy, says Jean Paul, in his transmitted itself to the new system of Eu- autobiography, happy is the man who can rope, and inspired the patricians of Italy with trace his lineage, ancestor by ancestor, and the pride of being thought to descend from cover hoary tinie with a green mantle of the consular fhmilics of the great nation. youth ! A third child of the same century, We never read Tacitus without being struck and that the century of revolutions, gives tes- with the vitality of the idea in his time. No timony to the depth of the same feeling; man of note appears on the splendid theatre and we find the great Jeremy Benthaxa of his history but we are informed, he was showing the same love, and absolutely of the great Cornelian house, or he was not meditating the purchase of certain territo- of that old Sempronian family; a sutrina~ ries, the property of the Counts of Ben- abernw alumnus has a drop of satire let fall theim, from whom he may have descended.* on him as the historian passes by, and you So much for the mere strength and urn- s2em to see the writers face glow, when, re- versality of the sentiment and that not cording the degradation of some nobles of in barbarous times, nor among prej- his time, he adds I do not give their udiced men. It follows only naturally names I think it due to their ancestors. enough that the sentiment is deeper in pro- So, too, in our own days, the same sentiment portion when the ancestors have been great has outlived gradual and extraordinary and renowned; and that which we should changes in every form of European life. And think honotable and interesting to ourselves, a long-descended, brilliant Chateaubriand, an we esteem and regard in others. Our readers agent in the changes of his time, pauses must often have smiled at the curious, mod- when he tells you of his fathers family and est, yet firmly self-asserting way in which his youthful liberalism; and admits that in Gibbon speaks of the respectable Gibbons of his bosom there lurks a spark of the feeling Kent, of whom he was a descendant. Here which was so potent in others of his race. is his opinion, as a historian, on the general We sometimes think that if the vulgar question we have been opening old phrase Pride of Birth, had been driven out to make room for one expressing The superior prerogative of birth, when it has ideas, and we had heard, instead, ot obtained the sanction of time, and popular juster opinions, is the plainest and least invidious of the Sentiment of Birth, less offence would all distinctions amongst mankind. have been given by it to the many worthy people whom the pretension has offended. Ilowever, we are well aware that the dif- Anything in the way of beauty should be ficulties of the subject just begin about this welcome in matters of opinion. To trace stage of the inquiry. That the sentiment of lineage to love and record the names and birth is profoundly fixed in the human mind, actions of those without whom we could never and that it is the tendency of nations to make have been, who moulded us and made us the children of their great men a heredi- what we are, and whom the very greatest tary order, we need not assert, for history genius of us all must know to have propagated asserts it for us. Nobody can deny the influences into his being, which must, subtly general 4Lct; but now comes the rush of but certainly, act upon his whole conduct in hostile queries : Such an order as yen the world all this is implied in ancestry speak of, did it necessarily include the great and the love of it, and is natural and good. men did not accident and fraud raise many Now, if these ancestors were the great men to it, whose descendants (on the aristocratic of the day, the leaders of armies, the heads theory) assumed absurdly the superiority of a of churches, or of less rank perhaps, yet part born best class? Has not every class, even of the governing system men of fair repute the very lowest, pi~oduced its great men, and and positions of honor, sharing in what cul- how many more would it have produced with ture their age had to give them, and enjoying equal chances? Finally, how does time respect from the world round ahout? Here, operate on institnti~ns of this character, and the natural sentiment has something to stimu- does the superioriC~r (if we admit such to late it more; the man of such ancestry sees have ever actually existed) maintain itself, in in each past time of his countrys history a a country of mixed races and classes ; and little spot of hearth-fire burning through the can you depend practically, now-a-days, on gloom, lighting up the ~ark space for him, any such distinctions ? and with a face that he knows visible by it. ~ Life of Jean Paul (Eng. trans.) Franklins The great liberal, Franklin, comes over from Works, Sparks ed.; Bowrin~s Bentham. PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. Poor James Boswell, of Auchinleck (whose love of his pedigree was equal to his love of Dr. Johnson), would have answered all this with a shrug of the shoulders, and un gen- tilkomme est toujours gentilkomme. And, in his day, that was so completely the way of answering any such argument, that such shrugs cost many shoulders the bead, be- fore th~ century was out! A traditionary belief that the noblesse were, somehow or other, the natural born superiors of the rotu- ,-iers, and Heaven only knows how far superior to the canaille, was the unquestioned creed of the upper classes in Paris; and there can- not be any doubt that the natural indignation at this haughty assumption, the honest human disgust at the idea, that such classes were the born kings of men, was a leading impel- lant of the violences of the revolution. It is extremely curious to read the enumeration of the many sorts of Noblesse, to be found under the article on that word in the famous Ency- clop~die. We have the Noblesse de nom et darmes, which, we are told, is the Noblesse ancienne et immemoriale. Les gentils- bommes, says the writer, qui ont cette noblesse, sappellent gentilshommes de nom Ct d armes; us sont consid~.r6s comme plus qualifi6s que les autres. He illustrates the natural feeling of a noblesse by a curious parallel, involving a stroke of brilliant and well-deserved satire. He states, with ex- treme gravity, that such feeling is very strong in Japan! Un gentilbomme Japon- nois no sallieroit pas, pour tout lor du monde, it une femine roturi~re! This no- blesse, of course, carried to its possessors im- portant and odious privileges, exemption from taxation, the great places in the church and the honoral)le orders, the officerships in the army, which alone belonged to them, and many others. These advantages made adniis- sion to the noblesse an ol~ject of immense importance. Accordingly, lettres danno- blissement were granted by the French kings, for money will be recognized, let people say what they like; and for many years be- fore the revolution, new nobles had taken their places among the natural superiors of long-suffering mankind. The old nobles were indignant; and the kings themselves felt, at intervals, that they must draw the line ; and they did what was gratifying to their own dignity decreed that no indi- vidual should be presented at Versailles, un- less he could prove four hundred years of gentility. With what feelings, at once ludi- crous and melancholy, does one read in Cha- teaubriands Memoires, that just on the eve of the revolution, he had to send his pedigree for examination to an official before being permitted to hunt withthe king Well, the revolution came. It is customary with a certain class of writers to blame the new nobility, and to throw on them the blame of provoking the excesses; but where were Madame de Stauls two hundred historic families (which she asserts to have then ex- isted in France) what had they been doing, what were they doing? And how had the elevated parvenus become dangerous, except by succeeding to privileges derived from the old nobility, which bad become hateful and disgusting to the nostrils of mankind? No, no! When the great earthquake tried the talents and spirits of Europe, the question of natural superiority came to a thorough test. Up from the despised plebeian classes came the revoluGon men and Napoleons marshals. Give to every man his honor; give to the French nobility those whom they may justly claim; Mirabeau, Lafayette, Talleyrand, Cha- teaubriand, are their undoubted property, for example; but la carri~re ouverte au~ talens showed, at once and forever, that the world- famous principle of ancient blood could no longer be considered tenable. It might be doubted if the principle had always been false ; but the same time which had given prestige to the Families bad proved that, at all events, it was false now. What have ~ve in this world to argue from but fitets? If a negro invented a system of metaphysics, or a Malay wrote a Macbeth, the fact would be sufficient; the whole of these races would be in a new position in the scale of the races of mankind. Now, we instanced France in first endeavor- ing to illustrate this idea of birth, because in that country the distinction between noble and ignoble (which word we use in its technical sense) was more strongly marked, in law and in custom, than among ourselves; and, also, because France has done Europe the favor of bringing the question to trial at her own proper cost. Of Germany it is only needful to say, en passant, that while (so- cially speakin0) she is perhaps the most aris- tocratic country in Europe, she owes her great modern renown in the world of intellect to men who did not belong to her rigid and long- descended and strict-quartering nobility. It is to our own country, as like or unlike these countries, that we naturally direct our main attention how different her condition has been in all the respects with which it is the object of this article to deal, is very easily shown. As Sir Robert Peel was wont to puzzle the financiers by asking, What is a pound? a favorite inquir~among our genealogists is, What is a gentleman.? In this simple query in the fact that there is such a diffi- culty lies a whole world of political im- portance. Ask a cultivated foreigner what a gentilhomme is, and the reply will be decided and unmistakable; he is a man who is noble de race. Tell an Englishman, that so-and-so 6 7 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. is of noble race, and he will understand you to mean that he springs from a lord. Yet, what the foreigner means by the phrase noble de race, strictly applies to the English gentry, who, as descendants of the old feudal landlords and bearers of coat armor, are gen- tilshommes in the primitive application of the word, and so noble, according to the gen- eral sense of the term in Europe; while the lord, in spite of his peerage and his coronet, may be of origin almost imiiiedi~itely plebeian. This is one of our native curiosities, and has given rise to many mistakes on the continent, with much natural indignation occasionally on the part of our squires, amusing enough to a philosopher. In particular, foreigners cannot be brought to understand our Commoner, or to conceive how such an equivocal word came to be the designation of individuals, who in descent and possessions are the equals of all the titled people in Europe.* While annoyance is sometimes caused to individuals from this confusion, Englishmen may well congratulate themselves on the fact that such is the result of our history, and that it is a peculiarity which belongs to the very essence of our constitution. We soon discover, in the course of these studies, that while the continental distinction has remained in theory here, and has had the support of the heralds and genealogists in practice, and specially in law, England has divided its nobility, that is, those whom we call the peerage, and those who compose the gentry, into two classes. The peers have certain privileges, not as a caste, but as a body occasionally recruited by creations by the crown; while all others are equal in the eye of the law, and take their chance with the general subjects of the realm. Mr. Hallam has not failed to approve this, nor Mr. Macaulay. The former of these histo- rians remarks, that the term Gentleman is not known to the law. There has been, however, within the last few years, a case in which a surety in a bankruptcy court was objected to by counsel, because, while de- scribed as a gentleman, he was in reality a clerk in a steam-packet company. The objec- tion was held to be fatal. Now, of course, in the eye of a herald, or any one who judged these questions by the strictly aristocratic standard, his being a clerk would not necessarily make him cease to be a gentle- man ; whether he was so or not would be n question of blood. But the judge made not the objection on that ground; he went by the old legal custom of describing a gentle- man as one who would be at the port, charge, and maintenance of one, or some general old notion, that any one who lived See Sir James Lawrences well-written and very amusing treatise On the Nobility of the British Gentry. without labor was one. This would be monstrous in the eyes of a herald and geneal- ogist, but it was good sense according to the customs of England. This word gentleman, with its syn- onyms gentilkomme and genliluomo, has cost no little ink in its time. Its deriva- tion from gentilis is obvious enough, and that it bore a distinct reference to race; and as early as we find it, it is a term of distinction, and indeed may be said to lie at the bottoni of all distinctions between classes in modern history. Why, and how, the barbarians, our ancestors, came to use the word as a word of honor has been much disputed. One view is, that as the barbarians were gentiles, or outer nations, to the Romans, the leaders of the conquering northerns assumed the appellation as one of honor, to distin- guish themselves from the degenerate people they had enslaved. To this view inclined Selden, as may be seen in his great work, the Titles of honor ; but Gibbon considered more pure and probable the theory which would derive it from the civilians use of the word, as synonymous with ingenuus. A gentle (its derivative) is used as the opposite to simple. One writer suggests that a simple man was one of those whe had only a single name, like John or Roger, while the proprietors (who were, no doubt, the first to do so) distinguished themselves by adopting surnames derived for the most part from the names of their possessions. According to the view of Mr. llampson, the author of Origines Patricia~, nobody is ~ gentleman, in the strict sense, but one whQ traces himself to the first barbarian con- querors. But, at all events, there does not seem ever to have been a tiIae when gen- tilhomme could not have been fairly rendered man of family, which amounts to man of some power or position; for a family could never have become recognizable as an entity among the horde, unless it had had something to fix itself on, and maintain itself by. Land,* in those days, was to a family what earth is to a plant the necessary support, and lit- eral locus standi. And it is characteristic of the title gentleman and shows its con- nection with race, that it was a self-dependent title; one which grew by time, and was not made by charters; an inherent title of un- traceable origin, which seems to have been as well known in description of certain people, as the name Northman or Frank. The uncertainty about its adoption is a proof of its antiquity. In fact, the origin of the rulers of the northern nations went back into Any man that held land by knight-service, vested in him by descent or heritage, was deem d to be of gentlemanly condition or degree. Ma- cox, Bero ice Anglica. PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. the darkness of far ages; their assumed descent from Odin and Thor was a clear enough expression of the fact, that their line had been of the highest type of their race, as far as the memory of all the genera- tions of whom they had tidings reached. From this feeling came the strange exaggera- tions of old writers, those most extraordinary writers, the early expounders of heraldry. God Almighty cannot make a gentleman exclaims one of these worthies. Indeed, James the First is said to have answered his nurse, who wished him to create her son one, Na, na! I can make him a lord, but I canna mak him a gentleman. We have, however, cases of royal creations of gentlemen; there is the instance of one John Kingston, whom one of our kings ad ordinem generosorurn adoptabat; but from the fuss the writers make about this case, it is clear that it was thought extraordinary, nay, so to speak, un- natural. In France, one of the patents of nobility of which we have spoken, though it made a man a privileged person, did not make him a noble in a satisfactory sense. It took some three or four generations to make the offspring, gentlemen of ancestry. Every- thing, in fact, shows, that gentility, which is always spoken of as a matter of blood that forcible and old metaphor was an affair of race. In the last result, and peering as far as we can into the ante Again nona days, we find that certain sections of men were bigger and stronger, and had more energy of every kind, than other men, and became their governors and rulers. Take a simple illustration of the estimation in which different sets of men were held in early times, afforded by our language. The terms villain, churl, boor, all passed, from being simple terms of description, into terms implying humiliation; and on the other hand gentilesse, gentleness, and so on, became the names of qualities such as were supposed to belong to the class from whose designation they were derived. He was eummin of gentill-men, His father was a worthy knight, His mother was a lady bright, Sings Blind Harry of Sir William Wallace, who sprang from the De Walays of Nor- mandy. Did the reader ever consider the testimony of those old ballads l They were written, it may he supposed, by the born singers of the humbler classes, in old days, when the gentleman~s employment was war; they hear every trace of coming warm from the popular heart; now, how do they repre- sent the Aristocracy Stout ErIe Percy and Sir James, the bold Baron are made noble figures of by these sipgers; Good Sir Patrick Spensis lovable, as seen by their light; and ~vhat saore charming than their portraits of the noble ladies, whose lily. white hands were such constant objects ~f their simple admiration Loyalty is the predominant feeling of these old songs. It would be blasphemy against the nature of things to suppose that the history of Eng- land or the history of Europe for long ages was all one false and mad state of society. We must, therefore, just accept Gentilesse, with its flefs, tournaments, shields, heralds. pedigrees, and prejudices, us the state of life through which Europe had necessarily to pass, and as that which formed the founda- tion of the existing state of civilization. Of course, if any one seriously maintains that it would have been better for England if Jack Cade had succeeded, and When Adam delved, and Eve span, Who was then a gentleman become the motto of England, we must leave him to consider us and our Pedigree and Heraldry insanity, and proceed with our further illustrations of the subject with what heart we can. The gradual and important process by which the distinction between the greater and lesser nobles came about, is not easily traced; the constitution of Parliaments, in early reigns, is involved in obscurity and contro- versy. It would appear that there was an early distinction between barones majores and barones rninores. The Reports of the Lords Committee on the Dignity of a Peer, esteemed this distinction earlier than the time of John. Both classes were barons, and both, in Mr. Hallams opinion, were constitutionally mem- bers of the commune concilium; there was no social distinction that is, no distinction at all resembling that of caste between them; and the barones minorcs were, in the words of Camden, those who vulno generosi et gentlemen vocantur. Extent of property was probably the cause of the gradual distinction. In the course of it, the majores became what we call the Peers on which body the cele- brated Madox, in his Baronia Anglica, has the following paragraph Peerage was the state or condition of a peer. It consists chiefly in that relation which the barons or peers of the Kings Court bare to one another. Baronial tenure or creation were the foundation of Peerage for when a man was ei- ther left in barony., or was created a baron or earl, he was, ipso facto, a peer one of the Pares Curia3 Regis. But the minores, as the reader has seen, were equally of the ~ristocracy in the proper sense. When the custom began of summon- ing Parliament by two classes of writs one addressed directly from the crown to the great barons, the other through the sheri~ of counties to omen of less consequence this last class becane what we nomv familiarly 8 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. know as county members, our ancient English knights of the shire. By this means a mass of the aristocracy of the coun- try became the leaders of the popular interest, and the first stand against Charle~ the First came from men who in every other country of Europe would have been counts or mar- quises; such men as Hampden, Sir Dudley l)igges, and Sir John Elliot. One considera- tion of great importance flows from a right understanding of the historic nature of the English aristocracy, and it is this. When the question is raised as to the number of eminent men produced relatively by the aris- tocracy and the people, it is never quite fairly argued, from the general misapprehension of the real character of what constitutes no- bility. But we shall devote a special para- graph to this point further on. Let us now endeavor to sketch historically the state of aristocracy in the country. With a nobility which does not yield to any other in antiquity or possessions, the English view of the matter has always been more liberal than that of the continent. This is shown by many particulars. By the comparative in- difference in matters of alliance to begin with; in Germany a mi~sa~liauce is ruinous to the best pedigree. But, chiefly, the fact is proved by the very little success which the Heralds College, or College of Arms, has had in this realm; it has been, and is, a prosperous cor- poration enough, but it has never been what could be called a successful institution. heralds are among the oldest officials known. During the days of chivalry, when the knights rode into the tilting field, glittering with armor from head to foot, the herald stood by and announced the individual from the arms upon his shield, He was the messenger of kings and potentates; the regulator of cere- monial and state; the superintendent of all that pertained to the pomp and ornament of life; the authority on arms and pedigree and the regulator of the stately ceremonies which accompanied that last display of hu- man pride wherein our feudal forefathers were wont to be particularly magnificent, the occa- sions when A funeral with plumes and lights, And music, went to Camelot. These vulgar hatchmnents symbols which have lost all meaning which infest Great- gaunt street, are only the miserable descend- ants of the warriors shield hung outside his castle wall, to tell the country that the gentle- man whom they had followed to battle had begun his long slumber. On st~ch occasions as these funerals your antique herald was in his glory. For he was the lord of the sym- bolic, and the interpreter of~ the gorgeous imagery by which was expressed, in ornament and ceremony, the spirit of the ancient life. But though the kings heralds were formed into a constituted body; though Henry V. formed them into a College ; and Richard III. granted them a charter of privile~,es; and Henry VIII. issued a commission to the Kings of Arms (21 Henry VIII.) ; in spite of all this, England never took heartily to Norroy and Clarencieux.* A perpetual struggle ~vent on between the heralds and the multitude. First, there was a war between them and those who would, without authority, assume coat-armor; and an amusing struggle between them and the local painters and undertakers, who presumed to arrange funerals, nay, to wear gowns and tippets (unhappy Claren- cicux!) without authority, and contrary to all heraldic law aud example. Their very visita- tions never received proper attention in Eng- land. Their first commission ~vas the one above-mentioned, from Henry VIII. We will give a specimen of the way in which a Visi- tation was conducted. When the deputy arrived in a neighborhood he issued such a document as the following :f Summons to a Gentleman to appear before a Deputy to a King-at-arms. parish Co. To Mr. Sir, You are personally to appear before Esq., Windsor (or other) herald of arms, on being the th of next, by eight of the clock in the morning, at the sign of the of , there to eater your descent and arms, and to bring with you such arms and crest as you bear. Whereof you are not to fail, as you will answer the same before the Lords Com- missioners for the office of the Earl Marshal of England. Many, of course, did (luckily for descend- ants of a genealogical turn of mind) obey these summonses; but many treated them with indifference. Old Gerard Leigh relates, in his Armorie, that some who were applied to concerning their coats, made somewhat obvious jests touching other portions of their apparel, sho4ing to the heraldic mind. As might be expected, the Stuarts contrived to create all the mischief that could be con- veniently created out of such institutions as these. In 1633, Charles I. issued a commis- sion, by which the kings-at-arms had liberty to reprove, control, and make infamous, by proclamation at the assizes, or general session, all that have taken upon themselves the title of esquire, gentleman, or otherwise, and also to punish the sham~less persons gold- smiths and tippet people, mentioned above. Further than that, he used the pur- suivants-a~armsto arrest Sir Dudley Dig- ges and Sir John Elliot, for speaking against * Nobles College of Arms; Berry, Preface to Encyclopiedia ileraldica, & e. f Noble, ubi sap. (Appendix, p. 22.) 9 PEDIGREE AND lIEi~ALDi~Y. the Duke of Buckingham. But the Earl Marshals Court, a kind of court of honor to which the spirit of England was decidedly adverse, did most mischief to the cause of the heralds. This court took cognizance of gen- tility, and made causes about what were properly matters of air and fancy. Copley having spoken somewhat in defamation of Pierpoints family, was fined 3001. And it was usual, then, to censure men for words; as a person was for saying, that one Brown was no gentleman, but descended from Brown, the great pudding-eater in Kent. * It was not likely that courts and commis- sions like these would outlive such a century as the seventeenth in England. The heralds made a good fight of it; the sturdy Dugdale, when he was Norroy, rigidly denounced pretenders, publicly diselaiming all who took upon them the title of gentleman or esquire nay, sturdily defacing tombstones whereon arms were put without right, and so perse- outing the poor parvenu even in his grave - . . . But ever the authority of the Col- lege was waning. In 1669, as Anthony ~ Wood tells us, in the sour pages of his Life, Sir Edward Bysshe, Clarencieux King-of-Arms, was at the Crown Inn, near Carfax, in Oxen, in order to visit part of the county of Oxon . . . being part of the province belonging to Clarencieux. Anthony, a most laborious antiquary, devoted to learn- ing in his he art, but irritable at the surface, with papistical tendencies, misogyny, and col- lege scandal, preying thereon, was then in- dulging what he calls his esurient geni& for antiquities. However, he spared time to look up at the proceedings of Bysshe, and so to inform us and the world that few gentlemen appeared, because at that time there was a horse-race at Brackley. Such that came to him he entered if they pleased. If they did not, he was indifferent. Many looked on this affair as a trick to get money. So far Anthony, in his sour and prickly way: he had seen many things gi~lling to an antiquarian and Tory mind how, at the very fair church of Banbury, out of sixty coats of arms that were on the windows before the war began, only twelve or thirteen were left. This was in 1659. Likewise he had seen the ancient and noble seat of Workworth lately belonging to the Chetwoods of Chet- wood . . . . sold by them to Jiol- man, a scrivener. And, what was worst of all, he had seen Fulk Grevill of the antient and gentile familie of the Grevilles in War- wickshire . . . condemned for highway robbery ! But we must not linger with Anthony. The last commission was issued to the kings-at-arms ia the 2d of James II. Noble, from ltushworth. t Life ef Dugdale, prefixed to his History of St. Pauls. lie died in 1685. Visitations fell into disuse. The College of Arms grants arms on application still, for fees; but, of course, interferes not either with shield or tombstone ; and that ancient officer. the herald, has passed, like so many other great officials, into beadledom. The truth is, that the ancient aristocracy, of which the two great appurtenances were the land and the sword, had waned, and were ever waning not only out of power, but out of existence altogether, long before the times of which we have just bean speaking. It is only after poring over the huge tomes of the antiquary, that one begins to understand, either how great the old nobles were, or how entirely they passed away. In Queen Eliza- beths time, great social changes were going on. Brooke, York herald (we quote again from Noble), says that Cook, Clarencicux. in this (Elizabeths) reign, granted five hundred coats-of-arms to diflerent persons ~vho applied for them; and that the two Dethicks gave more than that number; he also acquaints us that in his own time one hundred and twenty were given within ten years. [[list. of College of Arms, p. 161.] These grantees, of course, were new men, every day purchas- ing estates from the old families; and no doubt are the ancestors of many of our most potent county families at present. It was natural that moderate estates should not hold out in the same families many centuries. But, meanwhile, what had become of the mighty barons, who formerly overawed the crown ~ The curious particulars concerning these magnates with which we become ac- quainted in the great work of Dugdale, suffi- ciently inform us of the splendor of their condition. The primal baron, who was a member of the kings council before any other title but earl ~vas known in England who had his own heralds; whose manors were to be counted by dozens; who admninis- tered justice on his own land, like a prince; who was waited on at table by gentle blood he lies away, in our distant early history, as the megatherium does in that of the world, the huge bulk of him only dimly conceivable! The wars and attainders the fatal Roses, whose breath was as deadly as that of the flowers in Hawthornes philosophical story,* were fatal to him. Innumerable families ended in heiresses, who carried the estates to smaller men, and gave to their modern de- scendants the right to boast of seine little of the old blood, of the rulers of Europe. But the wars of tl~ Roses gave the finishing blow to the old style of great nobility. A modern noble may achieve considerable splendor in the upholstery way by dint of money, but it is not the splendor of power. There are various examples of the result 5 1{appaeinis Daughter, in the Mosses from a Old Manse. 10 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. 11 of the horrible devastation of the wars of the to furnish soup kitchens and commit poach- Roses in the way of family destruction. Of ers! V~re likewise find heraldry still en- the great house of Stafford, Earls of Stafford, joying considerable vitality in those days, for and Dukes of Buckiugham, three successive my Lord Aubrey, having foolishly headed a heads died in the field; and the grandson west country rabble, who marched to London of the third was beheaded by Henry VIII. on a wild goose chase, was taken and cx- This mans son was restored in blood, and the ecuted; there being affixed to his breast a title of Lord Staffiurd remained to his race ; piece of paper with his arms painted on but after public events had spared them, pri- it reversed. All reasonable and intelligibhs vate injury completed the ruin of the male enough; for it was as much as to say, know line. The restored lords eldest son left a line all men by this ignoble paper of my Lord which ended in an heiress, but that heiress Audleys arms the disgrace or that lord; married a Howard; and when the grandson these arms~~ which ought to be the sym- of the restored lord (by a second son) claimed bol of his nobleness being the mark of his the title, he was bullied into silence and oh- shame. acurity. He died without issue, which was The house of Lords was very naturally re- the best thing he could do; but his sister cruited, in early times, from the landed men Jane Staffiurd married a joiner, and produced a or gentry, the holders of feudal estates. li cobbler, who was living in 1637. consisted, as we have seen, of a mere fifty or Regium certe genus et Penates ixty. But, as years rolled on, and its num Meret iniquos hers increased, and times changed, the House of Lords was added to, from many different might have been with mich propriety sources.* The theory of its being, of course, quoted of this poor fellow; for he had only was, that it was to compose the greater coun- to stir beyond his last, to claim kin with cil of the kingdom, and so to consist of all that-was noblest in England, and was de- its greatest potentates those who were scended from the Plantagenets ! * But, not strictly of most consequence by power and only did .the Staffords come to extreme mis- estates. This gave it weight and value, an cry; the Hollands begged their bread in exile. old earl was literally the governor of the die- It is well known that though the House of trict whence he derived his title, and so forth. Lords, when summoned fri 1451 by Henry Everything, in short, in these early days, VI., counted fifty-three temporal lords, yet meant something, which is saying a good when summoned by henry VII. in 1485, it deal! During Elizabeths long reign, she counted only twenty-nine, and of these sev- only made seven peers, and of these all but eral had been recently elevated to the peer- Cecil were of historic descent. King James aget The reign of Henry VII. was no reign was more lavish, and in his reign peerages likely to bring them round again; for that were sold sometimes. We then begin to find cold, shrewd thoughtful monarch kept a families, whose names are now great in the tight hand upon his nobility, says Lord land, coming to the surface Cecil, the ances- Bacon, in that classical piece of biography, tor of the Marquis of Salisbury; Cavendish his life of Henry and chose rather to of Chatworth, sprung from Wolsoys gentle- promote clergymen and lawyers, who though man usher; and the old name of Grey, in they had the interest of the people were the persons of Grey of Crohy, and Grey of more obsequious to him; to this I am per- Werke, comes into the peeimmge. Sir John suaded were greatly owing the troubles of Holles, a very rich man, who sprang from a his reign, for though his nobility were loyal Lord Mayor (a functionary not rarcly found and at his command, yet they did not codp- the patriarch of our modern great houses), crate with him, but let every man go his bought into the rank of earl, and founded a own ~vay. We may avail ourselves further house, which subsequently produced an heir- of Bacons work to illustrate our subject; ess just in time to bring wealth to the Clin- and here we see how the Kentish men acted tons. Law and trade had already gained the on a certain occasion: The Kentish men, high and serene air of the upper House ; and perceiving that Perkin was not attended by these, directly and indirectly, will be found any Englishmen of consequence . . . . to be the sources of many peerages hence- applied to the principal gentlemen of time forth. Charles I. created fifty-six peerages county . . . . desiring to be directed in of course giving them right and left, to aid what manner they could best act for the his desperate cause but of these all but six kings service. Natural enough! The gen- are extir~t a fact which would alone show themen were then actually expected to have how lines wear out. Charles IL. created some guidance and direction at command, and some forty-eight (including those which we were looked to, to supply~t and not only owe to his amours, and which he created * See ease of Roger Stafford, in the Gentle- ~ Gnimaldi, Onigines Genealogicism ; works of Sir wan s Magazine, for 1797. Harris Nicolas and Sir Egerton Brydges; and the f Macaulay, Hist. of England, vol. i., p. 38. Peerages. PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. in a very literal sense) ; and here, says a cele- brated genealo~ist, a departure more striking- ly took place from the old principle; not men of feudal property so much as enrichis were selected. King Williams peers amounted to some twenty-four which include the Dutch houses of Bentinck and Keppel. In Queen Annes time twelve peers were made in a day, which created a regular uproar. But that was a worthy opening of the last century, which was famous for jobbing peerages; for when the house of Lords was once made a place to reward partisans, it became a place of party and family convenience. There is a charming illustration of this in the recent Memorial of Fo , edited by Lord John Rus- sell, in which somebody writing to Fox says, Lord Ossory is very desirous, from a dislike of the turmoil, and still more of the expense of elections, to obtain an English peerage. Very likely! And this is just the light in which the House of Lords has come to be re- garded; and so we hear of men being shelved there, and sent there, when it is expected that they will be useless to the state, or when it is feared that they will be too active, and it is wished to reduce them to im- becility. But surely the House remains, at all events, a body of venerable and ancient aristocracy hoary with time and honor, and so sheds a lustre from the old days of England over the land? The way in which its ranks have been recruited is not such as to tend to this result. Let us see. In the first place, the old peer- ages have been constantly becoming extinct. Then a lawyer~s family the utility of the in- dividual having expired with himself repre- sent nothing but his talents for getting on, and how often is there anything beautiful or venerable about that kind of modern career? The whole tendency of the creations during the last century was to vulgarize the institu- tion. Buhb Doddington was made Lord Mel- combe; and the uncle of Horace Walpole had, as his amiable nephew tells us, his am- bition and dirt crowned by a similar reward. The same ambitious Horatio Walpole bettered his fortune by marrying a tailors daughter the tailor figuring in the peerages as Peter Lombard, Esq. ; she was, however, a very sensible woman; when the Queen of France asked her De queue famille etes vous? she ans~vered, Daucune! Of the thirty- two peers whom George II. made, five only are calculated to have been country gentlemen of ancient descent and good estates.; and the old titles died out almost as quickly as the new ones were made. In this reign the ex- isting Dukedom of Northumberland was cre- ated. Three times th~ noble line of Percy has ended in an heiress; the first time, the lady married Joseeline de Lovaine; the second time, the prize fell to the proud Duke of Somerset; the third heiress carried the es- tates to Sir Hugh Smithson, the son of an apothecary, who had been created a J)aronet. What proportion of the old Percy blood flows in the veins of those who claim the honor of the familys representation The fanatics of blood, i. e., those who are not content to yield that reasonable amount of regard to it, which sense and sentiment both permit, should remember that when the main line has merged, again and again, into other families, the original blood must be but a small constituent of the remote descendants personality. The great subverter of the aristocratic principle in the creation of peers, was Pitt. I a fighting his battle against the whigs, he availed himself immensely of the moneyed interest; and rewarded the supporters of party with the honors of the crown. At every gen- eral election a batch was made ; eight peer- ages were created in 1790; and in 1794, when a whig defe4ion to him took place, ten were created. Sir Egerton Brydges, a very accom- plished man, both as a genealogist and a man of letters, published a special pamphlet on the point in 1795.* He undoubtedly expressed the views of the old aristocratic party when he said In every Parliament I have seen the number argumented of busy, intriguing, pert, low mem- bers, who, without birth, education, honorable employments, or perhaps even fortune, dare to obtrude themselves, and push out the landed in- terest. One effect of granting these peerages in such a way is obvious enough. Society in England has always been based on aristocracy. Now, by giving a sort of preference to men who had no aristocratic pretensions over their untitled neighbors who had, the traditionary order of affairs throughout England was broken in upon, and not mark this ! broken in upon to replace an effete order by new genius and natural nobility, but by mere moneyed jobbers and adventurers. From 1784 to 1830 were created 186 peerages ; and, 34 havina become extinct during that time, the addition of 152 remained. What then is at present the proportion of genuine aristocracy in the House of Lords? Calculations have been made by genealogists on this subject, of which we shalf avail our- selves. The learned author of the Origines Gen- ealogicce analyzed the printed peerage of 1828, and found that of 249 noblemen 35 laid claim to having traced their descent beyond the Conquest; 49 prior to 1100 ; 29 prior to 1200; 32 prior to 1300; 26 prior to On the recent Augmentations of the Peer- age. 1798. IDodsley. 12 13 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. 1400; 17 to 1500; and 26 to 1600. At the same time 30 had their origin but little before 1700. here then we have a result of one-half the peerage being at all events traceable to a period antecedent to the Wars of the Roses. But of these a third only had emerged at all out of insignificance during the two previous centuries. Sir Harris Nicolas fixes as his standard of pretension in family, the having been of con- sideration, that is, of baronial or knightly rank, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and on applying that test to the English Peerage in 1830, found that ONE-TuRD of the body were entitled to it. There still remain in the male line, up and down England, a considerable number of landed families of very high antiquity; but the gradual decay and extinction of these is the constant theme of genealogists. Hear old Dugdale in the Preface to his Baronage in 1675. He first speaks of the Roll of Battle Abbey, and says of it : There are great errors or rather falsities in most of these copies. Such hath bean the subtilty of some monks of old. But, speaking of his labors generally, he has these more remarkable words For of no less thin 270 families touching which this first volume doth take notice, there will hardly be found above eight, which do to this day continue ; and of those not any whose estates (compared with what their ancestors enjoyed) are not a little diminished. Nor of that num- ber (~ mean 270) above twenty-four who are by any younger male branch descended from them, for aught I can discover. lie was only stating, in a business-like way, what had been echoed and redehoed in England for a century before. Peacham, the author of that curious book, the Compleat Gentleman (edition of 1634), speaks of the ordinary purchasing of armes and honors for money, and says that the French called these intruders Gentill- Villains, with more of the same sort. Massinger was illustrating the same fact when he made Sir Giles Over- reach exclaim T is a rich mans pride there having ever been, More than a feud, a strange antipathy Between us and true gentry. No sources more abundantly show the decay of the ancient aristocracy than those huge and useful works, which so often ruin their projectors, our County Histories. Ly- sons Magna Britannia has many instances of it under the various counties. One fact may serve as a specimen. In the 12th year of Henry VI., about the middlq,~ of the fifteenth century, a dozen generations ago, a list of the Gentry of Berkshire was made out. It is remarkable, says our author, that there is not one family descended ut the male line from any of the gentry enumerated in the above list now left in the country. Various curious deductions may be made from facts like these, and some very important ones, both tending to mitigate existing caste- pride.* Such as the great mixture of classes by middle-class families having married heir- esses of ancient ones; the extreme probability that much of the most ancient blood in the country the blood of the oldest classes of feudal proprietors flows in the veins of the common people and peasantry. if, however, we broach the great query, what blood has governed England for the lust three centuries, we shall find that an answer must be given materially different now from the answer which would have leaped to the lips of a gen- tlemnan in the days of regal Bess! A man must be very democratic indeed, who would deny to the aristocracy, that is, the nobility, greater and less, the lords and the gentry, the merit of having governed Eng- land during the whole period of the formation of the constitution. And when we argue such a question, it must never be forgotten that the tacit, the local administration, the general organization, must be takcn into account. But with the progress of time the other classes have more and more exercised an influence. The leading men on both sides during the Civil War were of godd family ;t but the party which was least aristocratic in its elements was the one which triumphed. In the next century, again, theFoxes, Lords Holland,t started from a plebeian of Charles iI.s time; the Walpoles and Pitts were plain country squires; the ~elhams owed their wealth to an ancestral citizen ; the North family was new; Burke, Sheridan, Canning, Peel, sprung from the middle class. One often hears the question, what kind of families have produced men of distinction, brought up in conversation. As we have said before, it is not always quite fairly put. For instance~. when it is recorded that Miltons father was scrivener, it should be remem- bered that h~ was of ancient lineage. The families may claim among poets, Spenser, Dryden, Waller, Surrey, George herbert, Beaumont, Byron, Shelley, Cowper; among great writers generally, Bacon, Boyle, Gibbon, Hume, Fielding, Smollet, Congreve, Swift, ~ The sort of pride which is obliged (a very ominous symptom) to borrow its phrases from the French heraldic writers, and talks of pur sang; creme de la erdme par/urn de noblesse, and other pet absurdities of Jenkins ! ~ As Cromwell, St. John, Hampden, Bradshaw, Admiral Blake, & e., on the popular side; the fact about the other needs no details. 4 Charles James, however, was fourth in descent from Charles II. by his mother; and several points of likeness in him to the Stuart, show how surely character transmits itself. PEDIGREE AND HERALDIIY. Sterne, Arbuthnot, Walter Scott, Goldsmith. These men were all what a herald would designate gentlemen. Doubtless, we omit others, for we quote from memory; but the opposite side has a formidable list Ben Jonson, Cowley, Prior, Jeremy Taylor, Dr. Johnson, Collins, Gray, Selden, Keats, Rich- ardson, Franklin, Bunyan (by some, supposed to descend from the gypsies, a point worth searching into), Moore, Crabbe, all came out of the inferior strata of society. The mighty Shakspeare had a share of all blood as of all else in Nature. His paternal pedigree stops with his grandfather, and his coat-of-arms was not older than himself; but his mothers family, the Ardens, belonged to the ancient gentry of Warwickshire. Bring a man from one class, you can always match him from the other. Martin Luther may outweigh innu- merable quarterings. As for the theory of pure blood, the Spanish nobles are very bad instances of its effects in practice; some of the greatest potentates amongst them are said to be actually of stunted growth. We remember being much amused by reading in the late Mr. T. M. Hughes book on Spain, that one of their nobles, while professing to descendfrom the Giant Geryon, was himself, in stature, some four feet two! So fades, so languishes, grows dim and dies, All that this world is proud of. What a sight for our posterity should this degeneracy continue, and some future Barnum go about exhibiting some future di ~as a very singular specimen of that now nearly extinct race, the hereditary governor of mankind, and (theoretical) King of Men! are pedants to a man; and on a subject which gives every encouragement to a pedantic mind. We have indicated, above, the gradual formation of the primal aristocracy into a greater and lesser body of nobles, the latter comprising what we call the gentry.* The fact of such distinction, with its division of powers, was part of the very essence of the English character and constitution. Some consciousness of a similar rank in blood would of course dwell long in the minds of the great squires. A squire of Elizabeths time, we can fancy, when he saw some neigh- bor of less distinguished pedigree, but whose father had by a lucky haul of Church property got himself made a peer when he saw him taking precedence and so on, might grumble a little over his canary, and assert that he was as good a gentleman as any in the king- dom; that he had heard that his ancestor had sat as a Baron in Edward I. s time, and that the Swigvilles were a match for e er a lord in the land. All this was natural enough; and, on the blood theory, perfectly just. But the heraldic writer never considered that Swigville was a commoner in the eye of the law, and that it was very lucky for England, and belonged to the liberal character of her institutions, that she had no caste of Nobles, invidiously distinguished by common privi- leges from the rest of the kingdom, and so helping to produce some bloody convulsion, and disorganization, for a future posterity! No. lie never looked beyond the coat-of- arms. He saw everything through a haze of or and azure. The human race were divided into ye noble, and - ye ignoble ; ye gentill-man of bloud, and ye churle. Ye noble should not, according to him, marry ~vith ye churle ; for then he would bar his progeny of noblesse. j- It was as- sumed that mankind were composed of two separate bodies, of whom one was as superior to the other, as ye horse to ye asse ; everybody with an old shield belonged to one, and everybody without one to the other. ~ut While the heraldic writer sinned mon- strously against Physiology, he played still more extraordinary tricks with the history of the world. The standard old books of Heraldry, such as the Boke of St. Albans, the Glory of Generosity, the huge tome which goes by the name of Guillims Heraldry, and others, we reckon among the most extraordi- nary specimens of the human intellect. The inquirer of the nineteenth century, when he wanders into that region, is at first struck dumb with surprise; he finds himself in a chill, unearthly atmosphere, like that of a vault. It is a region of fossils. Here is a dead leaf with sonic strange lines on it; yon bed of thickest clay has traces which indicate that some organized body has stamped itself on it. You grope curiously about. Presently you say, there has been life here! Yes, the great sea of ancient European life receding se This distinctio~ of rank with similarity of away has left these traces of itself and its origin is admitted in its favorableness to the products, in every sort of form and shape, in- gentry, by the liberal historians. Efallam says, dicating that there has been life there, but Nobility, thot is, gentitity of birth, might be testi- leaving you only the mu.~t curious images and fled by a pedigree, but a peer was to be in arms hints of itself to wonder over, for the crown. Suppt. to the Middle Ages. ~ Sir John Fernes Glory of Generosity, a Something like this, we say, strikes on the hook which, according to Peacham, was in his mind at once. For the old heraldic writers day daily sought after as a jewel. He sees himself in all he sees, to his eye, his darling and exalbxl science had existed in its present form since the be- ginfling of the world. The shape of the 14 PEDIGREE AND HERALDRY. shield had probably been suggested by the spade of Adam. The distinction of classes had begun with the first generation. Hear the Book of St. Albans, which was written in the fifteenth century, and printed by Wynkin de Worde Cain and all his offspring became churis, both by the curse of God and his own father. Seth was made a gentleman, through his father and mothers blessing, from whose loins issued Noah, a gentleman by kind and lineage. Of Noahs sons Chem became a churl by his fathers curse, on account of his gross barbarism towards his father. .Jophet and Shem, Noah made gentlemen. From the offspring of gentlemanly Japhet came Abraham. Moses and the prophets, and also the king of the right line of Mary, of whom that only absolute gentleman, Jesus, was born ; perfite God, and perfite man, according to his manhood, King of the land of Juda and the Jews, and gentleman by his mother Mary, princess of coat-armor. This book was written by an ecclesiastic whether by Dame Juliana Berners, or one of the stronger sex, is uncertain. Very pretty and profitable reading for youth, in the days when not many besides ye gentill-men were likely to have a chance of being able to read! No wonder new men hastened to get coat armor and escape, or enable their descendants to escape, out of the list of the descendants of Cain! When one sees that such books as this were ~vritten with all seri- ousness, one begins to understand how Frois- sart could see nothing in the Jacquerie but a risino of the meaner sort ; and how Bacon could palliate some seventies of Henry VII., on the ground that they were inflicted but upon the scum of the people. The heraldic writer propounded views of natural history, on a par with his civil history and his science. his discourses on the infinite number of animals borne as charges in the art, commence invariably with the most mon- strous dreams of antiquity on the subject. The lion when sick cureth himself with the blood of an ape ; and singles out the particu- lar man who has wounded him, from a crowd. But it is when the application of this knowl- edge is to be made to the illustration of his heraldic art that our friend becomes transcend- ently ridiculous; he has a story to account for the origin of each familys arms; he always implies that the arms were assumed with some mystical motive. Argent signifies purity, & c.; as if every family would not have testified to its own purity, if any such refined symbolism had existed in early times! As if early Heraldry had been sentimental only, and not at once useful, significant, and poetic, too! To the Heralds we owe tl~ose silly fables about the origin of families, which figure in the commencement of pedigrees, as tradi tions; such as the story ofthe old man Hay, and of the ancestor of the Napiers, with the na peer punning derivation. The mass of such stories are myths, which have gradu- ally sprung out of the constant hut an ten- dency to account for the origin of things; in the particular cases alluded to, to account for the subject in the coat-armor. Old families must have had coat-armor * even earlier than they had surnames; and whenever we get the safe evidence of a charter about a great house, we find nothing to make it probable that a poor old reaper with three sons, or any other mythical figure, was the founder, but some stout Teutonic knight, of use and importance in his generation. It says a great deal for the good-sense of England, aristocratic as she is ever considered, that these big heraldic books never have had much success. It was not till within the last century, that anything like a scientific work on the subject was written; and really Mr. Planch6s is the only notably sensible book that we ever remember reading about it.t lIe goes to work in a rigidly business-like way. What is the earliest evidence we have of the use of armorial bearings? What do the figures in the Baycux Tapestry amount to? Can we hope to know precisely why, and when, particular bearings were adc2ted? For our own part, we never intended to write an antiquarian dissertation on the sub- ject. We do not value antiquities nor anti- quarians, except in so far as they enable us better to understand the human life of our fellow-creatures in old days. We must be excused, therefore, for putting down, without controversial detail, the essence of what we have gathered on the subject 1. We think that there is no evidence of anything like Heraldry as a system prior to the time of Richard I. 2. But as everything grows, though we do not see the growth of institutions, more than that of trees, we must suppose Heraldry to have grown too; and we clearly see the rude germs of it in the figures which Mr. Planch~ has given from the Bayeux Tapestry. 3. We accept the universal belief, that the system owed almost everything, as a system, to the Crusades. 4. We are inclined to think that Mr. Planch6s view, of the braces and clamps of the shield being the natural early heraldic figures, is a very reasonable one. ~Whether or not these notions he just, the only interest a subject~uch as this can have ~ When Froissart is relating who was killed in any of the innumerable fights he writes of, he some- times says only, he unre so-and-so. The arias of a house in early days were far stronger marks of distinction than the name. ~ We hear the Curiosities of Heraldry, hy Lower, well spoken of, but have never seen it. 15 16 RELATION OF CLIENT AND LAWYER.NEW BOOK. for mankind now, is its symbolic interest. And all that we could ever see, to have been discovered about the earliest practice of Heraldry, convinces us that its origin was natural and beautiful; that it was a kind of homage to the beautiful on the part of the leaders of Europe in days when life, though violent, ivas noble. It was the distinctive mark of these leaders, too, and a not ungrace- ful assertion of the fact of their leadership. Fossil-like as it has become now, who knows whether it may not yet once more acquire a symbolic value, if only as a kind of disgrace- fYil signal that a man assumes to belong to the leading class without doing anything but put an odd figure on his spoons by way of showing it! Pedigree and Heraldry exist as a reproach to this last-mentioned gentleman; who forgets that the word Gentleman was, for long centuries, afaithofits kind throughout Europe. While this is forgotten, and perhaps naturally forgotten, in our progress to other forms of life, it is as well, now and then, to look at these older forms sometimes, and try to get clear notions out of them. For gentleman has grad- ually come to mean a person of some kind of polish and assumption; though it is the men which is the base of the word, which is also the life of it; and which will have to begin again in its native vigor, after this peculiar feudal modification of it shall have outlived its utility. From the Spectator, 3d Sept. RELATION OF CLIENT AND LAWYER. HowEvER little the Smyth case can have answered the purpose of the man who claimed the property, it will not be entirely without beneficial result, since it has put in a very strong-light a moral which has not escaped the legal profession. Some time ago it was argued that a barrister becomes completely the agent and advocate of his client, engaged solely to present all that may be said on the side of that client, and disengaged from any moral responsibility as to the merits of the case. This doctrine, however, although it was convenient for the consciences of, profes- sional men less sensitive than Romilly, could not be sustained entirely; and barristers have gone to the equally erroneous opposite extreme that of throwing up a brief as soon as a grossly fraudulent character was exposed in their case. Mr. Bovill threw up his brief in the Smyth ease, and in doing so, we think, violated the true principle upon which a bar- rister should act; a principle which has not been unrecognized by the profession. It is, that the barrister is extgaged for the purpose of seeing that his client be treated according to law, and in no other way; that he have all the evidence that can be procured and set forth for him ; that the evidence be taken according to iule and practice ; that the judge charge the jury according to law and rule; in short, that the whole proceedings be regular and complete in all that is required on the part of the client. Acting on this principle, the barrister can retain his brief to the last, as well as on the principle of absolute agency; but he is not required to be an accomplice in suborning false evidence, or in setting forth pleas that he knows to be fraudu- lent; nor is he bound to anticipate the judg- ment by a declaration of the verdict in the ~ct of throwing up his brief. This principle has been recognized so far that there is a prospect of its becoming more generally adopted as the rule of the profession. But the Smyth case suggests to us, that it may very properly be extended to the other half of the profession the attorneys. They are bound to exercise discretion in their conduct with their clients, otherwise they become par- ties to conspiracy and fraud. Considering all the opportunities that a man in the profession has of discriminating, it is difficult to find him thus placed and to acquit him either of an extraordinary degree of dulness or of culpable knowledge. It is, for example, excessively difficult to understand how any professional man could see Smyth, hear him tell his lies nay, take them down in writing in order to insert them in the brief and not understand the whole character of the fraud. Now no attorney would put himself into this position, however frauduldat his client might be, if he confined himself to the principle which we have mentioned as adopted by barristers. Burton and its Bitter Beer. By J. Stevenson Bushnan, M. D., & c. Author of Miss Mar- tinean and her Master. (Readings in Popular Literature.) Ticis is a kind of amende honorable. 13i-. Bushana having, as editor of the Medical Times and Gazette, been the first to promulgate in this country the bitter story of the use of strychnine in bitter beer, and admission being refused by his successor in the editorship to a justificatory letter of Mr. Allsopp, the learned doctor made a pilgrimage to Burton to investi~,ate matters on the spot. There is much more, however, in his publication, than an account of the manufacture of bitter beer, the premises in which it is brewed, and the history o~the house of Allsopp n6 Wilson, curious as that as, especially the manner in which the sudden and capricious changes in Russian tariffs deal out injury to British traders. Dr. Bushnan enters upon the vexed question of total abstinence; narrates the history of ale and gives a picture of the town of Burton, which may serve as a guide. Spectator. A RAILWAY INCIDENT. From Bentleys Miscellany. A RAILWAY INCIDENT. BY ONE OF THE OLD SCHOOL. I HATE railway travelling! Pardon the strength of the expression. To me the pleas- ure and excitement of a journey no longer exist; both have vanished with macadamized roads and mail-coaches. True, the former were dusty, especially in July; hut have you no chances of ophthalmia by rail I Are there no sharp particles flying into your eye at the rate of thirty miles an hour, including stop- pages; and is there not a sting, a pungency, a piercingness, about railway dust, for which the old highway commodity affords no paral- lel Twenty-four hours to London certainly was a toil of a pleasure, there is no denying that. But if the toil is now happily got rid of, I appeal confidently to every traveller of taste, if I am not right in asserting that the pleasure has gone with it how pleasant, some fourteen or twenty years ago (for my railway grievance is not of niuch longer standing), was a journey through some of the rural districts of old England! There were the turnings and windings of the grass-bordered highway, every one of which presented you with some new view, or fresh aspect of the old; the stately, park-like trees which here and there overshadowed it; then, the ruin in the valley, how it seemed to flit before you, now on the one side, then on the other, disclosing its beautiful details of arch, gallery, and ivy-braced tower, till at length, suddenly lost sight of, a sharp turn of 4he road brought you under its time-stained walls, and, for a moment, you glided noise- lessly over the green turf whence they sprang. Then a cheerful blast of the horn, or haply bugle-notes, that rang out in sharp echoes; and, dashing over the steep bridge, apparent- ly constructed for the express purpose of sous- ing all the outsides into the stream, a fate from which miracle or first-rate coach- manship alone saved you you cantered jauntily into the little country-town, to the admiration of all the loungers about that most seductive inn-door, and the supreme delight of John himself, who is acutely alive to the unqualified approbation excited by his turn- out. A sentiment which is admirably depict- ed in the broad grins that greet his arrival; while the occupants of sundry blue bed-gowns and scarlet petticoats, suspend their labors of eternally washing something or other at their door-steps, to turn up their hard-lined, im- passive faces, and gaze at the vehicular pa- geant as it rushes by. The Red Lion creaked invitingly as you entered the porch; and, rejoicing in the security oPyour half hour for dinner, you made known your wishes for ccccLxxxlx. LIVING AGE. VOL. iii. 2 that most attractive of rural messes, ham and eggs, with an inward longing, to which delicacy alone prevented you giving vocal expression, to add, for two ! Then you strolled to the close-shaven, well-enclosed bowling-green, whose verdant level agreeably bounds the view, right through the house, to enjoy the sunset till your repast was ready. That was enjoyment; and business was done into the bargain, every whit as well, as though you had clattered along at the heels of an unseemly steam-engine, and seen noth- ing worth looking at by the way. There was an idea of unity, a oneness about a stage-coach, the attainment of which is simply impossible to half a quarter of a mile of carriages, headed, and perhaps followed to boot, by a snorting locomotive; and then with how fraternal a spirit you regarded the rest of the four insides! With what kindly compassion you remarked the ill-made sand- wiches with which your companion opposite had been furnished by some unconscientious hireling; and with what a thrill of humanity you tendered him your own delicate parallel- ograms of most savory contents, prepared for you by one of your own household, dear, silly, womankind ! and of whose existence and uses, in your utter abjuration of lunches en route, you are alone reminded by your neigh- bors wretchedness. Meet him in a railway carriage, and you absolutely feel a savage pleasure in seeing him, after repeated and vain attempts upon the gristly refection, fling the whole through the window with a growl of malediction, dedicated alike to the artist who had perpetrated so unworkmanlike an affair, and such a asode of travelling as ren- ders the loss irreparable. No, it is utterly and forever impossible that the sympathies which are required to embrace three hundred individuals can be as intense as when they are brought to a focus upon half-a-dozen! And then the box-seat! What mere mortal can adequately unfold its marvellous delights One, two, three at each step you seem to shake off s~me of the hittlenesses of humanity; till, finally perched upon its proudest height, you become sensible of a rapidly increasing contempt for all men and things beneath; culminating in so settled and sublime a com- posure as enables you serenely, and without feeling discomposed at their awkwardness, to drive over old women, and children, and don- key-carts, and even to jerk elderly gentlemen out of their ridiculous tilburies into quickset hedges; which, by tl~ way, come the worse off of the two, their budding hopes being utterly crushed beneath the weight of in- cumbent humanity. Other things may be great; but your four-in-hand is glo- rious My last experience of this delectable posi. 17 A RAILWAY INCIDENT. tion, passive though not active, was one of thorough enjoyment; the more so, perhaps. that it was unpremeditated, for slight symp- toms of a wet day ha~ half induced me to be- stow myself snugly inside. However, being always weather-wise at the sea-side, I con- cluded that it would turn out fine. And fine it was; one of the most brilliant specimens of an April day, with the exception of its showers; the dull, lowering morning issuing in nn evening of such varied cloud and sun- shine as I have rarely seen, and which ira- parted an extreme, albeit illusive beauty, to a bleak sandy coast; the beach, whence the tide bad retreated, leaving innumerable min- iature lakes in its shelvings, and sinuosities, glowing with a haxy purple hue, amid which the little pools gleamed like gold. The cliff to the north, torn, ragged, and abrupt, stood out boldly to the light; its deep brown sides stained with many tints by the streams that trickled from the high land; while, to the south, a faint blue line, visible above the horizon, indicated the Welsh mountains. The former we left behind, our road skirting the sea, and almost on its level, for a short distance. It was in a quiet part of the coun- try a corn-growing district, innocent of tall chimneys, and night-and-day-working steam- engines, which, in some of the northern parts of England, disfigure the most beautiful and picturesque scenery. Here, innumerable wind- mills attracted the eye of the spectator. I have called it an April day; but, in fact, T was April, as the bumpkins say, The legislature called it May. And, indeed, the two months might well have squabbled as to which of them might justly claim the honor of having produced it. The first few miles of our journey lay on and near the barren coast, where sand alternated with stunted herbage, and the slender, wiry plant that binds together the light shifting undulations. In some places, where cultiva- tion had bestowed its patient toil, were scat- tered groups of such trees as best stand the keen salt blast; the hardy willow, the fir, and sundry others, that, familiar though they are to my eye, I must with shame confess I am not arborologist enough to name; all, by their invariable slant in one direction, lartdwards, bearing witness to the strength and constancy of the ocean-scented gale that sweeps over them, searing the tender buds that first strug- gle into tardy verdure. Dull, flat, and mo- notonous, the scene yet had its attractions beneath the deep-toned sunshine that now gave grace and beauty to the most insignifi- cant portions of it. ([low beautiful in such a light is a bit of broken clay-bank crested with short green turf!) Th. vapors that, during the early part of the day, had rested heavily on the earth, were now dispersed, until atmosphere (in artistic phrase) there was al)solutely none; so crisp, so intensely clear was all around. Presently, low white cot- tages ~vere seen here and there amid a tuft of sheltering trees, under whose screen gay flowers were clustered. While the neatly-kept kitchen-garden well stocked with vegetables, and the bright milk-pails (arranged for present use, as I guessed from seeing a formidable pair of horns at the other side of the hedge !), gave pleasing evidence of the cheerful in-~ dustry of their inmates ; some specimens of whom presented themselves to our view, in the form of small urchins, the shape and color of a brick; so square and red were these sons of the soil. In the distance a range of sandhills allowed occasional glimpses of the burnished waters that rolled beyond them; and whose ceaseless booming, growing faint and fainter as our course inclined to the interior, fell not inharmoniously upon the ear. Then we turned inland; and the landscape assumed a richer aspect. Our prospect, al- most momentarily varied by the incessant play of light and shade, was bounded by the hills spread out from north to south before us; steeped in sunshine, while the plain was thrown into deep shadow, then shrouded in gloom as the ever-changing light fell on the intervening country, bringing out vividly its different features, of ploughed land, pasture, and corn-field; the clouds now collecting in one heavy mas,s, with round, dull outlines, then, dishevelled by the fantastic breeze, ridi*g at speed through the sky, intensely blue; first one point, then another, and yet another of the wide-spread landscape being brought into view as the sunbeams chased the rapidly retreating shadows. The air was cold and bracing, just enough to exhilarate one; the herbage and foliage, now become luxuriant in the extreme, after a six-weeks drought, looking as fresh and green as after a spring shower. We were a light load, well-horsed, and merrily we rattled along; for a while fol- lowing fhe course of a noble river, whose retir- ing tide for we were yet within a dozen miles of the sea had left tall vessels high and dry upon its sandy banks. Then we raced through a picturesque hamlet, making a most important clatter over the small, rough paving-stones, Which there supplanted the smoother surface of the high-road, the over- hanging boughs on each side sweeping our heads, while grou~s of sturdy, staring children ran out to see the sight, hailing us with a small cheer or two, from mouths too well stuffed with bread and butter to emit any very powerful sounds. That was a sharp turn as we left it. Swing went the coach. Take care of yourselves, gentlemen ! All 18 A RAiLWAY INCIDENT. right! and on we bounded over a level, park- like heath, where sheep enough to furnish the whole county with mutton were cropping the short grass with such evident satisfaction as made me half long for a mouthful myself! They raised their silly faces to stare at us as we passed, and then, with an up with their heels and down with their head movement, cantered off, to leave us a wide berth, most palpably preferring our room to our com- pany. It was a delicious drive. But each pleasure has its pain ; and mine was not without its accustomed sequence. At sunset it terminated in a smoky manufacturing town, where, having refreshed myself with a cup of ineffably bad coffee, whose flavorless tepidity was no ways ameliorated by its being handed to me on a silver waiter by a boy in buttons, I consigned myself it must be owned dusty and cold to the well-cushioned cuclosure of a rail-way-carriage. The long train shot through the dusk, and, as usual, dipping between two banks, whenever the still gorgeous west, or any object of unusual interest presented itself, rapidly brought me within sight of home. The lights of a large town gleamed oddly through the darkness, not only around, but actually under our feet, for huge arches here overleapt streets and houses, so that, had not daylight failed me, I mi~ht have committed the impertinence of looking down peoples chimneys, to see what they were going to have for dinner. Truly nothing can beat an English high- road and stage-conch. There are so many iuiseries about a railway. There is the utter destruction of one~ s nerves in the gigantic hustle and business around; you seem en- circled by one extravagant hiss; the mingled flavor of smoke and oil, subsidiary to the abominable steam-packet movement, adapted to produce on dry land the most objectionable results of a sea-voyage; the clambering up to your carriage, like climbing the side of a house from its height and perpendicularity; and the hauling or pushing your lady com- ~anion8 thus incommodiously to their seats. 1h en, after a fluttering jerk of the signal-bell, which reminds you that your wifes half. doz~n packages are in the hands of as many porters, a few minutes elapse, spent in pain- lully poking your head out to the utmost extent of your neck, to make sure of the safe deposition of the said voluminous luggage. Another jerk of the bell, and a slow tremulous motion, and you fancy you are fairly under way at last. No such thing; a jingling of chains, followed by a full stop, with the additional emphasis of no gentle bang against the bufli~rs of the nexI~carriage, convinces you, as you are flung into the bonnet of the lady opposite, that you labor under a mistake, and that the whole routine of disagreeables attendant upon getting up the steam will again have to be undergone before that happy consummation is effected. However, suppose all this accomplished ; you rush gloomily along what in summer seems an endless green ditch, to the top of whose sides even it is vain to try to raise your eyes, niuch less can you hope to see the country through which you are pass- ing, save when friendly undulations of the surface permit you a brief glance of, the sur- rounding scenery, just by way of letting you see how much you lose for the sake of reach- ing your journeys end a few hours sooner. Or, if you chance to have some miles uninter- rupted prospect of wild, romantic beauty, depend upon it, right ahead a tunnel, two miles long, yawns to receive you; while the slackened pace at which you pass through its chill concavity afibrds you ample leisure to think over the possible result of any flaw or fracture in that slight brickwork which alone intervenes between you and the pressure of nobody knows what weight of superincumbent, and most picturesquely fir-clad hill; doomed to such desecration by a flinty-hearted en- gineer and directors, to whom all the natural beauty of the whole earth would weigh as n& thing against three letters of the alphabet L. s. d.; and who are equally reckless of the shock sustained by people of delicate nerves, on feeling themselves rapidly and irresistibly impelled towards a black orifice, which finds its fitting antitype in that open- ing by Heavens gate into which Bunyan tells us poor Ignorance was thrust as a short-cut to the infernal regions. Not to mention minor inconveniences that, as it is said, may attend the transit; one of which, the transfer of black patches from the lips of grave, correct- looking gentlemen, to that of, if possible, still more demure, correct-looking ladies, would, were the case authenticated, legitimately bring these gigantic bores within the range of the society for the reformation of man- ners. How p1~ovoking, too, to be eagerly looking out for some interesting spot, some village, or neighborhood, perchance associated with family recollections, and dear to you as identi- fied with those whom you hold dear, but which you have never seen how inexpres- sibly provoking to approach, traverse the locality, and every leave it far behind, in one inexorable deep cutting, from the abyss of which you see abou~t as much as from the bot- tom of a well! am~d Hd remains as much a mere name as ever There~ are none of those delightful breaks and changes that add to the interest of high- way travelling. The entertainment of passing through strange towns, where, in idle mood, you note odd signs, and names and customa 19 A RAILWAY INCIDENT. for every place has those peculiar to it. The variations of up-hill and down-dale; or even the diversion of a restive horse, which is surely better than unbroken monotony; afford- ing, as it does, an unparalleled opportunity for man, woman or child, all the passengers, and as many ragamuffins as can be got to~ether on so short a notice, severally and singly to issue as many and contradictory orders, advices, objurgations and lamentations, as the most unreasonable spirit may move them to; use- less and impertinent in themselves, yet not without value on physiological ground; see- ing how eminently they promote a free and vigorous circulation of the vital fluid, and a healthy action of the lungs two important requisites for the well-being of the human frame. None of these chances and changes, not even a way-side purchase of tempting summer-fruit, however hot and dry (simple thirsty does not exprass your condition) you may happen to be; but onon on you fuss from one shire to another, without taking in a single new idea. All that you gain is addi- tional evidence in favor of your own original and boundless preference for animated, intelli- gent, quadrupedal flesh and blood, over dark, stern, soulless metal. Yes, I do hate railway travelling; and not merely as a matter of taste now. An acci- dent that befell me a few years iNgo, and that could only have happened upon a railway, has caused it to be associated in my mind with such painful feelings, as that I cannot even think of it without, in some degree, renewing suffering, which I would fain hope is without parallel in the experience of any whose eye may glance over this record of mine. In the month of August, 18 ,it was incum- bent upon me to take a journey to a town at some distance from my own residence. Time being no object with me, and the country through which my route lay very beautiful, I resolved to take it in what was to me the most enjoyable way; but, after diligent in- ~~uiry for anything in the shape of a stage- coach, I found that her majestys mail had ceased running the week before; so that the rail was my only chance of getting to the place of my destination. Whereupon I made a virtue of necessity; submitting, though with the worst grace in the world for my habitual dislike to this mode of travelling was increased by one of those un- accountable fits of reluctance to taking the journey, which sometimes seizes one, and which is usually set down to the score of nervousness. So I tried to explain mine; which, as the time drew near, rose to a com- plete dread of it, to my no small annoyance, for I had a contempt for omens and. presenti- mnents; and zealously, bu~ vainly, I tried to pcoh! pooh! myself out of it. The morning broke, dull, wet, oppressive, with apparently half a score of thunder-storms in reserve for my especial use; and at six oclock Ijumped up from an uneasy dream, in which I was struggling with some nondescript wild beast, to find I had only half an hour left to make my toilet and get to the station. Of course, everything went wron0 strings slipped into knots, buttons flew; never was there such confusion. I could not be quick, I was in such a hurry. Hastily swallowing a cup of tea (part of which, to crown my mishaps, went the wrong way), I ran off; and must own that, important as was my business, I felt half sorry, as I entered the booking-office, to find myself in time: for a secret hope had possessed me that I might prove too late; a hope that had expanded into certainty as I heard the hour at which I expected the train to start announced from half a dozen steeples ere I was half way to the station. I reached it: found the timae had been altered; so got my ticket; snapped at the clerk who furnished it (this relieved me a little), and sprang into a carriage, which tempted mae as containing only one occupant; and the huge mass slowly took its noisy way from under, acres surely, of glazed roof; and speedily left it behind. The rain ceased as we got into the open country, a fine breeze sprang up, which blew away my fidgets, and I began internally to laugh at myself for having been such a fool; not forgetting to congratulate my better self on its having triumphed over the ner- vous fears that had beset me. It really be- came almost pleasant. A mail-train, so that I was secure from the plague of frequent stoppages, and their consequent fresh starts. An exhilarating atmosphere; the dark clouds, that had spoken of thunder when I rose, now betraying no such obstreperous intentions, but quietly taking themselves off as fast as they could. The weight on my spirits re- moved; yes,I began to be susceptible of a modified sort of enjoyment; and, in the gayety of my heart, I told my fellow-traveller that it was a fine day; a remark to which he vouch- safed me no answer, save such might be called the turning on me a pair of eyes that looked vastly like live coals. They almost made me start; but I considered it was no business of mine :. the gentlemans eyes were his own, and I doubted not that mine, owing to a short, sleepless night, were as much too dull as his were too bright; so I whisked my pocket-kerchief acr~s them, by way of polish- ing them a little, took out a newspaper, Bank into a cosy corner, and prepared to read or sleep, as the case may be. In the very drow- siest part of a long speech, I was just going off into the most luxurious slumber imagina- ble, when I was roused by the restleesnes~ of 20 A RAILWAY INCIDENT. my companion; who, as I waked up thor- oughly, seemed laboring under some strong and inexplicable excitement. He looked agi- tated, changed his seat frequently, moved his limbs impatiently, borrowed my paper, and in a trice returned it with some unintelligible observation; then peered anxiously out of the window, through which he thrust himself so far, as to induce me to volunteer a caution, which he received pleasantly, stared at the wheels, as though he were calculating their revolutions, and then resumed his seat. His perturbation wa~ manifest. I could not imagine what possessed the man ; but at length, noticing the agitated manner with which he often glanced through the window, as though to see whether we were followed, I determined that he must be some gentlemanly rogue, to whom speedy flight was indispensa- ble; and that his anxiety and excessive dis- turbance arose from fear of pursuit; a fear that to me seemed one of those vain ones pe- culiar to the wicked, for we were then nearly at the ultimatum of railway speed, and did not expect to stop before reaching our desti- nation,still at a considerable distance. His whole manner and appearance confirmed this view of the case; I presumed his evil con- science had conjured up a special engine at our heels; and, after indu4,ino~ in a few appropriate moral reflections (to myself of course), I resumed my paper. The next minute he was opposite to me. I heard a light movement, raised my head a strong knife, such as is used in pruning trees, was open in his hand; and, with eyes verily scintillating, his startling address, in a tone the coolness of which strangely con- trasted with its import, was I am going to kill you ! The horrible truth flashed upon me at once; he was insane, and I alone with him, shut out from all possibility of hu- man help! Terror gave me calmness; fixing my eye upon him, so as to command his movements, and perhaps control him, I an- swered quietly and firmly, No, you are not. It was well I was prepared. That mo- ment he sprang on me, and the death-struggle began. 1 grappled with him, and attempted to secure his right arm; while again and again, as I strained every nerve to accomplish this purpose, did that accursed blade glitter before my eyes; for my antagonist was my superior in muscle and weight, and armed in addition with the demoniacal strength of - madness, now expressed in every lineament of his inflamed and distorted countenance. What a sight was that, not super-human, thee! Loudly and hoarsely I called for help; but we were rushing along thirty miles in the hour, and my criea1.were drowned amid the roar of wheels and steam. How horrible were my sensations! Cooped up thus, to be mangled and murdered by a madman, with means of rescue within a few feet of me, and yet that help, that communication with my fellows that would have saved me, as utterly unattainable as though we were in a desert. I quivered, as turning aside thrust after thrust, dealt with exhaustless and frenzied violence, I doubted not that the next must find its way to my heart. My strength was rapidly failing; not so that of my murderer. I struggled desperately, as alone the fear of such a death could enable a man to do; and. my hands gashed and bleeding, at last wrenched the knife from his hold, and flung it through the window. Then I first seemed to breathe! But not yet was I safe. With redoubled rage he threw himself at my throat, crushing it as with iron fingers; and ,asl felt his whole frame heave and labor with the violence of the attack, for une dreadful mo- ment I gave up all for lost. But surely then some unseen power strengthened inc. Half strangled, I flung the whole weight of my body upon him, got him down, and, plant- ing my knee on his breast, by main strength held him, spite of his frantic efforts to writhe himself from under me. My hands were bitten and torn in his convulsive rage; but I felt it not heeded it not life was at stake, and hardly I fought for it. The bit- terness of death was upon me, and awfully clear and distinct, in that mortal struggle, were the past and the future; the human, sinful past, and the dread, unknown, aveng- ing, eternal future. How were the joys and sorrows of years compressed into that one backward glance; and how utterly insignifi- cant did they appear as. the light of life seemed fading from them! Fearfully calm and collected was my mind, while my body felt as though dissolving with the terrible strain to which all its powers were subjected. And yet, consumed as I was with mental and physical agony, I well remember my sensa- tion of bliss, for such i~ was, when the cool breeze for a single moment blew upon my flushed and streaming brow, which felt as though at the mouth of a furnace! But this could not last long. My limbs shook, and were fast relaxing their gripe, a mist swam before my eyes, my recollection wavered, when thank Heaven! I became sensible of a diminution of our speed. Fresh strength inspired me. I dashed my prisoner down as he again attempted to free himself. Then the welcome sound of letting off the steam the engine stopped, the door opened and I was savedi My companion was quickly secured, and presently identified as a lunatic who had escaped from confinement. To it he was again consigned; and I, from that day to this, have never entered a railway carriage with only one passenger in it! Such is a simple recital of my adventure,. 21 A RAILWAY INCIDENT. which I have not sought to heighten by any arts of narration. It is, indeed, utterly be- yond my power to convey any adequate idea of that horrible encounter. Its most faithful transcript has been found in many a night- mare and fearful dream with which it has furnished the drear hours of night.* ~ The above is no mere fiction. It occurred on one of the English railways some years ago, and the facts were communicated to a member of the writers family by the gentleman whose life was thus strangely perilled. It, and another some- what similar case, may perhaps induce others to [The English cars are divided into separate spaces, each the size of one of the old coaches, with seats facing each other. It would never do to vary too much from old fashions for John Bull, lie be- lieves the draft of air in one of our long cars would blow him out of the window. If Aerial Navigation should be brought into use, we may depend upon it that, at first, the English vehicles will have wheels to them, to accustom John to the change gradually. Liv. Age.] avoid a railway journey with only one strange fellow-traveller. TEE BRITIsH MUSEUM originated in 1753. The present splendid edifice was commenced in 1823, but is not yet finished. The most at- tracting part of the Museum is that depart- ment which contains a large collection of Grecian, Roman, Egyptian and Assyrian anti- quities. The other departments consist of ex- tensive collections in zoology, mineralogy and geology, and a library of four hundred and six- ty thousand volumes. There is nothing that excited my curiosity more, in London, than these collections of antiquities. They are said to he the finest in Europe. They consist of sarcophagi, columns, statues, tablets of the - dead, sepulchral urns, bass-reliefs represent- ing various scenes mummies of men and va- rious animals, and an innumerable number of small images. Various kinds of household furniture such as jars, jugs, bowls, cups, lamps, buckets, tables, baskets, spoons, brushes and bags, made of pottery, porcelain, bronze, bone, horn, ivory, wood, palm leaves, papyrus and leather. Also, various instruments used by mechanics wooden mallets, chisels, saws, knives, axes, adzes, hatchets, and nails of bronze and iron. Also weaving tools, musical instru- ments, girls dolls and boys balls, stuffed with palm leaves and covered with leather; sewing needles, of bronze; knitting needles, of wood; sewing thread, of linen; shoes, of wood and lea- ther; linen clothes, of various sizes and shades, and of different texture; biscuit, supposed to have been of rye meal. These various things have been found in places where they have been protected for ages from the decaying effects of the atmosphere. Among the Egyptian statues the most noted is the colossal head of young Memnon. The statues that attract most atten- tion from their size, are the two human-headed winged bulls, from Korsobad, and the human- headed bull and lion, from Nineveb. But those in which I felt the most interest, and dwelt upon the longest, were the busts of the great men, as they have been brought down from the ancient -world. Among the Atl~nians are Demosthe- Ines and Pericles; and Julius and Augustus C~sar among the great men of Rome. There is a strong probability of many of these being good likenesses of the original. Julius Cmsar has a long nose, thin cheeks, compressed lips, with an expression firm and somewhat sour; forehead narrower than usual, but well protrud- ed; remarkable swell of the head immediately above the ears; ears very large at the upper end, and taper down very small; neck sinewy. To me, he looked like a mean man. Augustus Cmsar is decidedly pleasant, with less determi- nation, but more nobleness, in his appearance. His forehead is broad, ears large and well shaped; rather fleshy. The bust of Nero is the one we would have picked out for him. Among other statues, we noticed a wooden one of some ancient Egyptian king, which is yet hard and sound. The marble statues brought from the Parthenon, at Athens, and known as the Elgin Marbles, are exceedingly interesting. Tcszxs are great differences of opinion respect- ing the healthiness or unhealthiness of the Australian climate ; but I never inquired of any medical inca whether there was much sickness, but always got for answer, Yes, a good deal. Undertakers here also have no more cause of complaint than they have at Calcutta during a good cholera season. Asking any half-dozen people whether they liked the climate, three would say it was the most abominably hot, dusty place they ever put foot into ; and the other three would have a different opinion, and de- light in the hot weather, though they would abuse the dust (excepting gold). For my own part, I do not think it either particularly healthy or unhealthy ; but, disliking excessive heat at any time, I would not wish to be compelled to live either in Victoria or New South Wales all my life. - Had I only these two countries to choose between, ~ should give the preference to the latter; but would~ooner be doomed to live in India than either, for certainly no place can possess fewer luxuries than Victoria. New South Wales is a little better; but to keep cool in hot weather is almost impossible, unless by adopting the numerous appliances as in India, where the same is accomplished. Reads 4us. tralia. 22 LIEUTENANT MAURY. 23 From the Examiner, 13th Aug. on land, and accepted the American proposition as to the observations at sea. Lient. Maury, LIEUTENANT MAURY. alluding to the congress at Brussels, explained A VOLUME of Sailing Directions conveys that the system of observations to be arranged to an Englishman the idea of some Sea there were to be made only on board men of war Torch, full of bearings, distances, and sound- at sea. In the mean time, however, he had been ings, or at best of a modernized version of authorized by the government of the United Hamilton Moores Navigction; but very dif- States to put foreign shipmasters upon the same indeed is the work of Lient. Maury, footing as American with regard to these charts. ferent It was a system of mutual obligation and benefit. bearing the trite and unpretending title we The merchant captain at sea made his observa- have named. The intention of the hook is to tions on the blank charts; these were taken at impart so much scientific information as to Washington and discussed, and, after the results stimulate and qualify the reader to furnish had been properly calculated and marked down, materials serving as a basis for further discov- each captain who co6perated was furnished with eries. It shows, in a popular way, the pres- the charts illustrative of the navigation of those ent state of knowledge respecting winds, portions of the sea with respect to which he had tides, currents; and it invites observations, contributed information. These observations the results to be drawn from which may im- required no more time than was usually given to prove and extend the knowledge now pos- the proper conduct of a vessel at sea. The sessed. The book is admirably calculated to latitude and longitude must be daily stated, and excite an intelligent curiosity, and to direct it the duration and character of the winds for the to objects ministering to scientific information three parts of the day. The thermometrical and barometrical observations, and such other re- of the highest utility. The aim of it is to marks as navigators choose to make, must also make the officers of ships observers and re- be taken. In addition to the blank forms for porters upon nature. The principle on which keeping the abstract log, the captain was also the plan is founded is that every phenomenon furnished with a roll of sailing directions and a has its significance, that every fact is a letter copy of the charts which related to his cruising as it were in the great book of nature, to read ground, whether it might be across the Atlantic which aright nothing must be omitted or (north or south), the Pacific, the whaling neglected as valueless. Lend me your grounds, or elsewhere. his object was to ac eyes, says Lieutenant Maury to the thou- quaint the merchants of Liverpool with these sands of intelligent voyagers. And he sho~vs facts, and to enlist their co5peration. With re how the eyes are to be directed, and the gard to the charts themselves (specimens were method of recording their observations so as to suspended around the room), Lieut. Maury ex- make them minister to the purposes of science. pl~ined that one set represented the routes which vessels were accustomed to pursue across the All this is beautifully executed, and the book ocean in the various months of the year, the will be read almost with as much pleasure by direction and force of the wind for each day landsmen as with profit by seamen. It is in- being designated by colors and symbols, so that deed to be desired that it may be reprinted ifl the navigator might find at any time of the year a form more convenient and cheap than its the track of some vessel which had been before present shapc, a quarto, and so brought within him. Another set of charts, smaller and more the reach of the general reader. enigmatical, were made up of a system of circles. The author is now amongst us, on his way The ocean was divided into spaces five degrees to a naval congress in Belgium, and has ex- square, five of latitude by five of longitude; and, plained his system to a meeting of merchants through whatever square a vessel passed and and ship-owners at Liverpool. reported the wind to blow in a certain direction, it was assumed to be blowing from that quarter The plan upon which he was engaged was at that ifistant all over the square. When the announced many years ago in the United States, observations for each square were obtained, they and the object of it was to get from loghooks were classed according to the months ; and after such observations as navigators in the usual they had got three or four, and perhaps in some routine of their duties at sea were accustomed to instances as many as 1,800 observations on the make facts as to the direction of winds and same month of different years, but for the currents and present them on a chart in such same square, they coub4 calculate the averages a way that each navigator might have the benefit and the prevailing direction of the winds in that of the experience of all. In 1851 the British square for that month. Thus the whole ocean government instructed its minister in Washing- was comprehended, and, having the advantage ton to call the attention of the government of the of the experience oL~others, a captain could some United States to a plan of meteorological obser- times judiciously turn out of his way and make vations, devised by Captain James, of the Royal a shorter passage, because he could see at once Navy, under the direction of Major %3eneral where he might expect certain winds. Having Bmmrgoyne, for nineteen foreign stations, and enumerated some ~of the great advantages in re- asking the assistance oi the United States in gard to the shortening of voyages which captains carrying out that system upon the land. Event- have already gabeed by following out these plans, nally, however, the British government receded Lient. Maury stated that he was preparing a from its original proposition as to its observations, storm, rain, and fog chart, which he expect~1 24 THE GREEK A~D THE TURK. would contain much curious and valuable infor- Parliament against being guided by profes- Ination. He had no doubt that, by a proper ad- sional judgments upon questions concerning vanta~,e being taken of the winds and currents, the rights and interests of the mercantile first-class ships would make the passage from marine. That the Americans know better the United States, or England, to Australia and than to commit this fault may be inferred back, in 130 or 135 days, and occasionally in froia the example of Lieutenant Maury, 120 or 125 days, under canvas alone. Licut Maury acknowledged the great service to navi-. who, distinguished as he is in the service of the States, gation of the composite tables, published by ~vIr. yet uses his abilities and attain Towson, examiner to the Liverpool Local Marine ments to raise every intelligent seafaring man Board. to the rank of a servant of science. He sup- poses no indisposition, no incapacity; he as- Lieutenant Maurys system was the subject sumes that every hand can be so directed as matter of a very able speech delivered some to bring home some truth to the general stock, weeks ago by Lord Wrottesley in the House and this is a faith which has a blessed faculty of Peers, and another noble lord afterwards of self-realization. Credit has its moral virtue adverted to it with a full sense of its value and as well as its commercial conveniences. importance. In answer to a question in the other House as to the extent to which our government would go in c& iperatioa with the From the Spectator. United States to give effect to the system of THE GREEK AND THE TURK.* observations, Admiral. Berkeley was under- stood to say that the Royal Navy were in- A VOLUME under this title, from the welt- structed to co~iperate, but that there was so practised pen of Mr. Eyre Evans Crowe, is the little reliance on the zeal or the competency result of a brief visit to Constantinople, of the masters of merchantmen, that it was Greece, the Jonian Islands, and the coasts of not thought worth while to go to the expense Syria and Asia Minor. In form it is a series of disquisitions on the m of some 3,0001. to supply them with thermom- . . ost important places eters! This statem.ent was what is vulgarly visited, or the topics they suggest. These but expressively called crying stinking fish~ disquisitions have nothing of the common- for it argued a great inferiority in our mer- pluce character which often accompanies the chant service to that of the United States descriptive or disquisitional essay. The de- which has been found most useful in the pros: scriptions are terse and vivid; the disquisi- ecution of the inquiries in question. And why tions exhibit the essence of classical learning, is it to be assumed that our officers of mer- in conjunction with the highest modern phi- chantmen nre less able and less willing to lend losophy, which looks at things as they really their aids to scientific objects than the Amen- are, apart from scholastic, utilitarian, philan- cans? Why prejudge them? Why not try thropic, or conventional prejudices. In addi- them2 Tried they have been, and not found tion to these faculties, Mr. Crowe possesses a wanting to the extent to which their services logical invention, which enables him to see were called for. The logs of merchantmen undiscovered truths, as well as to judge of were found most useful to Colonel Reid in them. his style, though at times a little testing and confirming his circular theory of strained for effect, is close, weighty, and storms. And we have not a doubt, that if powerful. his subjects, for the most part Maurys book were supplied to masters on the bearing upon the great Eastern question of long voyage, the greater number of theni the day and always upon topics of contem- would be heartily enlisted in the service of porary importance, have to the reader an in- observation which it so lucidly and interest- terest in themselves, irrespective of mere ingly directs. It would furnish occupation treatment. From all of the questions handled for many an hour that would otherwise be the reader will receive new views or new ideas, listlessly and idly spent. As for the cost of if he may not always agree with the conclu- the necessary instruments, it would be a sions of the author. On some topics Mr. cheap price for the trial of an experiment, the Crowes opinions rise to the enunciation of a success of which would be so important. principle. Much has been done to improve the char- The book opens with The Mediterranean; acter of the merchant navy, and nothing can and, amid much graphic description and some be so impolitic as well as unjust as to treat it political disquisition as on Gibraltar Mr. as if it were fixed in a degrading inferiority, Crowe lays down t~hat the importance of the and not deserving of the confidence which our Mediterranean in former times has passed great rival can place in its commercial service, away; the knowledge of the globe and the There is no better officer than Admiral Berke- progress of the world have rendered the Ocean ley, but he has unfortun~teIy the disposition sea of far more consequence to commerce amid of all naval officers to underrate and disparage ~ The Greek and the Turk; or Powers and Pros- the merchant service. Wisely indeed did Sir pects in tbe Levant. By Eyre Evans Crowe. Pub- James Graham, upon a recent occasion, warn limbed by Bentley. THE GREEK AND THE TURK. progress than the Mid-earth sea, the nations on whose confines are in fact decaying. A truth, but not the whole truth; for the author himself admits that Constantinople and Syria are regions marked out by nature for empire and trade while he overlooks the importance of the Mediterranean and Eygpt as a passage to India. Malta has many topics; but the most important topic is the mischief worked by the affected and calculating bigotry of More OFerral for Mr. Crowe does not allow him the sorry merit of sincerity. Greece abounds with graphic pictures of the country and its ruins, mingled with classi- cal discussions, free from classical cant. The most important discussions about Greece are on the people, the placemen, and the Bavarian king; of which Mr. Crowe draws as dark a picture as possible, especially of the Greek ministers and monarch, and with hardly the relief of a ray of hope. The physical features, the natural productions, the social character, and political feelings of the Lonian Islands and their people, are discussed; the author ac- knowledging the error of some former preju- dices against Sir Henry Ward and his vigorous mode of putting down the rebellion. lie arrives at the conclusion that constitutional govern- ment is not possible in the Jonian Islands. As a matter of speculation, and with an eve to the future, he considers that we ought to have given Cephalonia and Crete, which the Turks cannot use, to the Greeks; though, unless we could change the nature of the Athenian court and people, it would seem of small use to have extended their dominions or to extend them now. The Turks and the Turkish question are considered under a variety of heads Smyr- na, Constantinople, Women, Thera- pia, Turkish Politics, War, & c. ; the titles suggestino extensive disquisitions, and in a temporary sense forming the most impor- tant feature of the book. Like some other modern writers, and probably like the subject itself, Mr: Crowe shows some incongruity in his views when they are compared with each other. He holds that the national spirit and power of the Turks have decayed; their very improvements in the milder virtues contrib- uting to their decline, since their virtues were all barbarian. In his opinion of the evils springing from the Turkish estimate of women, and their domestic relations, he agrees with Mr. Bayle St. John, but enters into the subject more deeply and at greater length. That he agrees with the same writer, and with IJrquhart, in their estimate of the latent strength still inherent in Turkey, seems evi- dent; because he considers the best mode of re8toring her character and powers would be a long war with Russia which, if Turkey were certain of being crushed at once, would be an idle suggestion. From other passages it seems as evident that he considers Turkey cannot of herself resist Russia; and his speculations turn towards the future of this question. lie would like a Selavonian or even a Greek em- pire; but he doubts whether that would be practicable, especially with the alternatives of Russian intrigues or open military success. He suggests, as a barrier to Russia at Con- stantinople, a Greek or Sclavonian empire, or a combination of independent states, and a Turkish barrier against the Russians in Asia Minor. If even this last cannot be, then let France and England divide Western Asia be- tween them; France taking Asia Minor, and England the protectorate of Syria and Egypt. Amid this inconsistency, indicative of the difficulties of the case, Mr. Crowe is clear upon two points that Russia will never give up her schemes of aggrandizement till they are beaten out of her by war ; and that if the Western powers do not fight in the Bosphorus or Black Sea, they will by and by have to fight in the Channel. There is with this, however, one idea that should never be lost sight of one necessity, that must be recognized and prepared for; and this is, that Russia never will consent to the re- generation or independence of the races occupy- ing Turkey in Europe until the Russians are van- quished in war. There may reign at St. Peters- burg czars of more or less prudence or forbear- ance, and ministers more or less anxious to keep on terms with Europe. But there is a sentiment, and an inspiration, and a determination in the Russians, as a nation, which are stronger than any courtesy or backwardness of their emperor and statesmen. And these impel the Russians to the south-east of Europe, which contains the prize of empire, or to Constantinople, which seems to them what promises to be the first and paramount position in the universe. The Rus.. sians, we may feel confident, will never abandon this idea till it is well and effectually licked out of them. This conquest of the old soil of Greece and Turkey implies not only an extension of empire from the White Sea to the Mediterranean and a predominance over the whole extent of Asia, but it implies and carries with it also a dictatorship over Europe, and the ascendency of the brute portion of the globe over its advanced portion, hitherto intellectual and free. To shake off the yoke, to avoid that aseendency and tyranny, there is, I regret to say, no reliance to be placed on pacific ideas or philosophic hopes. The freedom of the Eastand of the world from Russia must, I am confident, be fought.,,for, be gained by the gun and the bayonet, by f~ime leviathans of war, by the heroism which a great nation can inspire into it~ sons, and can demand of them, by the effusion of blood, the sacrifice of peaceful interests and prospects, progress and wealth. It is not without regret, and it was not without reflection and thought, that I run counter to the Christian philosophy and philanthropic aims of numbers of wealthy and highmiaded men, who 25 26 set peace in the front rank of human regenera- tors, and who at once and forever desire that all other considerations should be sacrificed to it. But, however I may share in the humane and noble hopes of the friends of peace, my judgment tells me that the fulfilment of such desires must be postponed until the natural limits of nations be more justly fixe4, and until the more dominant and despotic of them have come to lay aside that armor of iron in which they have encased them- selves, and which they seek to impose upon. others. To preach peace to France, England, and Germany, whilst Russia and Austria are armed to the teeth, and show every determination to make use of the superiority of their arms to dictate to those who are less prepared, organized, or armed for war this seems to be to sacrifice the great cause of power and of international adjustment, which we must one day arrive at, but which we can only attain by meeting the military genius and masses of the East of Europe with a force and determination coequal with them. The theoretical worship of peace at all price, however, does not much influence the councils of either the sovereign or the nation. The depreca- tion of war, as a risk and an expense, prevails there; and I am far from denying or throwing even a sarcasm on the wisdom of this prudence. But, I fear, that in any council or discussion on the subject, we may lay it down as an axiom, that the great question of the East can never be solved, nor the great ambition of Russia resisted, without war serious, actual, and flagrant war. I am far from saying that the present is the best or the imperative moment. The centralcountries of Europe may be in after times in a better con- dition for resistance, and England and France may again be as united as they are at present. It is idle for one of the uninformed to prejudge a question of which all the elements of information can only be known to cabinets. All I would ex- press is a firm belief, that in circumstances and differences which merely employ diplomacy, and which give rise merely to military and naval dem- onstrations in quarrels such as these Russia will always come off best, and that for many reasons; let one suffice, which is, that Russia can always know the lenuth to which the forbear- ance of constitutional countries can go, and the limit within which she may advance without pro- ducing war. Russia will always advance to that limit, at the least; and she will thus bear away the honors of victory without the risk of combat. We may depend upon it, that, in order to check Russia, the powers of Europe interested in the independence of the Levant must come to the alternative of war, or at all events be prepared, morally and physically, for it. Nothing but de- feats by land and sea will ever keep the Russians out of Constantinople. The great obstacle, iiot only to this mode of establishing a balance of power in the Levant, but also to any joint or efficient action against Jtussia, is that dreactof Fr~uce a4d its alliance which lurks in the bosoms of so many st~tesmea and influential men. If such unfortunate mis- trust should lead us to alienate France, at the THE GREEK AND TEE TURK. same time that we remain semi-hostile to Russia, the result will be, first, our utter helplessness as an isolated power, and, secondly, the inevita- ble alliance of France and Russia at our expense, as well as at the expense of the liberties of Eu- rope and the balance of the world. The national and popular tendencies of Eng- land there are no mistaking at present; they go to amity with France with France as a people and a nation without showing regard, disgust, or predilection for her dynasties or govern- ments. France, like ourselves, is too much occu- pied, and has too much to accomplish in her in- ternal concerns and management, for her ever again to pretend to universal empire. Russia is the only power which meditates that, and which is enabled to meditate it by the ignorance and backwardness of her population, ready to follow a selfish and despotic ruler. The duty of liberal Europe is to resist Russian ascendency, that menaces east and west; the development of commerce in the one, of freedom of idea and of independence in the other. If the powers of the west of Europe do not within the next ten years strike a decisive blow to arrest Russian ascend- ency and encroachment, they will be attacked at home, and have to defend in the channel what they had not resolution to combat in the Bos- phorus. The facts, opinions, and speculations, relat- ing to Greece, Turkey, and Russia, ~vill nat- urally have the most interest for the politi- cian. The volume abounds, besides, in mat- ter of that more general kind which is appro- priate to books of travel. Descriptions of scenery, traits of manners, illustrations of antiquity, facts pregnant with meaning as to modern life, together with speculations of a wider kind than temporary politics, continu- ally occupy Mr. Crowes pen. Here, in den- ance of all we hear about the greater tolerance of the Turks, is a picture of Mahometan bigotry in the supposed stronghold of liberal- ity. Very little experience will suffice to show the traveller the immense difficulties in the way of the most liberal Turkish minister to.elevate the Christian to anything like even fair tolerance. Row up the Golden Horn to visit the old Chris- tian quarter of the Fanar. You will find oppres- sion and forced humiliation stamped upon every house. Even that of the patriarch, so powerful and so much talked of, is a dingy, diminutive prison built of stone, indeed, for security, but craving pardon, by its air and its architecture of meanness, for daring to use so costly a material. The little church the only church of the Chris- tian within its walls is equally begrimed, equally humbl~. The very population walk with a bowed expression. And this feeling of self- degradation, of which the European cannot ~U- vest himself in any part of Constantinople, b~- comes in the ~?anar so painful, that one is obliged to rush out of it. In doing so, and emerging from the gates, you enter, unawares perhaps, the Turkish suburb of Eyoub, famous for the mosque in which all the descendants of Mahomet THE GREEK AND THE TURK. gird them with the sword. If you dare approach that mosque, you will be stoned. You must sneak throu,h the by-lanes around, and steal a furtive peep. Curiosity more indiscreet might cost you your life. Yet in juxtaposition with this bigotry is an instance of toleration, or indifference, which perhaps no other European country could equal; a strange example of that inconsist- ency which meets the Eastern inquirer at overy turn, unless he wilfully shuts his eyes to all but one class of proofs. Close to Eyoub to its all-holy mosque and sacred mausolea there arises the symbol of quite another society and world. It is a factory, in which wool is carded, dyed, spun, and wove into fezzes or skull-caps for the Turkish service. it is a building such as one would see at Leeds or Manchester, situated at the end of the Golden Horn, between Eyoub and the Sweet Waters of Europe, which forms the daily promenade of the inmates of harems who are allowed to breathe the fresh air. One cannot imagine a more striking contrast to the scene and spot; either side of it redolent with Turkish life, or commem- orative of Turkish death. English operatives chiefly are employed in this factory; which for their convenience keeps working on Friday, the Mahometan Sabbath, and stops work on Sunday, to suit the Christian workmen, although it is no day of rest with the Turks. This is really a great act of tolerance, by the side of the great sanctuary of intolerance Eyonb. It seems that Mr. Urquharts story of the Russians being fed by what the Turkish soldiers threw away, during the joint occupa- tion of Moldavia, is very probable. Mr. Crowes picture of the new levies exhibits them as about the best-fed troops in the world. I never have been more astonished than in visits to Turkish camps or Turkish men-of-war. As the recruits are mostly from the Asiatic prov- inces, one figures to himself the wild sons of the East with the ferocity of their native hordes about them. But, on the contrary, your Turkish soldier is, in general, a small, mild-looking, plump, good-natured fellow. He is well fed, and not rigidly looked after. He feeds well, and has plenty of pocket-money; a dollar a month, and his food and necessaries. And his rations are so abundant, that you are very apt to see hungry dervishes feeding on the pewter dish which the grand heroes of the tent have dined upon. Mingling with military groups, in com- pany with those who understood the language, I always found the Turkish regular soldier a boa enfant. Here is a truth applicable to individuals as well as states, except preb~bly in new co~o- nies. The fact is, that the age of adventure and fortune for small states is past. In old times they might beat all their neighbors, swallow them up, and grow great by conquest, as was the case with ancient Rome ; or, by outstripping their neighbors in manuflictures, in trade, iu natural skill, they might, like Tyre, or Athens, or Carthage, oi~ Venice, or Holland, monopolize the profit of furnishing the world with luxuries, or giving them in exchange for the rude necessa~- ries of agriculture. The sphere of such activity for even large states is much diminished, but as for small countries they have no chance at all. Large empires now occupy the world, or at least the stage of the worlds politics. Such countries as Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland, may live, though small, on their past accumulations, ac- tivity, and resources. But a young state like Greece has no chance. Greeks have a taste for shipping, and are good sailors. But their own country has no prod4ce, their own sea no fish, their coast no natural way ot developing a marine. Lt was thought they would outrival other nations in the carrying trade. But with small capital, requiring large profit, necessity renders the skipper dishonest ; and half-a-dozen cases of barratry are sufficient to outweigh all reasons of economy for employing Greek vessels in the way of transport. But it will be said that the Greeks had a marine when they were subject to the Turks why should they not make prosper as freemen what they so successfully commenced as slaves? Why, indeed! But, unfortunately, as slaves or rayahs they were the sailors and ship-owners of the Ottoman empire, which favored Hydra and Spezia especially, and in return for service gave them the valnable privileges which a great and despotic empire can bestow. Some say, un- gratefully, but others more truly say, disinter- estedly, the Hydriote and Greek sailors did not shrink from flinging to the winds their privileges, which were the source of exclusive wealth, and sacrificing them to patriotism. They overthrew Turkish supremacy at sea, destroyed its com- merce and its fleets ; but they cut off thereby the source of their own prosperity. They are no longer the sailors nor the carriers of the Ottoman empire ; nay, they are scarcely so of even Greece. Not only do the cotton goods of Man- chester reach Constantinople by steam, but I saw an English steamer off Patras ready to paddle off with its cargo of currants as soon as the Greek government had made up its mind as to the price. The following account of Russian policy in relation to independent Greece is worth quot- ing, as a proof that the most cunning tyranny overreaches itself in some point. To our amiable and well-informed German friend chance now added a Greek gentleman. He was of Hydra, a youn~er son, and had studied medicine. This is the only profession for the young Greek, always excepting commerce and the place-marhtet. But your young commercial Greek, who goes to Paris, Hamburg, Manchester, or London, gets so disgusted with home that he stays abroad, and is lost to Greece. The young physician must return, but, unfortunately, not to the practice of a lucrative profession ; his gains 27 23 never recompensing the outlay of his education. But these medical men, full of information, and polished by travel, are the most intellectual of the Greeks. It appears to me that Russia has taken the wrong way to assimilate and elevate the Greeks. If Russia was more liberal I mean, its auto- cratic government, for constitutional no one could yet expect it to be but were it despoti- cally liberal, admitting of liberal professions, and opening, even as the German monarchs do, its universities and employs to men of the same tongue and creed, Russia would attract to it all that is talented and intellectual in Greece. In- stead of this, Russian narrowness and routine repudiate, except perhaps in the very highest class of employ, all foreigners, even the Greek and Selavonian element, as if its purpose was to remain Tartar, instead of being European. The Klephts, the men of the sword and of conquest, look, of course, to Russia; as also do the church, the diplomatists, and the least liberal of profes- sional politicians ; but the intellect of the Greek nation, wherever it is developed, or in whatever class, is decidedly anti-Russian less owing to any antagonism of the race, than to the churlish and narrow spirit of the Russian regime. Our companion, as a Hydriot, of course hated Russia, which on a memorable occasion lent its navy to crush the liberal party of the Greek islands. But he was far too intelligent to be biassed into a belief or into a declaration of what was the contrary of truth, by any prejudice whatever. And every evidence corroborated the justice of his answer to my question, as to which of the protecting powers was most popular in Greece. The sea-ports, the maritime and trading population of Greece and its islands, are all English, he said, the mountaineers, Klephts, ~nd inlanders, all Russian; the regal palace at Athens stands alone in its opinions, and remains Bavarian and French. The British Catalogue of Books published from October, 1837 to December, 1852; containing the date of publication, size, price, publish- ers name, and edition. Compiled by Samp- son Low. Vol. I. General Alphabet. S. Low and Son. Tars very elaborate list of the works published in this country during the last fifteen years is so remarkably complete that we have called to mind no work so obscure as to have escaped the com- pilers observation. It is the useful result of very great labor. It is a volume not only of much value and importance to every trading bookseller, and almost a necessary part of his machinery of business, but also most interesting and useful to the student or even the general reader. It is not a bald catalogue. It gives of every book not only the size, price, publishers name and date of publication, but it gives also the exact month in which it was issued; and, in the case of books 1hich went through several editions, it states the precise month of publica- tion in each instance. Such a book will be re- ferred to over and over again by ftttisre biogra NEW BOOKS. phers. Out of it may be extracted many kinds of knowledge. The present volume is complete in itself. Its contents will, however, be classified, and there will be added to the whole an index, in the vol- nine which remains yet to be issued. The pres- ent book is a general alphabetical catalogue of modern English literature. The next and last volume will be a catalogue raisonnie, presenting the same substance in another very useful form. Examiner. THE first volume of an elaborate and painstak- ing work, indispensable to all who are practi- cally concerned with books, or who even occasion- ally have to refer to their bibliography. Every new work, new edition, and book altered in size or price between 1837 and 1853, finds a place in this volume, with those very important additions, the size, the price, the date, and the publisher. The arrangement in this volume is alphabetical; the next volume, if we understand rightly, will exhibit the same materials classified. The pres- ent arrangement, as a general rule, places the work under the first letter of its title, unless the authors name is known, in which case that is generally the reference. These rules, however, are not strictly adhered to, and sometimes a book will be found under both heads: for in- stance, Alice, or the Mysteries, stands alone and is also found under the head of Lytton, to which the searcher is referred from Bulwer. In a future case, it might be deserving of consid- eration whether this double exhibition might not be systematically carried out. Besides the more obvious uses of the volume, it impresses the mind, through the eye, in vari- ous suggestive modes. When we look at the long list of Sir Edward Bulwer Lyttons works, the praise of unflagging industry and various effort must be awarded him. If we turn to Arnold, or to Hallam, we see by the number of editions, that solid merit is not unregarded or unrewarded, even in this age of superficial read- ing. In the case of Disraeli, B. we also find variety of effort enough, and, by an exception in his favor, trace how early he must have be- gun to write England and France, post Svo. 8s. Gd. Murray, 1820. We also re d in the same list, on more than one occasion, the significant omen, 31s. 6d. reduced to iSs. Spectator. Sketches and Characters; or the Natural History of the Human Intellects. By James William Whitecross. THE object of this book is to trace the influence of circumstances on the formation of mental character in men, or races of men not over- looking animals, at least as an illustration ; and to sketch the characters when formed. The de- sign is not ve~ry perfectly adhered to, critically speaking; an~ the genius of Mr. Whitecross is hardly equal to the height of his great argu- ment. He has, however, produced a readable enough book, and not without interest, from the great number of anecdotes and notices of remark- able persons which it contains, as well as from his sketches and illustrations of character, na- tional as well as individual. Spectetor. LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. PART IX. CHAPTER XLIII. A SHORT time after the loss of poor Julius, Bagot had gone to town without seeing Lady Lee in the interval. The night of his arrival he wrote a note to Seager, desiring that gentle- man to Come to him in the morning. Seager came about ten oclock to the lodg- ings occupied by Begot, expecting to find him up and dressed. As he was not in the sitting- room, Seager proceeded up stairs to his bed-room. He was met at the head of the stairs by Wilson, the colonels servant, who told him he feared his master was ill. He had been talking queer, Wilson said, very queer.~~ Seager entered the bed-room. The colonel was in bed, and did not look ill, but his friend observed that he cast a peculiar hurried, anxious glance at the door as he entered. He went up to him, shook hands, congratulated him on the late event, and then seated him- self on the side of the bed. What makes you so late in bed ? asked Scager; keeping it up late last night, eli ? No, said Bagot, no. Lwant to get up hut how can I, you know, with these people in the room I (casting a quick nervous glance towards a corner of the apartment.) Very odd, thought Seager, following the direction of the colonels eyes, and seeing no one. He has nt lost his wits, I hope. A little feverish, perhaps. I m afraid you re out of sorts, Lee, he said. You dont look well. Quite well, said Bagot; never better. I 11 get up in a minute, my good fellow, as soon ns they re gone. Could nt you (in an under tone) could nt you get era to go? Who? inquired Seager, again following the glance the colonel cast towards the same part of the room. WhoP cried Bagot; why, that tea- party there. They ye been drinking tea the whole morning two women and a man. By Jove, he s mad, thought Seager to himself mad as a March hare. I ye asked em as civilly as I could to go away, said Bagot, but they dont mind that. It s very curious, too, where they got the tea, for I dont take much of it. Fancy them coming to me for tea, eh I said Bagot. Absurd, you know. Why, tis rather a good joke, said Sea- ger, afflicting to laugh, but in great consterna- tion. Since reading the accident to the poor little baronet in the papers, he had counted on Bagot as the source from whence all the funds required for the conduct of the coming trial (without mentioning other more immedi- ate wants) were to be supplied. And here was the colonel evidently out of his mind unfit, perhaps, to transact even so simple a business as drawing money. have you got much money in the house, Lee? asked Suager presently. Money? said Bagot, who seemed to answer some questions rationally enough no, I dont think I have; I in going to draw some as soon as I ye seen my lawyer. Just so, said Seager, and the sooner the better. Where s your check-book? Just sign your name, andl II fill it up. We must have some funds to carry on the war. The trial comes on the beginning of next month, and there s a great deal to be done beibre- hand. Ah, that cursed trial ! said the colonel, grinding his teeth; but Ive been thinking it over, Seager, and it s my belief that, if we brib~e the crown lawyers high enough, we may get em to lay the indictment for man- slaughter. Manslaughter! repeated Seager to him- self, as he todk the check-book from Bagots writing-desk. 0, by Jove, he s stark staring! Now, old fellow, he continued, coming to the bedside with the inkstand and check-book, here you are. Just take the pen and write your name here. Ill fill it up afterwards. Bagot took the pen, and tried to write his name as Seager directed; but his hand shook so that he could not, and, after an attempt or two, he threw the pen from him. Come, try once more, and I 11 guide your hand, said Seager. But Bagot refused so testily that he did not press him. Do you know, said Seager presently, puzzled at Bagots extraordinary demeanor, I dont think you re half awake yet, Lee. You ye been dreaming, have nt you? Not a bit, said Bagot; I did nt sleep a wink all night. I wonder if that s true? thought Sea- ger. You dont see the tea-party now, do you ? Bagot, as if suddenly recollecting them, looked quickly towards the corner where he had fancied them seated. No, said he, with a kind of doubtful pleasure; they re gone gone, by Jove ! Then, raising him- self on his elbow, he cast a searching glance all round the room, and at last behind his bed, when he started, and, falling back aghast on his pillow, muttered, There they are behind the curtains, drinking tea as hard as ever; and they ye gota little boy with em mow., Ab ,said Seager, humoring him, what s the boy like ? I could only see his back, answered Bagot, in a whisper, but I would nt look again for the world, (shuddering, and turn- ing his face away.) 29 LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. Seager now went to the door, and, calling Wilson, desired him to fetch a physician who lived in the street, to see his master. The physician, a brisk man, of few years, considering his eminence, and who piqued himself on suiting his tone to that of his patients and their friends, soon arrived. He came in jauntily, asked Bagot how he was, heard all about the intrusive tea-party, felt his pulse, looked at him attentively, and then took Seager aside. The colonel, now, is nt the most abste- mious man in the world, is he ? he inquired, with a jocular air. No, by Gad, said Mr. Seager; he s a pretty hard liver. Drinks pretty freely, eli? Wine? brandy I More than I should like to, replied Seager. I ye often told him he d have to pull up some day. Ah, yes, he 11 have to, said the other nodding. He s got delirium tremens. Has he, by Jove ? exclaimed Seager adding with an oath, what a fool I was, that it never occurred to me, knowing him as Ido! The attack s just beginning now, and promises to be vjolent, said the doctor. What you think t will go hard with him, eli? The physician said, perhaps it might; was impossible to say; however, he added, you Wont be long in suspense a few days will settle the matter. Come, that s a comfort, said Seager, remembering how important it was that Bagot should be able to exert himself before the trial. Poor devil! he added, what a pity just come into a fine property ! Well, well, well try to keep him in possession, said the doctor. I 11 leave a prescription, and look in again shortly. By the by, said Seager, detaining him, people who ye got this complaint sometimes talk confounded stufi~ dont they ? The doctor said they did. And let out secrets about their own affairs, and other peopl& s ? Possibly they might, the doctor said their delusions were various, and often mixed strangely with truth. I ye heard patients, he added, in this state talk about private matters, and therefore it may be as well to let no strangers come about him, if you can avoid it. Seager thought the advice good, and assnred the doctor that he would look after him him- self. Accordingly, he sent to his own lodg- ings for a supply of necessaries, and estab- lished himself as Ba~ts attendant. In this capacity Mr. Seagers energy and vigilant habit enabled him to act with great effect; in fact, if he had been the po& r colonels warmly-attached brother, he could not have taken better care of him. lie ad- ministered his medicine, which there ~vas no difficulty in getting him to take, as it con- sisted principally of large doses of brandy; he held him down, with Wilsons assistance, in his violent fits, and humored the strange hal- lucinations which now began to crowd upon him thick and fast. Some of these Mr. Seager found rather diverting, especially an attendant imp, which Bagot conceived was perpetuall yh overin g about the bed, and in whose motions he took vast interest. Take care, said Begot, starting up in bed on one occasion as Seager approached him; mind, mind! you 11 tread on him. Tread on what? said Seager, looking down, deceived by the earnestness of the ap- peal. Why, the little devil poor little fellow! dont hurt him. You ye no idea how lively he is. I would nt have him injured, added Bagot tenderly, on any account. Certainly not, said Seager; not while he behaves himself. What s he like, oh? He s about the size, returned Bagot, of a printers devil, or perhaps a little smaller; and, considering his inches, he s uncommonly active. He was half-way up the bedpost this morning at one spring. All this nonsense, delivered with perfect earnestness and gravity, contrasted so oddly with the colonels red nose and bristly, un- shaven face, that it greatly amused Mr. Seager, and helped him to pass the time. By and by, however, both the tea-party and the imp disappeared, and their place was taken by spectres of more formidable stamp. In particular, there was a demon, disguised as a bailiff in top-boots, who was come, as Bagot firmly believed, to take his soul in execution, he having unfortunately lost it at chicken hazard to The enp~y of mankind, which latter personii~e he p~d Mr. Seager the compliment of taking him f6r. It was now that Seager began to appreciate the soundness of the doctors advice with respect to excluding strangers from the heai~- ing of Bagots delusions. He began to talk, sometimes pertinently, sometimes wildly, of the approaching trial, generally ending in absurd ravings; sometimes charging Seager with dreadful crimes, sometimes imagining h~imself the culprit. On the third day of his attack, Seage~remarked that a showman figured largely in his discourse, and finding the patient in a tractable mood, he questioned him as to who this showman might be. I know, said the colonel, still taking Mr. Seager for the distinguished personage aforesaid I know its of no use to try to keep amiything a secret from you. But sup- pose now I tell you all about Holmes, will 30 LADY LEE S WIDOWHOOD. you let me off what what I lost, you know What was that? asked Seager, forgetting the imaginary forfeit. Why the the soul ,said Bagot. Its of no use to you, you know. 0, ah, I d forgotten that ! said Seager. Pray, dont mention it; t is nt of the least consequence. Yes, we II cry quits about that. Then, to his hearers surprise, Bagot, appar- ently satisfied with the conditions, relatedall the particulars of his nocturnal interview with Mr. Holmes, comprising what had passed between them inside the caravan. Seager listened in breathless astonishment. The delusion, if delusion there was in this in- stance, was the most plausible and coherent of any that had yet haunted Bagot. It had touched, too, on some previous suspicions in Seagers own mind, and he resolved, it Bagot recovered, to sound him on the subject. Meantime he tried to lead him to talk more freely on the subject. But Bagot now began to wander, talked all kinds of nonsense, and ended, as usual, in violent ravings. All this time the demon in top-boots and his brethren were in constant attendance. Never for a moment was Bagot free from the horror of their presence; and if all the frightful spectres of romance and superstition had been actually crowded round his bed, the poor colonel could not have suffered more than from the horrible phantasms that his imagina- tion summoned to attend him. It was beginning to be doubtful if he could hold out much longer under the disease; but on the third night he fell asleep, and woke the next morning in his right mind. Ah, he s pulled through this time, said the doctor, when he saw him. All right, now; but he must nt resume his hard drink- ing, orhe 11 have another attnck. I 11 look after him myself, said Mr. Sea- ger. I ll~lockup the brandy bottle, and put him on short allowance. Well, he ought to be very grateful to you, I ni sure, said the doctor, for all your attention. Really, I never saw greater kind- ness, even among near relations. And the doctor having been paid, departed, perfectly convinced that Mr. Seager was one of the best fellows that ever breathed, and the sort of person to make any sacrifice to serve his friends. Now I 11 tell you what it is, Lee, said Seager, when Bagot was on his legs again, and manifested a desire for his customary drains. You must nt go on in your old way yet awhile. If you do, you 11 go to the devil in no time. Never you mind, sir, said Bagot with dignity. I presume Im the best judge of what s good for me. You never made a greater mistake, re- turned Mr. Seager. Just go and look in the glass, and see what your judgment of what s good for you has brought you to, you unfortu- nate old beggar. You look like a cocktail screw after the third heat, all puffing and trembling. I 11 lay you a five-pound note you dont look me straight in the face for a min- ute together. Here s a sovereign, now well., 1 11 put it between your lips, and if you can hold it there for fifty seconds, you sWall have it, and, if not, you shall give me one. What d ye say to that? Sir, said Bagot, with his lips trembling, and his eyes rolling more than ever at these delicate allusions to his infirmities sir, you are disagreeably personal. Personal! sneered Mr. Seager. I wish you could hear the confounded rubbish you talked while in bed. I only wished I d had a short-hand writer to take it down all about the bailiffs, and devils, and so forth. And the showman, too one Holmes. He struck me as a real character; and, if all you said was true, you must have had some queer dealings together. As he spoke he fixed his green eye on Ba- got, who started, cast one nervous glance at him, and then, in great agitation, rose and walked to the window, where Seager saw him wipe his forehead with his handkerchief. Presently he looked stealthily over his shoulder, and, perceiving that Seager still eyed him, he affected to laugh. Cursed non- sense I must have talked, I daresay, said he huskily. 0, cursed, you know, ha, ha ! But that about the showman Holmes did nt sound so absurd as the rest, said Seager. It struck me as more like some real circumstances you were recollecting. Come, suppose you tell me all about it sensibly, now. No more of this, sir, said Bagot, waving the handkerchief he had been wiping his forehead with. The subject is unpleasant. No man, I presume, likes to be reminded that he has %een talking like a fool. We wont resume the subject now, or at any other time, if you please. Ah, said Seager to himself, on observing Bagots agitation, I was right there was some truth in that. I must consider how to turn it into account. CHAPTER xLIv. In his new circumst~nces Bagot was, of course, a very different~ personage from the Colonel Lee known to tradesmen and money- lenders of old. There was no talk now of arresting him for small debts, no hesitation in complying with his orders. The Jews, bill- brokers, and other accommodating persons, who had lately been open-mouthed a~aiast him, now offered him unlimited ~redit~ ~f 31 LADY LEE S WIDOWHOOD. which he did not fail to avail himself. His creditor, Mr. Dubbley, seeing the very differ- ent position the colonel would now occupy at the Heronry, and alive to the impolicy of offending so important a neighbor, stopped all proceedings against him, and, with the most abject apologies and assurances of regard, en- treated him to take his own leisure for the payment of the debt. Apparently satisfied with thcse advantages, the colonel showed no eagerness to take upon him either the dignity or the emoluments that had now devolved on him in the succession of inheritance. The first lawyers in the kingdom were re- tained for him and Seager. A considerable sum was placed at the disposal of the latter, who was to employ it either in bribing that very important witness, Jim the groom, who had charge of .Goshawk, to perjure himself, or in getting him to abscond. As he proved tractable, ho~vever, and agreed, for a sum which he named, to swear anything that the gentlemen might wish, it was resolved to pro- duce him; and Seager was very sanguine of a favorable result. In the mean time Bagot, anxious and gloomy, kept almost entirely in his lodgings, and seldom spoke to anybody except on busi- ness. lie did not know what reports might be abroad about the. coining trial; he did not know how his associates would look upon him ; and he feared at present to put the matter to proof by going among them. This line of conduct Seager thought highly impol- itie, and told him so. Put a good face on the matter, he said. Go down to the club play billiards go to the opera. If you go sneaking about with a hangdog face, as if you did nt dare show yourself, people will bring you in guilty before the trial, and the legal acquittal will hardly serve to set you right again. So Bagot suffered himself to be persuaded, and went down to his club. here he had been, in days of yore, a prominent character, and had enjoyed an extensive popularity among the members, He formed a sort of connecting link between the fogies and the youngsters; his experience allying him with the one class, his tastes and habits with the other. Here he might formerly often have been seen entertaining a knot of immoral old gentlemen with jokes improper for publica- tion, or the centre of an admiring circle of fledglings of the sporting world, who rever- enced him as an old bird of great experience and sagacity. With doubtful and anxious feelings, he now revisited the scene of his former glory. Put- ting on as composed a face as possible, he went up-stairs and entered the library. There were several people in it whom he knew. One well-known man-about-town, with whom the colonel was rather intimate, was seated opposite the door reading a newspaper, and, as Bagot could have sworn, fixed his eye on him as he entered, but it was instantaneously dropped on the paper. Another member an old gentleman who was strongly suspected of a happy knack of turning up honors at criti- cal movements of the game of whist looked round at his entrance, and the colonel ad- vanced to greet him, in perfect confidence that he, at any rate, was not a likely person to cast the first stone at him ; but Bagot was mistaken. The old gentleman shifted his chair so as to place his back towards Bagot~ with a loud snort of virtuous indignation, and, leaning forward, whispered to a neigh- bor some hurried words, of which Bagot could distinguish Deuced bad taste! dont you think so? Crimson with rage and shame, Bagot bent down over a newspaper to recover himself, and fumbled with trembling hands at his eye- glasses. He heard a step behind him present- ly, but he dared not look up. Lee, my boy, how are you? said a stout, hearty man about fifty, slapping the colonel on the shoulder. I ye just come back from a tour, and the first thing I saw in the paper was about youabout yourthe stout gentleman stopped to sneeze, which he did four times, with terrible convulsions of face and figure, during which Bagot was in horrible suspense, while every ear in the room *as pricked up about your good fortune, said the stout old gentleman, after he had blown and wiped his sonorous nose as care- fully as if it were some delicate musical in- strument that he was going to put by in its case. I congratulate you with all my heart. Fine property, I m told. Just wait while I ring the bell, and we 11 have a chat torc~- ther. lie went to the bell and rung it ;but,on his way back to Bagot, he was stopped by a friend who had entered the library with him, and who now drew him aside. Bagot stole a glance over his paper at them. Lie felt they were talking about him. lie heard his stout friend say God bless me! who would have thought it ? and he perceived that, instead of rejoining him, according to promise, he took a chair at the further end of the room. Bagot still kept his own seat a little while, but he could .not long endure his position. He fancied every one was looking at him, though, when, with this impression strong on him, he glared defiance around, every eye was averted. ~e wished he only wished that some one would ofl~r him som~e gross tangible insult, that he might relieve himself by an out-burst that he might hurl his scorn and defiance at them and the whole world. No one, however, seemed likely to oblige him with an opportunity of this kind, and, after a minute or two, Bagot rose, and, with 32 33 LADY LEES WIDOWhOOD. as much composure as he could command, colonel. Nothing like putting a good face quitted the room and the house. As he on it. walked in no happy frame of mind with Sir, said Byot, increasing his pace, himself, with the world, or with Seager, your remarks are offensive. whose advice had entailed upon him this mor- I did nt mean them to be so, answered tification towards his lodgings, along one the other. But you re quite right to carry of the small streets near St. James, he saw it off this way. You ye come into a good some one wave his hand to him, in a friendly property, I hear, and that will keep you fair manner, from the opposite side of the way. with the world, however this trial, or a dozen Bagot was too short-sighted to recognize this other such, might go. Some people have the acquaintance; but, seeing him prepare to devils own luck. Yes, colonel, you 11 pulL cross the road to him, and reflecting that he through it you 11 never fall among thieves. could not afford to drop any acquaintances just Its only the poor devils, added Jack Sharpe then, when all seemed deserting him, he bitterly, that get pitched into and kicked stopped to see who it was. into outer darkness. Mr. Jack Sharpe, the person who now drew Bagot was perfectly livid. By this time they near, had been intended for the church, but had reached a corner of the street, and, stop- happening to be fast in everything except in ping short, the colonel said his progress in the different bran6hes of uni- Oblige me by saying which way your road versity learning, in which he was particularly lies. slow, he never arrived at the dignity of or- Well, well, good morning, colonel. I iu ders. He had formerly moved in the same not offended, for, I daresay, I should do the circle as Bagot, but had lost his footing same myself in your place. Politic, cob- there, in consequence of strong suspicions of nel, politic! I wish you good luck and good dishonorable conduct oa the turf. These morning. And Mr. Jack Sharpe took him- seemed the more likely to be just, as he had self off. never sought to rebut the charge against him~ Thrs encounter grated on Bagots feelings and it was rumored that, since the occur- more than any other incident that had oc- rence, he had allied himself taking, at the curred to him. To be hailed familiarly as a same time, no great precautions for secrecy comrade by a swindler to be prejudged as with a certain swindling confederacy. There- one who had forfeited his position in society, fore Bagot had, when last in town, in all the and was to retain it only on new and acci- might and majesty of conscious integrity, dental grounds this sunk deep, and shook avoided Mr. Jack Sharpe, sternly repelled all that confidence of success which lie had hith- his attempts to renew their acquaintance, and erto never permitted himself to question. returned his greetings, when they chanced to Just afterwards he met Seager, who came meet, with the most chilling and formal bows. gayly up to ask him how he had got on at the Sharpe appeared to think that late circum- club. Bagot told him something of the an- stances had bridged over the gulf between pleasant treatment he had met with, and the them, for he not only saluted Bagot with an- disgust and annoyance it had caused him to wonted familiarity, but took his hand. The feel. Seager grinned. colonel disengaged it, and, intrenching him- You re not hard enough, Lee you self behind his dignity, endeavored to pass on. think too much of these things. Now, I m Jack Sharpe, nothing daunted, walked cheer- as hard as a nail. I meet with exactly the fully beside him. same treatment as you do, but what do I care Well, colonel, how goes the trial? asked for it? It doesnt hurt me they cant put Mr. Sharpe, who had managed, notwithstand- rae down, and Seager smiled at the thought ing his downfall, to preserve the appearance of his own superiority. What would you and manners of a gentleman. You 11 get a do, I wonder, if a thing which just now hap- verdict, I hope. pened to me were to happen to you? I was The colonel inclined his head stiffly, looking on at a billiard match, and Crossley, Well, I hope so, said Jack Sharpe. It (you know Crossley?) who had been, like the was a deuced clever thing, from what I hear rest of em, deuced distant and cool to me, of it; and deserves success; and my opinion offered to bet on the game. I took him up of the cleverness of the thing will be exactly he declined. 0, you back out, do you? the same, whether you and Seager get an ac- says I. Not at all, says Crossley; but I quittal or not. And Mr. Sharpe looked as dont bet with everybody. Now, what would if he expected to find Bagot highly gratified you have done? by his approbation. I should have desired him to apologize Do you presume, for a moment, to insin- instantly, said the colonel. nate a doubt of my innocence of the charge? He d have refused. asked Bagot sternly. Id have kicked him, said the ccl- 0, certainly not, returned Jack Sharpe, cad. with a laugh. Quite right to carry it high, T would have caused a row, and we re VCCCLXXXiX. LIYING AGE. VOL. III. 3 - LADY LEE S WIDOWHOOD. quite conspicuous enough already, said Sea- ger. No; [turned coolly to him, and says I, Very good; as we re going to close our accounts, 1 11 thank you for that ten-pound note I won from you on the Ph~be match. Crossley, you know, is poor and proud, and he looked cursedly disgusted and cut up at this exposure of his shortcomings. 1 11 he t. he wishes he d been civil now. You must take these things coolly. Never mind how they look at you; go back to the club, now, and brave it out show cia you dont care ft~r em No, muttered Bagot, Id die first. I 11 go out no more till t is over. In this resolution he shut himself up in his lodgings, only going out in the dusk to walk in such thoroughfares as were not likely to he frequented by any of his ac- quaintances. Never had a week passed so dismally with him as this. His nerves were yet unstrung by his late attack, and his anx- iety was augmented as the day of the trial approached, until he wondered how he could endure it. In spite of his efforts, his thoughts were impelled into tracks the most repugnant to him. - The remembrance of his reception by the members of his club haunted him in- cessantly, though it was what most of all he wished to forget; for Bagot, being, as we have seen him, a weak-principled man of social habits, though he had found no diffi- culty in quieting his own conscience, was keenly alive to the horrors of disgrace. He felt as he remembered to have often felt when a great race was approaching, which was to make or mar him only the interest now was more painfully strong than ever be- fore. There was an event of some sort in store why could he not divine it? ah, if he were only as ~vise now as he would he this day week, what anxiety would be saved him! lie only dared contemplate the possibility of one result an acquittal. That would lift the weight from his breast and re~ipen life to him. But a conviction ! that he dared not think of for that contingency he made no provision. During this week harry Noble had come up from the Heronry on some husiness con- nected with the stable there, in which the colonel had been interested; and Ba~ot, con- ceiving he might be useful in matters in which he did not choose to trust his own servant Wilson, had desired him to remain in town for the present. This Seager was glad of, for he knew Harry was to be trusted, and he told him in a few words the nature of the predica- ment the colonel was in. You must have an eye to him, said Sea- ger; dont let him drink much, if you can help it; and if it shouldbe necessary for him to make a trip to France for a time, you must go with him. I 11 go with him to the worlds end, Mr. Seager, said Harry. lie was much attached to the colonel, having known him since the time when Noble, as a boy, entered the Her- onry stables; and though he had then, like the other stable-boys, found Bagot very se- vere and exacting, yet, having once proved himself a careful and trustworthy servant and excellent groom, the colonel had honored him since with a good deal of his confi- dence. Harry had the more readily agreed to this since, when leaving the Ileronry, he had parted in great wrath from Miss Fillett, who had found time in the midst of her religious zeal to harrow up Nobles soul with fresh jealousies, and to flirt demurely, but effect- ually, with many brethren who frequented the same chapel. The day before the trial Seager came, and Bagot prevailed on him to stay and dine, and play 6carte. Seager was sangnine of the result of the trial, which was to commence on the morrow, in the Court of Queens Bench spoke in assured terms of the excellence of their case, their counsel, and their wit- nesses ; and, telling him to keep up his spirits, wished him good night, promising to bring him back the earliest intelligence of how the day had gone. The colonels eagerness for, and terror of, the result had now worked him into a state of agitation little short of frenzy. The trial was expected to last two days, but the first would probably show him how the case was likely to terminate. Both Bagot and Seager preferred forfeiting their recognizances to sur- rendering to take their trial, which would have shut out all hope of escape in the event of an adverse verdict. Finding it impossible to sit still while in this state, the colonel started for a long walk, resolving to return at the hour at which Sea- ger might be expected. Arriving a few min- utes later than he intended, he went up-stairs to his sitting-room, but started hack on seeing a person whom he did not recognize there. His first impression was, that it was a man come to arrest him. His visitor, on seeing his consternation, gave a loud laugh. It was Mr. Seager. Gad, Lee, said that worthy, it must be well done, if it takes you in. I was in court all day, and sat next a couple of our set, but they hadnt an idea who I was. Mr. Seager was certainly well disguised, and it was no ~vonJj~r the colonel had not rec- ognized him. Low on his forehead came a black wig, and whiskers of the same met under his chin. He had a mustache also; his coat was blue, his waistcoat gorgeous, with two or three chains, evidently plated, meandering over it, and his trousers were of a large and brilliant check. In his elaborate 34 LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. shirt-front appeared several studs, like little wutches, and his neck was enveloped in a black satin stock with gold flowers and a great pill. What d ye think, Lee dont I look the nobby Israelite, eh ? Bagot shortly admitted the excellence of his dis~ uisu, and then asked, What news? is it over I Only the prosecution that s finished, returned the metamorphosed Seager. Well, said Bagot breathlessly, and how how did it go? Sit down, said Seager; give me a cigar, and Jill tell you all about it. Nothing could be more strongly contrasted than the anxiety of Bagot with the composure of Seager. No one would have imagined them to be both equally concerned in the proceed- ings that the latter now proceeded to relate while Bagot glared at him, gnawing his nails and breathing hard. The court, said Seager, throwing him- self back in the chair after he had lit his cigar, with his hands in his trousers pockets, and his feet stretched to the fire the court was crowded. Slopertons counsel opened the ball by giving a sketch of the whole affair little personal histories of you and me and Sloperton, the sort of things that might be prefixed to our poetical works after we re dead you know the style of thing, Lee, birth, parentage, breeding, so forth. Then came out Slopertons meeting with us at the Bush at Doddington the adjournment to Oates room the broiled bones, cards, and betting, and the terms of the wager with Sloperton. Our friend Sloper was the first witness, and had got himself up a most awful swell, as you may suppose, on such a grand occa- sion, and there was nt a young lady in court who did nt sympathize with him. I could see by his way of giving evidence he was as vindictive as the devil. Our fellows ~vent at him, but they did nt damage his evidence much. He told about the bethow, by your advice, he had sent to me to offer to compromise it and how he had perfectly de- pended all was fair till he heard the mare was lame. Oates followed, and corroborated the whole story. Then came one of the vets who attended the mare, and he swore, in his opinion, she d got navicular disease. Then came a new actor (Bagot listened more eagerly than ever), one Mr. Chick, who saw us return to the stable that morning we gave Goshawk the trial; and he swore the mare was lame then. Bagot drew a long breath, and fell back in his chair. Against all this, Seager went on, we ye got to-morrow the evidence of Jim, who 11 swear the mare never was lame while 35 in his charge, and of the other vet, who 11 swear she was, and is, sound. So cheer up, old boy; it may go all right vet. Nev ersay die. Seager paused, and looked at Bagot, who had covered his face with his hands. Both were silent for a space. By the by, said Seager presently, in an indifferent tone, yet eyin0 Bagot with a keenness that showed his interest in the question by the by, where s Lady Lee now Bagot did not answer, and Seager repeated the question. iVhat s Lady Lee to you, sir? said Bagot, removing his hands from his face, the color of which was very livid. 0, nothing particular; but she might be something to you, you know, in case of the business going against us to-mor- row. You said she had left the ileronry, didnt you? Bagot did not reply. It s no use blinking the matter, said Seager testily. Things may go against us to-morrow, in which case I m off, and so are you, I suppose. I ye made all my arrange- meats; but I think we had better take diif- ferent roads, and appoint a place to meet on the continent. But I m short of money for a long trip, and, of course, you 11 accom- modate me. We row in the same boat, you know. Come, what will you caine down with? Not a penny, said Bagot in a low, thick. voice. Eh! what ? said Seager, looking up at him. Not a penny, said Bagot, raising his voice. You devil, he cried, starting from his chair, dont you know you ye ruined me? and, seizing the astonished Seager by the throat, he shook him violently. You cursed old lunatic ! cried Seager,. as soon as he had struggled himself free from Bagots grasp. You re mad, you old fool! Only raise a finger again, and I II brain you with the poker. What d ye mean, ha? We must talk about this, and you shall apolo~ize, or give me satisfaction.~~ What, an affair of honor, eh B sneered Bagot between his ground teeth. Between. two gentlemen! . That sounds better than convicted swindlers. Curse you, he added,. in a hoarse whisper, you ye been my de- struction. He a dangermis, thought Seager, as he looked at him. Come, Lee, said he, lis- ten to reason; lend me a supply, and we 11 say no more about this queer behavior. I know you ye been drinking. You have my answer, sir, said Bagot.. Not a penny, I repeat. I wish you may starve rot in a jail. LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. Seager looked at him keenly for a minute, He s been at the brandy bottle, he thought. Well, let him drink himself mad or dead, if. he likes. But, no ! that wont do either he may be useful yet. The old fool ! he muttered as he departed, he does nt know how far he has let me into his secrets. Well, he 11 change his notcs, per- haps ; so saying, he left the room and the house. cHAPTEa XLV. Disguised as before, Seager went to West- minster next day, to hear the conclusion of the trial. The court was, as on the previous day, crowded to excess, and Seager recognized a great number of his and Bagots acquaint- ances among the spectators. The counsel for the defendants made an able address to the jury. The prosecutor, he said, had tried to win Seagers money, as Seager had tried to win his; and, nettled at finding he had made a rash bet, he now brought the action. The defendants were men of reputation, who had been engaged in many betting transactions before, and always without blemish or suspicion. There was no proof that the mare was unfit for the feat she had been backed to perform; and, if she had attempted it, she could have done it with ease. After calling several witnesses to speak to minor points, the other veterinary surgeon who had attended the mare was put in the box. He swore the mares lameness was trifling and temporary; that he had seen her trot, and believed her certain to win such a match ns the one in question; and that he had not detected in her any trace of navicular disease. This witness having sustained a severe cross examination unshaken, Mr. Seager began to breathe more freely. The last wit- ness was Jim the groom. Jim, though very compliant in respect of any evidence he might be required to give, had obstinately insisted on payment beforehand. It was to no purpose Seager had promised him the money the in- ~tant lie should come out of court; the cau- tious Jim was inflexible till the stipulated sum was put in his hands. Seager watched him as he was being sworn with the greatest attention; but Jims was not an expressive countenance, and nothing was to be read there. But Mr. Seager detected treachery in his manner the moment the ex- amination began. Without attempting to repeat the lesson he had been taught, he prevaricated so much that the counsel for the defendants, finding he was more likely to damage than to assist his clients, abruptly sat down. In the cross-examination he suffered (though with some appearance of unwilling- ness) the whole truth to be elicited; admitted the mares lameness remembered the colonel and his master trying her, and finding her lame (an incident he had been especially desired to erase from his memory) and also remembered to have heard them talk about navicular. He also recollected that Seager cautioned him to keep the circumstance very quiet. Seager sat grinding his teeth with rage. He had forgotten the incident of the horse- whipping which he had administered to Jim, though the latter had not, and was therefore at a loss to account for his treachery. Jims revenge happening to coincide with his duty, h6 had no sooner pocketed the reward for his intended perjury, than he resolved to pursue the paths of rectitude, and to speak the truth. Just at this time Seager caught sight of one he knew standing very near him, and listening as eagerly as himself. This was Harry Noble, who had been there also on the previous day, and who, firmly convinced that his master was wrongfully accused, had heard the evidence of the groom Jim with high indignation, and was now burning to defy that perjured slanderer to abide the ordeal of single combat. Seager, writing a few words on a slip of paper, made his way up to Harry, and pulled his sleeve. Noble turned round and stared at him, with- out any sign of recognition. Look another way, said Seager, and listen. T is me and I want you to run with this note to the colonel. What! are you Mr. Sea? began Harry; but Seager squeezed his arm. hush ! he said. I dont want to be known; and dont mention to anybody but the colonel that you ye seen me. Take this note to him; he II start for France as soon as he gets it, and you must get him away with all the speed you can. Dont delay a min- ute. Noble nodded and quitted the court. He got a cab, and went with all speed to Bagots lodgings, and, telling the cabman to wait, immediately ran up stairs with the note. The colonel, who was pacing the room, snatched it eagerly, read it, and let it fall, sinking back into a chair quite collapsed. It s all over, he muttered. Noble stood near, looking at him in respect- ful silence for a minute or two. At length he ventured to say, Shall I begin to pack up, sirl Mr. Seager said we must be quick. Dont name him ! thundered Bagot, starting from his chair. Curse him! I could tear him ! I 11 never believe t was you as did the trick, sir, said Noble. No more wont anyl5ody else; though, as for Mr. Seager, I could nt say. Shall I begin to pack up, sir l he repeated. Do what you please, returned his mas- ter in fierce abstraction. 33 LADY LEE S WIDOWHOOD. Noble, thus empowered, entered the bed- room, and began to stow Bagots clothes away in his portmanteau. Presently he came to the door of the apartment, where the colonel had again sunk down in his chair. Bagot was now face to face with the event he had so dreaded; no subterfuge could keep it off any longer no side-look rid him of its presence. lie would, in a few hours, be a convicted, as he was already a disgraced, man. The averfed looks the whispers the cold stares of former friends, that had lately driven him almost mad, were now to be his for life. Life! would he bear it It had no further hope, promise, or charm for him, and he was r~solved to be rid of it and dis- honor together. Beg pardon, sir, said Noble at length, seeing that Bagot took no notice of him. Perhaps you d wish to let my lady know where we re gone, sir P Bagot started, and seemed to think for a minute. As soon as Noble, after delivering his suggestion, had vanished, the colonel drew his chair to the table, and began to write, while Harry, in the next room, went on with the packing. He finished his letter, directed and sealed it, and laid it down, muttering, Thank God there s one act of justice done ! Then he went to a cupboard in the apartment, filled a large glass of brandy, and drank it off Now, he muttered, one moments firm- ness! no delay! Leave that room, he called out to Noble, as he went towards the bedroom there s something I wish to pack up myself. Noble accordingly came out. As he passed the colonel, he noticed a wildness in his expression. Before entering the bedroom the colonel turned and said, Let that letter be sent to-day, pointing to the one he had just written, and you can go down stairs for the present, he added. Nobles suspicions were aroused. Having got as far as the door, he pretended to shut himself out, and came softly back. Listening for a moment, he heard Bagot open some sort of case that creaked. Presently he peeped in Bagot was in the very act of fumbling, with trembling hands, at the lock of a pistol. He was just raising ittowards his head when Noble, with a shout, rushed in and caught his arm. Dont ye, sir, dont ye, for Gods sake ! he said, as Bagot turned his face with a bewildered stare towards him. Give it to me, sir.,~ Leave me, sir, said Bagot, still looking wildly at him leave me to wipe out my dishonor. He struggled for a moment to retain the pistol, but Noble ~vrested it from him, took off the cap, and returned it to tts case. The colonel sunk down moaning on the bed, and covered his face with his hands. Noble hastily fastened the portmanteau and carpet-bag, and called to Wilson to help to take them down to the cab in which he had come, and which waited at the door. Now, sir, he whispered to Bagot, dont take on so we shall be safe to-night. You wont think of doing yourself a mischief, sir, will you? dont ye, sir ! lIe took him gently by the arm. The poor colonel, with his nerves all unstrung, rose mechanically, and stood like a child ~vhile Noble put on his hat and wiped his face, which was moist with sweat and tears ; then he followed him down stairs unresistingly. Noble whispered to Wilson, at the door, that he and the colonel were going away for a time, and that there was a letter on the table to be sent that night to the post. Then he put the colonel and the baggage into the cab, mounted himself to the box, and they drove off, Harry frequently turning to look at his master through the front glass. Meantime Seager sat hearing the close of the defence. The judge summed up, leaving it to the jury to say whether the defendants knew of the mares unfitness to perform her engagement at the time they persuaded the plaintiff to pay a sum in comupromnise. The jury, after a short deliberation, found theut both guilty of fraud and conspiracy. There was some technical objection put in by the defendants counsel; but this being overruled, the judge proceeded to pass sen- tence. He was grieved to find men of the defendants position in society in such a dis- creditable situation. No one who had heard the evidence could doubt they had conspired to defraud the prosecutor of his money. He did not know whether he was justified in refraining from inflicting the highest punish- ment allotted to their offence, but, perhaps, the ends of justice might be answered by the lesser penalty. The sentence was, that the defendants should be imprisoned for tw~ years. Seager, seeing how the case was latterly going, was quite prepared for this. Just waiting to hear the close of the judges ad- dress, he got out of court with all possible speed. He went to his lodgings, changed his dress, and hurried to Bagots. There he met Wil- son with a letter in his hand which he was about to take to the post. Seager glanced at the direction, and then, averting his eye, Thats for Lady Lee, he said from. the colonel, is it not ? Wilson said it was. Ah, said Seagei~, I just met him, and he asked me to call for it he wants to add something he forgot, before t is posted. Give it me. 37 LADY LEE S WIDOWHOOD. Wilson, supposing it was all right, gave it T account of his own nature, which he accused to him. Mr. Seager, chuckling over the dcx- of unsympathizing callousness, than it by any terity with which he had obtained the letter, means deserved. He would have done as and thus more than accomplished the design much to serve a friend, and was capable of as of his visit to Bagots lodgings, which was to warm attachment, as most people, but his get Lady Lees a~idress, drove off to his own feelings required a congenial nature to call lodgings, reiissumed his disguise, and went theta forth. He was not one of those who strai~,ht to the station. wear their hearts on their sleeve %r any daw Entering the railway office, he shrunk aside to peck at, and had none of that incontinence into a corner till the train should he ready to of affability which insure~, a man so many start he wished to leave as few traces as acquaintances and so few friends. had he possible behind him. He was quite unen- been Lears eldest son, he would, to a cer- cumbered with baggage, havin0 taken the tainty, have been disinherited, along, with precaution to send that on to Dover to await Cordelia, in favor of those gay deceivers, him there under a feigned name. As he Goneril and Regan. stood aside in the shade a man passed and Now, Mr. Levitt his uncle, though natur- looked narrowly at him. Seager thought he ally amiable, was an undemonstrative charac- recognized his flice ; again he passed, and ter, full of good impulses which terribly em- Seager this time knew him for a police barrassed him, He would read a poem or sergeant in plain clothes. He was rather romance ~vith the keenest enjoyment, yet with alarmed, yet he was a little reassured by con- affected contempt, turning up his nose and sidering that his disguise was a safe one. screwing down the corners of his mouth, while But be reflected that it might have caused his eyes were watering and his heart beating. him to be taken for some other culprit, and it lie would offer two fingers to a parting friend, would be as awkward to be arrested as the nod good-by to him slightly, and turn away, wrong man, as in his own character. feeling as if a shadow had come upon his The last moment before the starting of the world. He had been used to write to his train was at hand, and Seager, as the police nephews in the spirit of a Roman or Spartan sergeant turned upon his walk, darted stealth- uncle, giving theni stern advice, and sending ilv to the check-takers box and demanded a them the most liberal remittances, in the ticket, not for Frewenham, but for the station most ungracious manner throwing checks beyond it for his habitual craft did not fail at their heads, as it were while all the him. Having secured it, he hastened on to time he was yearning for their presence. In the platfbrm and took his place. fact, he was so ashamed of his best points, At the moment he took his ticket, the and so anxious to conceal them, that the rigid sergeant, missing him, turned and saw him. mask wherewith he hid his virtues had become Instantly he ~vent to the box and asked where habitual, and he was a very sheep in wolfs that last gentleman took his ticket for, and, clothing. on being told, took one for the same place. Those, however, who had known him long, The bell had rung, and he hastened out, but rated him at his true value. Pane found the he was too late. The train was already in household in great grief. Miss Betsey, an motion; the last object he caught sight of ancient housekeeper, distinguished principally was Seager~s head thrust out of one of the by strong fidelity to the family interests, a carriages ; and the baffled policeman turned passion fbr gin-and-water, and a most extraor- back to wait for the next train. dinary cip, wrung her hands with great decorum; and Mr. Payne the banker, Orelias CHAPTER XLVI. father, at the first news of his old friends ill- Fane had spent some time in diligent pur- ness, had left a great money transaction un- suit of Onslow; at first with no great promise finished to rush to his bedside, where Pane of success, but latterly with some certainty of found him on his arrival. Indeed, it was being upon his track. Just, however, as his from him he had received intelligence of his hopes of securing him were strongest, he had uncles illness. received a letter, which had been following Mr. Paynes temperament had suffered foul him for some time from town to town, sum- wrong when they made him a banker. He moning hini to attend the sick-bed of his had naturally an intense dislike to matters of uncle, who had been attacked with sudden calculation, his bent being towards belles and dangerous illness. lettres, foreign trhvel, and the like pleasant Of course he set off at once, as in duty paths. Somehow or other he had got rich, bound; but he was surprised and ashamed, and flourished in spite of his want of talent knowing the obligations he lay under to his for money-making. his worldly pursuits, relative, to notice how Little anxiety and pain perhaps, made his tastes keener, for he fell the news occasioned him. Pane was very upon all manner of light reading with won- ~honest in analyzing his own emotions, and on derful zest after a busy day at the bank. As the present occasion laid more blame to the for his taste for travelling, it was whispered LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. 39 among his acquaintances that its development cynical glance at Mr. Payne, who had resumed was not so much owing to an erratic and in- his station at the other side of the bed. A quiring spirit, as to the fact that in the charmer for fifty pounds; why, I grow quite second Mrs. Payne he had caught a Tartar, curious dont you, Payne I Its exactly and availed himself of any plausible excuse to what you suggested as the cause of his delay. escape from her domestic tyranny. Orelia, Come, let s hear about her begin with the coming home from school one vacation, and eyes that s the rule, is nt it I finding her stepmother in full exercise of Wrong, sir, quite wrong, said Fane, authority, not only, as a matter of course, with another disclahning laugh. rebelled herself, but tried to stir up her father Poor, bashful fellow ! persisted his uncle. to join in the mutiny. Finding him averse to But we wont spare his blushes, Payne. open war, she proclaimed her intention forth- And how far did you pursue the nyniph, with of quitting the paternal mansion, and Durham 1and why did she fly you! Is living in the house which had become hers by she at length propitious! I hope so! You the death of her godmother, as before related; know my wishes. and Mr. Payne, coming down on Saturdays There s no lady in the case, sir, I assure after the bank was closed, would spend one- you, said Fane earnestly. half,ff his weekly visit in lamenting the ill- Ah! its always the way with your sea- temper of his spouse, and the other in his sitive lovers,i pursued his questioner, ad- favorite studies. dressing Mr. Payne. They re as shy of Fane found his uncle slowly recovering the subject which occupies their thoughts as from the effects of the attack which had pros- if they did nt like it. Come, if you re trated him, and by no means secure from afraid to speak out before my friend Payne a relapse. i\Ir. Levitt caught the sound of (thou0h I m sure you need nt be he a his step on the stair, and recognized it; and discretion itself), he 11 go away, I dare- Mr. Payne, seated by the bedside, saw the in- say. What is she like! and when is it to valid glance eagerly at the door. Neverthe- be! less, he received his nephew almost coldly, When is what to be, sir I asked Fane, though the latter testified warm interest in his trying to humor the old gentleman, but get- state. ing impatient, nevertheless. You ye been some time finding me out, Why, the wedding of course. Seriously, Durham, said his uncle, after shortly an- Durham, I m all impatience. Your last let- s~vering his inquiries. Im afraid you ye ter seemed to point at something of the kind; been summoned to this uninteresting scene and it was written long enough ago to have from sonic more agreeable pursuit. settled half-a-dozen love affairs since. I m It was an important one, at any rate, more earnest than ever on the subject, now sir, returned Fane ; yet even that did not that niy admonitions seeni likely to be cut prevent me hastening hither the moment Mr. short; and this matrimony question may af- Paynes letter reached me. I only got it this feet the dispositions of my will, Durham. morning. Consider it settled then, I beg, sir, said An important one, hey, Durham ! said Fane seriously. I shall never marry. Mr. Levitt, with the cynical air under which I shall be sorry to find you serious, Dur- he was accustomed to veil his interest in his ham. A bachelors life is but a dreary one. nephews proceedings. We may judge of Just look at the difference between me and its importance, Payne, by his hurrying away my friend Paynehe is rosy and happy, and, from it to look after the ailments of a stupid if he were lying here, he would have quite a, old fellow like me. Some nonsense, I 11 be family meeting assembled round him while bound. I should be alone, but for a nephew who has Mr. Payne, a bald benevolent man of fifty, no great reason to care about me, and a friend in spectacles, came round the bed to shake whose good-nature brings him to see what Fanes hand. may, perhaps, be the last of an old acquaint- Without the pleasure of knowing the ance. My opinions on the subject I ye so captain, I 11 answer for his holding you in often spoken to you of, have nt changed~ you due consideration, said Mr. Payne. And see, in the least and perhaps I shall act your uncle knows that, too; he a only jok- upon them. ing, he said to Fane. As you please, sir, said Fane. I Well, but the important business, Dur- speak my deliberate thought when I say I ham I said the invalid, as Fane seated him- dont intend to marry. self beside his pillow. Here Miss Betsey tapt at the door to say Fane, remembering that his cousin a was a that Mr. Durhams supper was ready. prohibited name, and fearing the effect it Go down with him, Payne, said Mr. might produce, attempted to laugh off the in- Levitt. I 11 go on with this story here quiry. a silly thing; but sick people must nt be too Love I said Mr. Levitt, with another critical. 40 LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. An excellent novel ! exclaimed Mr. Your uncle, finding, by his frequent ap- Payne full of feeling. plications for money, that accounts which had Ay, ay, well enough for that kind of reached him of Langleys gambling were but trumpery, said the invalid, who was secretly too true, at length replied to a request for a burning to know how the hero and heroine hundred pounds by enclosing a check to that were to be brou~ht together through such a amount, at the same time saying it was the sea of difficulties; and his friend and his last he must expect, and expressing his dis- nephew, after making a few arrangements pleasure very harshly. The check was for his comfort, went down stairs to ether brought to our bank the next day, and it was Fane dismissed the servant who waited at not till after it had been cashed that it was table. He wished to open what he intended suspected that the original amount, both in to be, and what proved, a very interesting words and fi~ures, had been altered. Four conversation, hundred pounds it now stood, and that sum You re a very old friend of my uncles, had been paid on it. The 1 had easily been Mr. Payne, he said. I ye so often heard made into a 4, and the words altered to cor- him speak of you, that I seem almost familiar respond neatly enough, but not so like your with you, though this is our first meeting. uncles as to pass with a close scrutiny. A school friendship, said Mr. Payne: While we were examining it, your uncle ~came and it has continued unbroken ever since. in, his anxiety on Langleys account having I will tell you, said Fane, what the brought him to town. lie took the check, pursuit was I was really engaged in, and you looked at it, and then drew me aside. T is will perceive I could not mention it to my forged, said he; mine was for a hundred: uncle. The fact is, I believe I was on but not a word of this, Payne let it pass as the point of discovering my cousin Lang- regular tell the clerks t is all right. This ley. was a terrible blow to him. From that day Mr. Payne dropped his knife and fork, and to this we have heard nothing of Langley, nor leant back in his chair. You dont say so ! does your uncle ever mention his name; and cried he. Poor Langley poor, poor Lang- no one but an intimate friend like me would ley ! guess how much he felt the dishonor. Fane told the grounds he had for suspect- But Langley must have known t would ing Langley and the ex-dragoon Onslow to be be discovered immediately, said Fane, who one and the same person. listened with deep attention. Following some faint traces, said Fane, Ay but meantime his end was an- I reached a town where, exposed for sale in swered. The money was paid, and he doubt- a shop window, I saw some drawings which less calculated that your uncle would rather I recognized for his. You know his gift that lose the sum than suffer the disgrace of ex- way. posure and he was right. Ay, a first-rate draughtsman, poor feb I cant believe him guilty, said Fane. low, said Mr. Payne. He must have been severely tempted, He had sold these for a trifle, far below poor boy, said Mr. Payne always so their value, and, as I found, had left the open and upri~,ht; but there can, I m afraid, town only the day before. I therefore felt be no doubt of his guilt. Consider, he has secure of him when your letter diverted me never showed his face since. from the pursuit. Fane thought for aminute or two. No, Poor Langley ! repeated the sympathetic he said no, not guilty, I hope and believe. Mr. Payne. Such a clever fellow! Draw, No guilty man could have borne himself as he sir! he had the making of half-a-dozen acade- has done since. But there is now more micians in him and ride! but you ye reason than ever for resuming my search for seen him ride, of course. And such an actor! him. Yes, yes Ii must see and question nothing like hini off the London boards, him myself. and not many on them equal to him, in my Where do you believe him to be ? asked opinion. And to end that way, I dont know Mr. Payne. if I should like to see him again. I traced him toFrewenham, in shire, You cawperhaps enlighten me on a point answered Fane. I ye long been curious about, said Fane. Frewenham! God bless me! Why, my I mean the real cause of my uncles dis- daughters place, Larches, is close to that. pleasure towards him the extravagance at- I m going down there in a day or two to see tributed to Langley does nt sufficiently ac- Orelia. count for it. Orelia ! exclaimed Fane; then Miss No, said Mr. Payne, your uncle would Payne is your daughter. have forgiven that readi4y enough. He pre- 0, you have met, then, perhaps B said tended, as his way is, to be angrier at it than Mr. Payne, with interest; where and he was. But the real cause of estrangement when I was more serious. At the Heronry, said Fane. My troop LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. 41 is at Doddington, the town nearest to where jilted her and your uncle disdained to renew Miss Payne was staying. his suit. 0, ho! this is fortunate, said Mr. This account seemed to Fane to throw a Payne. As soon as your uncle gets better, good deal of light upon parts of his uncles we will go down together to Frewenham. character which he had hitherto beca unable My friend Levitt, he resumed presently, to fathom. is, I see, much disappointed to find his Yes, resumed Mr. Payne, yes; your surmises as to your matrimonial prospects in- uncle is a great advocate for marriage, and correct. lIe had set his heart on their fulfil- certainly t is all very well in its way, though, ment; and some expressions of admiration perhaps, he added dubiously, in an under for some lady, in a late letter of yours, pre- tone, to himself perhaps it may be done pared him to expect something of the kind. once too often. Fane colored deeply. lie remembered, in- here Mr. Payne left Durham while he deed, that, writing to his uncle one evening, went up stairs to visit his sick friend, and after a deli0htful afternoon passed with Lady presently returned to say lie had found him Lee, he had suffered his admiration to over- asleep, and thought he had better not be dis- flow in expressions which, though they seemed turbed again. Shortly afterwards, finding to him slight compared with the merits of the Durham more disposed to ruminate over what subject, were yet, perhaps, sufficiently warm he had heard than to converse, he bid him to warrant his uncles inferences. It was good night, and went to bed. some comfort to remember that he had not Fanes meditations were interrupted by mentioned her name in this premature effe- Miss Betsey, who came in, not altogether free smon. from an odor of gin-and-water, to express her My uncle seems to have quite a mono- gratification at seeing him well. Miss Betsey mania on the subject of my becoming a Bene- was a thin old lady, with an unsteady eye, diet, he said presently, by way of breaking and a nose streaked with little veins, like a an awkward silence. His doctrine would schoolboys marble. She wore on her head have seemed more consistent had he incul- the most wonderful structure, in the shape of cated it by example as well as by precept. a cap, ever seen. It was a kind of tower of One does nt often see a more determined muslin, consisting of several stories orna bachelor. mented with ribbons, and was fastened under A love affair was the turning-point of her chin with a broad band like a helmet. your uncles life, said Mr. Payne. He Her aged arms protruded through her sleeves, knows and feels that a different, and how which were tight as far as the elbow, and much happier man he might have been, but sloped out wider till they terminated half-way for an early disappointment, and that makes to her wrist, where a pair of black mittens him so desirous to see you comfortably estab- commenced. lislied. Your dear uncle s been bad, indeed, Now, do you know, said Fane, I said Miss Betsey, taking a pinch of snuff. cant, by any effort of imagination, fancy my I amost thought we should have lost him, uncle in love. His pr6posals, if he ever Mr. Durham; but he s better now, poor reached that point, must have been conveyed dear. But there s no knowing what might in an epigram. happen yet, said Miss Betsey, shaking her Your uncle is a good deal changed, in head; and I ye had a thought concerning every respect, within the last few years, you, and him, and another, Mr. Durham. especially since that sad business of poor Here Miss Betsey closed her snuff-box Langley, said Mr. Payne; but I scarcely which was round, black, and shining, and recognize in him now my old (or rather, I held about a quarter of a pound of princes should say, my young) friend Levitt. How- mixture and, putting it in her ample ever, you may take my word for it, Captain pocket, laid the hand not occupied with snuff Durham, that your uncle knew what it was, on Fanes shoulder with amiable frankness, some five-and-twenty years ago, to be desper- which gin-and-water generates in old ladies. ately in love. He seemed, too, to be pro- Mr. Durham, your dear uneb s never forgot gressiug favorably with the object of his your cousin, Master Langley and t would affections, till a gay young captain in the be a grievous thing if he was to leave us (a Guards turned her head with his attentions mild form of hinting at Mr. Levitts decease) Captain, afterwards Colonel Lee. without forgiving him. Could nt you put What Bagotl said Fane. in a word, Mr. Durham, for your deer Ah, you know him, then, said Mr. cousin? Payne; then you also know it was no great The very thing I intend, Miss Betsey, alleviation to your uncles disappointment to returned Fane, as soon as it can be done find a man like Colonel Lee preferred to him. effectually. Lee, it seems, had no serious intentions, and j Ab, Mr. Durham, the old lady went on, 42 LADY LEER S WIDOW HOOD. waxing more confidential, your dear uncle s was so proud of that deed that he got it ibud of you, and well he may be, but you re painted, as you see and a pretty penny it not to him what Master Langley was ; no, cost him. There were other likenesses of repeated the old lady, shaking her forefinger, him here, but your uncle put em all away and lookin~ sideways at him, not what before you came from Judy. Master Langley was; and your dear uncle s Pane approached to look at the picture, never been the same man since that poor dear which set at rest any uncertainty that might boy left us. remain as to his cousins identity with the You seem to he quite as fond of him as rough-riding corporal. There was the same my uncle ever could have been, Miss Betsey, handsome face, only younger, and without the Pane remarked. mustache. The same gay air and easy seat Fond ! said Miss Betsey, who was nt~ that distinguished the dragoon Onslow on He had that coaxing way with him that he horseback appeared in the sportsman there could she completed the sentence by represented, who rode a gallant bay at a flourishing her forefinger in the air, as if turn- formidable brook, with a rail on the further ing an imnaginary person round it. Every- side. The work was highly artistic, being body was fond of him ; the maids (the the production of a famous animal-painter. pretty ones in particular) was amost too fond At this stage of the proceedings Miss Betsey~s of him so much so, that it rather interfered feelings seemed to overpower her. She wept with their work. copiously, and even hiccupped with emotion Panes smile at this proof of his cousins and, setting the candle on the table, abruptly irresistibility called forth a playful tap on the retired. shoulder from the old virgin, who presently Pane lingered round the room, looking at the afterwards dived down into her pocket for her backs of the books, and turning over portfolios snuff-box, and, screwing off the lid, which of drawings, which would, of themselves, have creaked like the axle of a stage wagon, identified the hand that produced them with stimulated her reminiscences with a pinch. Onslows, as exhibited in the sketch-book of Well-a-day! your uncle s never been the Orelia. Among these was a colored drawing same man since. You dont know, perhaps of his uncle a good likeness and another (whispering in a tone that fanned Panes of the artist himself. Pane, looking at the cheek with a zephyr combined of gin-and- bold, frank lineaments, internally pronounced water and princes mixture), that he keeps it impossible that their possessor could have Master Langleys room locked up the same as been guilty of the mean and criminal action the poor boy last left it, do you There imputed to him. He pictured to himself, and now, I said so, giving him a gentle slap on contrasted his cousins condition before he lost the back, and retreating a pace, as he his uncles favor, with his life as a soldier, answered in the negative; for all you lived and decided it to be contrary to experience here weeks together, on and off, you never that any one could, under such a startling knew that. Come with me, added the old change of circumstances, have behaved so well, lady; Ive got the key, and we II go in had he been conscious of guilt. there together. After some time spent in these and similar Pane willingly followed her, taking deep meditations, suggested ~y the objects around interest in all fragments of his cousins history. him, he went out and locked the door. Pass- Arriving at the door of a room looking out on ing the house-keepers room, he went in to the lawn, Miss Betsey stopped, and, after leave the key. Miss Betsey appeared to have some protracted fumbling at the keyhole, been soothing her emotions with more gin- opened it. Once or twice, when he thought and-water, for she sat still in her elbow-chair, nobody was watching him, I ye seen your with her wonderful structure of cap falling uncle coming out of this door with tears in his over one eye, in a manner that rather un- blessed eyes, said she, as she entered, pre- paired her dignity, while she winked the ceding him with the candle. remaining one at him with a somewhat im- The rooms were, as Miss Betsey had said, becile smile. just as their former occupant had left them. Come, Miss Betsey, said Pane, let me The pieces of a fishing-rod, with their bag see you to bed. lying beside them, were scattered on the Miss Betsey rose, and taking his offered arm, table, together with hackles, colored worsteds, they proceeded slowly along the passage to- peacocks herls, and other materials for fly- gether. By ,rove, thought Pane, if those making. An open book was on the window- youngsters, Bruce and Oates, could see me now, seat, and an unfluiished sketch in oils stood on what a story they d make of it ! an easel. You must make haste and get a wife, Mr. There, said Mss Betsey, holding the Durham, said Miss Betsey, whose thoughts candle up to a painting over the mantelpiece, seemed to be taking a tender hue though, there you see the dear fellow taking a leap to be sure, you re not such a one for the ladies that none of the others would face. Your uncle as Mr. Langley was and here the old lady LADY LEES WIDOWHOOD. commenced the relation of an anecdote, in which a certain house-maid, whom she stigma- tized as a hussy, bore a prominent part, but which we will not rescue from the obscurity in which her somewhat indistinct utterance veiled it. Fane opened the old ladys bedroom door, and, putting the candle on the table, left her, not without a misgiving that she might possibly set fire to her cap, and consequently to the ceiling. This fear impressed him so much that he went back and removed it from her head, and with it a row of magnificent brown curls, which formed its basis, and depositing the edifice, not without wonder, on the drawers, he wished her good-night, and retreated; but, hearing her door open whets he had got half-way along the passage, he looked back, and saw Miss Betseys head, deprived of the meretricious advantages of hair, gauze, and ribbon, protruded shiningly into the passage, as she smiled, with the utmost blandness, a supplementary good- night. THE conclusions as to present emigration which Mr. Read comes to are sound enough. The only persons really wanted in the colony, and who are consequently certain to do well, are la- borers, or men in whose work strength is con- joined with skill as blacksmiths, masons, car- penters. A capitalist with from 10001. to 50001. may also succeed, provided he is ac- quainted with business, and rather wide awake All other classes had better stop away. From the paucity of lodgings and food at Melbourne, large families are an incumbrance, unless they are those of navvies or Irishmen, who have been used to live anyhow. Workmen accustomed, as Bacon expresses it, to use the finger rather than the arm, will be worse off than at home. Shopmen, clerks, professional men, genteel adventurers, and all those persons whose vocations are light or sedentary, will starve unless they take menial situations or turn shepherds ; and situations of the two last classes are not always to be procured. Talent is useless ; there is no call for it. We should, however, be inclined to except the practical ar- chitect or engineer ; though, of course, the de- mand, should there be any, would be very limited in respect to numbers. Reads .Ilustralia. PAssAGE IN BIsHOP HoasLEy. In the Intro- duction to Utruin ITorum, a rather curious work by Henry Care, being a comparison of the Thirty- nine Articles with the doctrines of Presbyterians on the one hand, and the tenets of the Church of Rome on the other, is an extract from Dr. Hake- wills .flnswer (1616) to Dr. Caner, an apos- tate to Popery. In it occurs the following passage: And so, through Calvins sides, you strike at the throat and heart of our religion. Will you allow me to ask if a similar expression is not used by Bishop Horsley in some one of his Charges? S. S. S. [The following passage occurs in the bishops charge to the clergy of St. Asaph in 1806, p. 26 Take especial care, before you aim your shafts at Calvinism, that you know what is Calvinism, and what is not; that in that mass of doctrine, which it is of late become the fashion to abuse under the name of Calvinism, you can distinguish with cer- tainty that part of it which is asothing better than Calvinism, and that which belongs to our common Christianity, and the general faith of the Reformed Churches ; 1 ot, when you mean only to fell feel of Calvinism, you should unwarily ott ck something more sacred end of higher origin.] Notes and Queries. CEDAR TREE IN CALIFORNIA. There is a cedar tree growing in the mountains of Cala- veras county, California, about twenty miles north-east of Murphys, which is said to be the largest tree in the world. A correspondent of the Sonora Herald, who recently made an ex- cursion to see it, thus describes it At the ground its circumference was 92 feet ; four feet above that it was 88, and ten feet above that it was 61 feet in circumference ; and after that the tapering of the shaft was very grad- ual. Its height, as measured by Capt. H., is 300 feet, but we make it but 285. This tree is by no means a deformity, as most trees with large trunks are. It is throughout one of perfect symmetry, while its enormous proportions inspire the behold- er with emotions of awe and sublimity. Elegance and beauty are inseparable concomitants of its grandeur. I have said that this is the largest tree yet discovered in the world. It is so. The celebrated tree of Fremont would have to grow many cen- turies before it could pretend to be called any thin0 but a youn0er brother. It is said that a tree was once found in Senegal, in Africa, whose trunk measured 90 feet in circumference. But no one has ever been able to find it since its first discovery. It is called by the natives Baohab; by botanists, .qdcnsonia Digitala, but it is ad- mitted that none can now be found with a cir- cumference greater than 51 feet. There is a tree in Mexico, called the Taxodium, which is said to be 117 feet in circumference, but some have said that it is formed by the union of several trees. The height of all these foreign trees is not more, in any case, than 70 feet ; and none of the trunks are more than ten feet. The age of this mammoth cedar of California, if each zone may be reckoned one year, is about 2520 years. A section of the wood which I brought home with me, exclusive of the sap, which is but little more than one inch thick, numbers about 14 zones or grains to the inch. At that rate, if it were permitted to grow, it would increase its diameter one seventh of an inch every year. In 84-years its diameter would be increased one foot; in 840 years 10 feet so that it would then be 40 feet in diameter, and 120 feet in circumference. This giant of the woods and of the world is to be flayed literally. The patriotic process has al- ready commenced. We understand that the bark, which at the base is about 14 inches thick, is to be taken off in sections to the height of 50 feet, and sent to the Worlds Fair in the city of New York. 43 THE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. From Chambers Journal. THE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. Ix that beautiful suburb of the city of Bath called Bathwick, there is a stately and curious old building, over the fafade of which the word Villa is carved in the stone. It is situated some distance from, the streets, and stands in the midst of a verdant wilderness of patchy gardens and high hedges of quickset, hawthorn and alder. On the western side of it the Avon flows, and the narrow green lanes, which twist and twine round it, form a laby- rinth as if it were intended for the centre of a puzzle. In the latter part of the last century this was a favorite place of public resort for the inhab- itants and visitants of the city. The glory of Bath was then at its height. For a long series of years successive kings and queens had come to drink the health-restoring waters of her mineral springs; the world of fashion flocked thither for a portion of each year; and the notabilities of politics and letters rendered the place illustrious by making it their chosen scene of recreation. The last century hardly produced a single English memoir, or yielded materials of biography to be produced in this, in which the city of Bath, its fashionable com- pany, its imperious rules of etiquette, its hot waters, its floating sayings and bon-rnots, its palatial streets and crescents, its hills and vales do not make a pretty considerable figure. The Bathwick Villa was then the centre of a c. arning pleasure-ground the Gardens, as it was calledset out with pavilions, fountains and statues, in that prim and classic style which characterized first-rete places of enter- tainment at the period; and here, during the summer months, the votaries of fashion and pleasure were wont to congregate for society and enjoyment. The fine old house is now little better than a ruin; but you may trace in its curiously-ornamental construction, in its ground-floor of tesselated marble, in its wide and handsome staircases, some reminiscences of its olden grandeur. Time plays queer tricks with the fine places of the world. The Villa is now divided and subdivided, and is inhab- ited by a number of poor families; and the Gar- dens are cut up into the batch of lanes and allotments spoken of above. It is not surpris- ing that many a story and snatch of romance should be current in connection with a place which, for a long series of years, was the con- stant resort of fashion, in whose train the idle, the dissipated, and the gay, always move. The greater portion of these are idle tales, well enough to hear when you are on the spot, but har4ly worth remembering or repeating. The following, however, will perhaps be deemed sufficiently singular to warrant its being writ- ten down. A grand gala was announced to take place at the Villa Gardens on the 10th of July, 1786, on which occasion several then famous Italian musicians were to perform under the leadership of the celebrated Rauzzini, of whom Christopher Anstay, Horace Walpole, and Fanny Burney, have made frequent mention; after which there were to be fireworks and a fancy ball. The weather was delightful, the entertainment was one of great attraction, the prestige of the Villa Gardens was at its height, and, in consequence, an unusually large and brilliant company flocked to the place. The house and grounds were illuminated with great taste: myriads of many-colored lamps were festooned from tree to tree; the trim-gravelled walks, the pavilions, alcoves, fountains, and statues, were bathed in a fairy light; and the beaux, belles, dons and duennas of Bath clustered and rustled over the glittering scene like the people of an enchanted land. Among the people of mark in the city at this time were Sir John Farquharson and his daughter, and a young gentleman of the name of Blannin, a descendant of an ancient Welsh family. Miss Farquharsoa was in her twenty- first year, and was gifted with personal attrac- tions of so remarkable a character as to gain her precedence, amongst the gay connoisseurs of such endowments, before all the young beauties who then shed lustre over the Bath entertainments. Sir John, in consequence of the improvidence of sundry generations of grandilithers, was by no means wealthy, but was in the enjoyment of sufficient means to enable him to move in fashionable society, and to gather friends around him by a judiciously- conducted system of quiet and refined hospital- ity; and the consideration which such a mode of life secured for him was, as may be imagined, deepened and vivified by his close relation- ship to a young lady of almost peerless beauty, who imparted a degree of splendor to his household, and attracted interest and attention to all his movements. Sir John Farqson and the divine Clara ! was the toast darnour of all the gallants of the day. Stephen Gerard Blannin, the young gentleman of good family. mentioned above, had been for some months the recognized and accepted suitor of Miss Farquharson. He was in his twenty-third year, of very elegant and prepossessing appear- ance ~vas impulsive, passionate, and restless as even Welsh blood could make him; and, in his manner of dress and mode of life, affected a style of his own which gained him distinction amongst his fellow-beaux, and rendered him in a measure an object of public attention. Six John, his daughter, and Mr. Bhinnin. were among the fashionables who attended the gala of the 10th of July, and, as usual, were courted, quizzed, and lionized. The same eveh- ing, a new constellation made a first appear- ance in this brilliant firmament. A tall young lady, extremely well-looking, of particularly 44 THE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. graceful and majestic deportment, and dressed to the very extreme of the mode, was observed among the concourse, walking hither and thither in company with a lady of between forty and fifty years, also of striking stat- ure and demeanor, and handsomely attired. These were fresh faces and figures upon the scene, and vcry few knew who they were or anything about them. There were black rib- bons, indicating mourning, in various parts of the younger ladys costume, and the elder lady wore a sort of modified widows cap. The curiosity of the company, who, with the excep- tion of these, were all either on speaking terms with each other, or were personally acquaint- ed, was strongly excited by the accession of the strangers ; a thousand remarks, questions and suppositions, were whispered respecting them, and all their movements were watched with persevering solicitude. The general inquiry at length elicited the required infor- mation. A well-known physician proved the oracle of the occasion. He had attended the late husband of the elder lady for many years, until about a twelve-month before, when an attack of bronchitis had proved fatal, at once depriving the patient of life and the physician of a by no means contemptible item in his an- nual income. lie was a Mr. Ranne, by occupa- tion a brewer a man who, from an humble sphere and with humble means, had risen to opulence by force of energy and sagacity. Died immensely rich, whispered the doctor emphatically to whomsoever he communicated the much-coveted material for gossip im- mensely rich. Widow and daughter must be worth one hundred thousand between em. Take my word for it. The fashionables were at first somewhat alarmed at the idea of the widow and daughter of a brewer of obscure origin being amongst them but the reputation of great wealth, so strongly insisted upon by the judicious physi- cian, mollified the stringency of aristocratic sentiments, and preserved the strangers from anything like a displayof rudeness or contempt. The ladies, too, were personages who really made a very stylish and distinguished appear- ance; particularly the younger one, in whose noble carriage, firmly yet delicately-chiselled features, rich dark hair, and bright flashing eyes, there was something queenly and im- perious: so the habitu~s made no objection to the manager of the place respecting their pres- ence there, but resolved to observe a passive behavior, leaving the new-comers to shift for themselves, and procure society and counte- nance as they might happen to find oppor- tunity. The concert and the pyrote~chnic display being brought to a termination, the ladies and gentlemen proceeded to their respective rooms to prepare for the ball; in other words, to set aside bonnets and hats, and to retouch various particulars of the toilet. You have dropped a pair of gloves, Miss Farqson, said Miss Ranne, picking up the articles mentioned, and hastening to give them to the young lady, who had dropped them before she left the tiring-room. But the beautiful Clara, fresh from proud communion with her mirror, her thoughts triumphantly busied with Stephen Blannin and the coming pleasures of the ball, heard not the friendly intimation, but passed quickly on. Her father and Stephen were waiting for her at the door; she passed her arm through that of the latter, and they proceeded directly towards the ball-room. Miss Ranne and her mother followed, the former waiting a convenient opportunity to hand the pair of gloves to Miss Farquharson. As she walked on she looked at them, and the one glance irresistibly tempted her to examine them more curiously. They were really an exquisite little pair of gloves made of the finest, shiniest white satin, the seams wrought and embroidered with delicate pink silk the initials S. U. B. worked upon the wrist of the right-hand glove, and C. F. on that for the left hand. With a covert smile, she showed them to her mother, and asked if they were not elegant morsels of workmanship. Very pretty; but you could do as well, my dear, answered the fond mamma, with a look expressive of unbounded confidence in her daughters abilities, and satisfaction in her present appearance. There is nothing Miss Farqson could do that you could not do, my Fanny, she added. 0, mamma, we do not know that Miss Farqson made them, said Fanny. Why, to be sure she did, returned the penetrating madam: dont you see what the letters are? Its a love-gift for Mr. Blannin, of course.~~ Fanny involuntarily sighed. Stephen Blan- nin was a handsome, brilliant young gentle- man, and her eye had sought him many times that evening. She was volatile, passionate, and headstrong as Stephen was himself. Once or twice their glances met, and, without a word being spoken, that hap-haxard inexpli- cable clashing of soul to soul had passed be- tween them, which may only be experienced once in a lifetime. There was in their natures the moral affinity which starts a mysterious response, like a lightning-flash, before a qtmes- tion is asked or a syllabk~uttered. They entered the ball-room. All was light and bright, gayly-attired groups of young and old were promenading, strains of music floated over the scene. Again Fanny stepped towards Miss Farquharson with the gloves in her hand. Stephen Blannin turned as she approached, and a warm blush spread over her features as 45 THE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. again she met his bright black eye. Miss Farqson has dropped a pair of gloves, re- peated she. 0, thank you, said Mr. Blannin, taking tbe gloves with a low bow: your kind at- tention, Miss Ranne, deserves our best ac- knowledgments. As he addressed her by name, the blush deepened upon her face. Miss Farqson dropped them in the dress- ing-room, added Fanny: I spoke to her at the time, but she did not hear me. Clara had been engaged in conversation with her father and some young friends who clustered around them. She heard now, and turned quickly towards her lover and Miss Ranne, with a look full of eager inquiry and surprise. This young lady, Clara, said Mr.Blannin, has kindly handed to me a pair of gloves which you dropped in the ladies-room. Clara started with evident agitation as she at once perceived what had happened; pos- sibly she cherished a belief in omens. She took the gloves, thrust them roughly into the pocket of her dress, bowed coldly and haugh- tily to the restorer of them, and turned again towards the party with whom she had pre- viously been conversing. Fanny tossed her proud head, and, without another look at either Stephen or Clara, moved slowly away with her mother. She was affronted, and im- mediately resolved to be revenged. In a few minutes, dancing commenced, and the ball was fairly opened. Throughout the evening the parvenu strangers continued to attract a large share of the attention of the company; the fine figures and handsome attire of the mother and daughter, and the report of their wealth, succeeded in gaining for them no small degree of consideration and counte- nance, notwithstanding the late Mr. Ranne had been a brewer, and had commenced life with small means. Miss Ranne, too, danced superbly, and evinced in every movement and every phase of her behavior, the peculiar air of grace and distinction of style which always mark the highly-bred and fine-spirited young lady. Hitherto, Clara Farquharson had been regarded by common consent as the belle of the assemblies, as undoubtedly she still de- served to be, on account of her extreme beauty but now there was a presence of another de- scription upon the scene a beauty not so cor- rect and sweet, but of a stronger and more impressive character which already began to divide the empire of the young Queen of the Ball. Before a couple of hours had passed, before half the programme of gavottes, minuets, quadrilles, and contra-dances, had been ac- complished, Fanny Ranne and her mamma formed the centre of a tolerably numerous group of kabitu6s, who, for the hour, courted their society and acquaintance ; and the most noted gallants of the company contended at each successive dance for the honor of Fannys hand. In short, the appearance of Miss Ranne was a decided hit, and created the species of interest which, in the fashionable circles of the time and the place, was denominated a sensation. Stephen Blannin observed the course of events with the acuteness and watchfulness of one who passed his life amid such scenes, and who aspired to establish for himself the char- acter of a thoroughgoing beau. Having danced with Clara twice or thrice, he left her for a while, and not long afterwards was to be seen by the side of Miss Ranne. He solicited the favor of her hand for a minuet solicited it with the easy grace of one who has been brought to believe the refusal of such a request impossible but the honor was declined with frigid hauteur; and amid smirks and whispers, he, Stephen Gerard Blannin, Esq., walked away discomfited. The refusal was cold and concise: she did not say that she was already engaged, that she was disengaged for the next dance, or the next after that; she made no remark at all, but merely declined the honor with a slight and contemptuous bow. Stephen was intensely piqued. lie had never endured such a defeat before. He at once attributed it to the cold, indeed almost rude, manner in which Clara had received the restored gloves, and felt particularly out of temper with her, with himself, and with every one else. Well, Clara, said he, as he returned to her, have you lost your gloves again ~ No, surely. WhyP returned she, di- rectly taking them from her pocket, and start- ing again as she remembered the rencontre to which they had already given rise. Because, if you had, said Stephen dryly, I should hope no one would be good enough to perform the thankless task of finding them and bringing them to you. Clara blushed deeply, but made no reply. She put her arm withia Stephens, and drew him into a recess. She unfolded the gloves with nervous, trembling fingers, and seemed strangely agitated all at once. Stephen leaned against the marble pillar, silent and displeased. Stephen, said she presently, offering the gloves to him, I made them with my own hands for you. Your initials are worked upon the wrist ofone glove, and my own upon the other. This being the case, it annoyed me much to think I had been careless enough to drop them, and afford every one a chance of inspecting thGtn. 0, is that itl exclaimed Stephen, molli- fied immediately by an explanation so suffi- cient, especially to himself. Well, I had no idea of anything of that sort for a moment, or I should not have thought your conduct so strange. They are pretty, upon my word very pretty; and I am much obliged to you, 46 THE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. 47 my dearest. I will put them on at once; participation in any absolute levity. She shall I B walked slowly on, with her head erect, grati- 0, to he sure; if you like. She was fled, no doubt, by the attentions paid her, but pleased to hear his expressions of approval receiving them passively, as if she eared and gratification; hut the quickness with nothing about them. Blannin eagerly noticed which his mind passed to the mere use of the this peculiarity of her demeanor. There was things to putting them on checked the something about the hi~h-spirited,. self-con- warm thou6hts which had rendered the making tamed girl that touched him strongly. Sus- of them such a delicious task. They were not pecting, from appearances, that the mother intended so much for show, for wear and tear, and daughter were going home, he turned as for a memento of affection not so much back, and hurried by a circuitous path to the fur the hands as for the heart. gates which opened upon the road to the city, Stephen took off the gloves he had been and there remained till the party came down wearing, and cased his hands in the love-gift, to the carriage, which was waiting without. Really, it was a charming pair of gloves As they approached, he drew himself up~ to certainly the finest and daintiest in the room, his full height, and, walking steadily up to He declared he should be very proud during Miss Ranne, brought them all to a stand-still. the remainder of the evening; and Clara I beg leave, before Miss Ranno quits this laughed, half with pleasure half with pain, as place to-night, said he, with a slight bow, he gayly said so. They left the recess, and to express to her my deep regret that she slowly returned to the more thronged parts of should have been treated with incivility by a the room, person with whom I have the honor of an inti Shall we dance this minuet, Stephen B mate acquaintance my regret that her kind asked Clara, as the strain of the approaching politeness should have been received with dance commenced, behavior not far short of rudeness. I hog to I I I think not not this time, assure her nothing of the sort was intended returned he, somewhat absently and uneasily. that it was all the merest chance of the time Clara looked up at his face he was staring and occasion. Whether Miss Ranne may fixedly towards another quarter of the saloon, think it worth while to care anything about it where Miss Ranne and a showy young gentle- or not, I, for my part, should~ not have been. man were just taking their places for the satisfied had I allowed her to leave this place minuet, without offering a formal apology. Not dance this time, Stephen B He bowed stiffly, raised his hat, and was No not this time, Clara. Indeed, I about to move away, apparently not caring will not dance any more tonight; my head whether any answer were returned to him; aches the place is so hot phew! the but Miss Ranne, with a quick, decisive move- heat is stifling! ment, held out her hand to him in a manner Clara was alarmed. She thought she had which rendered his abrupt departure impos- hotter sit with her father for a while, so that sible. As he took the proffered hand, and Stephen might have an opportunity of going bowed, she looked him full in the face, and out into the fresh air. He adopted the sug- then passed on. It was not so much the act gestion without a moments hesitation, hand- of a bold woman, full of belief in her charms ing her to her father, and himself leaving the and their power, as the inspiration of a strong room. He got his hat from the dressing- and wilful spirit which has formed a certain room, walked out into the garden, and there desire, and will not scruple to procure its ful- brooded over the first discomfiture he had ex- filment by whatever means it can; for there perienced since he had succeeded in establish- was something in the manner in which, for an ing hiniself as a presence at the assem- instant, she gazed it was more than a blies. His pride had received a poignant glance at Blannin, that made him tremble hurt, and at the moment his every thought with a strange emotion; and, had there heen was engaged in considering how he might no one by, he would have cast himself at her recover his lost ground in some signal manner, feet. The beautiful Clara seemed like a myth and restore the feeling of self-sufficiency which in comparison to the powerful, imperious had received such a rough shock, reality which his heart and soul recognized in He continued pacing up and down the gar- this remarkable young lady. She might have den walks a considerable time, and was at made him follow her to the ends of the earth, length about to reenter the house, when his without speaking a word for him. The spirit movements were arrested by the approach of of romance was stronger, and the regulation a party from the ball-room. In some excite- of the affections less a matter of consideration mont he recognized Mrs. and Miss Ranne, who in those days than in the present; and were escorted and surrounded Jy several gen- Blannin, in recklessly surrendering himself tlemen. They were all talking and laughing to the influence of a newly-found attraction, gayly save Miss Ranne herself, who seemed to was by no means out of the fashion. He fol- be of a nature too proud and haughty for direct lowed them to their carriage door for the pur 48 THE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. pose of bidding a formal adieu. Miss Ranne Ii ure entered the room in disorderly agi~ merely bowed to the rest, hut returned his tation. farewell, and shook his hand, it appeared to Miss Farqson, exclaimed Fanny, for those standing by, with something like osten- she it was, again I restore to you your tatious emphasis. To him she became talka- gloves. Look at them, and you will see how tive all at once, as the moment of separation much they have cost me seemed to have arrived remarked upon the She dashed the gloves upon the table as she beauty and good order of the Villa Gardens, spoke, using her left hand the gloves upon the prettiness of the illumination, the charms which poor Clara had spent many an indus- of the music, the pleasantness of the ball. trious, love-bra hour! Claras fice flushed, Mrs. Ranne took her place in the carriage; and she rose immediately from her chair, for and the gentlemen who had formed the escort she had spirit and passion in her, though from the ball-room, exchanging significant nothing in comparison to the headstrong, na- looks, retired, leaving Blannin behind. pulsive creature who now addressed her. Do you return to the ball-room, Mr. Look at them, I say, and see how much Blannial asked Miss Ranne. they have cost me ! repeated Fanny fiercely; No, answered he quickly then adding, and be satisfied with your revenge. with some hesitation and embarrassment, at Clara looked at the gloves, and uttered a least only for a minute or so to perform an act shriek of aifright. The one for the right hand, of politeness, which will be expected of me. on which she had wrought the initials of I shall dance no more to-night. Stephen, was bathed in blood, with the cx- Then why go back ~ ception of the three outside finger-parts, and I have a reason, II regret to say. the satin was cut through close beneath those Well, go back, and by that means you portions which were uhstained. She took up will be enabled al~vays to retain both the the glove, and looked more closely at it. reason and the regret. She stepped into Horrible ! There were the halves of three the carriage, and took her seat opposite human fingers remaining in it! her mother. Blannin was wonderstricken They are mine ! cried Fanny, with and indescribably touched by the bold, careless frantic impetuosity they are mine! Keep energy of her manner. them as an assurance of vengeance wreaked Rather than do that I will not go back, upon me for the wrong that has been done said he, a sharp thrill of pleasure darting you. through him at the inference he could not She raised her ri0ht hand from beneath her help drawing from what he had heard. I shawl, and the frightened Clara saw that three will go home at once. May I ride I of her fingers were cut off, and that the short That night it became rumored all through stumps had been roughly bandaged. Before the fashionable circles of the city that the another word could be said, Miss Ranne left match between Mr. Blannin and Miss Far- the house with the same vehement haste as quharson was to be broken off that Mr. had distinguished her coming. Blannin had been smitten at first sight by Sir John and Mr. Blannin had been left Miss Ranne, the rich brewers daughter alone at the request of the former; hi,,h words that he had left Miss Farquharson in the care had arisen between them, and, in the paroxysm of her father to get home how she could, while of their quarrel, swords had been drawn he himself had ridden home with the Rannes. without the formality of a duel. The house The next day gave strong confirmation to the was alarmed; but none had been courageous rumors. Blannin and Miss Ranne were ob- enough to interfere so instantaneously as Miss served for several hours riding about on horse- Ranne, who rushed between them, and, her back in all the most fashionable quarters of hand coming in contact with the sword of Sir the neighborhood. John, three of her fingers were cut off. Sir John Farquharson examined the blade Intense excitement was occasioned by this of his sword. He bade his daughter never remarkable affair. Sir John and Clara left mention Blannin s name again, and instructed the city, and Mr. Blannin and Miss Ranne his servants never to admit that gentleman to became the observed of all observers. Fannys his house, and, if he insisted upon entering, hand was skilfully doctored, and, after much to eject him by fot~ce. The second day after suffering, the remains of the fingers were he conceived himself to have been insulted, healed; whie~i consummation being happily and the honor of his family slighted, he went arrived at, she resumed her horse-riding, at- to Blannins residence, and, not finding him, tended by Mr. Blannin; and, perhaps to her rode straightway to that of Mrs. Ranne, where satisfaction, her appearance was always the Blannin and Fanny were together. signal for gaping, whispering, remark, and On the evening o~ the same day, Clara Far- gossip, and other symptoms of personal quharson was sitting in her boudoir, when a celebrity. The pair who had met so strangely, loud knocking was heard at the door, a hasty and so strangely wooed, were shortly after- step ascended the stairs, and a tall, imperious wards married, and lived in great style, as TI-JE EMBROIDERED GLOVES. 49 far as the world could see, whatever might less Stephen, and was also married, perhaps have been the state of domestic afikirs. The the more quickly in consequence of the above beautiful Clara had sudicient pride to wean circumstances, and lived lung and happily. her heart from the remembrance of the faith~ Characteristics of the Duke of Wellington, apart from his Military Talents. By the Earl De Grey, KG. To consider the character of the Duke of Wellington apart from his military talents, seems somethin0 like performing Hamlet with the I~rince of Denmark left out. The abilities, the unflinching industry, and the enormous power of work possessed by Arthur Wehlesley, would have conductcd him to eminence in civil affairs; but his want of imagination or of ge- niality would have prevented him from striking masses of men, unless assisted by the dazzling nature of military exploits. When Lord Dc Greys publication comes to be examined, it will be found hardly to fulfil the suggestion of the title. The Duke of Wellingtons military qualifications, so far as fighting or the pre- liminaries of fight are in question, are indeed put aside ; but the book is almost wholly occupied with those qualities which are ne- cessary for the formation, mana~ement, and command of an army. For example, one of the topics which Lord De Grey treats of is the dukes subordination and obedience to orders, both in himself and as regards his require- ments from subordinates ; but this is surely one of the first of military qualities. Another topic is his firmness under annoyances both home and foreign; a third, his secrecy and caution (which verge closely upon the fight- ing part of the question); a fourth, his confi- dence in himself, and buoyancy under responsibility. These are accompanied by some others; among which his forbearance and forgiveness of injury are perhaps rather a lofty disdain or a politic forgetfulness when he really was provoked he could be as anjy as other men, though there was little or nothing revengeful about him. His disinter- estedness as to money and rank, when other objects are at stake, is not peculiar to the Duke of Wellington. Lord De Greys last section is pretty closely connected with the army his placability as to the faults and failings of others, evinced by his feelings connected with subordination and courts- martial. The plan of the work is to select, from the Despatches, extracts bearing upon difibrent topics classed for illustration. Some of the passages are well known, but the most trite acquire interest from the purpose to which they are applied. A fuller ide~a is also given of the administrative qualities of the duke, from the cumulative evidence adduced as re- gards each faculty. Lord Dc Greys exposi- CCCcaxxxzx. LIVING AGE. VOL. III. 4 tion or enforcement is perspicuous, varied and copious, without exuberance. This volume is an interesting and suggestive book, stron~ly marking the incessant and varied attention to business of the Great Duke, and the manner in which he formed his army. ~8pectator. SMOKING IN RAILWAY CARRIAGES. A case has been decided by Sheriff Skene on this ques- tion,wiiich is important both to railway coinpa- nies and the public who travel by rail. A Mr. Buchanan sued the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway Company for 81. Os. Sd. as restricted damages sustained by him from the danger he ran from fire and the injury to his feelings, be- cause the company did not enforce strictly their fourth by-law, which prohibits smoking in any railway carriage. Mr. Buchanan is holder of a yearly ticket, and in the course of his numer- ous journeys he has reinonshated with the guards for allowing smoking in some part of the train, although he did not allege that the offence took place under his own observation. Mr. Buchanan proceeded upon the general ground that smoking did take place occasion- ally in the railway carriages, and in the in- stance more particularly rethrred to the offence was alleged to have arisen in the third carriage from that occupied by the complainer. The question being a novel one, the sheriff beard the case in chamber, and, after receiving evi- dence and reading the by-la~vs. he decided that the company were bound in every case of smok- ing to have a penalty not exceedinn 40s. in- flicted; and, if persisted in after being warned to desist, the offender to be removed from the compm~nys premises and forfeit his fare. The sheriff went further, for lie said that if the guard smelt smoke in any compartment, he was bound, if he could not find out the offender, to have all the passengers summoned for the of- fence ; but when the question was put to him, if he would or could convict the whole six passengers in a compartment because a guard smelt, or fancied he smelt, tobacco smoke at the window, his lordship Very prudently declined giving an opinion. Henceforth, therefore, it is clear that this nuisance must be either put down altogether, or, perhaps, what would be better, a carriage should be provided for the lovers of the weed to enjoy their unaccountable taste. This latter alternative, however, Mr. Buchanan would deny to the company, even if they were willing to agree to it at all events until the expiry of his season ticket. The com- pany was fined 20s. North British Daily Mail. THE ARTS BEFORE THE FLOOD. THE ARTS BEFORE THE FLOOD. TUE period referred to in the heading of this paper is so remote in the historical exist- ence of the globe, and the records that have descended to this time are so scanty and so brief, that it would be unreasonable to expect that much could be gathered now, relative to the arts before the Flood. The early portion of the holy Scriptures is the only trustworthy source of information open to us ; all that tradition can legitimately do is to corroborate. From that source we learn that the antedilu- vians had not simply discovered useful inven- tions, but had even entered the domain of the fine arts. While they cultivated the soil for their support, and built cities for their ac- commodation and comfort, they had the sweet strains of music, instrumental as well as vocal, to relieve their leisure, and cheer their solitary hours. In prsparing this article, we have drawn freely on a work by Dr. Kitto a gentleman whose name, as a writer on biblical themes, is celebrated over the Christian world. The Pictorial Bible, a work published several years since, met with a very favorable recep- tion, and commanded an extensive sale. The Cyclopedia of Biblical Literature (Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh), an invaluable book to students, followed, and we believe was also successful. A couple of years ago Dr. Kitto projected a series of volumes, several of which have been published by Messrs. Oliphant & Son, Edinburgh, possess- ing the same general character, but cast in a iuore popular mould. This must not be un- derstood as a reproduction of his former works it is entirely new, and is a most valuable addition to our sacred literature. We are indebted especially to the last work the Daily Bible Illustrations of Dr. Kitto, for the following remarks. From Ho~~s Instructor. himself to the culture of the ground as soon as he quitted the ark ; the successful manage- ment of so many diverse animals that wero committed to his care in the ark, implies much knowledge of cattle. All this we know; and, knowing this, it is not too much to suppose that the various members of this family possessed all the arts which existed before the deluge, and of which we now give some notice. Indeed, there is evidence of this in the great undertakings of their descendants, previous to their dispersion into nations and languages. One of the sons of Lamech by Adah was Jabal. Lie, we are told, was the father of such as dwell in tents, and such as have cattle. This is a very important fact. It shows that man had existed thirteen centuries upon the earth before the noinado life, to which a large proportion of mankind have since been addicted, received its origin. There had been shepherds before, and sheep had before been kept; but it was not until the time of Jahal that pasturage was organ- ized into a distinct form of social existence. The care of man was by him extended to larger animals than sheep; and they were taught to cast oil the restraints which the habit of liv- ing in towns and villages imposed, and to be- take themselves wholly to the pastures, dwell- ing in portable habitations, and removing from place to place for the convenience of pasturage. This is a mode of life frequently brought under our notice in the Scriptures, being essentially that of the patriarchs whose history occupies the greater portion of the book of Genesis. Jabal had a brother named Jubal, and he was the father of all such as handle the harp and the organ. Had, then, the world been for above a thousand years without music, till Jubal appeared Perhaps not. Man could scarcely, for so long a time, have been without some efibrts to produce musical sounds; and the birds could scarcely for so It seems clear to us (says Dr. Kitto) that many ages have poured forth their melodious the antediluvians, commencing with the notesto him, without some attempts at lint- knowledge imparted to Adam before his fall, tatior. But hitherto, probably, nil their at- and acquired by him subsequently, did make tempts had been vocal, until Jubal discovered high improvements in the arts, and attained that instruments might be contrived to give to a state of considerable civilization. If this vent to musical sounds of greater compass be true, there is consequently no foundation and power. We may conceive that he had for the notion of mans gradual progress from many anxious thoughts, many abortive trials, the savage to the civilized condition. Indeed, until perseverance conquered, as it always how any one who believes in the sacred origin does, and he had brought his harp and of the book of Genesis can take that view is organ to perfection. The harp was some- inconceivable. According to that account, thing of that sQrt which we call a lyre, and the various nations of the world are descended the form and ~haracter of which is betfrr from the men who survived the deluge, and known to us from sculptures, paintings, and who were certainly not an uncivilized family. medals, as well s poetical descriptions, than They built a large and capacious vessel, and from actual knowledge, the instrument being their doing this im~dies the possession of virtually extinct. And let not the organ tools suited to so great a work; they were of Jubal perplex us with large ideas of pipes, also skilled in agriculture; and Noah betook and keys, and bellows. It was nothing more 50 THE ARTS BEFORE THE FLOOD. than a simple mouth organ - a bundle of reeds a Pandean pipe, that is, such a pipe as the god Pan is seen to blow, in an- cient sculptures, and such as is often enough to this day witnessed in our street exhibi- tions. Jubal has been, of course, a favorite with the poets, who strive to render due honor to the great promoter, if not the originator, of the sister art. Dii Bartas, to whom we al- ways refer with pleasure, very fancifully sup- poses that the idea of instruments for produc- ing musical notes may have been suggested by the regulated strokes of the hammer upon the anvil of his Vulcanian brother, and his com- panions. Thereon he harps, and ponders in his mind, And glad and fain some instrument would find That in accord these discords might renew, And th iron anvils rattling sound ensue, And iterate the beating hammers noise, In milder notes and with a sweeter voice. Accident, such as only occurs to the thought- ful and the observant, who know how to take the hints which nature offers to all but the slow of understanding, enabled the son of Lamech to realize his hopes. It chanced that, passing by a pond, he found An open tortoise lying on the ground, Within the which there nothing else remained Save three dry sinews in the shell stiff-strained: This empty house Jubal doth gladly bear, Strikes on those strings, and lends attentive ear, And by this mould frames the melodious lute, That makes wooda hearken, and the winds be mute, The hills to dance, the heavens to retrograde, Lions be tame, and tempests quickly fade. So a poet of our own day, whose very name is a word of honor James Montgomery, in his World before the Flood, renders due honor to Jubal, though he finds no place for Jahal or Tubal-Cain. There is a touching and beautiful conception with reference to him, which we should be reluctant to omit noticing : Jubal, the prince of song (in youth unknown), Retired to commune with his harp alone; For still he nursed it like a secret thought, Long-cherishd and to late perfection wrought, And still, with cunning hand and curious ear, Enriched, ennobled, and enlarged its sphere, Till he had compassd in that magic round, A soul of harmony, a heaven of sound. lie sings to his instrument of God, of man, and of creation. The song is given: then, couched before him, like a lion watching for his prey, he beheld a strange apparition, An awful form, that, through the gloom, ap- peard Half brute, half human, whose terrific beard And hoary flakes of long dishevelld hair, Like eagles plumage ruffled by the air, Veild a sad wreck of grandeur and of grace. Who was this It was Cain, who had seven years since gone mad under the stings of conscience: Jubal knew His kindred looks, and tremblingly withdrew He, darting like a blaze of sudden fire, Leapd oer the space between, and graspd the lyre: Sooner with life the strugglin,, hand would part And, ere the fiend could tear it from his heart, He hurld his hand with one tremendous stroke Oer all the strings ; whence in a whirlwind broke Such tones of terror, dissonance, despair, As till that hour had never jarrd in air. Astonishd into marble at the shock, Backward stood Cain, unconscious as a rock, Cold, breathless, motionless, through all his frame But soon his visage quickend into flame When Jubals hand the crashing jargon changed To melting harmony, and nimbly ranged From chord to chord, ascending sweet and clear, Then rolling down in tkunder on the ear; With power the pulse of anguish to restrain, And charm the evil spirit from the brain. It had this effect upon Cain, who exhib- its signs of returning consciousness and in- tellect : Jubal with eager hope beheld the chase Of strange emotions hurrying oer his face, And waked his noblest numbers to control The tide and tempest of the maniacs soul Through many a maze of ihelody he flew, They rose like incense, they distilld like dew, Passd through the sufferers breast delicious balm, And soothd remembrance till remorse grew calm Till Cain forsook the solitary wild, Led by the minstrel like a weaned child. From that time, the lyre of Jubal was to Cain what in later ages the harp of David was to Saul; and thus the poet concludes Thus musics empire in the soul began: The first-born poet ruled the first-born man. The son of Lamech by Zillah supported well the renown of his family for discoveries in the arts. His name was Tubal-Cain. He was an instructor of every artificer in brass and iron. For brass read cop- per ; brass being a factitious metal of cer- tainly much later invention. Was, then, thu~ use of metals wholly ~4nkno~vn in the eight or~ nine centuries of not savage life which had. passed since Adam received his being l Per~- haps not. It is hard to conceive that exten.~- sive agricultural operations could have been carried on, that cities could have been builtb or the useful and elegant arts brought into use, without this knowledge. We might iu9 51 THE ARTS BEFORE THE FLOOD. deed conceive that the use of iron was of this late, or even later, origin. That metal is hard to find, and difficult to bring into that condition which fits it for use. It is usually the last of the metals to he brought into mans service; and nations which have pos- sessed all the other metals have wanted that. This is not the case with copper. It is often found on or near the surface in its metallic shape ; it is soft and easily wrought ; and nations, whose instruments were only of this metal, have been known to execute great works, and to have, attained ian advanced state of civilization. All antiquity, indeed, vouches for the remotely ancient, but not earliest, dis- covery of iron ; but all antiquity also affirms that, although iron was kno~~n,the difficulty of the first operations in rendering it available greatly restricted its use, and a large number of implements, utensils, and weapons, which we should expect to be of iron wherever that metal was known, are found to have been nevertheless of copper. On the other hand, it must be admitted that the ancients, being obliged to rely so much upon copper, labored diligently in overcoming the inconvenience wlich its natural softness could not but occa- sion. By certain amalgamations and manip- ulations, they seem to have succeeded in im- parting to copper some of the hardness of iron; and it is certain that, with their tools of this material, they were able to perform operations ~vhich we cannot execute without instruments of iron. It is probable that the ancients possessed some secret in hardening copper, which has been lost since the more general use of iron threw it out of use for such purposes. Not to pursue this theme further at this time, we may remark that copper is here placed before iron, and that, taking all things into account, the probability is that Tubal- Cain~s improvenients were more in copper than in iron. The text itself seems to in- timate that great and important discoveries in the working of metals were made by him, rather than that he was the first to apply them to any use. He is not, like his brothers, Jabal and Jubal, called the father,~ ororig- inator, of the art he taught, but an in- ~tructor of those that wrought in it. So strong is our impression respecting the earlier use of copper, and the comparatively limited employment of iron, that we would almost venture to conjecture that Tubal-Cains re- searches in metallurgy, which led him to great improvements in the working of copper, also led him to the discovery of iron. IDu Bartas, who, in his poem on The Handicrafts, has exercised much ingenuity upon the origin of inventions, appears to have felt great difficulty in accounting for the di~covery of iron, and seems to have found it only possible to do so by suppocing that it had been seen in a state of fusion, and afterwards hardening as it cooled, in the operations of nature. After describing Tubal-Cains successful working out of the ideas thus suggested, the poet breaks forth into an eulogiurn upon this metal which if merited in his time may now be uttered with tenfold emphasis happy device! We might as well want all The elements as this hard mineral. This to the ploughman for great uses serves This for the builder wood and marble carves This arms our bodies against adverse force; This clothes our backs ; this rules the unruly horse; This makes us dryshod dance in Neptunes ball This brightens gold ; this conquers self and all Fifth element, of instruments the haft, The tool of tools, the hand of handicraft. Certain it is, that, whatever was the precise nature of Tubal-Cains inventions in metal- lurgy, they were of such use and service to mankind as rendered him famous in his day, and attached honorable distinction to his name in all succeeding generations, so that there is scarcely any ancient nation ~vhich has not preserved some traditional notices of hi~ character and improvements. There is even reason to think that he was eventually wor- shipped by va~ious ancient nations, and under names which, however different, signify an artificer in fire. In the name and charac- ter of Vulcan, the blacksmith-god of the Greeks and Romans, it requires no great penetration to discover the Tubal-Cain of Genesis. Omitting the Tu, which was likely to be regarded as a prefix, and making the exceedingly familiar change of the h into v, and you have Vulcain or Vulcan. This, and other analogies of a like nature, might tempt us into investigation from which we must at present refrain. But, it will be asked, if this were the origi- nal condition of mankind, how caine so many forms of savage life to exist l How is it that some of the commonest social arts are un- known to many nations that there are those to~whoma the use of fire is unknown, and that many are in their entire condition but a few degrees above the beasts that perish 1 ~ it possible that these are descended from civilized ancestors, have lost much that their .primeval fathers knew, and have retrograded rather than advanced in the scale of civiliza- tion? Painful as it may be to those who up- hold the doctrine of human progress, the affirmative is, ~ve apprehend, not only prob- able but certain; find might be illustrated by a cloud of examples in which nations have gone back in civilization, and have lost arts which were in former times known. A very sensible and thoughtful writer has expressed this fact perfectly in accordance with the view we have long entertained. The first men were not wandering and igno 52 THE ARTS BEFORE THE FLOOD. rant sava~es, although those who wandered from the parent stock, and ceased to have any connection with it, generally fell into a state of barbarism and ignorance, as in Africa, America, and the Asiatic and other isles. Science, arts, and civilization were confined to those who maintained their connection with the central stock of the first men, or departed in numbers sufficient to enable them to exercise and carry along with them the sub- divisions of art and labor necessary to civil- ized life. Besides, many of the separated parties, in the course of their migrations, ar- rived at regions in which, from the difference of products, of climate, and of the physical circumstances of the country, some of the arts cultivated by the original families were no longer needed, and would, therefore, cease to be cultivated, and be in a few generations forgotten. The arts of useful life, which were lost in the process of dispersion, are known to have been recovered in the course of time, either by reinvention, under the same conditions as those in which they were first discovered, or by renewed communication with those branches of the human family which still retained possession of them. The latter process is indicated by the numerous tradi- tions of various ancient nations, who traced the origin of their arts and civilization to some stranger who came to them from the sea, and imparted instruction to them. And as to the former process, it is clear that fam- ilies which lost the arts belon0ing to their orioinal condition, when that condition be- came changed, often recovered them when, by the lapse of time, the population had so increased, and other circumstances had so arisen, as to restore the need for them. Hence we find the invention of various arts claimed by difforent nations, which could not, since the ori~inal dispersion, have had communica- tion with each other. Upon the whole, it seems to us that the civilization and knowled~e in art of the ante- diluvians, and of the postdiluvi us, up to the dispersion, have been greatly underrated, by our views having been too much directed to the progressive civilization of particular branches of the hurmnan race, which had greatly degenerated from ancient knowledge. Indeed, when we consider the advantages which length of days afforded to the earliest generations of mankind , giving to one man in his own person the accumulated knowledge and experience of a thousand years, it seems difficult to over-estimate the advancements that may have been made, and the knowledge in art that may have been acquired. We think much of the advantages we possess in books, which give to us the knowledge of the past. But their advantages were greater. There are few books of more than two or three centuries old, from which we derive any kno~~ledge,in at least the material arts, of any avail to us ; but then fathers could im- part, by the living voice and by the living practice, the knowled,,e of a thousand years, to sons who might build up the experience of another thousand years upon that lar~e foun- dation. If man had gone on advancing to this time, at the samue rate, upon the knowl. edge possessed by the antediluvians, it is. in- conceivable to what he might not have at- tained; or if, indeed, we had only progressively advanced upon the knowledge possessed by the ancient Assyrians, Egyptians, Babylo- nians, and Phcanicians, or even upon that of Greece and Rome. But God has put limits to hunian progress, lest man should be exalted above measure. The shortening of human life, the confusion of tongues, and the con- sequent dispersion, did, in primeval times, the work which has since been accomplished by less direct agencies, and which have successively said to man in the highest state of his advancement, Thus far shalt thou go, and no fhxther; and here shall thy proud mind be stayed. Thus it has come to pass that one nation after another has become highly civilized has fallen ; the arts it possessed were lost or discontinued; dark ages followed; then arose other nations, gradually recovering these old arts, and perhaps inventing some new ones; but not more, perhaps, than serve to counter- balance the old ones that have not been re- covered. We too much overrate the present, because we know it better than the past. But ancient histories, and monuments older than history, disclose to us that there were, two, three, and four thousand years ago, nations scarcely less advanced in material civilization, and in the arts of social life, than ourselves; and who certainly possessed arts that we do not, and were able to execute works which we cannot surpass, and some that we cannot equal, sufficient to counterbalance our posses- sion of arts which they had not acquired, and our execution of works they had not imagined. It has been proved that many, and it may be proved that more, of our inventions and im- provements are but revivals of old thin ~s. From such catastrophes, which have from time to time thrown back the tide of human advancement, and, prevented man from fully gathering the fruit of the tree of knowledge,. for which his soul has hungered ever since the fall, we think ourselves exempt by means. of the printing press, which has embalmed our inventions and discoveries beyond the. possibility of loss. It may be so; but let us. grant, that whatever advantage in this respect we possess, was enjoyed more abundantly by the primeval fathers, by reason of the length. of their lives; so that it is morally impossible. but that their materi 1 condition should hay 53 54 M. DE LA. CONDNMINE.COAL FOR STEAMERS.EPITAPH. been one of high and progressive advance- ment, during the period which is now under our survey. In further corroboration of the argument, that the recent invention of many arts, and the savage condition of many nations, is not adverse to the conclusion that the fathers of mankind were not a barbarous but a cultivated people, let us listen to the hypothesis built by Plato upon natural and thoughtful reason- ing from known facts. Lie admits that men, in these ancient times, possessed cities, laws, and arts; but desolations coming, in the shape of inundations, epidemics, malaria, and the like, those that escaped betook themselves to the mountains, and kept sheep. Most of the arts and sciences which were formerly common, were then more and more disused and forgot- ten among them. But mankind afterwards multiplying, they descended into the valleys; and, by degrees, mutual conversation, the necessities of their condition, and the due consideration of things, gradually revived among them the arts which had been lost by long intermission. Sir Matthew Hale, who, in his profound work on the Primitive Origination of Man- kind, incidentally touches on this subject, says : We are not to conclude every new appearance of an art or science is the first production of it; but, as they say of the river Tigris and some others, they sink into the ~round, and keep a subterranean course, it may be for forty or fifty miles, and then break out above ground again, which is not so much a new river as the continuation and rehppenr- ance of the old; so many times it falls out with arts and sciences, though they have their non-appearance for some ages, and then seem first to discover themselves where before they were not known, it is not so much the first production of the art, as a transition, or at least a restitution, of what was either before in another, or in the same country or people and thus also some tell us that guns und printing, though but lately discovered in Europe, were of far ancienter use in China. PnlaosorllEns are naturally curious; but never did philosopher push curiosity so far as did M. de Ia Condamine, the French mathe- matician. La Condamine was a most agreeable and witty man, celebrated by his travels, and a member of both the Acaddinie des Sciences and the Acad6mie Fran~aisc ; but none of these qualities will so surely hand his name down to posterity as this defect, common to man, apes, and little dogs, as Voltaire has it a defect of which La Coadamine was the type at once the most complete and most ingenuous. Wishing to examine closely, and with his own eyes, all the motions of a man undergoing a death by torture, he assisted, as the French have it, at the execution of Damien, the would-be assassin of Louis XV., who was torn asunder piece-meal by red-hot pincers. He accordin,,ly pushed his way into the inner space reserved for the crimi- nal and tIme executioners. Some of the guards having endeavored to prevent him, the chief exe- cutioner, to whom he was well known, said to the soldiers Let monsieur alone, he is an amateur. Whenever he visited a friend, he would employ his time in inspecting and hand- ling every article in the apartment, and in rummaging the cupboards and drawers. One day being at Chanteloup, in the study of M. de Choiseul, the prime minister of Louis XV., at the time of the arrival of the letters and de- spatches, La Condamine, during the momentary absence of the minister, sat himself down qnietly, and began to open the letters on the table, some of which doubtless treated of the most secret interests of the different states of Europe. Ah, Monsieur, cried M. de Choiseul in horror, what are you about? You are opening my letters. Pooh it s nothing at all, replied his visitor, with the utmost unconcern ; I was only looking to see if there was any news from Paris. COAL FOR THE MAlL-STEAMERs. In that part of the Appendix to the Report of the Committee on Contract Packets which relates to the General Screw Steam Shipping Company, and the diffi- culties it has had to encounter, the committee state that the rise in the freight of coals had very materially affected the company in its ar- rangements, and turned the profit which they anticipated into a heavy loss. The difficulty would be met in the most effectual manner should the expectations of the Cape of Good Hope and Natal Coal and Mining Company be realized. This company has been established mainly for the purpose of working the extensive beds of coal which are said to exist in that colony and if they can raise a sufficient quantity, there can be no doubt that they will reap a handsome profit on the capital invested. At present the aggregate annual consumption of coal by the steam-ships calling at the Cape is said to be not less than 100,000 tons, at an average price of about 70s. per ton ; and even that price, high as it may seem, is likely to be exceeded, owing to the di~iculty of procuring tonnage from this country. A few months ago, the contractors for the delivery of coals at Ceylon, Calcutta, and Bombay, were obliged to ask time; they did not know when they would be able to fulfil their con- tracts, as it was impossible to obtain vessels. The Cape of Good Hope Company proposes to supply coal to vessels at a maximum charge of 40s. per ton; at which rate they would have a large profit, while the steamers coaling at the Cape would effect a very great saving in their annual expendituse. EPITAPH. HERE lies, cut down like unripe fruit, The wife of deacon Amos Shute She died of thunder sent from heaven, In seventeen hundred seventy-seven. LORD CLARENDON S EXPLANATIONS RESPECTING THE EAST. 55 From the Examiner, 20th Aug. LORD CLARENDONS EXPLANATIONS RE SPECTING THE EAST. EVEN after the explanations given by Lord Clarendon, in answer to Lord Malmesburys speech on the 12th, it is manifest to us that the French government has evinced more penetration, more promptitude and alertness, than our own. Upon the first betrayal of the purpose of the Menschikoff mission, Colonel Rose wrote to the admiral at Malta, urging him to hasten the movement of the fleet towards the Turkish waters. The request was neglected at Malta, but not so at Paris, for on learning it by telegraph the French governmcnt instantly directed the fleet at Toulon to hasten to Salamis. This was done, as Lord Clarendon states, without consultation with our government, and upon the spur of the moment, in the belief that the danger was imunnent. What did our government upon this move- mentl It frankly assured the French gov- ernment that the danger was not imminent, and that it was unnecessary to change the station of our fleet. But events have proved that the danger was as imminent as the French government had supposed it, and that the second thou~hts of Colonel Rose were not best, namely, that it was well his application to Admiral Dundas was not heeded, as the approach of the fleet mi~ht have given an adverse turn to the negotiations with Russia. The negotiations had their course while our anchors were fast at Malta and see the result in the invasion of thc Turkish dominions. But after the French fleet bad been de- spatched to Salamis as it would not have been despatched if England had been consulted it was discovered that its position in the Greek waters would be more convenient for combined operations should the necessity arise; and eventually the two fleets arrived in Besika Bay within a few hours of each other, in obedience to orders issued sirnulta- neously from Paris and London. This could not have been the case, observes Lord Claren- don, if the one had remained at Toulon as the other remained at Malta. No, certainly not but the advance to Salamis, which had proved of such convenience, would not have been made if the En~lish government had been consulted, which regarded it at the time as an unnecessary step against no imminent danger. The French were right after all. It may be said that it becomes England to be more backward than France in steps toward hos- tilities, as we have so much more interest in peace; but what has been the result of our backwardness I Not, certainly, the success of the negotiations which ended in Prince Mens- chikoff s insolent note, and the invasion of Turkey, the close of the first act of tbe drama. It kept us, we shall be told, in position with Austria. It served for a great combination of names, France, England, Austria, Prussia; but how much sound heart there is in such an alliance time will show. Austria can only be there as tool of Russia, the slave dreading, hating, and, nevertheless, abjectly serving its masters behests. By having been only a little more backward, or moderate (if the word be preferred), in our protection of an in- jured ally, we might have added to the grand combination at Vienna the name of Russia itself. We regret to observe in Lord Clarendons speech some passages which appear, uninten- tionally no doubt, palliative of the aggressions of Russia. He denies, for example, that Prince Menschikoff demanded the dismissal of the Turkish Foreign Secretary; but the in- solent Russian envoy caused the dismissal as effectually, and perhaps more summarily than by demand, by refusing to confer with that minister. For another instance, in recapitu- lating the proceedings of the Czar, Lord Clar- endon states that he complained of the viola- tion of privileges, the effect of which impaired his influence over those who profess the Greek faith in the Turkish dominions. We believe that the0e words were only intended to repre- sent the emperors peculiar views of his rights, but even with that significance it seems to us that they should not have been uttered with- out a protest against the pretension so re- peated. What should we think of a foreign potentates complaint that certain acts of our government impaired his influence over the Roman Catholic subjects in her majestys dominions In accord with the same insolent pretension, the first Nesselrode note insisted on the emperors Inherited influence over the Sultans subjects of the Greek church. The preposterous claim cannot be expressed without a contradiction in terms. De facto indeed it may, and does happen, as we know too well at home, that the subjects of one in- dependent power may be under the influence of another in spiritual and ecclesiastical mat- ters; but dejure such influence can never be rightfully claimed on the one hand, and must always be indignantly denied and resisted on the other. We have no doubt that Lord Clarendon takes the just view of the Czars pretension to influence in the Sultans domin- ions indeed, to concede this point would be to give up the whole cause of Turkey but we regret that in meFe recital so impudent a claim had not its passing word of dissent or disapprobation. Another passage which somewhat surprised and startled us in Lord Clarendons explana- tions was this: It was after the note of Count Nesselrode had been rejected by the Porte, and after the priaci 53 LORD CLARENDON S EXPLANATIONS RESPECTING THE EAST. p~zIities had been occupied, that the opportunity seemed then to have arisen when mutualfriends might treat the matter as baring entered into a new phase. It. had then certainly, by the occupa- tion of this portion of the Turkish territory and ~n contravention of existing treaties, assumed a European character, which imposed upon other powers the necessity of interfering in some way or other to put an end to such a state of things. It wonld thus appear that the invasion has l)een a convenience for negotiation, and that without it the friends of unhappy Turkey would have wanted a case for interposition for her protection. The description of the last wrong as a new phase, is of exquisite mildness. And whatfollowsl Why, Austria, seeing this new phase, the Sultans fron- tier provinces overrun, his tribute confiscated, his authority nsnrped, makes forsooth this fair and reasonable proposition to the Porte Fornish us with such a note as we may send to St. Petersburg, something safe to you, and not unacceptable to the emperor. It was distinctly understood that the note, safe to Turkey, and not unacceptable to the Czar, was not to say, I pray you take your hand from off my throat. Any such request would not have been acceptable to the em- peror, who occupies the provinces for the avowed object of squeezing out cpncessions only to be looked for by coercion. The true friends of Turkey would have counselled her against any overture under duress. She is now either prepared and resolved to refuse all that she refused when negotiations were broken off, or else the invasion has answered its purpose of extorting what of right would have been refused. And from the first all that we have felt certain of in this question was that Russia would, by her most unpro- voked and unjustifiable aggression, obtain some advantage in the shape of compromise, the excess of her first demands serving to give a flilse complexion of moderation to extortions which, hut for that comparison, would have seemed equally unjust and impossible. It is the vulgar huckstering trick on a great scale, to ask what is monstrous in order to get a dis- honest gain in reduced terms. And the powers, no doubt, are perfectly prepared to second this game within certain bounds; and there is not an intelligent being who is not at this instant thoroughly aware that Turkey is to be the loser in the settlement of this dis- pute. She is the hare with many friends, all full of concern for her, but nevertheless con- senting to give her away to the hounds by in- stalinents. The prestige of her authority is destroyed in the invaded provinces ; and for the wrong of that invasion and its conse- quences, not a breath about claim to indeinni- fication has been heard, so that in this im- portant respect, at least, Turkey is to be the loser, to be injured by Russia, while there is the pretence that her allies have preserved the status quo. Is she in as good a posture and condition as before she sufibred this wrong, and if not, what is the responsibility of the powers who have pretended a care for her welfare, and the assertion of her dignity and protection of her independence l The Austrian correspondent of the Times writes from Vienna on the 9th Few persons here are inclined to doubt that the Porte will consent to make its pe ce with Russia on the terms proposed ; but no one is blind to the future consequences of such a step. The Ilospodars have virtually renounced allegiance to the Porte, and if the diplomatic world succeeds in adjourning the definitive settlement of the Oriental question, it cannot be for more than a few years. Russian agents will continue to agitate in the various Turkish provinces, the Christian population will at last rise en masse against the Mahommedans, the four Powers will leisurely consider what is to be done to lay the storm, and long before they have determined on the line of conduct to be pursued, Russia will anain appear on the scene of action as master of the situation. Such conjectural politics may excite a smile, but the accuracy with which the present crisis was predicted above a year and a half ago, emboldens me once again to lay my opinions before you. The Porte is heartily pitied by the few persons who are capable ofjed~iug of the true position of affairs, and something nearly approaching to contempt is now added to the dislike so long felt for En~land. The following guarded language from the Oest. Deutsche Post well expresses the public feeling It cannot well be doubted that the Porte will yield. Forsaken by the allies on whose assistance she had calculated, can Turkey single-hanged op- pose the mighty power, an encounter with which the greatest European States have considered it advisable to avoid ? We do not believe that the fear of Russia has influenced the policy of the French and English governments. United France and England would immensely overmatch Russia in a war carried on beyond her own territory, where her true passive strength lies. The mere dbfensive power of Russia is great ; it is a ~vall, to rush against which must be dostruc- tion; but, of late times, she has. been found feeble in all her foreign attacks. The Turks in 1828 single-handed, and in circumstances most unfavorable, in the transition betveen the old and th~ new military organizations, tried the mettle of the Russian forces severely, and lengthened out to ttvo years a stro ogle ~vluch the Court. ,of St. Petersburg h~ d ex- pected hardly t& exceed as many months. The Circassians hold Russia at bay to this day. The little miscreant robber Khan of Khiva repulsed her armies, and scoffed at her dictation. All the external operations of Russia, in- trigue alone excepted, have seemed marked THE DEBATE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. with weakness and inefficiency. It appears to be a power not for motion, but the vis inertia. Woe betide those who visit her whether as friends or foes; in either charac- ter a retreat is soon desired. The reason of the signal failure of the external operations of Russia is probably the all-pervading system of corruption, but we are not now inquiring into causes open to question, but referring to notorious facts. There is nothing then in the power of Russia, divested of exaggeration, and measured by the realities in which her strength has been tried and found wanting, to scare the governments of France and England; and if the single and simple question had been war ~vitli Russia, and that the be-all and end- all, the course pursued in the Eastern question would probably have been different, very dif- ferent from the one adopted. But the appre- hension, which has no doubt influenced our statesmen, is that the war could not be con- fined to Russia; that the first gun would fire the four corners of Austrias house, and that what would follow would be an European con- fia0ration embracing all, north, south, east, and west. If a conflict with Russia were alone to be contemplated, France and England might look to nothing hut the justice of their cause, and take their ground firmly and fear- lessly ; but it is felt that the combat would be fought in a powder magazine, and that the danger lies, not with the adversary, but with the materials of combustion all around wait- ing only a spark fhr such an explosion as this world has perhaps never yet seea and de- plored. This is a consideration which cannot but throw a sickly hue over resolution, and make the boldest statesman pause even in the most righteous cause. While, therefore, we remark on conduct which seems short of the occasion in the Eastern dispute, we cannot be unmind- ful of the unparalleled weight of the responsi- bilities which oppress our ministers in this critical juncture. Yet it is also to he borne in mind that we may lean to peace till we may overthrow it by our very excess of leaning, and this, is certainly the danger of yielding to and encouraging an encroaching power like Russia. Well said Lord John Russell that the best preparation for war is the exhaustion of all honorable means for the preservation of peace, and with that principle of policy in- telligen tly carried out all would have reason to he content. THE DEBATE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. LORD CLARENDONS partial explanations in the Lords were followed by similar explana- tions in the Commons. The statement so long promised to that House of thti course taken by the ministry on the Eastern question was made by Lord John Russell on Tuesday. It was observed by Mr. Layard, who fol- lowed Lord John, that the ministerial ex- planation contained not a single fact of which the House was not previously in posses- sion. But though nothing could be gathered from the disclosures of the ministry, some- thing might be collected from its silence ; and we regret to say that this is of a less flivora- ble complexion than anything above remarked upon in the speech of Lord Clarendon. It appears that the evacuation of the prin- cipalities, to be regarded according to Lord Clarendon as a term sine qud non of the settlement, does not form a part of the pro- posal accepted by the Russian cabinet; nor is there any reason to believe that the note pre- pared for the signature of the Turkish minis- ter is one whit less injurious to the indepen- dence of the Porte than that which was demanded by Prince Menschikoff before his departure from Constantinople. For to what can we attribute a studious concealment of the contents of a note already proved, by its acceptance at St. Petersburg, to be not un- acceptable to the Czar, and as to which nothing remains but to extort the consent of the Sultan, if not to an unwillingness to dis- close the large amount of concession it in- volves If this surmise be correct, the interference of the British government on behalf of the in- dependence and integrity of the Porte, for which so much credit has been assumed, will have had no other effect than to place that power in the humiliating position of yielding obviously under duress, and to intimidation and violence, terms which with some show of dignity it might have conceded to the mere request of the Russian negotiator. But this is not all. The resources of the Turkish empire will have been wasted in useless armaments; and the fanaticism of her popula- tions, Christian as well as Mahomrnedan, greatly as it bad subsided of late years, will again have been aroused into more fierce and dangerous activity. Nor can it be matter of in- difference to us that what will thus have shaken the throne of the Sultan, ~vill not less have brought suspicion on the good faith of this country. Mr. Layard, whose long experience in the East and intimate acquaintance with the Christian provinces of Turkey render his opinion on this subject of high value, declared his conviction that the Russian troops would ~peediIy withdraw from the principalities, in- asmuch as the emperor had obtained every- thing which for the present he desires. The mere circumstances that the terms extorted from the Porte may embrace all Christian sects, and not be confined to the orthodox religion of the orient alone or that the concession may be made to all the great powers and not exclusively to Russia can- 57 THE DEBATE IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. not possibly render less fatal to the independ- ence of the Porte the fact that she has virtu- ally surrendered her sovereignty over ten mil- lions of her subjects. Even stronger language than Mr. Layards was used by Lord Dudley Stuart, who showed very forcibly how much the cause of religions as well as of commercial freedom would suffer if the dominion of the Sultan should be super- seded by that of the emperor. Mr. Blackett on behalf of the shipowners of Newcastle, and Mr. Muntz on that of the ~vorking-classes in Birmingham, protested energetically against the policy of purchasing peace at the expense of good faith and future security; and a similar tone was taken by Sir John Paking- ton and Mr. Mimes. Of all the members who spoke in the debate, in short, Mr. Cob- den alone approved of the course which has been taken, or of the surrender which virtually appears to have been made. Mr. Cobden declares that the Turks are in- truders in Europe; and though he does not blame the ministry for making a show of adhering to the traditional policy of preserving the Ottoman empire, he considers this object as neither practicable nor even desirable. The great ol~jection which Mr. Cobden enter- tains to the Turkish government is of a relig- ious nature. He for his part would sooner live under a Christian govcrnment however oppressive than under a Mussuhuan monarch however liberal. He does not in direct terms say that he is himself prepared to embrace either the Greek or the Roman Catholic form of Christianity, as circumstances may require, but hi~ argument leads to that conclusion. lie would sooner be the subject of a Russian or Austrian potentate who makes adherence to his own faith a sine qui non (we use the phrase not as it has been lately used, but as having some meaning in it), than live under a sovereign who is equally tolerant of Protes- tantism. We for our parts re~ard the matter so differently that we can even believe a Sultan who at the peril of war refused to give up the Hungarian refugees to be quite as good a Christian as either of the emperors who have hunted them to death. Free trade itself is not more successful than toleration and humanity in winning favor for the Turks, in the esteem of Mr. Cobden. For his part he would never fight for a tariff Russians must very soon become freetraders by the mere force of English example. So en- amored of Russia is Mr. Cobden that he pre- fers her liberal tariff in posse to that of the Turks in esse. Shutting his eyes to statistics and the Board of Trade, the member for the West Riding pronounces all authorities who insist on the value of the Turkish trade to be lamentably ignorant.~ How can it be other- ~vise, he asks, when there are no turnpike- roads in Turkey l If we ventured to suggest to Mr. Cobden that the sea is the great high way of a country traversed by lofty chains of mountains, but presenting a most extensive and deeply indented coast we should doubt- less only increase his conviction of our inno- rance. But the most remarkable part of Mr. Cob- dens speech was that in which he spoke of the Christian races in Turkey. lie treated of their importance as a matter of recent dis- covery. It was a great fact, which, as well to statesmen who have devoted their attention to Eastern politics as to himself, has been suddenly revealed. According to Mr. Cobden, we are now hearing of these races, the Ser- vians, the Wallachians, the Bulgarians, al- most for the first tune, and we are now there- fore for the first time in a position to under- stand the difficulties and complication of the Eastern question There is a good remark in one of Mr. Haw- thorn& s novels, where, after sketching the character of a clever and meditative American, he observes that he considered himself a thinker, and was certainly of a thou~htful turn, but, with his own path to discover, had perhaps hardly yet reached the point where an educated man begins to think. Mr. Cob- den ought to weigh that remark. We can assure him that other discoveries have been made in the world besides those of the great author of the Wealth of Nations. All former generations have not been as barren as he supposes. Though he may be unacquainted with it, or reject it as illusory, wisdom has been crying out in other times as well as ours. No one doubts Mr. Cubdens shrewdness or his eloquence. What he truly understands he understands thoroughly, and can excel al- most any one in making clear to others. We should be sorry to see such a man the slave of that kind of conceit which regards as non- existent everything not existing within its range. There are no men more dangerous than those who, with great natural powers, obstinately refuse to take for granted any proposition in politics, however supported by authority or confirmed by experience; who have no respect for the one, because they are ignorant of the other; who forget that the science of government, like all other sciences, can have no certain basis except in- duction from. facts; and who, though they may never quit their fools paradise, are con- stantly under the delusion of beliving that they are entering on an entirely ne~v era in the history of iman. Mr. Cobdens praise was the only praise offered to the ministry in the debate, but it proved too much for Lord Palmerston. He sprang to his feet when Mr. Cobden sat down, and, in a speech seldom surpassed for strength and spirit even by himaself, demolished the arguments of Mr. Cobden by exposing his in- 53 59 THE FUTURE OF THE CUBA QUESTION. consistencies. Perhaps Lord Palmerston for- had been deelin~d by the last. But the papers got for the moment that in confuting Mr. fill up more than one hiatus in the case, and Cobden he ~vas in fact triumphing over him- in several respects prove the question to have self. At any rate we have to thank the home been of a much more serious character than it secretary for a complete vindication of ~vhat appeared to bear at the last time of its agita- we believe to be the right policy in this mat- tion. In saying this, we do not include the ter. his speech would have formed an excel- supposed English intrigue, which was to have lent defence for a course opposed to that of converted the guarantee for a loan into the the ministry for which he spoke., He demon- means of territorial aggrandizement; for the strated the vast importance to this country of American papers alone are sufficient to show maintaining the Ottoman empire; and conclu- that the facts do not warrant the extravagant sively showed that, in order to maintain it, the conclusions based upon them. interference of other powers must be sedu- One important point established by these lously guarded against. But the h~mperor of papers is the great anxiety of the Spanish Russia will care little that the ministry government. Not only does the Marquis Mira- should profess the principles enunciated by tlores receive with a Southern fervor of grati- Lord Palmerston, so long as its acts continue tude the English proposal for a tripartite to be framed on the maxims laid down by Mr. guarantee, but, at a later date, he goes so far Cobden. as to suggest that the English and French governments should join in a declaration, that From the Spectator, 13th Aug. if the United States should not adhere to THE FUTURE OF THE CUBA QUESTION, the proposition of a tripartite convention, they never would allow any other power, whether THE papers relating to the subject of Cuba European or American, to possess itself of the and the projects of annexation touching that is land of Cuba, either by cession, conquest, island, which the House of Commons asked or insurrection of the same. The reply to of the crown early in the session now closing this does not appear; but when we find, by have just been presented to the 1I~use of the general tone of the correspondence, that Commons, and issued to the public four the British government had to a great extent months after date.* The correspondence is of permitted itself to fall into a position counter an amount that in most newspaper establish- to that of the United States, and siding with ments might be got up in the course of twenty- Spain, we are startled to find how nearly this four hours; but it takes four months for the country had been dragged into an obligation state clerks and the state printers to bring to insure Spain against the consequences of forth copies of a correspondence which might her own weakness towards foreign powers, or go into twenty columns of the Times. As of bad government towards her own subjects. usual, this delay gives us a knowledge of the Spain might appeal to her own recent history case after it is closed; but it does not happen for precedents, but they are bad precedents; to matter so touch in this instance, since the and if the public were informed during the question is for the present laid at rest; and progress of negotiations like the present, there the documents serve a useful purpose in letting would be additional security against the chance us know how the affair stands for the future, that official people, laying their heads together which is by far the more important consid- with foreign diplomatists, should betray the eration. country into so fiUse a position. The papers do not supply any decidedly fresh Anotherimportant factis the pertinacity with inforniation. By the scraps which we had be- which American statesmen, from Mr. Adams to fore, we knew that the Spanish government was Mr. Marcy, have adhered to the policy of de- seriously alarmed; we knew that a correspond- daring that no other European power save ence, extending back to 1822, between Amen- Spain shall take possession of Cuba, and have can diplomatic officials, disclosed an imaginary refused to close against the United States the English inthgue to obtain possession of Cuba probable annexation of that island. Mr. Ever- or part of it; we knew that the American gov- etts letter of the 1st December, l8~2, has been eminent had made overtures of that kind in published as a resumd of this policy. He shows, 1848, on its own account; and we knew gen- by the progress of territorial expansion in the erally the terms on which the proposed guar- United States, by the gradual cession of Span- antee of Cuba to Spain by the government of ish dominions on the other side of the Atlantic, France, Great Britain, and the United States, by the improved commercial condition of coun ~ Correspondence between the United States, tries which have joined the Union, by the Spain, and France, concerning alleged projects of geographical position of Cuba, the compara- Conquest and Annexation of the Island of Cuba. tive waste of its resources under Spanish mis- Presented to the Rouse of Commons by command government, and many other circumstances, of her majesty, in pursuance ~f their Address of that the island is destined to become a State of April 11, 1853. [English ministers also take part in this correspondence, althou0h not mentioned in the Great Republic. It is the settled policy the title.] of the United States government not to bind 60 NECESSITY OF THE PORTES ACCEPTANCE OF THE JOINT NOTE. itself in alliances; and the government of one day cannot bind its successors. Snob were the reasons why the government at Washington declined to enter into the tripar- tite guarantee. Comparing the past, twenty years ego, before Louisiana was added to the Union, and not long after Florida was sold by Spain, with the totally altered state of affairs at present, Mr. Everett assumes that twenty years hence no country in Europe would prob- ably desire the union of Cuba with his own country. It is evident from the correspondence that these opinions of Mr. Everett represent views to which the great majority of American statesmen have adhered; the views both of the late government and of the present gov- ernment at Washington. In 1848, a move- ment was made by the United States to pur- chase Cuba from the government of Spain. It went very little further than talk between Mr. Romulus M. Saunders and the Marquis de Miraflores; but the satisfaction which Mr. Saunders discovered in the manner of Seiior Miraflores proved at once the doubt which the Spanish government entertains of its own power to retain the colony, and the probability that the Spanish administration will not be sorry some day to realize on Cuba in a commercial transaction with the United States. All the proposals for tripartite treaties, dec- larations, and so forth, fell to the ground. The last communications reported in this set of paper consist of a conversation which Mr. Crompton, accompanied by M. de Sartiges, the French representative at Washington, hnd with the new Secretary of State, Mr. Marcy. The nature of the talk was such that the French and English diplomatists considered the dis- cussion of the subject to be closed. Mr. Marcy was conciliatory, and hoped that no misunder- standing would arise with the great maritime powers, but adhered to the views which we have already described. The subject therefore is shelved; and should it be re5pened every- thing must be commenced de novo. The position of the United States government is that of withholding its countenance from pi- ratical attempts upon the island, but of keep- ing open its right to obtain possession of Cuba, either by purchase or by conquest, should war arise on a legitimate occasion. The govern- inents of France and England have expressed wishes, opinions, intentions to stand by Spain; but by this correspondence they are pledged to nothing. Risks were run of becoming en- tangled in very embarrassing pledges to follow Spain in all the fortunes of her decline, her mistaken diplomacy, or her bad government, and to fall into contest with the United States upon a subject which at present is theoretical ttnd prospective. Should the question again arise, the disposal of Cuba must be judged by the circumstances of the time; and the use of this correspondence is to show how necessary it is that our representatives should limit themselves to practical considerations, and should abstain from indorsing or protesting without necessity. From the London Times, Aug. 20. NECESSITY OF THE PORTES ACCEPTANCE OF THE JOINT NOTE. NEARLY three weeks have now elapsed since the definite proposal of the Four Powers, for the adjustment of the dispute between Russia and Turkey, was despatched from Vienna to Constantinople. There is reason to believe that this communication reached the Porte on the 9th inst., and consequently intelligence may now arrive at any moment of the accept- ance or rejection of the terms upon which the question of peace or war mainly depends. We do not attempt to anticipate what that decis- ion of the Porte will be, for it obviously de- pends on circumstapces and influences which must he very imperfectly known to us at this distance. But we can entertain no doubt of what the decision of the Porte ought to be, with a view to its own welfare, its independ- ence, and, possibly, its existence as a European power; for we can conceive of no advice more fatal to the real interests of Turkey, than that of the party which is attempting to drive her into open resistance. The Conference of Vi- enna hns, unquestionably, obtained far better terms than she could have obtained for herself. After the Russian government had nuounced that the acceptance of its ultimatusu sans van- ante ~vas an indispensable condition of peace, the Emperor Nicholas has been brought to re- duce these arrogant and separate pretensions within the limits of a note which the Four Powers approve, and which does not materi- ally differ from the note proposed by Turkey herself at an earlier stage of this dispute. Does any one imagine that it is in the power of Turkey to improve her position by a decla- ration of war? And is it not tIme height of rashness to speculate on results which she could only obtain if she were a victorious power, dictating conditions of peace at the close of a successful campaign? The military preparations which have been made in Turkey, the arrival of the reinforcements from Egy~t, the strength of the army at Shumnla, and the fortified positions taken up by Omar Pasha on the Danube, may have induced some of the friends of Turkey to form an exaggerated con- ception of her real strength. .But , if there be one course leading more directly than another to the dissolution and subjugation of the Ot- toman empire,it would be the rash attempt to measure these raw forces against a more powerful and more disciplined enemy. If what statesmen call her integrity and inde- pendence are worth six months purchase, they must be preserved by the maintenance of peace ; and if we were as desirous as Mr. Cobden appears to be to witness the immedi NECESSITY OF TIlE PORTE S ACCEPTANCE OF TIlE JOINT NOTE. 61 ate expulsion of the Turks from Europe, the shortest path to that catastrophe would be to engage them in a war they have not strength to carry on. There undoubtedly are persons, believing themselves to be much more cordial friends of this Mahomedan Power than we profess to be oursclves, who are ready to urge matters to this extremity; but we are amazed that they should think this course of policy favorable to the Porte, and adverse to Rus- sia. The rejection of these terms,.followed by a declaration of war on the part of Turkey, would, ere long, produce the most formidable consequences upon an empire already exhaust- ed with the mere preparation for such a con- tcst; and it would lead to exactly that state of things which Russia has most reason to desire. The real friends of Turkey in this crisis are not those who are attempting to goad her to a desperate and probably fatal resistance but those, on the contrary, who have procured terms for the settlement of this question, which it is not more inconsistent with her honor to accept than with our honor to recommend. It will surely not be easy to persuade the world that a note originally drawn by France, revised by England, adopted by Austria, and assented to by Prussia who are, therefore, all in some degree responsible for its contents is of so humiliating a char- acter that the Turkish Divan is to risk its existence by rejecting such an offer, in the vain hope of humbling its powerful neighbor. These may be the impulses of passion, but they are not the dictates of policy; and if they were unhappily followed, they would probably enable Russia to take still further advantage of the position she has assumed on the Dan- ube, to the prejudice of all those rights which Turkey is so ill able to defend without the sup- port of the rest of Europe. Thus far in the negotiation she has received that support; but it is impossible that the Western Powers should be bound by steps the Porte may take in opposi- tion to their advice; and if the present combina- tion were to be frustrated, the allies of Turkey would be free to resume their entire liberty of action, and to govern themselves according to the events which might ensue. Although we trust these considerations will have their due weight with the Porte, where they have doubtless been duly urged by the ambassadors charged with this negotiation, it cannot be denied that the popular feeling of the Mussulmans is considerably excited, and Omar Pasha has advanced his outposts to points on the right bank of the Danube, where an actual collision may chance to take place. The Turkish commander has intimated that he shall fire on any armed vessels, under the Russian flag, which attempt to ascend the Danube above the confluence of the Pruth, to which point they are entitled by treaty to ad- vance. Four gunboats, which had arrived at Galatz, have been summoned to descend the stream. One of the long, fiat islands near Is- mail, which are by treaty neutral territory, has been partly fortified by the Russians, and connected with the shore of Bessarabia by a wooden bridge; on this point also the Turks are said to have raised xvorks opposite to those of their antagonists. Iii Servia, considerable agitation prevails, and the Austrian govern- meut appears to have apprehended that, in the event of war, a movement in favor of the inde- pendence of the province might be apprehend- ~d, which would kindle a more extensive agitation in the neighboring Austrian territo- ries. Three regiments of the imperial army have accordingly marched to the frontier; and at the same time, M. Fenton, a niemuber of the Russian embassy at Vienna, has sent to Bel- grade with instructions to recommend the Ser- vians to keep perfectly quiet at this stage of the question. It is curious that while Russia has been adopting in Moldavia and Wallachia measures so grievously hostile to the Turkish government, she has endeavored to prevent, rather than to encourage, disturbance both in Servia and Montenegro probably from the fear that the rising of a national party in the Slavonic Provinces of Turkey would be essen- tially hostile to her own ascendency. The Austrian government has, however, positively denied any intention to violate the Ottoman territory in Servia, and the statements which have been published to that effect are exagger- ated or wholly unfounded. In all these prov- inces we hope that the definitive maintenance of peace and the withdrawal of the Russian forces from the Danubian principalities will speedily restore the country to greater tranquil- lity, for it is impossible that this fermentation can continue much longer among populations of so various and energe~ic a character without leading to very dangerous results. One of the evils of unnecessary delay on the part of Turkey in the acceptance of the proposed terms would be the probability that the internal government of the empire would be still more shaken, and the authority of the Porte over its vast and het- erogeneous provinces still more weakened. War on the Danube would be followed by anarchy in twenty other places, and while the Crescent and the Cross were once more contending on their ancient fields of battle, the position of the Christians throughout the East would become extremely perilous. Such are some of the con- sequences which it becomes the duty of our dip- lomatic agents at Constantinople and of the Divan to avert, and we sincerely hope a very short period of time may now bring us the set- tlement of this question. At St. Petersburg all difficulties have been overcome, and the Russian government now professes nreat eager- ness to terminate, the affair. At Constantino- ple the question was still pending when the last advices left the city, and the decision of it in- volve~ the prolongation or the death struggle of the Ottomuan Empire. 62 DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN PYRAMID. From the Placerville (Cal.) Herald. DISCOVERY OF AN ANCIENT AMERICAN PYRAMID. TRAVELLERS upon the Colorado and its tribu- taries have long since spoken of the existence of ancient ruins indifferent localities, embraced by the great American desert, lying upon both, though principally upon the west bank of the Colorado. and between it and the California range of mountains. Even Baron Von Hum- boldt, during his researches npon the American continent, discovered unmistakable evidence of the existence, at some greatly remote period, of a race of people entirely unlike, and appar- ently superior to, those inhabiting the conti- nent at the time of its discovery by Europeans. These evidences are becoming every day more and more conclusive, as the energy, love of travel and novelty, of the American people lead them into earths wildest fastnesses, and over its most forbidden, sterile and inhospitable wastes. We remark, as above, on perusing an article from the pen of our San Bernardino correspondent, giving an account of an ancient pyramid, lately discovered upon the great desert of the Colorado by a party of adventurers, five in number, who attempted to cross the desert in a westerly direction from a point on the Colorado at least two hundred miles above its confluence with the Gila: San Bernardino Valley, June 23. There has been no little excitement here of late, among the antiquarians and the curious, arising from the discovery of an ancient pyramid upon the great Colorado desert, and which fixes the probability beyond all dispute of the possession and occupancy, at some greatly remote period of time, of the American continent by a race of people of whom all existing history is silent. A part.y of men, five in number, had ascended the Colorado for nearly two hundred miles above the mouth of the Gila, their object being to discover, if possible, some large tributary from the west, by which they might make the passage of the desert, and enter California by a new, more direct and easier route, inasmuch as there are known to exist numerous small streams upon the eastern slope of the mountains, that are either lost in the sands of the desert or unite with the Colorado through tributaries heretofore unknown. They represent the country on either side of the Colorado as almost totally barren of every vegetable product, and so level and monot- onous that any object sufficient to arrest the at- tention possesses more or less of curiosity and interest ; and it was this that led to the discovery and examination of this hitherto unknown relic of a forgotten age. An object appeared upon the plain to the west, having so much the appearance of a work of art, from the regularity of its outline,and its isolated position, that the party determined upon Tisiting it. Passing over an almost barren sand plain, a distance of nearly five miles, they] reached the base of one of the most wonderful objects, considering its location (it being the very home of desolation), that the mind can possibly conceive of; nothing less than an im- mense stone pyramid, composed of layers or courses of from eighteen inches to nearly three feet in thickness, and from five to eight feet in length. It has a level top of more than fifty feet square, though. it is evident that it was once completed, but that some great convulsion of nature has displaced its entire top, as it evi- dently now lies a huge and broken mass upon one of its sides, though nearly covered by the sands. This pyramid differs, in some respects, from the Egyptian pyramid. It is, or was, more slender or pointed ; and while those of Egypt are composed of steps or layers, receding as they rise, the American pyramid was, undoubtedly, a more finished structure. The outer surface of the blocks was evidently cut to an nagle, that gave the structure, when new and complete. a smooth or regular surface from top to bottom. From the present level of the sands that sur- round it, there are fifty-two distinct layers of stone, that will average at least two feet ; this gives its present height one hundred arid four feet, so that before the top was displaced, it must have been, judging from an angle of its sides, at least twenty feet higher than at present. How far it extends beneath the surface of the sands, it is impossible to determine without great labor. Such is the age of this immense structure, that the perpendicular joints between the blocks are worn away to the width of from five to ten inches at the bottom of each joint, and the entire of the pyramid so much worn by the storms, the vicissitudes and the corrodings of centuries, as to make it easy of ascent, particularly upon one of its sides. We say one of its sides, because a singular fact connected with this remarkable structure is, that it inclines nearly ten degrees to one side of the vertical or perpendicular. There is not the slightest probability that it was thus erected, but the cause of its inclination is not easily accounted for. By whom, at what age of the world, and for what purpose, this pyr- amid was erected, will probably forever reaiaia a hidden mystery. The party, in their un- succe~ful attempt to cross the desert at this point, in their wanderings discovered other evi- dences, of a nature that would seem to make it certain that that portion of country upon the Colorado, now t.he most barren, was once the garden and granary of the continent, and the abode of millions of our race. THE public income ought to be looking up from the number of conscience-stricken persons who are sending contributions to the Chancellor of the Exchequer ; this week A. ~ send no less than eighteenpence in postage- stamps! Mx. J. G. LOCJUIART, the editor of the Quar- terly Review, has been compelled by indisposi- tion to cease, for a season, from all literary labor. He is about to seek the benefit of an Italian sky. NEW BOOKS. NEW BOOKS. The Law and the Testimony. By the Author of The Wide, Wide, World. Dig further, and thou shalt find more. The secret things be- long unto the Lord our God; but those things which are revealed belong unto us, and to our children, forever, that we may do all the words of this law. Dent. xxix. 29. Robert Carter and Brothers, New York. Having achieved an European reputation by her first book, as a religious novelist, the author now undertakes a work of a very different char- acter. It is precisely such a book as we have for many years intended (alas for good intentions!) to make for our own use. There are very many heads not here, upon which we should have clus- tered passages from Holy Writ: for instance, Christs Kingly Office ; His Icingdoia; The Restoration of Israel, 4-c., 4-c. Every one would, or should, make a classification to suit his own mind and wants. We cannot give so interestin~ or good account of this large volume, as in the Xote of .,qdvisemeet to the Reader, which the author has prefixed: It must be asked, and it must be answered, What is this big book? and what is anybodys pretence for giving it to the public? The first question only needs any care, and needs not many words. This big book is not another book of reference: nothing less. It is no concordance of subjects, nor collection of beauties. It has not its fellow in the market ; or if it have, it is a fellow that nobody knows. It is a gathering of facts for the purposes of induction. It is a setting together of the mass of Scripture testimony on each of the grand points of Scripture teachin6 in the hope that, when the whole light of the scattered rays is flung on the matter, the truth may be made manifest. In their ordinary arrangement, the Bible forces may be said to charge in dispersed or- der ; here they seem to stand as in the old Macedonian phalanx, shoulder to shoulder, with shields locked. Certainly the phalanx order would never have done the Bible work. But it may have its own proper ends. I dont doubt some heads have been. shaken nt the idea of such work being done by a woman. No woman set about it, in the first place; it was but a girl and a child. And they had little knowledge of the theological world, and certainly no meaning to enlighten anybody except them- selves. The thing fell out on this wise. One Sabbath evening, my little sister, in a spirit of weary good intentions, asked of my father to give her something to do on Sandays. My father pondered the matter a little; and then, turning round to the table, sketched off the list of subjects or points of beliefon which the followin~ work has grown up. These he gave my sister and me, telling us to begin with the first chapter of Genesis, as~d see what the Bi- ble said alsont them. This list has never been changed, except by the addition of one head, which afterward, upon full trial and consideration, was stricken out again. It stands, in the matter and order of its divisions, just where it stood at first. Now were we launched upon a delightful in- dependent voyage of discovery, for which we trimmed our sails with great gravity. What a little rag of a sail we had to begin with, to be sure! But with that we went boldly and care- fully to work. We were not bold nor presump- tuous mariners. One chapter a day was all we took. We searched that carefully, and noted down with miser eagerness everything which seemed to us to have an important bearing, upon any point in our scheme. On Sunday we indulged ourselves with two chapters. Then we compared notes, and sent each other back to look for what either had missed; gave each the other the advantage of her discoveries, her light, her better counsel. And at intervals, in those days, we submitted our notes to the overlooking and overjudging of my father ; holding long, very interested, and doubtless very profound, discussions about them. But by dint of this practice we ourselves grew daily in the power of judging; and not only that, but the skill and the power of seeing; till, by the. time we were half through the Bible, we were just fit to begin again at the beginning. And so we did, I know not how many times, starting back from different points in our pro- gress; for still sight and skill grew with the use of. them, and the Bible seemed a mine never to be explored. We know it to be so now; and have given up all hope, or wish, ever to see the last ore fetched out of that depth, and obliged to yield up its treasures to earthly eyes. Many a bit we passed in our ignorance, in the days when we could see no metal but what glittered on the surface; and many a good time we went back again, long afterward, and broke our re- jected lump with great exultation, to find it fat with the riches of the mine. That we thought ourselves enriched in the course of this business, was of necessity. The next thing was to show what we had got. If we could we would have taken every soul through the mine to gather for himself. But as we could not do that, it seemed worth while to set forth our collection; though none can possibly be so good to any one as that he has made himself. Where the best things are not possible, the best may be made of those that are.~ To examine the whole gathered testimony of the Bible on any one point, is one thing; and to go take it oneself, at the mouths of the Bible writers, is a very different thing. But in both ways two results may be arrived at; the exceed- ing strength of their united evidence, and the strange harmony with,which it is given; unlike as they were, and very unlike as were their occasions and ways of. saying the same thing. Those gentle and scatter~ rays of truth, so many- - colored, and so easy perhaps to deal with separ- ately, brought together are an exceeding white light, a light above the brightness of the sun. To go through the Bible as we have gone through it, is like seeing in a vision the Bible witnesses called to appear and give testimony ; and suppose it were by the uplifting of the hand. 63 BOOK NOTICES. There is the stern finder of Moses, there the quietly attesting sign of the writer of History Davids hand is on high, with a cymbal in it; the Prophet of Lamentations passes by, covered with sackcloth, and his head down, but his hand is up; Isaiahs is waved in exultation; and there is the triumphing gesture of St. Paul, and the outstretched arms of St. John. In sorrow or in .oy, they are all as one, and so are you with them, before the last has given his testimony. They are all as one, though centuries rolled away between the time when one lay down in the dust, and the next lifted Isis head upon a changed world. Thou~h this a golden crown had on, and that other was in weariness and painfulness, in watehings often, in hunger and thirst, in cold and nakedness; tbouh one was learned in all the wisdom of the politest people, and another was a prime minister in the greatest heathen kingdom, and another made and mended the nets by which he gained his bread on the little inland water which washed the walls of Capernaum. They all sing the same song; they all know the same knowl- edge; and they all esteem it with one accord beyond their chief joy. It would be too much to say that in the fol- lowin~ work we have always given in each case the whole Bible testimony. I believe we could never do that.. But we have gathered all the strong passages that we could find. Except in one or two instances, where they outnumbered their importance, and in two or three other in- stances, where the subjects were very nearly bound with other subjects, and to have given the whole array of passages under each head would have been to repeat more than was needful. It is taken for granted that the student will go from one to the other. If we were asked how we estimate this book, we should answer, with one breath, beyond price. We cannot hope that it shall be the same thin~ to others. But we believe that it will be very much what they choose to make it. The only spirit to make anything of the Bible, is that of the man who, after all, was a wise man wlsen he said, 0 Lord, my God, I am but a little child. We add the Heads under which the passages are arranged: The Divine Nature Divinity of the Saviour Divinity of the Holy Spirit Gods Omniscience Gods Universal Govern- ment Gods Sovereignty Gods Regard for his own Glory Gods Justice Gods Good- ness Christ Administers the Divine Government on Earth Christs Prophetic Office Christs Priestly Office Office of the Holy Spirit Mans Freedom Mans Fall The Nature of Sin Imputation of Sin The Prevalence of Sin Consequences of Sin Repentance Faith, What? Importance of Faith Salvation by Faith Imputation of Righteousness Jus- tification Sanctification Duty of Holiness The Resurrection The Judgment Heaven, What? Hell, What? .lmetohiographic Sketches. By Thomas Pc Quincey. Ticknor, Reed & Fields, Boston. An enumeration of the contents of this hook is its most attractive exposition. It is introduced by a letter from Mr. De Quincey to his Americ n Pub- lishers ; Preface to the English Edition; The Affliction of Childhood; Dream Echoes of thes Infant Experiences ; Dream Echoes Fifty Years later ; Introduction to the World of Strife Infant Literature ; Tise Female Infidel Warfare of a Public School ; I enter the World ; The Nation of London ; Dublin ; First Rebellion in Ireland Frenels Invasion of Ireland, and Second Rebel- lion ; Travelling ; My Brother ; Premature Man- hood. The Story of an .~pple. Illustrated by John Gilbert. Ticknor, Reed & Fields, Boston. Uncle Sn s Palace; or, the Reigning King. By Emma Wellmont. Illustrated by Billings. B. B. Mussey & Co., Boston. This is a novel not in the interest of manufacturers of Drunkenness. Passages from the History of a Wasted Lfe. Edited by the Author of Pen and Ink Sketches, & c., & c. Illustrated by Billings. B. B. Mussey & Co., Boston. This work appears to be, in many respects, similar in character to that which pre- cedes it. A History of England,froni the First Invasion by the Romans to the .lccession of JVilliain nod Mary, in 1688. By John Lingard, D.D. A new Edition, in 13 vols. Vol. III. Phillips, Sampson & Co., Boston. Woodworths ./lmerican AIiscellany of B icr taming Knowled0 e. With Illnstrat.ions. Phil- lips, Sampson & Co., Boston. Loreuzo Benoni, or Passages in the Life of ~n Italian. Edited by a Friend. Redfield, New York. This is an important work, of which we shall copy a review from an English periodici. A Guide to English COsnpOsitiO7?, or I 20 Suhjects./lnalyzed and Iliustrateifrorn Analogy, History, and the Writings of 6eiehrated ./locied and Modern Authors. By the Rev. Dr. Brewer. C. S. Francis & Co., New York and Boston. The Exiles: A Tale. By Talvi. This is an original work, containing a series of Americasm Pietisres, written by an adopted citizen of the United States, and originally intended for German readers. G. P. Putnam & Co., New York. The Story s.f Mont Blanc. By Albert Smith. Early History of Chamouni ; Visit of Pococke and Windham; De Saussure; First Adventures on Mont Blanc; First Ascent of Mont Blanc; De Saussure vanquishes Mont Blanc; Dr. Ramels Fatal Attempt ; Successive Ascents of Mont Blanc ; Chamouni; A D y on the Glaciers Authors Ascent in 1851 ; Night Bivouac in the Snow; Night March of the Grand Plateau, Mur de ha Cote, Victory; Coming down. G. P. Put- nam & Co., New York. 61

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The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 490 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. October 8, 1853 0039 490
The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 490 65-128

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. No. 490. 8 OCTOBER, 1853. CONTENTS. 1. Trial of Charles I Chanobers Repository, . 67 2. Society in New Zealand Spectator 84 3. Duck Shooting, Adventure on the Chesapeake, Chambers Journal, . 4. Quicksilver, Household Words, . 9() 5. Sick Grapes Household Words, . 93 6. Lord Mahons History of England Examiner 94 7. Bulwers Poetical and Dramatic Works E aminer 97 8. Oliver Wendell holmes New Monthly Magazine, 100 9. Licut. Maury; Improvements in Navigation, . Economist 104 10. A Day with Pitt Press 106 11. The Mauvais Terres of Nebraska National Era 110 12. Essays on Various Subjects, by Cardinal Wiseman, Examiner 112 13. The Passage of the Pruth Athenarnm 117 14. Crowns in Lead .. . . household Words, . . 118 15. To Sportsmen and OthersSome Good Fishing tobe ~ Examiner 120 Sold 16. Alliances East and West Movements of Austria, . Spectator 121 17. Predicament of Turkey Examiner 123 18. America and Austria Examiner and Spectator, 125 19. The Eastern Question Economist 127 POETRY: The Outer Light Predictions, 65; God Knows it All Echoes The So~g of a Captive, 66; Charade, 92. SHORT ARTICLES: To obtain Skeletons of Small Animals Chimpanzee, 85; Answers to Correspondents Grave of Ethan Allen, 92; Manufacture of Food, 99; Sunday in Aus- tralia, 111 ; Australian Gold Fields, 16; Using one Eye only, 120. NEW BooKs: Invalids Own Book, 85; Philosophy of Atheism, 111; Sabbath Evening Read- ings on the New Testament, 116. THE OUTER LIqHT. SINGLY the pale, low fires ashore Surrender to the hosts of Night, And blended gale and breakers roar Challenge the outer light. more of Home and Hope: no more Of rest by rivers of delight; The spark my patient angel bore Dies with the outer light. Forever seaward-drifting! flung Like a sick fowl upon the waves A wretch dismayed and lost among Oceans tumultuous graves. Limned by the lightning, I descry A spectral chamber in the clouds, Where eight (beloved and living) lie Clad in prophetic shrouds. CCCCXC. UYING AGE. VOL. III. 5 Hoarse with the terror of its tale Chiding the clamor of the blast Cometh a dirge-delivered wail, Big with soy name the last! Consigned to hurricanes and Night, Adrift upon thy sea of sin, Heed not, poor fool, thy outer light, Look to the light within. Baltimore. J. W. P. From an old volume of Predictions. IN twice two hundred years the Bear The Crescent will assail But if the Cock and Bull unite, The Bear shall not prevail. In twice ten years again Let Islam know and fear, The Cross shall stand, the Crescent wane, Dissolve and disappear. 66 GOD KNOWS IT ALL.ECIIOES.TIIE SONG OF A CAPTIVE. GOD KNOWS IT ALL. IN the dim recess of thy spirits chamber Is there some hidden grief thou mayst not tell? Let not thy heart forsake thee ; but remember His pitying eye, who sees and knows it well. God knows it all And art thou tossed on billows of temptation, And wouldst do good, but evil oft prevails? 0 think, amid the waves of tribulation, When earthly hopes, when earthly refuue fails God knows it all And dost thou sin? thy deed of shame concealing In some dark spot no human eye can see; Then walk in pride without one sigh revealing The deep remorse that should disquiet thee? God knows it all! Art thou oppressed and poor, and heavy-hearted, The heavens above thee in thick clouds ar- rayed, And well-nigh crushed; no earthly strength im- parted, No friendly voice to say, Be not afraid ? God knows it all! Art thou a mourner? are thy tear-drops flowing For one too early lost to earth and thee? The depths of grief no human spirit knowing, Which moan in secret, like the mo ning sea? God knows it all Dost thou look back upon a life of sinning? Forward, and tremble for thy future lot? There s One who sees the end from the begin- ning; Thy tear of penitence is unforgot. God knows it all Then go to God. Pour out your hearts before Him; There is no grief your Father cannot feel And let your grateful songs of praise adore Him To save, forgive, and every wound to heal. God knows it all God knows it all! From household Words. ECHOES. Srmna the angel stars are shining, Still the rippling waters flow, But the angel-voice is silent That I heard here long ago. Hark! the echoes murmur low, Long ago! Still the wood is dim and lonely, Still the plashing fountains play, But the past and all its beauty, Whither has it fled away? Hark ! the mournful echoes say, Fled away! Still the bird of night complaineth (Now, indeed, her song is pain), Visions of my happy hours, Do I call and call in vain? Hark ! the echoes cry again, All in vain! Cease, 0 echoes, mournful echoes Once I loved your voices well; Now my heart is sick and weary, Days of old, a long farewell! hark! the echoes sad and dreamy Cry farewell, farewell! From the Dublin University Magazine. THE SONG OF A CAPTIVE. FROM THE SPANISH OF zOIIiOLLA.5 ( Triste canta el prisionero, & c.) IN grated cell the captive sings, Alone and sad, his pensive strain; While like discordant music rings In harsh response his clashing chain. Wind, that in freedom dost rejoice, Give freedom to the captives voice My cheated hopes are fading fast I feel my days, my hours depart; My spirits strength succumbs at last, And ice is gathering round my heart. Ah! from my cruel solitude My sighs can reach no friendly ear; T is but the wind, a listner rude, The story of my grief can hear. Wind, that in freedom dost rejoice, Give freedom to the captives voice My loved one! could my song but fly To thee, upon the breezes borne, I should not thus be left to die, Like one deserted and forV~rn. But thou art far, 0 far away Happy unconscious of my pain; And I am singing mournful lay To the wild music of my chain. Wind, that in freedom dost rejoice, Give freedom to the captives voice How often in the mirror clear, held up to Love by Fancys hand, I fondly see delusion dear ! Thor graceful form beforo me stand. I speak to thee no voice replies I strive to clasp thee like a beam Of light obscured, the vision flies Ah ! then I feel t was but a dream. Wind, that in freedom dost rejoice, Gives freedom to the captives voice My own dear love! the life and light Of this sad heart and tearful eyes Gay be thy smiles, thy hopes be bright, And gladsome be thy melodies. While I, immured in gloomy cell, Weep for the charms I may not see My only solace is to tell These walls how dear thou art to me. Wind, that in freedous dost rejoice, Give freedom to the captives voice ! A Ca~ti1ian poet, now living. TIlE TRLXL OF ChARLES I. Irm Chambers Iicisitcry. THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. DAVID HLmIE, in his narrative of the trial of Charles I., observes: The pomp, the dignity, the ceremony of this transaction corresponded to the greatest conception that is suggested in the annals of human kind ; and he describes the spectacle presented as that of the dele- gates of a great people sitting in judgment upon their supreme magistrate, and trying him for his misgovernment and breach of trust. Tile actual manner of the proceed- ings, however, is but indifferently reflected in flumes History; and, indeed, the same remark applies to all the popular histories in the language. They necessarily represent the transaction in a summary and condensed form, stating only the general terms of the impeach- meat, the bearing and defence of the accused, and the sentence finally pronounced by the high court of justice. To obtain anything like a clear and distinct notion of the court itself, and of the manner in which its memorable business was conducted, it is needful to consult the representations of contemporary writers. Various historical memorials might be referred to, as containing a more or less authentic account of the solemnity ; but there is one in particular, entitled En~ lands Black Tri- bunal, which professes to give a formal and express report of it, with all its attendant circumstances. The substance of this report it is intended to reproduce in the present paper, abstracting and compressing only such portions as are unimportant, and so rendering the form and spirit of the ~vhole as to present a complete description and relation of this striking and renowned proceeding. We shall assume that the reader is ac- quainted ~vith the general history of the Civil Wars, and start with the fact, sufficiently well-known, that Charles, being conquered by his Parliament, was eventually brought to trial before an appointed national tribunal, called the Hi~h Court of Justice. The court consisted of upwards of 130 persons, specially nominated by the House of Commons; though, according to some statements, there were not more than seventy that actually sat upon the trial. Among these were the chief officers of the army, including Cromwell, Harrison, and Ireton, some of the leading men of the House of Commons, and a number of London citizens. The president selected was John Bradshaw, a barrister, whom Milton describes as a man of such native dignity of character, that he ap- peared like a consul, from whom the fasces are not to depart with the year ; so that not on the tribunal only, but throughout his life, you would regard him as sitting in judg- ment upon kings. The other officers of the court were Mr. Isaac Dorislaus and Mr. Aske, the counsellors who drew up the chorgo and assisted in sustaining it; Mr. Cook, or Coke, the solicitor-general for the Commonwealth; Mr. Broughton and Mr. Phelps, clerks of the court; Mr. Dandy, sergeant-at-arms, as mace- bearer; Colonel Humphreys, sword-bearer; and a suitable number of tip-staffs and mes- sengers. The proceedings opened on Saturday the 20th day of January, 1648-9, in the great hall at Westminster. The Lord President Brad- shaw, with about seventy members of the court, preceded by Colonel Fox and sixteen other gentlemen with partisans, Colonel Llumphreys, bearing the sword of state, Ser- geant Dandy with the mace, and a variety of other officers, went in order to the place pre- pared for the sitting, at the west end of the hall; where the president took his seat in a crimson velvet chair prepared for him, having a desk with a crimson velvet cushion fixed before him ; the rest of the members taking their places on each side of the chair, on benches prepared and hung with scarlet for the purpose; and the partisans dividing them- selves on the two sides of the court before them. The court being seated, and silence ordered, the great gate of the hall was opened, to admit all persons without exception who might be desirous to see and hear ; and in a short time the whole space allotted for the purpose was filled up to the entrance. Silence being again ordered, Colonel Tomlinson, who had charge of the king as prisoner, was commanded to bring him into court; and, accordingly, within a quarter of an hour, his majesty was brought in, under the escort of about twenty officers, with partisans marching before him, and Colonel Hacker and other gentlemen follow-. ing in the rear. Being thus brought within the court, th sergeant-at-arms advanced with his mace, an conducted his majesty to the bar, where- a crimson velvet chair was set for him. After- a stern looking upon the court, and the people in the galleries on each side of him, the royal prisoner took his seat, not at all mov- - ing his hat, or otherwise showing the kast respect to the court ; but presently risimigup again, he turned about, looking downwards upon the guards placed on the left side, and on the multitude of spectators on the right side of the hall. The crier of the courtmean- while once more commanded silence, and this being immediately obtained, the act of Parlia- meat for the trying of Charles Stuart, King (if England, was drdered to be read. This done, the several names of the conimnissioners- were called over, every one who was present ii sin~, up and answering to the call. The Black Tribunal contains no record of the cir- cumstance, but it is elsewhere related, that~ when the name of Fairfax was c~led over4 .a voice among the spectators exclamed :. He 67 68 TI! U RI A L OF C1I.~ ft LES I. has more wit than to be here ; and it was the people, and for the preservation of neir afterwards discovered that the bold expression rights and liberties; yet, nevertheless, out of p rOce eded from no less a persona,e than a wicked design to erect and uphold in him- L Fairfax, who, though she had long self an unlimited and tyrannical power, to seconded her husbands zeal against the royal rule according to his will, and to overthrow cause, was now filled with indignation and the rights and liberties of the people; yea, to abhorrence at the unexpected consequences of take away and make void the foundations the contest in which she had been so earnestly thereof, and of all redress and remedy of mis en~a~ed. government, which, by the fundamental con ~~lT preliminaries having been gone through stitutions of this kingdom, were reserved on in proper form and order, the lord president, the peoples behalf, in the right and power 0 in the name of the court, addressed himself to frequent and successive parliaments, ir the prisoner, acquainting him to the effect, national meetings in council; he, the said that the Commons of England, assembled in Charles Stuart, fbr accomplishment of soTh Parliament, being duly sensible of the calami- his designs, and fr the protectin~ of himself ties that had been brought upon the nation, and his adherents, in his and their wieked and regarding him, the said Charles Stuart, practices, to the same end, hath traitorously as the principal author of them all, had and maliciously levied war against the Pailia resolved to make inquisition for blood ; ment and the people therein represented. and according to that debt and duty which Then follows a long enumeration of the they owed to justice, to God, the kingdom, specific acts of war and injury for which the and themselves, and according, likewise, to said Charles Stuart was held accountable, and the fundamental power that rested in them as whereby he had caused and procured many the representatives of the nation, they had thousands of the free people of the nation to resolved to bring him, Charles Stuart, to trial be slain ; and that from time to time, both and judgment; and for that express purpose within the land and by invasion from foreign they had constituted the present High Court parts, he had renewed and maintained the of Justice, before which he had been brought, war against the Parliament and people, not- to hear the charge which was then and there withstanding solemn treaties and engagements to be preferred against him, and upon which to terminate hostilities; and that, as a con- the court would proceed to act according to sequence, many families had been undone, the principles of justice. the public treasury wasted and exhausted, Thereupon the solicitor-general for the trade obstructed and miserably decayed, vast commonwealth standing within a bar on expense and damage to the land incurred, and the right hand of the king prepared him- many parts of the land spoiled, some of them self to speak, but was interrupted by his even to desolation All which majesty, who, having a staff in his hand, held wicked designs, wars, and evil practices of it up, and laid it two or three times on Mr. him the said Charles Stuart, have been, and Cook~s shoulder, bidding him to hold. Never- are carried on, for the advancing and uphold- theless, the lord president ordering him to go ing of a personal interest of will and power, on. Mr. Cook did, by order of the court to and pretended prerogative to himself and his him directed, in the name and on the behalf family, against the public interest, conin a of the people of England, exhibit a charge of right, liberty, justice, and peace of the people high treason and other crimes, and did there- of this nation, by and for whom lie was in- with accuse the said Charles Stuart, King of trusted. The charge con eludes by pronoune- England, praying it might be read; which ing the aqid Charles Stuart to be the occi- the king interrupting, the court notwith- sioner, author, and contriver of the said on- 5tanding commanded the clerk to read it, natural, cruel, and bloody wars, and deelar- acquainting the prisoner that if he had any- ing him to be therein guilty of all the thing to say after, the court would hear him. treasons, murders, rapines, burnings, spoils. The accusation read was entitled, A desolations, damage, and mnischicfs, in foe Charge of High Treason, and other High said wars acted or committed; and it accord- Crimes, exhibited to the High Court of Jus- ingly impeached ~ the said Charles Stuart as tice, by John Cook, Esq., appointed by the a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and a public and said Court, for and on behalf of the People of implacable enemy to the commonwealth of ~England, against Charles Stuart, King of England ; and pray~ed that he might be put England. It stated and set forth; That to answer all and every the premises, that he, the said Charles Stuart, being admitted such proceedings, examinations, and judgment Kir~g of England, and therein trusted with a might be thereupon had and taken, as should limited power to govern by and according to be agreeable to justice. the laws of the land, and~iot otherwise; and His majesty, with his wonted patience, by his trust, oath, and office, being obliged , says our authority, heard all these slanders Fthat is, under obligation] to use hie power and reproaches, sitting iu his chair, and look- e imaitted to him for the good and benefit of lug sometimes on the pretended court, some- Ti12 TRIAL OF ChARLES I. times up to the galleries, and rising again, turned about to behold the guards and spec- tators: then he sat down with a majestic and unmoved countenance, and sometimes smiling, especially at the words tyrant, traitor, and the like. At this point, the silver head of his staff happened to fall off, occasioning his majesty some surprise; and as no one was near him to take it up, he stooped to do so for himself. The charge being read, President Bradshaw nddressed the prisoner in these terms : Sir, you have now heard your char0e read con- taining such matters as appear in it. You find that, in the close of it, it is prayed to the court, in behalf of the Commons of England, that you answer to your charge; the court expects ymr answer. To this his majesty replied : I would know by what power I am called hither. I was, not long ago, in the Lie of Wight ; how I came there, is a longer story than I think is fit at this time for me to speak of; but there I entered into a treaty with both Houses of Parliament, with as much public faith as t is possible to be had of any people in the world. I treated there with a number of honorable lords and gentlemen, and treated honestly and uprightly. I cannot say but they did very nobly with toe. We were upon a conclu- sion of the treaty [about to bring it to a close]. Now, I would know by what author- ity (I mean lawful ; there are many unlawful authorities in the world thieves and robbers by the highways; but J would know by what authority) I was brou~ht from thence, and carried from place to place, and I know not what; and when I know by what lawful au- thority, I shall answer. Remember I am your kin~, your I wful king, and what sins you bring upon your heads, and the judgment of God upon this land. Think well upon it, I say think well upon it, before you go further from one sin to a greater. Therelbre let me know by what authority I am seated here, and I shall not be unwillinn to answer. In the mean time, I shall not betray ray trust. I have a trust committed to moe by God, by old and lauful descent I will not betray it to answer to a new unlawful authority; there- fore resolve inc that, and you shall hear more of me. Brads/maro. If you had been pleased to have observed what was hinted to you by the court at your first coming hither, you would have known by what authority; which authority re- quires you, in the name of the people of Eng- land, of which you are elected king, to answer. King. No, sir; I deny that [that England was an elective kingdom]. B. If you acknowledge not the authority of the court, they must proceed. K. I do tell them so. England was never an elective kingdom, but an hereditary king- doni for near these thousand years; therefore let me know by what authority I am called hither. I do stand more for the liberty of my people than any here that come to be my pre- tended judges; and therefore let me know by what lawful authority I nm seated here, and I will answer it; otherwise I will not answer it. B. Sir, how you have really managed your trust is known. Your way of answer is to in- terrogate the court, which beseems not you in this condition. You have been told of it twice or thrice. K. Hero is a gentleman [pointing to~Lieu- tenant-colonel Cobbet] ; ask him if he did not bring me from the Isle of Wight by force. I do not come here as submitting to the court. I will stand as much for the privilege of the llouse of Commons, rightly understood, as any man here whatsoever. I see no house of Lords here that may constitute a Parliament, and the king too, should have been. Is this the bringing the king to his Parliament I Is this bringing an end to the treaty in the pub- lic faith of the world I Let me see a legal au- thority warranted by the word of God, the Scripture, or warranted by the constitution of the kingdom, and I will answer. The lord president here observed, that in- asmuch as the king declined to answer, the court would consider how to proceed, and that, in the mean time, his majesty was to be take back in charge of those who had guard over him. The court desires to know, said he, whether this be all the answer you will give or no I K. Sir, I desire you would give me, and all the world, satisfaction in this. Let me tell you, it is not a slight thing you are about. I am sworn to keep the peace, by that duty I owe to God and my country, and I will do it to the last breath of my body; and therefore you shall do ~velI to satisfy, first God, and then the country, by what authority you do it. If you do it by an usurped authority, that will not last long; there is a God in heaven that will cal.l you, and all tl~at give you power, to account. Satisfy me in that, and I will an- s~ver; otherwise I betray my trust, and the liberties of the people ; and therefore think of that, and then I shall be willing. For I do avow that it is as great a sin to withstand lawful authority, as it is to submit to a tyran- nical or any other unlawful authority; and therefore satisfy God and me, and all the world, in that, and you shall receive my an- swer; I am not afraid of the bill. Thus, it will be seen his majesty takes his stand upon the letter of legality; not having, apparently, any notion of the abstract and essential rights and laws of government, an- terior to use and wont. The lord president explains to him that the court expects a final answer; but that, as he chooses to refuse 69 THE TRIAL OF ChARLES I. one, it is their purpose to adjourn till Monday next; adding, that they are perfectly satisfied in regard to the authority which the king denies; that it is upon Gods authority and the kingdoms ; and that as to the peace about which his majesty expresses so much concern, they think it will best be kept in the doing of justice ; and that, said his lordship, is our present work. So, after a little further altercation between his majesty and the president, the guard was commanded to take the prisoner away; and thus the proceedings of the first day termi- natd~. At his going down, his majesty pointed with his staff to the charge as it lay npon the table, and said he did not fear it; and as he went down the stairs, the people in the hall, or some of them, cried: God save the king ! notwithstanding, says our royalist informant, some were set there by the faction to head the clamor for justice. The next day being Sunday, Bradshaw, Cromwell, and the rest of the Commissioners, kept a solemn fast at Whitehall, and heard successively three sermons from approved and popular Puritan divines. First came Mr. Sprigge, with his gloomy text: Whoso sheddeth mans blood, by man shall his blood be shed : pretty significantly intimating what the saints intended to do with Charles. Next followed Mr. Foxley, with a milder verse, and one which might serve as much for one party as the other: Judge not, lest ye be judged. And last came Mr. Hugh Peters, with a text particularly acceptable to a puritanic congregation, and of pointed appli- cation to the work in hand: J will bind their kings in chains, and their nobles in fetters of iron. One hopes the commission- ers were edified; but, as Carlyle observes, the reading faculty of the nineteenth century is quite incapable of appreciating the charm of such disconrses. On Monday, the 22d of January, the court sat again at Westminster. Silence being commanded upon pain of imprisonment, and the captain of the gu~rd enjoined to apprehend all such as should make disturbance, the king was brought up to the bar, and the solicitor- general of the Commonwealth rose up to address the court. My Lord President, said he, I did at the last sitting of the court, in the behalf of the Commons of England, exhibit and give in a char~e of hi~ h treason, and other crimes, against the prisoner at the bar, whereof I do accuse him in the name of the people of Eng- land. The charge was read to him, and his answer required; but, instead of answering, he did there dispute the authority of this court. My humble motion to this high court, in behalf of the people ~bf England, is, that ~the prisoner may be directed to muake a posi- ~tive answer, either by way of confession or negation; which, if he shall refuse to do, that then the matter of charge may be taken pro confesso, and the court proceed according to justice. Thereupon the lord president, in compli- ance with the motion, thus addressed the king: Sir, you may remember at the last court you were told the occasion of your being brought hither, and you heard a charge against you, containing a charge of high treason, and other high crimes, against this realm of England. You heard, likewise, that it was prayed in behalf of the people that you should give an answer to that charge, that thereupon such proceedings might be had as should be agreeable to justice. You were then pleased to make some scruples con- cerning the authority of this court, and knew not by what authority you were brought hither. You did divers times propound your questions, and you were as often answered, that it was by authority of the Commons of England, assembled in parliament, that did think fit to call you to account for those high and capital misdemeanors wherewith you were then charged. Since that, the court hath taken into consideration what you then said. They are fully satisfied with their own authority, and they hold it fit you should stand satisfied with it too; and they do re- quire it, that you do give a positive and par- ticular answer to this charge that is exhibited against you. They do expect you should either confess or deny it; if you deny, it is offered, in the behalf of the nation, to be made good against you. Their authority they do avow to the whole world; that the whole kingdom are to rest satisfied in, and you are to rest satisfied with it; and therefore you are to lose no more time, but to give a positive answer thereunto. K. When I was here last, t is true, I made that question; and truly, if it were only my own particular case, I should have satisfied myself with the protestation I made the last time I was here against the legality of this court, and that a king cannot be tried by any superior jurisdiction on earth; but it is not my case alone it is the freedom and liberty of the people of England; and do you pretend what you will, I stand more for their liberties. For if power without law may make laws, may alter the fundamental laws of the kingdom, I do not know what subject lie is in England that can be sure of his life, or anything that he calls his own; therefore, when that I came here, I did ex- pect particular reasons, to know by what law, what authority, you did proceed against me here; and therefore I am a little to seek what to say to you in this particular, because the affirmative is to be proved the negative often is very hard to do ; but since I cannot persuade you to do it, I shall tell you my 70 THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. reasons as short as I can. My reasons why, in conscience, and the duty I owe to God first and my people next, for the preservation of their lives, liberties, and estates, I conceive I cannot answer this till I be satisfied of the legality of it. All proceedings against any man whatsoever Here the lord president interrupted his majesty, stating that he would rather not have done so, but that the course the king was taking was not agreeable to the proceed- ings of any court of justice. What the court required was, not any further disput- ing of its authority, but a direct answer from the prisoner, whether he would answer to the charge or not, and what his answer was. His majesty objects to answer, and goes on again as follows: K. Sir, by your favor, though I do not know the forms of law, I do know law and reason; though I am no lawyer professed, yet I know as much law as any gentleman in England; and therefore (under favor) I do plead for the liberties of the people of Eng- land more than you do; and therefore if I should impose a belief upon any man without reason given for it, it were unreasonable; but I must tell you, that [using] that reason which I have, as thus informed, I cannot yield unto it. B. Sir, I must interrupt you. You speak )f law and reason; it is fit there should be law and reason, and there is both against you. Sir, the vote of the Commons of England assembled in Parliament, it is the reason of the kingdom; and they are these, too, that have given that law according to which you should have ruled and reigned. Sir, you are not to dispute our authority; you are told it again by the court. It will be taken notice of, that you stand in contempt of the court, and your contempt will be recorded accord- ingly. K. All men, let me tell you, may put in demurrers against any proceedings as legal; and I do demand that, and demand to be heard with my reasons; if you deny that, you deny reason. B. Sir, neither you nor any man are per- mitted to dispute that point. . . . You may not demur the jurisdiction of the court. If you do, I must let you know that they overrule your demurrer. They sit here by the authority of the Commons of England; and all your predecessors and you are re- sponsible to them K. I deny that; show me one prece- dent. B. Sir, you ought not to interrupt while the court is speaking to you. This point is not to be debated by ou; neither will the court permit you to do it. If you offer it by way of demurrer to the jurisdiction of the court [you are to be answered that], they have considered of their jurisdiction they do affirm their own jurisdiction. K. I say, sir, by your favor, that the Commons of England was never a court of judicature. I would know how they came to be so. B. You are not to be permitted to go on in that speech and these discourses. The clerk of the court then formally read the charge, and demanded of the king his answer. His majesty replied by saying: I will answer the same as soon as I know by what authority you do this. B. If this be all that you will say, then, gentlemen, you that brought the prisoner hither, take charge of him back again. K. I do require that I may give in my reasons why I dont answer; and that you give me time for that. B. Sir, t is not for prisoners to require. K. Prisoners, sir! I am not an ordinary prisoner. B. The court hath considerod of their ju- risdiction, and they have already affirmed their jurisdiction ; if you will not answer, we shall give order to record your default. K. You never heard my reasons yet. B. Sir, your reasons are not to be heard against the highest jurisdiction. K. Show me that jurisdiction where reason is not to be heard. B. Sir, we show it you here * the Com- mons of England; and the next time you are brought, you will know more of the pleasure of the court, and, it may be, their final de- termination. K. Show me wherever the house of Com- mons was a court of judicature of that kind. B. Serge ant, take the prisoner away. K. Well, sir, remember that the king is not suffered to give his reasons for the liberty and freedom of his subjects. B. Sir, you are not to have liberty to use this language. How great a friend you have been to the laws and liberties of the people, let all England and the world judge. K. Sir, under favor, it was the liberty, freedom, and laws of the subject that ever I took defended myself with arms; I never took up arms against the people, but for the laws. B. The command of the court must be obeyed. No answer will be given to the charge. K. Well, sir. The lord president ordered the default to be recorded, and the contempt of the court, This was an unhappy expression of Brad- shaws, which has since subjected him to no little ahuse and ridicule. He scams to say, that the Commons of England would not hear reason; hut it is plain enough he meant only that their authority was supreme in the nation, and did not admit of any logical disputing. 71 TIlE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. and that no answer would be given to the charge; and the king being guarded forth to the house of Sir Robert Cotton, the court rose, and adjourned until Tuesday at twelve oclock. The reasons which his majesty was so anxious to deliver against the jurisdiction of the court are r6ported to have been left by him in writing, for the more impartial ~ind gment of posterity. As they supply us with such defence and vindication as be may he supposed to have deemed sufficient, and as, under that view, they form an important element in the trial, it will be proper to insert them here. Whether his majesty actually wrote them, we cannot pretend to say, but there is little doubt that they express his sen- tiinents. They run, in the report from which we copy them, as follows having made my protestations, not only against the illegality of this pretended court, hut also that no earthly power can justly call me (who am your king) in question as a de- linquent; I would not any more open my mouth upon this occasion, more than to refer mayself to what I have spoken, were I in this case alone concerned. But the duty I owe to God, in the preservation of the liberty of my people, will not suffbr me at this time to be silent. For how can any free-born subject of En~land call life, or anything he possesseth, his own, if power without right daily make new, and abrogate the old fundamental law of ~he land 3 which I now take to be the present case. Wherefore, when I came hither, I expected that you would have en- deavored to have satisfied me concerning these grounds, which hinder me to answer to your pretended impeachment; but since I see that nothing I can say will move you to it (though negatives are not so naturally proved as aflirmatives), yet I will show you the reason why I am confident you cannot judge me, nor indeed the meanest man in England; for I will not (like you), without showing a reason, seek to impose a belief upon my subjects. There is no proceeding just against any inan* but what is warranted either by Gods laws, or the municipal laws of the country where he lives. Now I am most confident this days proceeding cannot be warranted by Gods law; for, on the contrary, the author- i~v and obedience unto kings is clearly war- ranted and strictly commanded both in the Old and New Testament; which, if denied, I am ready instantly to prove. And fhi the question now in hand, there it is said That where the word of a king is, there is power; and who may say unto him, What doest thou? (Eccl. viii. 4.) Then for the law of this land, I am no less confident hereabout, s ys his majesty in a note, I was stepped, and net suzfered to speak any more eoneernie rea~!e. that no learned lawyer will affirm, that an impeachment can lie against the king, they all going in his name. And one of their maxims is, That the king can do no wrong. Besides, the law upon which you ground your pro- ceedings must either be old or new; if old, show it; if new, tell what authority, war- ranted by the fundamental laws of the land, hath made it, and when. But how the house of Commons can erect a court of judicature, which was never one itself (as is well known to all lawyers), I leave to God and the world to judge. And it were full as strange that they should pretend to make laws without king or Lords House, to any that have heard speak of the laws of England. And admitting, but not granting, that the people of Englands commission could grant your pretended power, I see nothing you can show for that, for certainly you never asked the question of the tenth inca in the kingdom; and in this ~vay you manifestly wrong even the poorest ploughman, if you de- mand not his free consent. Nor can you pre- tend any color for this your pretended couomis- sion, without the consent at least ~f the major part of every man in England, of whatsoever quality or condition; which I am sure you never went about to seek, so far are you from having it. Thus you see that I speak not for my own right alone, as I am your king, but also for the true liberty of my subjects; which consists not in the power of government, but in living under such laws, such a government, as may give themselves the best assurance of their lives, and property of their goods. Nor in this must or do I forget the privile~es of both Houses of Parliament, which this days proceedings do not only violate, but likewise occasion, the greatest breach of their public faith that (I believe) ever was heard of, ~vith which [however] I am far from char~in~~ the two Houses. For all the pretended crimes laid against me bear date long before this late treaty at Newport, in which I having concluded, as much as in mne lay, and hope- fully expecting the Houses agreement there- unto, I was suddenly surprised, and hurried from thence as a prisoner, upon ~vhich account I nra, against my will, brought hither; where. since I am comae, I cannot but, to my power, defend the ancient la~vs and liberties of this kingdom, together with my own just right. Then, for anything lean see, the higher Rouse is totally excluded; and for the House of Com- mons, it is too well known that the major part of them are detained or deterred from sitting,* so as, if I had no other, this were sufficient for me to protest against the lawfulness of your. pretended court. Besides all this, the peace of the kingdom is not the least of m,y thoughts; and what hope of settlement is * Referring of course to Colonel Prides Purge. THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. there, so long as power reigns without rule or law, changing the whole frame of that gov- eminent under which this kingdom hath flourished for many hundred y~ars (Nor will I say what will fall out, in case this law- less, unjust proceeding against me do go on.) And believe it, the Commons of England will not thank you for this change, for they will remember how happy they have been of late years under the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the king my father, and myself, until the begin- ning of these unhappy troubles, and will have cause to doubt that they shall never be so hap- py under any new. And by this time it will he too sensibly evident that the arms I took up were only to defend the fundamental laws of this kin~dom against those who have supposed my power hath totally changed the ancient government. Thus Lavin~ showed you briefly the rea- sons why I cannot submit to your preten(/ed authority, without violating the trust which I have from God for the welfare and liberty of my people, I expect from yon either clear reasons to convince my judgment, showing me that I am in an error (and then truly I will answer), or that you will withdraw your proceedings. This, says his majesty, I intended to speak in Westminster Hall, on Monday, Jan- uary 22, but, against reason, was hindered to show my reasons. It will he seen that his mmijesty, like all royalists, and most of their apologists, conceives the civil wars to have originated in sheer delusion in fanatical op- position to a just and equitable administra- tion ; and that he has no idea of a latent power in the people superior to the kingly one, nor any sense of the responsibility which at ches to misgovernment. He stands solely on prerogative, and seems to regard the king- dom as a personal inheritance, of which he has been unjustly and violently dispossessed. his Puritan inipeachers profess to stand upon the inherent rights of man, to which the rights of kings and rulers are quite secondary and subordinate he and they have no one principle or standard of obligation and moral- ity in comaimmon ; and, accordingly, between them there can be neither understanding nor agreeiaent. Let us, however, pass on to the third days proceedings. At the sitting of the court on Tuesday, the 23d January, there were seventy- three members present. The king, as before, comes in with his guard, looks with an austere countenance upon the court, and sits down. The solicitor-general then rises and ob- serves, that it is now the third time that the prisoner has been brought to the bar without any issue being as yet joii~ed in the cause. My lord, says he, I did at the first court exhibit a char~e against him, containing the highest treason that ever was wroa~,ht upan the theatre of England; that a king of Eng- land, trusted to keep the law, that had taken an oath so to do, that had a tribute paid him for that end, should be guilty of a wicked design to subvert and destroy our laws, and introduce an arbitrary and tyrannical govern- ment; in the defiance of the Parliament and their authority, set up his standard for war against his Parliament and people ; and I did humbly pray, in the behalf of the people of England, that he might speedily be required to make an answer to the charge. He goes on to say, that, instead of answerin~ the prisoner did on that occasion dispute the ao- thority of the court; that delay, in conse- quence, had been given him to consider and put in his answer; and that, on being re- quired at the last sitting to give a direct and positive answer, either by denial or confession, he had demurred to the jurisdiction of the court ; which demurrer the court had over- ruled, and thereupon commanded the prisoner to give a direct answer. I shall now, said he, humbly move your lordship for speedy judgment against him. He might press the motion on the ground that the prisoner stands as contumacious in contempt, ~not having put in an issuable plea, guilty or not guilty; but he rests it rather on the fact, that the House of Commons, the supreme authority and jurisdiction of the kingdom, have declared, that it is notorious that the matter of the charge is true. My lord, says he, it is, in truth, as clear as crystal, and~ as the sun that shines at noonday; which, if your lord- ship and the court be not satisfied in, I have, on behalf of the people of England, several witnesses to produce. The cry of the inno- cent blood that has been shed, he adds, is very great for justice ; and, therefore, he concludes, I do humbly pray that speedy judgment be pronounced against the prisoner at the bar. The Lord President Bradshaw, upon this, addressed the king as follows: Sir, you have heard what is moved by the counsel in behalf of the kingdom against you. You may well remember and if you do not, the court cannot forget what dilatory deal- ing the court hath found at your hands. You were pleased to propound some questions; you have had our resolutions upon them. You were told over and over again, that the court did affirm their own jurisdiction ; that it was not for you, nor any other man, to dispute the jurisdiction of the supreme and highest authority of England, from which there is no appeal, and touching which there must be no dispute; yet you did persist in such carriage, as you gave no manner of obe- dience, nor did you acknowledge any authority in them, nor the high court that constituted this court of justice. Sir, I must let you know 73 THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. from the court, that they are very sensible of these delays of yours, and that they ought not, being thus authorized by the Supreme Court of Eugl~nd,to be thus trifled withal; and that they might in justice, if they pleased, and according to the rules of justice, take ad- vantage of these delays, and proceed to pronounce jud~ment against you; yet, never- theless, they are pleased to give direction, and on their behalfs 1 do require you, that you make a positive answer unto this charge that is against you. Sir, in plain terms for justice knows no respect of persons you are to give your positive and final answer in plain English, whether you be guilty or not guilty of these treasons laid to your charge.l The kin ~, after a little pause, said: When I was here yesterday, I did desire to speak for the liberties of the people of England; I was interrupted; I desire to know yet whether Ii may speak freely or not. B. Sir, you have had the resolution of the court upon the like question the last day; and you were told, that having such a charge of so high a nature against you, your work was, that you ought to acknowledge the juris- diction of the court, and to answer to your charge. Sir, if you answer to your charge which the court gives you leave now to do, though they might have taken the advantage of your contemptyet if you be able to answer to your charge, when you have once answered, you shall be heard at large make the best defence you can. But, sir, I must let you know from the court, as their com- mands, that you are not to be permitted to issue out into any other discourses, till such time as you have given a positive answer concerning the matter that is charged upon you. K. For the charge, I value it not a rush; it is the liberty of the people of England that I stand for. For me to acknowledge a new court that I never heard of before I that am your king, that should be an example to all the people of England, to uphold justice, to maintain the old laws indeed, I do not know how to do it. You spoke very well the first day that I came here (on Saturday) of the obligations that I had laid upon me by God, to the maintenance of the liberties of my people. The same obligation you spake of, I do acknowledge to God that I owe to Him and to my people, to defend, as much as in me lies, the ancient laws of the kingdom therefore, until I may know that this is not against the fundamental laws of the kingdom, by your favor, I can put in no particular answer. If you will give me time, I will then show you my reasons why I cannot do it; and this Here, being interrupted, he said: By your favor, you ought not to interrupt me. ilow I caine here I know not; there s no law to make your king your prisoner. I was lately in a treaty upon the public faith of the kingdom; that was, the known the two Houses of Parliament, that was the representative of the kingdom; and when I had almost made an end of the treaty, then I was hurried away and brought hither; and therefore B. Sir, you must know the pleasure of the court. K. By your favor, sir B. Nay, sir, by your favor, you may not be permitted to fall into these discourses; you appear as a delinquent; you have not acknowledged the authority of the court; the court craves it not of you ; and, once more, they command you to give your positive answer. Clerk, do your duty. K. Duty, sir! The clerk accordingly reads : Charles Stuart, King of England, you are accused in the behalf of the Commons of England of divers high crimes and treasons ; which charge hath been read unto you. The court now requires you to give your positive and inal answer, by way of cuntbssion or denial of the charge. K. Sir, I say again unto you, so that I might give satisfaction to the people of Eng- land of the clearness of my proceedings not by way of answer, riot in this way but to satisfy them that I have done nothin~ against that trust that hath been committed to me, I would do it; but to acknowledge a new court against their privileges to alter the funda- mental laws of the kingdom, sir you must excuse me. B. Sir, this is the third time that you have publicly disowned the court, and put an affront upon it. how fhr you have preserved the privileges of the people, your actions have spoken; but truly, sir, muons intentions ought to be known by their actions; you have written your meaning in bloody charac- ters throughout the whole kingdom. But, sir, you understand the pleasure of the court. Clerk, record the dehimult. And, gentlemen, you that took charge of the prisoner, take him back again. K. I will only say this one word to you if it were only my own particular, I would not say any more, nor interrupt you. B. Sir, you have heard the pleasure of the court; and you are (notwithstanding you will not understand it) to find that you are before a court of justice. Thc king then went forth under guard, and proclamation was made, that all persons who had further to do with the court, might depart into the Painted Chamber; whither the court forth~vith adjourned, intending to meet again in Westminster Hall at ten oclock next morning. Accordingly, on Wednesday, January 24, it 74 75 TIlE TRIAL OF ChARLES I. was cxpetec. tn court would sit, as on K. I desire a word to be heard a little, and the d~i be~oi~ pied utned but at the time I hope I shall give no occasion of interrup appointed an u~oei appeared, and gave notice tion to the peopiC a~semhled, that the court B. You may answer in your time ; hear then sittin~ in the Painted Chamber was the court first. engaged in tekw~ into consideration how the K. If it please you, sir, I desire to be witnesses socoll cc examined, in relation to heard, and I shall not give any occasion of present ntUirs, and therefore they could not interruption; and it is only a word; a sudden yet resume their sittings in the hall, but that judgment all persons appinted to be there were to B. Sir, you shall be heard in due time; appear upon further summons. It would ap- but you are to hear the court first. pear that the whole of Wednesday w~is occu- K. Sir, I desire it; it will be in order to pied in the private exaniination of witnesses; what I believe the court to say; and there- sonic thirty-three of whom deposed on oath fore, sir, a hasty judgment is not so soon re- that they had severally seen his majesty at called the head of his army, with his sword drawn, B. Sir, you shall be heard before the judg- and actually in several battles and that he ment be given, and in the mean time you may levied forces and gave commissions and so forbear. lbrth, as stated in the charge against him. K. Well, sir, shall I be heard before the Most of these witnesses were soldiers, and judgment be given I bad borne arms on the side of the Parliament. B. [Addressing the court and the people They were brought up from several different present.] Gentlemen, it is well known to aU or coumities; ~oine of them being described as most of you here present, that the prisoner belonging to the class of tradesmen, a few as at the bar bath been several times convented laborers, and the rest as gentlemen. On and brought before the court, to make an- Thursday they were sworn in open court, in swer to a charge of treason and other high the Painted Chamber, and their depositions crimes, exhibited against him, in the name taken upon the whole matter. The court of the people of England [Here an then passed the following resolutions : honorable lady interrupted the court, saying: That this court will proceed to sentence of Not half the people, or, as some report: condemnation against Charles Stuart, King of Not a tenth part of them ; and it is said England. that, on investigation being made as to who That the condemnation of the king shall was the disturber, the speaker was discovered, be for a tyrant, tray/or and murtherer. as on the former day, to be the Lady Fairfax. That the condemnation of the king shall She was instantly silenced, however, and be likewise for being a public enemy to the the president went on :] to which charge, Commonwealth of En~land. continued he, being required to answer, he That this condemnation shall extend to hath been so far from obeying the commands death. of the court, by submitting to their justice, On Friday, January 26, the court, still as he began to take upon him to offer reason- sitting in the Painted Chamber, was engaged ing and debate upon the authority of the in considering the draught of a sentence court, and upon the highest court that con- against the king; and after several readings, stituted them to try and judge him; but be- debates, and amendments, it was resolved: ing overruled in that, and required to make That this court do agree to the sentence his answer, he was still pleased to continue now read. contumacious, and to refuse to submit or That the said sentence shall be engrossed. answer. Hereupon the court, that they may That the king be brought to Westminster not be wanting to themselves, nor the trust Hall to-morrow to receive his sentence. reposed in them, nor that any mans wilful- We caine now to the culmination of pro- ness prevent justice, they have thought fit to ceedings. On Saturday the 27th, the High take the matter into consideration; they Court sat for the fourth time in Westminster have consulted of the charge; they have con- Ilall, there being present sixty-seven members, sidered of the contumacy, and of that con- whose names are all preserved in the Black fession which in law doth arise upon that Tribunal, but need not be here repeated. The contumacy; they have likewise considered of Lord President Bradshaw took the chair in his the notoriety of the fact charged upon the scarlet robes a color which our anonymous prisoner; and upon the whole matter, they reporter thinks was particularly suitable to the are resolved, and have agreed upon a sentence days work. As the king came into the to be now pronounced against this prisoner; court, in his usual posture, with his hat on, a but, in respect he doth desire to be heard be- cry was made in the hell lily some of the fore the sentence be read and pronounced, the soldiers for justice ! justice! and execution. court bath resolved that they will hear him. When silence had been commanded, his Yet, sir [turning to the prisoner], thus much majesty began II must tell you beforehand, which you must 13 TIlE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. have been iniocled of at other courts, that if that you have tO say be to offer any debate concerning jurisdiction, you are not to be heard in it. You have offered it formerly, and you have indeed struck at the root that is, the power and supreme authority of the Commons of Eu~land, which this court will not admit a debate of, and which, indeed, is an irrational thing in th emto do, hem a court that acts upin authority derived from them. But, sir, if you have anythin~ to say in defence of yourselt concerning the matters charged, the court hath given me command to let you know they will hear you. K. Since [ see that you will not hear any- thing of debate concerning that which I con- fess I thought most material for the peace of the kingdom, and for the liberty of the sub- ject, I shall waive it; I shall speak nothiin~ to it ; but only I must tell you, that this many a day all things have been taken away from mae, but that which I call more dear to me than may life which is my conscience end my honor; and if I had respect to my inure than the peace of the kingdom, and the liberty of the sabject, certainly I should have made a particular defence for myself; for by that at leastwise I might have delayed an ugly sentence which I believe will pass upon moe. Iherefore certainly, sir, as a man that bath sommie understanding, some knowl- edge of the world, if that my true zeal to my country had not overoorne the care that I have of my own preservation, I should have gone another way to work than that I have done. Now, sir, I conceive that a hasty sentence once past, may he sooner repented than re- called ; and truly the selfsamue desire that I have for the peace of the kingdom, und the liberty of the subject, more than may own par- ticular ends, makes rue now at last desire, that I have something to say that concerns both, l)efore sentence be given, that I may be heard in the Painted Chamber before the Lords and Coin mons. This delay cannot be prejudicial to you, whatsoever I say. If that I say no reason, those that hear nine must be jud0es. If it be reason, and really for the welibre of the kingdom, and the liberty of the suli~ject, I ama sure on it, it is very well worth the hearing ; therefore I do conjure you, as you love that you pretend I hope it is real the liberty of the subject, the peace ~f the kingdom, that you will grant me the hearing before any sentence be passed. I only desire this, that you will take this into your consideration it may be you have not heard of it beforehand. If you will, I 11 retire, and you may think of it; but if I cannot get this liberty, I do here pro- test, that these fair shows of liberty and peace are pure shows, and that you will not hear your KING. B. Sir, you have now spoken. K. Yes, sir. B. And this that you have said is a further declining of the jurisdiction of this court, which was the thing wherein you were limited before K. Pray excuse me, sir, for my interruption, because you mistake me. It is not a declining of it; you do jud~e me before you hear me speak. B. Sir, this is not altogether new that you have moved to us, thou,h the first time in person ~iou have offored it to tIme court. You say you do not decline the jurisdiction of the court. K. Not in this that I have said. B. I under~tand you well, sir; but, never- tImeless, that which you have ofihred seems to be contrary to that saying of yours; for the court are ready to give a sentence. It is not as you say; that they mciii not hear their king; for they have been ready to linear you they have patiently waited your pleasure for three courts to~ether, to hear what you would say to the peoples charge against you; to which you have not vouchsafed to give any answer at all. Sir, this tends to a further delay. Truly, sir, such delays as these neither may the kingdom nor justice well bear; you have had three several days to have offered in this kind what you would have pleased. This court is founded upon the authority of time Commons of England, in whom rests the supreme jurisdiction ; that which you now tender is to have another jurisdiction, and a cohrdinate jurisdiction. I know very well you express yourself that notwithstanding what you would offer to the Lords and Commimuons in tIme Painted Chamber, you would, nevertheless, proceed on here. I did hear you say so ; but, sir, that [which] you would offer there, whatever it is, must needs be in delay of justice Imere so as if this court be resolved and prepared for the sentence, this that you offer they are not bound injustice to grant; but, sir, accord- ing to what you seem to desire, and because you shall know the further pleasure of the court upon that which you Imave moved, the court will withdraw for a time. The court withdraws, accordingly, for half an hour into the Court of Wards, amid shortly sends commands to the sergeant-at-arums to have the prisoner withdrawn until they order his return. When the umemmibers of tao court come back; the prisoner is recalled, and the lord president thus proceeds: Sir, you were pleased to make a motion here to the court, to offer a desire of yours touciming the propounding of somewhat to the Lords in the Paia~ed Chamber for the peace of the king- dom. Sir, you did in effect receive an answer before the court adjourned. Truly sa their withdrawing and adjournmemmt was pm oformms tantum [for forms sake only], for it did not seem to them that there was any difficulty ma THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. the thing. They have [however] considered of what you have moved, and have considered of their own authority, which is founded, as hath been often said, upon the supreme au- thority of the Commons of England assembled in Parliament. The court acts according to their commission, sir. The return I have to you from the court is this that they have been too much delayed by you already; and this that you now offer hath occasioned some little further delay ; and they are jud~es ap- pointed by the highest authority ; and judges are no more to delay than they are to deny justice. On all which considerations, he con- cludes by saying, the court are resolved to proceed to sentence and judgment, and that such is their unanimous resolution. Sir, returned the kind, I know it is in vain for me to dispute. I am no sceptic to deny the power that you have; I know that you have power enough. But, sir, I think it would have been for the kingdoms peace, if you would have taken the pains to have shown the lawfulness of your power. For this delay that I have desired, I confess it is a de- lay very important for the peace of the king- dom; for it is not my person that I look on alone it is the kingdoms welfare and the kingdoms peace. It is an old sentence, that we should think on long before we have resolved of great matters suddenly; therefore, sir, I do put at your doors all the inconveniency of a hasty sentence. I confess I have been here now, I think, this week this day eight days was the day I came here first; but a little de- lay of a day or two further may give peace; whereas a hasty judgment may bring on that trouble and perpetual inconveniency to the kingdom, that the child that is unborn may repent it; and therefore, again, out of the duty I owe to God and to my country, do de- sire that I may be heard by the Lords and Commons in the Painted Chamber, or any other chamber that you will appoint me. B. You have been already answered to what you have even now moved, being the same you moved before, since the resolution and the judgment of the court in it; and the court now requires to know whether you have any more to say for yourself than you have said, before they proceed to sentence. K. I say this, sir, that if you hear me if you will give me but this delay I doubt not but I shall give some satisfaction to you all here, and to my people after that; and there- fore I do require you, as you will answer it at the dreadful day of judgment, that you will consider it once again.* ~ Hume and others have supposed that the king, had he been admitted to the desired interview with the Lords and Commons, intefided formally to abdicate the crown in favor of his son ; but there appears to be no reliable authority for the suppo- sition. To this entreaty the president replied, that he had received instructions from the court to proceed to sentence. lIe then ~vent on, says our reporter, in a long harangue, endeavoring to justify the courts proceedings, misapply- ing law and history, and raking up and wrest- ing whatsoever he thought fit for his purpose, alleging the examples of former treasons and rebellions, both at home and abroad, as au- thentic proofs; and concluding that the king was a tyrant, traytor, murtherer, and publie enemy to the Commonwealth of l%gland. In other words, the lord president did exactly what it is the habit of judges to do in other criminal cases; he went over the evidence brought before him, commented upon it ac- cording to his own impressions, and pronounced such a decision in regard to it as seemed ac- cordant with his sense of right and justice. Whether the proceedings of the regicides are to be approved or condemned, there seems to be no season for believing that they acted otherwise than under the sternest convictions that they were actin~ justly. It would natur- ally appear to them, that if a rebel a~ainst kingly authority could, under any circum- stances, be rightly put to death, it was equally right, and not the less expedient, that a rebel and declared enemy of the Commonwealth such as they esteemed the kin0 to be should be judged by the like process, and disposed of by infliction of the like penalty. As sentence was about to be delivered, his majesty expressed a wish to say a word or two concerning the heavy imputations on which the president had rather earnestly insisted; but the latter, reminding him that he had disavowed the court, declared that it was then too late to hear anything of the kind proposed. Sir, said he, we have given you too much liberty already, and admitted of too much delay, and we may not admit of any further. !Were it proper for us to do [so], we should hear you freely, and we should not have declined to have heard you at large what you could have said or proved on your behalf, wbethe~ for totally excusing, or for in part excusing, those great and heinous charges that, in whole or in part, are laid upon you. But, sir, I shall trouble you no longer; your sins are of so large a dimension, that if you do but seriously think of them, will drive you to a sad consider tion they may improve in you a sad and s~ious repent- ance; and that the court doth heartily wish that you may be so penitent for what you have done amiss, that 41Thd may have mercy, at leastwise, upon your better part. Truly, sir, for the other, it is our parts and duties to do that which the law prescribes. . . What sentence the law affirms to a traitor, tyrant, murderer, and public enemy to the country, that sentence you are now to hear 77 THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. read to you, and that is the sentence of the court. Silence was then formally commanded while the sentence should be read; and this heing obtained, the clerk, Mr. Broughton, read from an engrossed parchment to this effect: That the Commons of England in Parlia- ment had appointed the present High Court of Justice for the trying of Charles Stuart, King of England; that the said Charles Stuart had accordingly been three times convented, nd at the first time a charge of high treason, and other crimes and misdemeanors, was read in behalf of the Kingdom; that on the reading of such charge the said Charles Stuart was required to give his answer, but had re- fused to do so ; that, nevertheless, the treasons and crimes aforesaid being notoriously un- deniable, this court doth adjudge that the said Charles Stuart, as a tyrant, traytor, mur- therer, and a public enemy, shall be put to death, by the severing of his head from his body. This, therefore, was the sentence, which being read, Bradshaw added: The sentence now read and published is the act, sentence, judgment, and resolution of the whole court. And here the court stood up, and assented to what the president affirmed. K. Will you hear me a word, sir B. Sir, you are not to be heard after the sentence. K. No,sir! B. No, sir; by your favor, sir. Guard, withdraw your prisoner. K. I may speak after the sentence, by your favor, sir; I may speak after the sentence ever. By your favor, hold; the sentence, sir I say, sir, I do I am not suffered to speak expect what justice the people will have! Here the voice of the crier rose, proclaimin~r: Oyez! All manner of persons that have anything else to do are to depart at this time, and to give their a.ttendance in the Painted Chamber, to which place this court doth forthwith adjourn itself. God bless the king- dom of England ! On being seated in the Painted Chamber, the court appointed a committee, consisting of Sir Hardress Waller, Colonel Harrison, Com- mander General Ireton, Colonel Dean, and Colonel Okey, to consider of the time and place for the execution of the king, according to his senten~be ; and this done, the court adjourned itself till Monday morning at eight oclock. Meanwhile, his majesty being taken away by the guards, was subjected to some ill-treat- ment. As he passed down the stairs, says the Tribunal, the insolent soldiers scoffed at him, casting the snioke of their tobacco (a thing very distasteful unto him) in his face he, however, according to his wonted heroic patience, took no more notice of so sti~ange and barbarous an indignity than to ~vipe it off with his handkerchief. As lie passed along, some of the soldiers raised a cry of Justice justice ! Poor souls, said he, for a piece of money they would do the same to their commanders. Being brought to Sir Robert Cottons, and thence to Whitehall, the soldiery still continued their inhuman carriage to- wards him, and even abused all that seemed to show any respect or pity to him; not suffering him to rest in his chamber, but thrusting in, and smoking their tobacco, and disturbing his privacy. However, such indignities as ~verc inflicted on him, we are inforiaed, he bore with such a calm and even temper, that he let fall nothing unhe- seeming his former majesty and immannanimi- ty. There is no question that, in his humilia- tion, the kings bearing was every way com- posed and dignified. In the evening of Saturday, his majesty expressed a desire, communicated by a mnem- her of the army to the committee, that he might see his children, and that Dr. Juxon, a the Bishop of London, might be admitted t~ assist him in his devotions, and to admainister to him the sacrament. Both requests were granted. On Sunday he was attended by his guard to St. James, where the bishop preached before him. The only members of his family who remained in England were the Princess Elizabeth and his youngest son, the Duke of Gloucester. The boy was a macre child, and the princess still of tender years. When they were brought to see him, he ex- pressed himself very glad that they had come and, drawing the princess near to him, he bade her remember to tell her brother James, whenever she should see him, that it was his fathers last desire that he should no more look upon Charles as his eldest brother only, but be obedient unto hima as his sovereign and that they should love one another, and forgive their fathers enemies. But, as if doubt- ing whether she would remember what he told her, he said: Sweetheart, you II forget this! No, said she, I shall never forget it whilst I live. And, with many tears, she promised to write down the particu- lars. The king wished her not to grieve and torment herself on his account, as, he said, the death he was about to die would be a glorious one, it being for the laws and lib- erties of the land, and for maintaining the true Protestant religion. lie recommended her to read tJ~e seriaons of Bishop Andrews, Hookers Ecclesiastical Polity, and Bishop Lauds book against Fisher, which, said he, would ground her against Popery. Lastly, he bade her tell her mother that his thou~hts never strayed from her, and that his love should be the same to the very last. So, biddino her send his blessina to the rest of h~r brothers 78 THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. and sisters, with commendation to all his friends, he gave her also his final blessing, and she took her leave. But while she still remained, he took the Duke of Gloucester on his knee, saying: Sweetheart, they are going to cut oft thy fathers head ; upon which words the child, as if much surprised, looked very steadfastly on him. Mark, child, what J say; they will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee a king; but mark what I say you must not be a king so long as your brothers Charles and James do live for they will cut offyour brothers heads when they can catch them, and cut off thy head, too, at last; therefore, I charge you, do not he made a king by them. The child, with a great sigh, replied I will he torn to pieces first. And so prompt and apt an answer, falling so unexpectedly from one so young, made the king rejoice exceedingly. Every night after his condemnation, his majesty is reported to have slept as sound as usual. On the 29th, the court met again in the Painted Chamber, to consider the resolu- tion of the committee, which was: That the opea street before Whitehall is a fit place, and that the king be there executed on the morro~v. Of this the king had al- ready received notice, and the court approved thereof, ordering a warrant to be drawn ac- cordingly. The warrant runs as follows: Whereas Charles Stuart, King of Eng- land, is, and standeth convicted, attainted, and condemned of High Treason, and other high crimes, and sentence upon Saturday last was pronounced against him by this court, to be put to death by the severing of his head from his body; of which sentence execution yet remains to be done: These are therefore to will and require you to see the said sentence executed in the open street before Whitehall, upon the morrow, being the 30th day of this instant month of January, between the hours of ten in the morning and five in the after- noon of the same day, with full effect: And for so doin~, this shall be your warrant. And these are to require all officers and sol- diers, and other the good people of this nation of England, to be assisting unto you in this service. The document is addressed, to Colonel Francis Hacker, Colonel Hunks, and Lieu- tenant-colonel Phray, and is sealed and~sub- scribed by J. Bradshaw, 0. Cromwell, and fifty-seven other gentlemen. There only remained now to send an order to the offi- cers of the Ordnance within the Tower of London, for the bright execution-axe for the executing of malefactors ; and this being, with all submission, delivered to the sergeant- at-arms, or his deputy or deputies, every- thing was prepared and in~readiness for the great tragedy. The morning of Tuesday the 30th of Janu ary dawns like other winter mornings; and, quite early, the commissioners are met together in the Painted Chamber, to consider and do what in the last hours seems to them re- quired. They do nothing in particular, ex- cept to order four or five of their ministers to attend upon the king at St. James with tho offer of their spiritual services; but his maj- esty, well knowing what miserable coaiforteis they were like to prove, refused to have any con- ference with them. That mornin~ tie kio~, having slept soundly for about four hours. awoke near two hours before dayli~ht md c~ Ii- lug to Mi. Herbert, one of his attend uts lay by his bedside, requested hun to ba. For, said the king, I will get up htx~ng a great work to do tlhis day. Hcrbert ha continued, this is my second marrjaoe div ; will be as trim to-day as may be tor befora ninht, L hope to be espoused to may blessal Jesus. He then appointed what clothes ha would wear. And, said he, let mmmc have a shirt on more than ordinary, by reason that the season is so sharp, as probably may make me shake, which some observers will imagine proceeds from fear. I would have no such imputation ; I fear not death; death is not terrible to me: I bless my God I am pre- pared. Soon after the king was dressed, the Bishop of London, Dr. Juxon, arrived, precisely at the time his majesty had before appointed. The bishop and the king spent an hour together in private; then calling ~ir. Herbert, his lordship prayed in the prayers of the church, reading the 27th chapter om St. Matthew, which relates the passion of our Saviour. After service, the king thanked the bishop for making choice of that chapter, it being, as he observed, so applicable to his present condition. The bishop replied: May it please your gracious majesty, it is the proper lesson for the day, as appears by the calendar ; at which the king was much af- fected, and thought it a providential prepa- ration for his death. About ten oclock, Colonel hacker knocked gently at the chamber door; and, knocking louder a second time, the king commanded Herbert to go and open it. On being ad- mitted, Hacker came in trembling, and told his majesty it was time to go to White- hall, where he might have further time to rest. The king answered: Well, go forth; I will come presently. Soon after be arose, and, taking the bishop by the hand, said; Come, let us go ; and turning to Mr. Herbert, he said: Open the door; Hacker has given us a second warning. They passed through the garden * into the park, where several companies of infantry were drawn up, and formed a guard on each side of the path- * The garden of St. James Palace where the king since his trial had been kept. 79 I7HE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. way the bishop walking on the kings right hand, and Colonel Tomlinson on his left, both bareheaded. The king walked very fast; and calling on them to walk faster, told them: He now went before them, to strive for a heavenly crown, with less solicitude than he had often encouraged his soldiers to fight for an earthly diadem. At the end of the park, the king was conducted up the stairs leading to the Long Gallery, and so into the Cabinet Chamber, where, after several prayers and pious discourses, about twelve he ate a bit of~ bread, and drank a glass of claret. Soon after, Colonel Hacker came to the chamber door, and gave his last signal. The bishop and Mr. ilerbert, weeping, fell upon their knees, and the king gave them his hand to kiss; and, helping up the aged bishop, said: Open the door ; and he then directed Hacker to go on, saying: I will follow. He was then conducted through the banquet- ing-house, by a passage made through a window, to the scaffold; on reaching which, he found so many companies of foot and troops of horse placed to keep off the specta- tors, that he perceived it would be impossible fbr him to address the people, so as to be heard by them, as he intended. What he wished to say, therefore, he addressed to the few persons who were immediately about him, and particularly to Colonel Tomlinson, to whose care he had latterly been committed. his speech, as reported in the Black Tribunal, was as follows : [ shall be very little heard of anybody; I shall therefore speak a word unto you here. Imideed, I could hold my peace very well, if I did not think that holding my peace would make scone men think that I did submit to the guilt, as well as to the punishment; but I think it is my duty to God first, and to my country, to clear myself, both as an honest man, a good king, and a good Christian. I shall begin first with my innocence. In troth, I think it not very needful for me to insist long upon this, for all the world knows that I never did begin a war with the two Houses of Parliament and I call God to witness - to whom I must shortly make an account that I never did intend to encroach upon their privileges ; they began upon me it was the militia they began upon; they confessed that the militia was mine, but they thought it fit to have it from me. And, to be short, anybody who will look to the dates of commissions, of their commissions and mine, and likewise to the declarations, will see clearly that they began these unhappy troubles not I; so that the guilt of these enormous crimes, that are laid against me, I hope in God that God will clear me of it. I will not (I am in charity), God forbid that I should, lay it upon the two Houses of Parliament; there is no necessity of either I hope they are free of this guilt; for I do believe that ill instruments between them and me have been the chief cause of all this bloodshed. So that, by way of speaking, as I find myself clear of this, I hope (and pray God) that they may [be clear] too ; yet, for all this, God forbid that I should be ~so ill a Christian as not to say that Gods judgments are just wp~vr~ me. Many times he does pay justice by un- just sentence; that is ordinary. I will only say this ; that an unjust sentence,* which I suffered to take effect, is punished now by an unjust sentence upon me. That is, so far as I have said [or, what I have so fhr advanced is], to show you that I am an innocent man. Now, to show you that I am a good Chris- tian. I hope there is [here] a good man (pointing to Dr. Juxon) that will bear me witness, that I have forgiven all the world, and even those in particular that have been the chief causers of my death; who they are, God knows; I do not desire to know; I pray God forgive them. But this is not all my charity must go further ; I wish that they may repent, for indeed they have committed a great sin in that particular. I pray God, with St. Stephen, that this be not laid to their charge; nay, not only so, but that they may take the right way to the peace of the king- dom; for my charity commands me, not only to forgive particular men, but to endeavor to the last gasp [to promote] the peace of the kingdom. So, sirs, I do with all my soul (and I hope there is some here will carry it further) that the y may endeavor [after] the peace of the kingdom. Now, sirs, II must show you, both how you are out of the way, and will put you in the way. First, you are out of the way; for certainly all the way you ever have had yet, as I could find by anything, is in the way of con- quest. Certainly, this is an ill way; for conquest, sir, in my opinion, is never just, except there be a good cause, either for mat- ter of wrong or just title; and then, if you go beyond it, the first quarrel that you have [in regard] to it, makes that unjust at the end which was just at first. But if it be only matter of conquest, then it is a great robbery; as a pirate said to Alexander that he [the emperor] was a great robber, and he was but a petty robber. And so, sir, I do think the way that you are in is much out of the way. Now, sir, to put you in the way. Be- lieve it, you will never do right, nor will God e.ver ~rospe~ you, until you give God his due, the king his due (that is, my successors), and the people their due. I am as much for them as any of you. You must give God his due by regulating rightly his Church (accord- ing to his Scripture), ~vhich is now out of order4 To set you in a way particularly ~ The sentence againt Strafford. ~ His majesty of course means, that you must 80 THE TRIAL OF CHARLES I. now I cannot, but only this: A National Sy- nod freely called, freely debating amona themselves, must settle this when that every opinion is freely and clearly beard. For the king, indeed I will not (Here, turning to a gentleman who happened to touch the axe, he said: Hurt not the axe that may hurt me.) For the king, he continued, the laws of the land will clearly instruct you for that therefore, because it concerns my own particular, I only give you a touch of it. For the people : And truly I desire their liberty and freedom as much as anybody whosoever; hut I must tell you, that their liberty and freedom consist in having, for government, those laws by which their lives and their goods may be most their own. It is not for having share in govern- ment, sir that is nothing pertaining to them; a subject and a sovereign are clean different thin~,s ; and, therefore, until they do that I mean that you do put the people in [the way ofj that liberty, as I say certainly they will never enjoy themselves. Sirs, it was for this that now I am come here. If I would have given way to an arbi- trary way, to have all laws changed accord- ing to the power of the sword, I needed not to have come here ; and therefore I tell you (and I pray God it be not laid to your charge) that I am the MARTYR of the people. In troth, sirs, I shall not hold you much longer, for I will only say this to you; that in truth [could have desired some little time longer, because I would have put this that I have said in a little more order, and [would have] a little better digested [it] than I have done; and therefore I hope you will excuse me. I have delivered may conscience; I pray God that you do take those courses that are best for the good of the kingdom and your own salvation. The king seemed here as though he had concluded, but the bishop, addressing him, observed: Though it be very well known what your majestys affections are to the Protestant religion, yet it may be expected that you should say somewhat for the worlds satisfaction in that particular. I thank you heartily, my lord, returned the kino; I had almost for~otten it. In troth, sirs, my conscience in religion, I think, is very well known to all the world; and, therefore, I do declare, before you all, that I die a Christian, according to the profession of the Church of England, as I found it left me by my father; and this honest man (pointing to Juxon) I think will witness it. Then turning to the officers, he said: Sirs, excuse me for this; I have a good cause, and I have restore Prelacy, and maintain the Church accord- ing to the notions and discipline of Archbishop Laud. coccic. LIVING AGE. VOL. III. 6 81 a gracious God; I will say no more. To Colonel hacker he said : Take care they do not put me to pain ; and to a gentleman coming near the axe again, he exclaimed: Take heed of the axe, sirpray take heed of the axe. Next, speaking to the execu- tioner, he said: I shall say. but short prayers; and when I thrust out my hands then ! He now called to Dr. Juxon for his night- cap, and put it on; and being desired by the executioner to put his hair under the cap, he did so accordingly, with the help of the execu- tioner and the bishop. Then turning to Juxon, he said (perhaps, as if half in doubt), I have a good cause, and a gracious God on my side. The bishop answered: There is but one stage more this stage is turbulent and troublesome, but it is a short one you may consider it will soon carry you a very great way it will carry you from earth to heaven, and there you will find a great deal of cordial joy and comfort. I go, re- joined the king, from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where there can be no disturbance. You are exchanged, added the bishop, from a temporal to an eternal crown; a truly good exchange. Then the king, asking the executioner: Is my hair well? took off his cloak and his George, and, giving the latter to Dr. Juxon, said impress- ively: Remember! Looking at the block, he bade the executioner to make it fast; and on being assured that it was fast, he said When I put my hands out this way stretching them out to show then After that, having uttered a few words to himself, as he stood with hands and eyes up- lifted, he stooped down and laid his neck upon the block. As the executioner again adjusted his hair under his cap, the king, thinking lie was going to strike at once, called to him: Stay for the sign. After a short pause, his majesty stretched forth his hands, and thereupon the executioner (who was all the while in a mask) at one blow severed his head from his body; and an assistant, taking it up, held it streaming with blood before the spectators, crying : This is the head of a traitor ! We stay not to imagine the sensations of horror, or other feelings, that took possession of the people. Let it suffice here to relate that, after the execution, the head and body were put into a coffin covered with black velvet, and carried into the kings lodging- chamber in Whitehall. Application was made to the men in power for leave to bury the remains in King Henry VII.s Chapel, in Westminster Abbey; but the request was denied, on the grounds that the spectacle might attract great numbers of the people to the place a circumstance which, it was thought, would be unsafe and inconvenient. THE TRIAL OF CHARLES T. Leave, however, was upon a second the matter; the compiler or author of our oiven, address, for the interment to take place in St. Black Tribunal having obtained direct from Georg& s Chapel, Windsor. The body was Mr. John Sewel, a Register at Windsor embahoed, and placed in a lead coffin, to be Castle, the following certificate or memo- seen for some days by the people ; and at random: Anno 1696, Sept. 21. The same Ien~?th on the 7th of February, it was carried vault in which King Charles I. was buried, from St. James in a hearse drawn by six was opened, to lay in a still-born child of the horses, with four coaches following, and so then Princess of Denmark, our late gracious brought to Windsor Castle. Here the order queen. We read further in the Tribunal: for interment was shown to the governor, On the kings coffin, the velvet pall was Colonel Whichcott. The arrangements for strong and sound, and there was about the the burial were committed to the Duke of coffin a leaden band, with this inscription Richmond, the Marquis of Hertford, the cut through it, KING CHARLES, 1648. As Earls of Southampton and Lindsey, and the a further memorandum relating to King Bishop of London; the government a1lowin~ Charles interment, he says: That when 5001. for the expenses. Their lordships the body of King Charles 1. lay in state in a~ont the placin~ the kin s body in a vault the Deans Hall, the Duke of Richmond had arced on middle of the choir, over against the coffin opened, and was satisfied that it macs the eleventh stall upon the sovereigns side, the kings body. This several people have where the bodies of Henry VIII. and Lady declared they knew to be true, who were Jane Seymour had been thrmerly interred, alive and then present, as Mr. Randolph of When the coffin ~vas brought to the vault, New Windsor, and others. So that he the Bishop of London stood ready with the thinks the Lord Clarendon was misled in that service-book in his hands, intending to have matter, and that King Charles II. never sent performed that last duty by reading the pub- to inquire after the body, since it was well lie form of burial ; but the rude Puritan gov- known, both to the inhabitants of the castle ernor would not suffer it to be done. And and town, that it was in that vault. though the lords earnestly desired it, and in- In some such state of hearsay nd half-un- sisted on the Parliaments leave for it, yet he certainty the matter rested down to our own still denied, and said: It was improbable times. Indeed, it is questionable ~vhether so the Parliament would permit the use of what much evidence as the above was, to any con- they have so solemnly abolished, and therein siderable extent, known to be in existence. destroy their own act. So the body was It seems to have been commonly understood, silently deposited, with this circumscription that the king had been buried somewhere in in capital letters upon lead: or about St. Georges Chapel, but the aetnal place of sepulture remnained a mystery. An KING CHARLES. accident at length elucidated what had been * so long enveloped in obscurity. In the year 1648. 1813, certain repairs and alterations were No monument was erected to his memory, made in the royal burial-place at Windsor, either at that time or after the Restoration, when it was found necessary to form a pas- when it might very readily have been done sage to what is called the Tomb-house from with the sanction of the Parliament and under the chapel choir. In constructing country, which would doubtless have granted this passage an aperture was made accident- a liberal sum of money for the purpose. This ally in one of the walls of the vault of Henry circumstance has given occasion to conjec- VIII., through which the workmen were en- tures, and even doubts, whether the royal abled ~to see, not only the two coffins which body had been actually deposited in St. were supposed to contain the bodies of henry Georges Chapel, or whether it might not and Queen Jane Seymnour, but a third also, have been afterwards removed by the regi- covered with a black velvet pall, which was aides. Lord Clarendon, in his History of the presumed to hold the remains of Chimirles I. Great Rebellion, seems to intimate that On representing the circumstance to the though the king was known to have been in- prince-regent, he perceived at once that a terred there, the body could not be found doubtful point in history might be cleared up when searched for some years afterwards. by opening this long-concealed vault; and, An attempt was made, at a comparatively accordingly, an examination was ordered. early date, to remove all uncertainties about This was don& on the 1st of April, 1813, the day after the funeral of the Duchess of ~ The real date of the death of Charles is 1649. Brunswick, in the presence of his royal high- At that time, however, and for a long time after- ness himself and other distinguished person- wards, the year was no~ held as terminating till ages. vault being opened, the first thing the 25th of March. All dates, accordingly he- tween 1st January and 25th March, were usually The expres~A as beloajn~ to what we would now call done was the removal of the pall, whereupon the preceding yea~ there was discovered a plain leaden coffin, THE TRIAL OF CHARLES 1. with no appearance of ever havin~ been en- closed in wood, and bearing the inscription KING ChARLES, 1648, in large, legible char- acters, on a scroll of lead encircling it. A square opening was then made in the upper part of the lid, of such dimensions as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were, an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped up in cerecloth, into the folds of which a quan- tity of unctuous or greasy matter, mixed with resin, as it seemed, had been melted, so as to exclude, as effectually as possible, the exter- nal air. The coffin was completely full ; and from the tenacity of the cerecloth , great diffi- culty was experienced in detaching it success- fully from the parts which it enveloped. Wherever the unctuous matter had insinuated itself, the separation of the cerecloth was easy; and when it came off, a correct im- pression of the features to which it had been applied was observed in the unctuous sub- stance. At length the whole face was dis- enga~ed from its covering. The complexion of the skin of it was dark and discolored. The forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their muscular substance; the cartilage of the nose was gone, but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open and full, though it vanished almost immedi- ately; and the pointed beard, so character- istic of the period of the reign of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was a long oval; many of the teeth remained; and the left ear, in consequence of the interposition of the unctuous matter between it and the cerecloth, was found entire. It ~vas difficult at this moment to with- hold a declaration, that, notwithstanding its disfigurement, the countenance did bear a strong resemblance to the coins, the busts, and especially to the pictures of King Charles 1., by Vandyke, by which it had been made familiar to us. It is true, that the minds of the spectators of this interesting sight were well prepared to receive this impression; and it will not be denied that the shape of the face, the forehead, an eye, and the beard, are the most important features by which resemblance is determined. When the head had been entirely disen- gaged from the attachments which confined it, it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up and held to view. It was quite xvet, and gave a greenish-red tinge to paper and to linen which touched it. The back part of the scalp was entirely perfect, and had a remarkably fresh appearance, the pores of the skin being more distinct, as they usually are when soaked in moisture; and the tendons and ligaments of the neck were of ~ This latter the more likely, as it will be seen, considerable substance itnd firmness. The from the foregoing account of the execution, that hair ~vas thick at the back part of the head, the hair was tucked up under the cap; and there and in appearance nearly black. A portion j is no mention at all of its having been cut off. We do not enter into the moral question involved in the beheading of King Charles, as that is a subject involving more considerations than could be adequately dealt with at the end of the present paper. It has been our aim simply to supply the reader with the particulars of a celebrated trial, which is not usually represented other~vise than in meagre and imperfect outline in the current histories. It has been rendered by most historians pretty much according to their personal preposses- sions, and has very rarely been set forth with anything approaching to unprejudiced impar- tiality. The present representation, drawn as it is from the reports and memorandums of a professed contemporary royalist, may be concluded to give as unfavorable a view of the proceedings as could readily be given in the shape of a report, though we see no reason to believe that anything has been con- sciously or intentionally perverted; and we of it, which has since been cleaned and dried, is of a beautiful dark brown color; that of the beard was a redder brown. On the back part of the head it was more than an inch in length, and had probably been cut so short for the convenience of the executioner, or perhaps by the piety of friends soon after death ,~ in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy king. On holding up the head to examine the place of separation from the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently retracted themselves considerably; and the fourth cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions perfectly smooth and even an appearance which could have been pro- duced only by a heavy blow inflicted with a very sharp instrument, and which fur- nished the last proof wanting to identify King Charles I. After this examination of the head, which served every purpose in view, and without examining the body below the neck, it was immediately restored to its situation; the coffin was soldered up again, and the vault closed. An authentic account of this discovery, and of the circumstances attending it, was sub- stantiated by the signature of the prince- regent, and deposited in the British Museum. The present statement is derived from a paper on the subject contained in a volume of pamphlets, entitled Essays and Orations, pub- lished by Mr. Murray in 1831; and is quoted from an abridged account given in an early number of Chambers Edinburgh Journal. 83 84 SOCiETY IN NEW ZEALAND. apprehend that the effdct of it will be to show, of one acre was seventy bushels and peck, that the court before which the king was weighing sixty-four p~unds to the bushel brought to trial had no defect of judicial dig- I saw lately at the Hut Valley some thirty horses, nity, and that the prisoner had every courtesy chiefly brood-mares and their progeny of van- and consideration paid to him which was ous ages up to four years, which are never consistent with his position as an arraigned housed, and which never get anything to eat but criminal before a popular tribunal. While the grass (laid down meadow) of their paddock; we pity the fate of Charles, we must in fair- they were then, and are said to be always, too fat, some of them resembling animals fed for the ness respect the motives and intense sincerity Smithfield show, and all having sleek shining of his judges; and if we acknowledge that it coats would have been right in him to crush his The scenery is peculiar, thou0h greatly vanied~ opponents in the civil wars, had he been sue- Upon the whole, I think it most beautiful, lint cessful in the contest, it is not easy to see there are all sorts the grand, the beautiful, how it was wrong in them to give to him the and the pleasant. Not even the centre of the very measure which he would have meted out great Canterbury Plain an immense dead to others. level in appearance is ugly, because there are always in sight fine mountains, appearing, from the singular clearness of the atmosphere, to ce Frem the Spectator. near at hand. This district [Wellington] has great variety, thou~h near the town, excepting SOCIETY IN NEW ZEALAND. the Hut Valley, it is hilly and mountainous. 5, in talkin,,, about it, (you koow his dislike Oeex of the latest letters from New Zealand, to strong expressions) has been caught saying, written by a systematic colonizer of no first (this was as we coasted along Banks Pen- common distinction, contains, besides a great insula), exquisitely beautiful ! and then, deal of other information, the following (amidst glens and wooded hills close to this sketches of his first impressions of the coun- town), intensely lovely l try. Socially (I can speak from personal observa- tion only of Canterbury and Wellineton), there The country, physically, far surpasses my ex- is much to like and much to dislike. The newest ectations. Not that it is different, generally, comers from England are the best on the whole p from my notions of it before touching the soil, more especially the picked materials with which but actual familiarity with particulars has made Canterbury was founded. But I hear that the old impressions more distinct. The climate B is very much pleased with the Otago is, to my feelings, delicious, though far from re- people ; and I have myself some gratifying proofs sembling what we call a delicious climate in of the inflexible worth of the Scotch people there, Europe, such as that of Naples in winter. Its who are the great majority. The patriarch principal characteristic is some invigorating Cargill is firm as a rock in the principles and property, which affects man and beast equally, ideas with which he emigrated; and lie is the so that both horse and rider are always in good trusted leader of that settlement. At Caiiterbuiy, spirits Fine health is general both in I could have fancied myself in England, except old and young. In dozens, at Canterbury, I was for the hard-working industry of the upper astonished at the change from their state at home. classes and the luxuriant independence of the It was very marked in some ladies, who appeared common people. Altogether I was really ten years younger than when I parted from them charmed with the colonists there. here bug in London. All the creole children are ruddy subjection V foul government has a good deal when not suffering from some particular corn- corrupted the higher classes, and to some extent pinirit I have not seen an exception; and you all classes. As George the Fourth made us all know how I examine the children and dogs wear black neckeloths in the evening (I remem- wherever I may be. . . . ber when the practice would have been generally The productiveness of soil or climate, or rather deemed barbarous), so has made trick- both, is immense. It is really tropical in quan- ery and cajolery fashionable in the older settle- 4ity and rapidity of growth. Take, for example, ments. To his example, mainly, I likewise water-cresses ; they fill the rivers, streams, nv attribute a greedy selfishness which perv~ des ulets, and nills, growing in places to a great society here. Still, the upper classes are very height, and so strong and thick that a light hospitable, and very deficient in the pride of weight can scramble across the water on mere purse or station; and the common people them. The cattle eat them with avidity, so that, are remarkably honest. Their great prosperity when exposed, they are continually cropped. places them out of the way of temptation Their During my short stay, I have seen a little stream entire independence is not disagreeable to me, who cropped down by cattle and again covered with am accustomed to America and like it. There cresses now almost ready to be eaten. English is absolutely no servility. I think there is no clover grows and spreads in the same way. The lack either of real respect for what deserves it vegetables at Canterbury are finer than I have or of real politeness; though the mere outward ever seen before. Mr. Britten a careful, can- manner of the common people seems rudely in- tious maci grew there, this year, thirteen dependent to such as have been always used to acres of wheat; the crop was of average quality the hypocritical servility of tradespeople and and quantity.; the carefully-measured produce iacqueys at home. I get on famously with the SKELETONS.CIIlMPANZEE.N EW BOOK. unwashed, and like them. 5, as yet in- capable of understandin them, thinks them rude and disagreeable. His Oxford habits of thought are shocked by the democratic ways of a carpenter here, who speaks of him as S without the Mister, and calls a brother carpenter .Mister Smith. There is an intense jealousy of new-corners a state of feeling which lways takes possession of youn~ colonies, and holds possession of them till they begin to grow old. For every new-corner probably comes to he the competitor or rival of somebody. B has been quite upset by the shock of meeting this strong colonial sentiment and it gives 5 the stomach-ache. I am happily able to laugh at it. . . . Colonial jeal- ousy of the new-corner passes away in time, and soon in proportion as the new-coiner soon takes root in the land. When he is fairly planted, he, in his turn, becomes jealous of other newcomers. Bet the worst feature, I think, of this colonial society, is general narrow-mindedness. Every bodys ideas seem to he localized to his own part of the country. I have not met with one person as well acquainted as I am myself with New Zealand in general. Thought abstracted from the individual seems totally absent. The interests and amusements of each person are the only subject of his thoughts. This is partly owing to the want of intercommunication among the settlements, which are, and. will be till they get local steam-navigation, as much cut off from each other as if separated hy a thousand miles of ocean ; so that each community is naturally as small in its ideas as in its numbers. But the evil in question has another cause, which is the cause of many more evils namely, the total ahsence of popular power and responsibility. Why should anybody care about New Zealand in general, still more about political economy, or jurisprudence, or institutional politics, or any- thing else the study of which needs abstract re- flection, when all are without the least means of givin~ effect to such opinions and desires as they would form if they had those means? The total want of political liberty produces a stagnant frame of mind, except as regards getting money or spending it. I cant find one person who has it in his head to contemplate the prosperity and greatness of this country, not one who really sympathizes with my dreams of the last fifteen years. Some say they do, and believe what they say ; hut a bat could see that they do not really. It is a miserable state of things. Add to it the degrading influence of the meanest spirit and the most dishonorable practices in the constituted authorities in those who neces- sarily give the tone to opinion and conduct and you will think that I must be very unhappy. But I am not so at all. On the contrary, I am sure that there is a good foundation to work upon, in the best set of colonists that have ever left England in modern times; that poverty and crime ( crime in the Old Country sense) are impossible ; that the country is unrivalled in climate and productivenes~ and that the mind of the people will he changed by the coming re- sponsibilities of political power. To OBTAIN SaaaExoles or SssAaa ANJMAa5. Put any subject such as a mouse or frog (if a bird, strip it of its feathers) into a box per- forated with a number of holes. Let it be prop- erly distended, to prevent the parts from coll~ ps- ing, or being crushed together by pressure of the earth. Then place the box with its contents in an ant-hole, and in a few days it will have become an exquisitely beautiful and perfect skel- eton. The ants will have consumed every part of it except the bones and ligaments. The tad- pole acts the same part with fish that ants do with birds ; and, through the agency of this little reptile, perfect skeletons, even of tlse smallest fishes, may be obtained. To produce this, it is but necessary to suspend the fish by threads attached to the head and tail, in a horizont I position, in a jar of water, such as is found in a pond, and change it often, till the tadpoles have finished their work. Two or three tadpoles will perfectly dissect a fish in twenty-four hours. THE queens steamer Bloodhound, recently arrived at Woolwich from the West coast of Africa, has brought a fine, healthy chimpanzee; of which this account is given Although a young male, being only about three years old, the face has the appearance of a very old man. It is affectionate and very good-tempered, romps and amuses itself with the sailors, and sits down and sips its cocoa with a spoon as methodically as any of them. It has taken a ~reat liking to one of the crew, and never appears angry when any one teases itself, but the moment they com- mence teasing its favorite, it jumps upon his shoulders, and, clasping one arm round his neck, deals hard blows at the face of the teaser, and cries out threats of defiance ; and when it cannot reach him, it will stamp its foot and cry like a passionate child. It has well formed hands and arms; only the upper part of the hands are very hard, as when it w Iks on all fours it supports itself on the knuckles of the second joint of the fingers when they are turned inwards. The Invalids Own Book; a collection of Reci- pes from various Books and various Coun- tries. By the honorable Lady Cust. A collection of recipes for drinks and dishes designed for the use of invalids. The directions are clear and brief, warranted safe in use. To us they look rather washy. Teas, waters, and emulsions, occupy a very conspicuous place in fact, with jellies, gruels, porridges, broths, and soups, they fill considerably more than half the volume. Here and there something strong may be found. Sherry cobbler and mint julep lurk among the waters ; in a sort of appendix of cordials there is a recipe for egg wine with the wine left out; claret cup is not so much amiss for an invalid one bottle of light claret, one glass of brandy,. one lemon peeled thin, half a pint of water, and sugar to the taste ; flavor with borage. Spec- fator. 83 DUCK-SHOOTING ADVENTURE UPON THE CHCSAPEAEE. DUCK-SHOOTING ADVENTURE UPON THE CHESAPEAKE. OF the two dozen species of American wild-ducks, none has a wider celebrity than that known as the canvas-back; even the eider-duck is less thought of, as the Ameri- cans care little for beds of down. But the juicy, fine-flavored flesh of the canvas-back is esteemed by all classes of people ; and epi- cures prize it above that of all other winged creatures, with the exceptiou, perhaps, of the reed-bird or rice-bunting, and the prairie- hen. These last enjoy a celebrity almost, if not altogether equal. The prairie-hen, how- ever, is the hon morceau of western epicures; while the canvas-back is only to be found in the great cities of the Atlantic. The reed- bird the American representative of the ortolan is also found in the same markets with the canvas-back. The flesh of all three of these birds although the birds them- selves are of widely different families is really of the most delicious kind it would be hard to say which of them is the greatest favorite. The canvas-back is not a large duck, rarely exceeding three pounds in weight. Its color is very similar to the pochard of Eu- rope; its head is a uniform deep chestnut, its breast black; while the back and upper part of the wings present a surface of bluish- gray, so lined and mottled as to resemble though very slightly, I think the texture of canvas: hence the trivial name of the bird. From Chambers Journal. eaten by another species the pochard or to form immense banks of wrack, that are thrown up against the adjacent shores. It is to the roots of the wild celery that the flesh of the canvas-back owes its esteemed flavor, causing it to be in such demand that very often a pair of these ducas will bring three dollars in the markets ot New York and Phil- adelphia. When the finest turkey can be bad for less than a third of that sum, some idea may be formed of the superior estima- tion in which the web-footed favorites are held. Of course, shooting the canvas-back duck is extensively practised, not only as an amuse- ment, but as a professional occupation. Vari- ous means are employed to slaughter these birds : decoys by means of dogs, duck-boats armed with guns that resemble infernal- machines, and disguises of every possible kind. The birds themselves are extremely shy; and a shot at them is only obtained by great ingenuity and after considerable dodging. They are excellent divers; and when only wounded, almost always make good their escape. Their shyness is overcome by their curiosity. A dog placed upon the shore, near where they happen to be, and trained to run backwards and forwards, will almost always seduce them within shot. Should the dog him- self not succeed, a red rag wrapped around his body, or tied to his tail, will generally bring about the desired result. There are times, however, when the ducks have been much shot at, that even this decoy fails of success. On account of the high price the canvas- backs bring in the market, they are pursued Like most of the water-birds of America, by the hunters with great assiduity, and are the canvas-back is migratory. It proceeds in looked upon as a source of much profit. So spring to the cold countries of the hudsons important has this been considered, that in Bay territory, and returns southward in Oc- the international treaties between the states tober, appearing in immense flocks along the bordering upon the Chesapeake, there are Atlantic shores. It does not spread over the several clauses or articles relating to them fresh-water lakes of the United States, but that limit the right of shooting to certain confines itself to three or four well-known parties. An infringement of this right, some haunts, the principal of which is the great three or four years ago, led to serious colli- Chesapeake Bay. This preference for the sions between the gunners of Philadelphia and Chesapeake Bay is easily accounted for, as Baltimore. So far was the dispute carried, here its favorite food is found in the greatest that schooners armed, and filled with armed abundance. Round the mouths of the rivers men, cruised for some time on the waters of that run into this bay, there are extensive the Chesapeake, and all the initiatory steps shoals of brackish water; these favor the of a little war were taken by both parties. growth of a certain plant of the genus vcllis- The interference of the general government neria a grass-like plant, standiub several prevented what would have proved, had it feet out of the water, with deep green leaves, been left to itself, a very sanguinary affair. and stemless, and having a white and tender Staying for some days at the house of a root. On this root, which is of such a char- planter near the mouth of a small river that acter as has given the plant the trivial name runs into the Chesapeake, I felt inclined to o~ wild celery, the canvas-back feeds exclu- have a shot at the far-famed canvas-backs. I sively; for wherever it is not to be found, had often eaten of these birds, hut had never neither does the bird make its appearance. shot one, or even seen them in their natural Divin~ for it, and bringing it up in its bill, habitat. I was, therefore, anxious to try my the canvas-back readily breaks off the long hand upon them, and I accordingly set out lanceolate leaves, which float off, either to be I one 1aomnin~ for that purpose. My friend DUCK-SHOOTING ADVENTURE UPON THE CHESAPEAKE. lived upon the bank of the river, some dis- tance above tide-water. As the wild celery grows only in brackish water that is, neither in the salt sea itself nor yet in the fresh- water rivers I had to pass down the little stream a mile or more before I came to the proper place for finding the ducks. I went in a small skiff, with no other companion than an ill-favored cur-dog, with which I had been furnished, and which was represented to me as one of the best duck-dogs in the country. My friend, having business elsewhere, unfor- tunately could not upon that day give me his company; hut I knew something of the place, and being au fait in most of the dodges of duck-hunting, I fancied I was quite able to take care of myself. Floating and rowing by turns, I soon came in si~ht of the bay and the wild-celery fields, and also of flocks of water-fowl of different species, amon~ which I could recognize the poehards, the canvas-backs, and the common American widgeon (Anas Americana). Seek- ing a convenient place near the mouth of the stream, I landed; and, tying the skiff to some weeds, proceeded in search of a cover. This was soon found some bushes favored me; and, having taken my position, I set the dog to his work. The brute, however, took but little notice of my words and gestures of en- couragement. I fancied that he had a wild and frightened look, but I attributed this to my being partially a stranger to him; and was in hopes that, as soon as we became bet- ter acquainted, he would ~vork in a different manner. I was disappointed, however, as, do what I might, he would not go near the water, nor would he perform the trick of run- ning to and fro whieh I had been assured by my friend he would be certain to do. On the contrary, he cowered among the bushes, near where I had stationed myself, and seemed unwilling to move out of them. Two or three times, when I dragged him forward, and mo- tioned him toward the water, he rushed back again, and ran under the brushwood. I was exceedingly provoked with this con- duct of the dog, the more so that a flock of canvas-backs, consisting of several thousan4s, was seated upon the ~vater not more than half a mile from the shore. Had my dog done his duty, I have no doubt they might have been brought within range; and, calculating upon this, I had made sure of a noble shot. My expectations, however, were defeated by the waywardness of the dog, and I saw there was no hope of doing anything with him. having arrived at this conclusion, after some hours spent to no purpose, I rose from my cover, and marched back to the skiff. I did not even motion the wretched cur to follow me; arid I should have rowed ~ff without hiia, risk- ing the chances of my friends displeasure, but it pleased the animal himself to trot after. me without invitation, and, on arriving at the boat, to leap voluntarily into it. I was really so provoked with the brute, that I felt much inclined to pitch him out again. My vexa- tion, however, gradually left me; and I stood up in the skiff, turning over in my mind what course I should pursue next. I looked toward the flock of canvas-backs. It was a tantalizing sight. They sat upon the water as light as cork, and as close togeth- er as sportsman could desire for a shot. A well-aimed discharge could not have failed to kill a score of them at least. Was there no way of approaching them 3 This question I had put to myself for the twentieth time at least, without being able to answer it to my satisfaction. An idea at length flitted across my brain. I had often approached common mallards by concealing my boat under branches or furze, and then floating down upon theta, impelled either by the wind or the current of a stream. Might not this also succeed with the canvas- backs 3 I resolved upon making the experi- ment. The flock was in a position to enable me to do so. They were to the leeward of a sedge of the vallisneria. The wind would carry my skiff through this; and the green bushes with which I intended to disguise it would not be distinguished from the sedge, which was also green. Th~ thing was feasible. I deemed it so. I set about cutting some leafy branches that grew near, and tying them along the gunwales of my little craft. In less than half an hour, I pushed her from the shore; and no one at a distance would have taken her for aught else than a floating raft of brushwood. I now pulled quietly out until I had got exactly to windward of the ducks, at about half a miles distance from the edge of the flock. I then took in the paddles, and per- mitted the skiff to glide before the wind. I took the precaution to place myself in such a manner that I was completely hidden, while through the branches I commanded a view of the surface on any side I might wish to look. The bushes acted as a sail, and I was soon drifted down among the plants of the wild celery. I feared that this might stay my prog- ress, as the breeze was light, and might not carry inc through. But the sward, contrary to what is usual, was thin at the place where the skiff had entered, and I felt, to my satis- faction, that I was movin0, though slowly, in the rinht direction. I remember that the heat annoyed me at the timae. It was the month of November; but it was that peculiar season known in America as Indian summer, and the heat was excessive not under 90 degrees, I am certain. The shrubbery that encircled me prevented a breath of air from reaching my body; and the rays of the noon- day sun fell almost vertically in that southern 87 DUCK-SHOOTING ADVENTURE UPON THE CHESAPEAKE. latitude, scorching me as I lay along the bot- tam of the boat. Under other circumstances, I should not have liked to undergo such a roasting; but, with the prospect of a splendid shot before me, I endured it as best I could. The skiff was nearly an hour in pushing its way through the field of vallisneria, and once or twice it remained for a considerable time motionless. A stronger breeze, however, would spring up, and then the sound of the reeds rubbing the sides of the boat would gratefully admonish me that I was ugain mov- ing ahead. I saw, at length, to my great gratification, that I was approaching the sel- vage of the sedge, and, moreover, that the flock itself was moving, as it were, to meet me! Many of the birds were diving and feeding in the direction of the skiff. I lay watchin~, them with interest. I saw that the canvas-backs were accompanied by another species of a very different color from them- selves: this was the American widgeon. It was a curious sight to witness the constant warfare that was carried on between these two species of birds. The widgeon is hut a poor diver, while the canvas-back is one of the very best. The widgeon, however, is equally fond of the roots of the wild celery with his congener; but he has no means of obtaining them except by robbing the latter. Being a smaller and less powerful bird, he is not able to do this openly; and it was curious to observe the means by which he effected his purpose. It was as follows: When the can- vas-back descends, he must perforce remain some moments under water. It Eequires time to seize hold of the plant, and pluck it up by the roots. In consequence of this, he usually reaches the surface in a state of half-blindness, holding the luscious morsel in his bill. The widgeon has observed him going down, and, calculating to a nicety the spot where he will reappear, seats himself in readiness. The moment the other emerges, and before he can fully recover his sight or his senses, the active spoliator makes a dash, seizes the celery in his horny mandibles, and makes off with it as fast as his webbed feet can propel him. The canvas-back, although chagrined at being plundered in this impudent manner, knows that pursuit would be idle, and, setting the root down as lost, draws a fresh breath, and dives for another. I noticed in the flock the continual occurrence of such scenes. A third species of birds drew my attention: these were the pochards, or, as they are termed by the gunners of the Chesapeake, red heads (Fuligula erytliroceplialus). These creatures bear a very great resemblance to the canvas-backs, and can hardly he distinguished except by their bills; those of the former be- ing concave along the upper surface, while the bills of the canvas-backs exhibit a nearly straight line. I eaw that the pochards did not interfere with either of the other species, contenting themselves with feeding upon what neither of the others cared for the green leaves of the vallisneria, which, after being stripped of their roots, were floating in quan- tities on the surface of the water. Yet these pochards are almost as much prized for the table as their cousins, the canvas-hacks; and, indeed, they are often put off for the latter by the poulterers of New York and Philadelphia. Those who would buy a real canvas-back should know something of natural history. The form and color of the bill would serve as a criterion to prevent their being deceived. In the pochard, the bill is of a bluish color that of the canvas-back is dark-green : more- over, the eye of the pochard is yellow, ~vhile that of its congener is fiery red. These thoughts were banished from my mind, on perceiving that I had at last drifted within range of a thick clump of the ducks. Nothing now remained but to poke my gun noiselessly through the bushes, set the cocks of both barrels, take aim, and fire. It was my intention to follow the usual plan that is, fire one barrel at the birds while sitting, and give them the second as they rose upon the wing. This intention was carried out the moment after; and I had the gratification of seeing some fifteen or twenty ducks strewed over the water at my service. The rest of the flock rose into the heavens, and the clap- ping of their wings filled the air with a noise that resembled thunder. I say that there ap- peared to have been fifteen or twenty killed; how many I never knew: I never laid my hands upon a single bird of them. I became differently occupied, and with a matter that soon drove canvas-backs, and widgeons, and pochards, as clean out of my head as if no such creatures had ever existed. While drifting through tha a~dge, my at- tention had several times been ttracted by what appeared to be strange conduct on the part of my canine companion. He lay cower- ing in the bottom of the boat near the bow, and half covered by the bushes; but every now and then he would start to his feet, look wildly around, utter a strange whim pering, and then resume his crouching attitude. I noticed, moreover, that at intervals he trem- bled as if he was about to shake out his teeth. All this had caused me wonder nothing more. I was too much occupied in watching the game, to speculate upon causes ; I believed, if I formed any belief on the subject, that these maneeuvres were caused by fear; that the cur had never been to sea, and that he was now either sea-sick or sea-scared. This explanation had hitherto satisfied me, and I had thought no more upon the matter. I had scarcely delivered my second barrel, however, when my attention was anew attracted to the dog; and this time was so arrested, that in 83 DUCl~-SHOOTING ADVENTURE UPON THE CHESAPEAKE. one half-second I thought of nothing else. The animal had arisen, and stood within three feet of me, whining hideously. his eyes glared upon me with a wild and unnatural expression, his tongue lolled out, and saliva fell copiously from his lips. The dog was mad! I saw that the dog was mad, as certainly as I saw the dog. I had seen mad dogs before, and knew the symptoms well. It was hydro- phobia of the most dangerous character. Fear, quick and sudden, came over me. Fear is a tame word horror, I should call it; and the phrase would not be too strong to express my sensations at that moment. I knew myself to be in a situation of extreme peril, and I saw not the way out of it Death death painful and horrid appeared to be nigh, ap- peared to confront me, glaring from out the eyes of the hideous brute. Instinct had caused me to put myself in an attitude of defence. My first instinct was a false one. I raised my gun, at the same mo- ment manipulating the lock, with the design of cocking her. In the confusion of terror, I had even forgotten that both barrels were empty, that I had just scattered their contents in the sea. I thought of reloading; but a movement of the dog towards me showed that that would be a dangerous experiment; and a third thought or instinct directed me to turn the piece in my hand, and defend myself, if necessary, with the butt. This instinct was instantly obeyed, and in a seconds time I held the piece clubbed and ready to strike. I had retreated backward until I stood in the stern of the skiff. The dog had hitherto lain close up to the bow, but, after the shots, he had sprung up and taken a position nearer the centre of the boat. In flict, he had been within biting distance of me before I had noticed his madness. The position, into which I had thus half-involuntarily thrown myself, offered me but a trifling security. Any one who has ever rowed an American skiff will remember that these little vessels are crank to an extreme degree. Although boat-shaped above, they are without keels, and a rude step will turn them bottom upward in an instant. Even to stand upright in them requires careful balancing; but to tight a mad dog in one, without being bitten, would require the skill and adroitness of an acrobat. With all my caution, as I half-stood, half-crouched in the stern, the skiff rocked from side to side, and I was in danger of being pitched out. Should the dog spring at me, I knew that any violent exertion to fend him off would either cause me to he precipitated into the water or would upset the boat a still more dreadful alternative. These thoughts .Aid not occupy half the tune I have taken to describe them. Short, however, as that time was in actual duration, to me it seemed long enough, for the dog still held a threatening attitude, his forepaws resting upon one of the seats, while his eyes continued to glare upon me with a wild and uncertain expression. I remained for some moments in fearful suspense. I was half-paralyzed with terror, and uncertain what action it would be best to take. I feared that any m5vement would at- tract the fierce animal, and be the signal for him to spring upon me. I thought of jumping out of the skiff into the water. I could not wade in it. It was shallow enough not over five feet in depth, but the bottom appeared to be of soft mud. I might sink another foot in the mud. No; I could not have waded. The idea was dismissed. To swim to the shore I glanced sideways in that direction it was nearly half a mile distant. I could never reach it, cumbered with my clothes. To have stripped these off, would have tempted the attack. Even could I have done so, might not the dog follow, and seize me in the water A horrible thought! I abandoned all hope of escape, at least that might arise from any active measures on my part. I could do nothing to save myself; my only hope lay in passively awaiting the result. Impressed with this idea, I remained motionless as a statue; I moved neither hand nor foot from the attitude I had first assumed; I scarcely permitted myself to breathe, so much did I dread attracting the further atten- tion of my terrible companion, and interrupt- ing the neutrality that existed. For some minutes they seemed hours this state of affairs continued. The dog still stood up, with his forepaws raised upon the bench; the oars were among his feet. In this position he remained, gazing wildly, though it did not appear to me steadily, in my face. Several times I thought he was about to spring on me; and, although I care- fully avoided making any movement, I in- stinctively grasped my gun with a firmer hold. To add to my embarrassment, I saw that I was fast drifting seaward! The wind was from the shore; it was impelling the boat with considerable velocity, in consequence of the mass of bushes acting as sails. Already it had cleared the sedge, and was floating out in open water. To my dismay, at less than a miles distance, I descried a line of lo-ealcers! A side-glance was sufficient to convince me, that, unless the skiff was checked, she would drift upon these in the space of tea minutes. A fearful alternative now presented itself: I must either drive the dog from the oars, or allow the skiff to be swamped among the breakers. The latter would be certain death, the former offered a chance for life; and, nerv- ing myself with the palpable necessity for actiorm, I instantly resolved to make time at- tack. Whether the dog had read my intentionin 89 QUICKSTLV E Fl. roy eyes, or observed my fingers taking a firmer clutch of my gun, I know not, but at this mo- roent he seemed to evince sudden fear, and, dropping down from the seat, he ran backward to the bow, and cowered down as before. My first impulse was to get hold of the oars, for the roar of the breakers already filled my ears. A better idea sYiggested itself immediately after, and that was to load my gun. This was a delicate business, but I set about it with all the caution I could command. I kept my eyes fixed upon the animal, and felt the pow- der, the wadding, and the shot, into the muzzle. I succeeded in loading one barrel, and fixing the cap. As I had now something upon which I could rely, I proceeded with more confidence, and loaded the second barrel with breater care, the dog eying me all the while. Had madness not obscured his intel- ligence, he would no doubt have interrupted my manipulations; as it was, he remained still until hoth barrels were loaded, capped, and cocked. I had no time to spare; the breakers were nigh; their hoarse sough warned me of their perilous proximity: a minute more, and the little skiff would be dancin~ a~aong them like a shell, or sunk for- wer. lot a moment was to be lOSt, and yet I had to proceed with caution. I dared not raise the gun to my shoulder I dared not glance along the barrels : the manoeuvre might rouse the dangerous brute. I held the piece low, slanting along say thighs, I guided the barrels with my mind, and, feeling the direction to be true, I fired. Ii scarcely heard the report, on account of the roaring of the sea; but I saw the dog rol!. over, kicking vio- lently. I saw a livid patch over his ribs, where the shot had entered in a clump. This would no doubt have proved sufficient; but, to make sure, I raised the gun to my shoulder, took aim, and sent the contents of the second barrel through the ribs of the miserable brute. His kicking ended almost instantly, and he lay dead in the bottom of the boat. I dropped my gun and flew to the oars: it was a close shave ; the skiff was already in white water, and dancing like a feather; but with a few strokes I succeeded in backing her out, and, then heading her away from the breakers, I pulled in a direct line for the shore. I thought not of my canvas-backs they had floated, by this time, I neither knew nor cared whither: the sharks might have them for me. My only care was to get away from the scene as quickly as possible, deter- mined never again to go duck-shooting with a cur for my companion. From Household Words. QUICKSILVER. HALF the world knows that the quicksilver mine of Almaden, sixteen miles north of Seville, is the finest that exists. Its annual produce is twice as great as that of all the mines of the same kind in Carniola, Hungary, the Palatine and Peru put together. Alrriaden therefore is worth visiting. The place has its own traffic, and no other. There is no high road in its neighborhood, and the quicksilver raised is carried by muleteers to the govern- ment stores of Seville, where only it may he distributed; not being delivered at the mine to any purchaser. The muleteers take to Al- maden wood, gunpowder, provisions and all necessaries; and thus the town lives and sup- ports its eight thousand inhabitants. It is built chiefly in the form of one very long street, on the riQ, e of a hill, over the mine, which in every sense fornis the foundation upon which it stands. It used to be under the care of a sleepy old hidalgo of a governor, but it is now controlled by a scientific officer en- titled the superintendent, and there is a good deal of vigor and practical sense displayed in the arrangements of the place. There is a town-hall in Almaden, a well-endowed school, and a hospital for the diseases of the miners. The diseased forms of the men working as excavators l)elong only too prominently to a picture of Almaden. You meet men in the street with wasted faces, fetid breaths, and trembling hands; blind, paralytic. The heat in the lower workings of the mine is very con- siderable, the ventilation is imperfect, vapor of quicksilver floats upon the air, and con- denses on the walls, down which it trickles in little runlets of pure liquid metal. Even visitors are sensibly affected by it, and retain for some time the metallic flavor in their mouths. The miners who number more than four thousand , re divided into three gangs, or watches, working six hours each, and leaving the fourth six hours of the twenty- fourfrom ten at night until four in the morning as an interval of perfect rest. On account of the heat, and the deleterious nature of the vapor, summer is made the idle time, winter the great period of activity aniong the population. As the winter closes, the appear- ance of tIme miners begins very emphatically to tell its own tale, and great nussibers hasten to their native plains and mountains to recruit. Their homes are chiefly scattered about Estremnadura, Andalusia and Portugal. Crowds of Portuguese, after harvest, flock to obtaio employment at Almaden, selling not their labor only but their health. The most robust cannot work in the mine longer than for about fourteen days in succession, generally eight or nine days make as long a period of such labor as can be endured without rest. Those who exceed that time are obliged eventually to give up work and breathe unadulterated air for perhaps two months together. If they work without due precaution, and almost in- evitably if they indulge in wine, miners at 90 QUICKSILVER. Alinaden ~i~ed P ~~ ~n twenty-five and thirty waste awsv 1. ~ hair and teeth, acquire an insuherabls Le~ th or become sometimes afflicted x~ ~ta ti~mnblings thnt render them unable to simply their own wants; they have to be fed l~k~ mnfmnts If the disease he not checked ~oreosi), cramps and nervous at- tacks of tie most a~onizing kind follow upon these syinpt )~S umd lead on to death. They who work within (Inc hounds, and live moder- ately, using a good deal Of milk, if they take care always to cleanse their persons thoroughly after each six hours of work the full days labor live not seldom to old age. These diseases a Aiet the miners only. The men enga~ed upon the ore and quicksilver outside the mines, in smelting and in other operations, do not snL~r. Storehouses, magazines, and workshops, are the leading features of the little town. Every- thing manufactured that is used even to the ropes is made upon the spot; and the work- shops, like the whole engineering details of tIme mine itself, are planned in an unusually massive way, and carved out of the solid rock. The quicksilver mine helon~s to the crown (under which it is let out in four-year leases to contractors rich enouah to pay a very large deposit), and it~ details are all somewhat of a le~al character. There used to he disasters frequently occasioned by the sinking of the works, and by fires. The last fire raged for upwards of two years and a half. The em- ployment of wood, except for temporary pur- poses, has therefore been abandoned, and magnificent arched g~dleries of stone are built through every one of the new cuttings. The deposits are almost vertical ; and great pains are taken to supply the void left by the removed ore, with a sufficiently strong body of masonry. Half the ore is, however, every- where left standing as a reserve in case of any future accidents; and the whole yearly supply drawn from the mine is limited to twenty thousand quintals. This supply is drawn by mule power from the bowels of the hill through a grand shaft constructed on the usual impressive scale. There is not much trouble given by water in the mine. What water there is has to be pumped up by means of an engine built for the place by Watt himself, which would be a valuable curiosity in a museum. The ore lies, as I have said, in a lode, almost perpendicular. There are three veins of it, called respectively St. Nicholas, St. Francisco, and St. Diego, which traverse the length of the hill and intersect it vertically; at the point where they converge galleries connect them all together. The thickness of the lode varies between fourteen and sixteen feet; it is much thicker where the veins intersect, and seems to be practically inexhaustible; for as the shaft deepens, the ore grows richer both in quality and quantity. The yield consists of a com- pact gray quartz, impregnated with cinnabar and red lead. Associated with it, is a con- glomerate called by the miners Fraylesca, be- cause in color it resembles the blue gray of the familiar cassock worn by frayles (friars) of th~ Franciscan order. - The chief entrance to the mine is out of the town, on the hill-side, facing the south, the town itself being on the hill-top. The main adit leads by a gallery to the first ladder, and by galleries and very steep ladders the descent afterwards continues to be made. Though the mine is one of the very oldest in the world the oldest I believe of any kind that still continues to be worked the work- ings up to this time have not penetrated deeper than a thousand feet. The quicksilver is procured out of the ore by sublimation over brick furnaces about five feet in height, and as the furnaces are fed with the wood of cistus and other aromatic shrubs, this part of the process is extremely grateful to the senses. There are thirteen double furnaces and two quadruple ones, partly erected at Almaden, partly at Alma- denejos Little Almaden in the neighbor- hood. The minerals, having been sorted, are placed in the chambers over the furnaces according to their quality in different propor- tions and positions, the best at the bottom. The whole mass, piled upon open arches in the form of a dome, is then roofed over with soft bricks made of kneaded clay and fine particles of sulphuret of mercury, a free space of about eighteen inches being left between the ore and roof, in which the vapor can collect and circulate. The mercurial vapor finally conducted along stoneware tubes luted together, condensing as it goes, is deposited in gutters, which conduct it across the masonry of a terrace into cisterns prepared to receive it. The quicksilver there carefully collected is then put into jars of wrought iron, weigh- ing about sixteen pounds apiece, and each holding about twenty-five pounds English of the finished produce of the mines. As for the antiquity of the mine at Alma- den, that is immense. Pliny says, that the Greeks had vermilion from it seven hundred years B. c., and that the Itomans in his day were obtaining from it ten thousand pounds of cinnabar yearly, for use in their paintings. The working of the mine fell of course into abeyance in the Dark Ages, but was resumed at some time in the fifteenth century. After the expulsion of the Mojrs the mine was given as a present to the religious knights of Gala- trava, and it reverted finally to the crown more than three centuries ago. The present workings are not quite on the old spot. Fugger Brothers, of Au~sburg, farmed it out in those past days; and having drawn a fortune out of it, by which they 91 PUNCH. ETHAN ALLEN. CHARADE. became a byword for wealth ( Rich as a Fucar, say the Spanish miners still), they gave up their lease as worthless. Government could make nothing of the mine, and therefore caused the ground to be attentively explored. The extraordinary deposit upon which the miners now are operating was in that way discovered. From Punch. ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. A BRIDE. Do not distress yourself. Very likely he loves you sincerely, and his winking at the bridesmaid might be mere accident the whisper was probably to tell her how pretty you lookcd and the pressure of her hand gratitude for her ready acknowledgment of it. Even the note may be explained; it was the address to which she is to forward some present for you. Never worry yourself about triflesyou have married him, and she is cut out. Go on your tour rejoicing. ANxIous JEMIMA. There is no rule as to the number of clergymen requisite at a wed- ding. One able-bodied clerk in orders can do all that is necessary. The assisting sys- tem is a ridiculous custom, introduced by the Puseyites, by way of assimilating the cere- mony to that of Rome. At the same time, we admit that a clergyman has a hard duty to perform in managing some couples, and it is probably in these cases that he calls in extra hands. Look at the announcements with that idea in your mind. TilEATalcus (Ehury Street). We shall be happy to read all your thirty-four plays, and, having done so, recommend them to such managers as they may best suit. There will be no difficulty about money, but we shall be happy to make any advance you may require while the plays are in rehearsal. One hundred guineas an act is the lowest price paid at any Metropolitan theatre. BISFILLAR. Turkey is certainly in Europe, but there is also a Turkey in Asia. There are doubtless wild turkeys in America. But we suspect that some one has been heaxing you about the four Turkeys. To your second in- quiry, about the directest way for you to become a Member of Parliment (usually spelt Parliament), we reply that you had better commence by an educational process, which you cannot take up at too early a stage. SAUcY Lizzy. The best cosmetic is health. Rise early, take exercise, read Punch, and be 8.sleep before dark, and you will not need washes, which, as the Vicar of Wakefield says, do no end of mischief. But if you must use anything of the kind, a little cantharides and mustard, rubbed into a paste with turpen- tine, laid on over night, and the face washed with sulphuric acid in the morning, will probably produce an alteration. But, Lizzy, on no account use it unless made up by a chemist. AFFECTIONATE EMMA. Your Lines to My Little Brother (aged 2~), on his accidentally Sitting down on some Stinging Nettles, have point and pensiveness, but scarcely sufficient interest for the general reader. Still we hope your brother is better. RosE AND MATILDA. Very much ashamed of both of you. To write to two officers whom you do not know, making them offers of mar- riage, might, under certain circumstances, be defended. But to tie your letters to the necks of two kittens, and to fling the inoffensive creatures in at the military partys windows, was contrary to all etiquette. Pray abstain from such demonstrations, if you wish us to think you ladies. THE GRAVE OF ETHAN ALLEN. About a mile and a half north-east of the railroad depot in Burlington, upon the brow of the hill over- looking the lower falls of the Winooski river, is a little cemetery of one or two acres, called Green Mount. Here lie the mortal remains of the fearless mountaineer who captured Ticonderoga in the name and by the authority of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress. His grave is covered by a plain slab of gray marble, upon which is the follow- ing inscription: The Corporeal Part of GENL ETHAN ALLEN rests beneath this stone, the 12th day of Feb., 1789, aged 50 years. His spirit tried the mercies of his God, La whom he believed, and strongly trusted. The spot where Allen rests is enclosed by granite posts and iron chains, shaded thickly by a vigorous growth of young pines, and overgrown with spreading bushes of the rose and the shrubs. CHARADE. WHEN my suit I so tenderly pressed, 0! how, in your cruel reply, Could a word so unkind be expressed, As my first, to your slave till I die Do I game, do I drink, or give way In thought, word, or deed that you know, To my seconds all powerful sway? Believe me, my charmer, 0 no I I m my whole, I confess in despair, Then, friends, a kind lesson impart, You, who know how to court any fair, Give me a few hints in the art 92 SICK GRAPES. From household Words. SICK GRAPES. FOR two years the country round Naples has been suffering from the Vine malady. Not only husbaudmen but proprietors have become indigent, and there is no hope of improvement. The promise in spring was good. Many vines, it is true, had died off during the winter, but those which remained, as if last year~s attack had not impaired their vibor, gave out their leaves as gay and green as ever, sent forth their branches long and strong, and hun out their wealth of fruit most tcmpting to the eye. The aspect of things is now, however, entirely changed ; and so thorough is the ruin, that, whilst people, sober as well as thirsty, are considering what beverage to substitute, the priests declare that it will be necessary to send out of the country for pure wine; the very purest being required for the right performance of the offices of their religion. Looking out from my windows as I now do on most lovely scenery, and on land which generally at this season of the year is teeming with the rich promise of the grape, nothing can be inure melancholy than its present ap- pearance. Winds frona the Dead Sea might have swept over it and blasted it, so withered are the trees. But, instead of dealing in generalities, I will enter into details as to the origin and progress of the malady. The first perceptible symptom of the coming disease was a certain loss of vigor in some of the vine leaves; they hung down like so many pieces of green silk, so flaccid had they be- come: my i~npression at first was that they were suffering from a hot sirocco; but, as there was no revival, it was very evident what had come upon them. From tree to tree the malady extended with incredible rapidity of infection: so rapid, that one could almost see its progress, until whole plantations appeared as if they were suffering from dearth of water. About the same time, the backs of the leaves became white, as if covered by a fine cobweb or finer flour; and then they withered up like a scroll, and I plucked them from the vines and crumpled them into powder with my hands, like a last years leaf which had been spared by the storms of winter. The next phasis of the disease was a change in the surface of the new shoots, which were marked like the marks on a human face of the small pox; small brown and red pustule~ covered each branch, end will no doubt remain; as they do upon the old wood which was simi- laxly affected last year. No sooner had the grapes attained the size of a pins head than many of them lost all vigor, and dried to a powdei. Such as re- inained had just strength enough to blossom at all times a very trying season for the grape and then for the most part withered, whilst the bunches which still struggled on are covered with what to the naked eye appears a very fine flour. Flip them, and a cloud falls off, without, however, in the slight- est degree relieving the plant. Their fate will be doubtless that of the fruit which lingered on last year until the end of the season. As they attain their natural size, the juice will all flow out; leaving nothing but the skin and seeds, which become as hard as stones. There is, therefore, less reason for hope this year than there was last. In eighteen hun- dred and fifty-two, the produce of wine was one-seventh or one-eighth of what it usually has been, and that was above the avera~e; this year it will be much less, and will prob- ably fall to zero. One most provoking feature of the disease is, that it will force itself upon the attention of more than one sense ; for so strong and offensive is the odor, that the air around a vineyard is impreg- nated with it. As all the wine made last year was made even the best of infected grapes, and was therefore of an inferior quality, great fears were entertained at first that it might prove prejudicial to public health, and orders were issued to destroy the most diseased grapes; but, as the malady spread more rapidly and extensively than was expect- ed, the precaution, I suppose, was deemed the greater evil of the two, and people were permitted to poison themselves if they chose. The wine, however, has proved perfectly in- nocuous. I do not know whether the follow- ing facts will have any novelty in them; yet, as they are the result of close observation during the last t~vo years, I will communicate them, if only to swell the mass of information which has been gathered on so widely inter- esting a subject. It has been a common prejudice in this neighborhood che laria la porta that the air brings the malady and whilst some have placed their hopes of relief in heavy rains, others have as confidently prayed for hot suns. I have never, however, perceived that any change of wind, or weather, or temperature, has arrested the malady. It has ever pursued its sure and silent course, unaffected by china- teric influences, and baffling all speculations as to its character. Then, as to the vines themselves, an interesting question has arisen as to which species have suffered toost, and in what position. With us, near Naples, the black grape has been damaged much more than the white, and especially the rich and deeply colored grape, called here the Ahia- nico. In conformity with the great law of nature, the old vine succumbed the soonest many of my older trees have died, and many are dying, whilst the young plants are, by comparison, looking tolerably vigorous. Position has much affected the condition of 93 MAHON S HISTORY OF ENOLANDJUNIUS. the vines those which grew on hi~h grounds very nearly all of thorn esoaped last years attack, whilst those in low grounds not only have suffered the most, but have been attacked the first. Ventilation, in fact, has much to do with the health of the plant; yet it is a contradictory fact, that the fruit on the lower branches, and nearest the ground, has invariably preserved its healthy state the longest, and in many instances has survived the malady. Either it found there more shelter, and a cooler atmosphere, or it imbibed more moisture from the soil. The vines in terra grassa, in a rich soil, have suffered much more than those which grow in a ecanty and stony soil. When their roots have had an opportunity of twining themselves around rocks, they have continued in a much healthier state, and have produced some small quantity of wine. A paper on the vine malady might perhaps, not unreasonably, be expected to treat of remedies; but the Italians of the south of Italy, at least, are a lascia fare people ns fatalistic as Turks. Practically, they throxv all thought for the future on Heaven; leave everythin~ to their saints, as if it was no business of their own. Thus, in a firm belief in Divine Providence, they find excuses for their indolence. Tell them that the har- vest has failed, they answer, Lascia far Die; or hint at approaching starvation, ~hey lift their finger to heaven and, with ~nssible resignation, exclaim, Die ci pensa. vi reme- dies, therefore, I have nothing to say. A priest close to me, more enterprising than the rest, has burnt sulphur and pitch under his trees without any perceptible good effect. I have barked mine, and cut the roots near the surface. I have thrown ammonia and the refuse of stalls strongly diluted, and lime- water, over the leaves and the fruit; yet they fade and die; so that, having exhausted the vine pharmacopceia, I nm half inclined to be- come Turk or Italian myself. Of course so great a physical change in the vegetable world must necessarily produce corresponding effects on agriculture, and on the character and the habits of the people. Already the vine can be said to have perished from the earth. Landlords have been planting the mulberry largely; it brings a speedy and safe return; and, as its history shows, is adapted to any clime or soil. Moreover, it entails no expense in the cultivation. Italy therefore already a large silk-growing coun- try will, in those districts where mulberry plantations are so much more extensively in- troduced, grow much more silk; and thus, if a new art be not introduced, an old one will be much more ext~nded. Great agricultural changes will he effected, too, in seeking to find a substitute for wine. Some have talked of introducing hops, but the experiment in this climate would, I think, be more Ihan un- certain. It is more probable that, if the malady continues, the apple and pear will be more widely cultivated ; and that the Nea- politan, before long, will be drinking his bottle of cider or perry. At present, however, there is a pause in the drinking of the people. They are by necessity a large Temperance Society, much against their will, and ready to violate their pledges as soon as ever they can nOt anything to drink. Not that the Italians are an intemperate people, although, to say the truth, they often hover about the frontiers of drunkenness, especially on a Sunday after- noon, when, as it is prohibited in the little place where I am now staying, to fish or gain a supper for their families on Saturday even- ings or Sunday mornings, they dissipate ten suppers in the wine shop in drinking and gamblin~ which latter vice is crrried to a great extreme. From the Examiner. History of England from the Peace of Utrecht to the Peace of Versailles. By Loan MA- HON. Vol. V. Third Edition. Revised. Murray. THIs volume of Lord Mahons popular edition of his History embraces the eleven somewhat stormy years between 1763 and 1774, and has been noticed l~y us 50 recently in its original shape that we have only now to remark its careful revision, and the fresh notes here and there subjoined. But, referred by one of these to an appendix for new mat- ter connected with the Junius discussion, we found a hitherto unpublished letter of Mr. Macunlays on the Lord Lytteiton theory pro- pounded in the Quarterly Renew, which the reader will thank us for quoting. We give it with the introduction of Lord MeLon, and with a portion of the very valuable comment on the evidence for Francis, which the noble historian appends to the letter. I have also been so fortunate as to obtain the kind consent of both parties concerned to publish the following letter addressed, since my first edition of this volume, by Mr. Macunlay to the son and successor of Sir James correspondent. First, however, let me insert the pa~s~ ~e in the Quarterly Review~ (clxxix.) to xoui~h Mr Macaulays main observations are ci ic t ci We may remark that Junius does net seem ~o have bad that sort of minute official intommatmon which Francis must certainly bare been pesseised of. In his correspondence with Sir M illiam bra per, Junius evidently expecting to c etch him in fta0rante delicto writes in his mit emphatic manner The last and most impertan queoticm remains. When you receive your half-pay do you, or do you not, take a solemn oath, or si~n a declaration upon honor to the followin~ e ect tie p75 do it actually hold cay place of profit, civil or iniUtar~, 94 MAliGN S HISTORY OF ENGLANDJUNIUS. ee4 Iv VJijcoty? The char~e which this ques- tion oluny conveys a~ainst you is of so sho~kin~ a complexion that I ~incerely wish you may he cole to an ci it eli not merely for the color of etateon, bu~ for your own inward peace Of 0 i0 Q utra to t is anticipation of Junius, Sir fi ii no lirane i~ sole to make a triumphant reolv I have a very dort aiiewcr for Junius im- l)s~taiit que teen 1 1 not either take an oath, or icciace upon honor, to I leave no place of profit, civil or military, wecn I receive the h if-pay as an Irisis ~loncl a most ~racions sovereign givos it me as a p~n~eon he was pleased to think I deserve1 it lied Jnnin~ been Francis, he must have known, as first clek in the war office, the exact facts of Sir Williams position and of course would not have made an attac~ which could so easily he re- polled. RIOUT iCON T B IICttTLAY TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ. Albany, January 3, 1832. Sin, I am much obli~ed to you for the new number of ties Quarterly Review ; I cannot say that it has shakeu my opinion. I wonder in- deed that so ingenious a person as the reviewer should think that his objections have made any impression on the v-st mass of circumstantial evidence which proves Francis to have been Jun- ins. That evidence, I think, differs not only in degree, but in kind, frona any evidence which can be adduced for any other claimant. It seenis to me too that one-half of the argu- ments of the reviewer is answered by the other half. First, we are told that Francis did not writs the letters, because it would have been sin- gularly infamous in him to write them. Then, we are told that he did not write them because lie did not own them. Surely this reasoning does riot hang well together. Is it strange that a very proud man should not confess what would disgrace him? I have always believed that Francis kept silence because he was well known to have received great benefits from persons whom lee lied as Jecniess or as Veteran abused with great malignity. It is old that the reviewer should infer from ties mistake about Drapers half-pay that Junius could not have been in the war office. I talked that matter over more than ten years ago, when I was secretary at war, with two of the ablest and best informed gentlemen in the department and we all three came to a conclusion the very opposite of that at which the reviewer has ar- rived. Francis was chief clerk in the English war office. Everybody who drew half-pay through that office made the declaration which Junius mentions. But Drapers half-pay was on the Irish establishment ; and of him the declaration was not required. Now, to me and to those whom I consulted, it seemed the most natural thing in the world that Francis, rely- ing on his official knowledge, and not consid- ering that there might be a difference between the practice at Dublin and the practice at Westminster, should put that unlucky question which gave Draper so great an advantage. I have iepeatedly pointed out this cii cumstance to men who are excellent judges of evidence, and I never found one who did not agree with me. It is not necessary for me to say anything about the new theory which the reviewer has constructed. Lord Lytteltons claims are better than those of Burke or Barrd, and quite as good as those of Lord George Sackville, or Siiigle- speech Hamilton. But the case against Francis, or, if you please, in favor of Francis, rests on grounds of a very different kind, and on coinci- dences such as would be sufficient to convict a murderer. There is, however, one strong objection to the theory of the reviewer which strikes me at the first glance. Junius, whoever he was, wrote a long letter to George Grenville, which was pre- served at Stowe many years, and of which I have seen a copy in Lord Mahons possession. The letter contains no decisive indications of the writers situation. But, on the whole, it seems to be written by a man not very high in rank or fortune. The tone, though not by any means abject, is that of an inferior. The author de- clares himself to be the writer of a squib, then famous, called The Grand Council. He says tlcat Grenville must soon be prime minister. Till then I wish to remain concealed even from you; then I will make myself known, and ex- plain what I wish you to do for me. I quote from memory ; but this is the substance. The original I have not seen but I am told that it is the handwriting of Junius letters. Now this circumstance seems to me decisive against Lord Lyttelton. He was George Gren- villes cousin. The connection between this Stows family and the ilagly family had, during two generations, been extremely close. Is it probable that George Grenville would not leave known Lytteltons hand? Is it possible that a letter written by Lyttelton should have lain at Stows eighty years, and that none of the cousinhood should have been struck by ties writing? But in truth the strongest arguments against the reviewers theory are, the arguments which in my opinion prove that Francis was the author of the letters. Ii have the honor to be, sir, Your faithful servant, T. B. MACAUaAY. In addition to these valuable remarks of Mi-. Macaulay, I will venture here somewhat further to elucidate the brief statement on two or three other points in my text. First as to the hand-writing. In the fourth volume of the Chatham correspondence will t3e found fac similes of some words from Junins ranged in alphabetical order, and side by side with the same, or nearly the same, words from the acknowledged writings of Sir Philip Fr iccis. It may there be seen on close comparison that the difference is only as between an upright and a slanting hand ; the formation of the capital letters being in each case, and in all respects, the very same. There is also in both the same habit of combining by a line some of the shorter words. 95 96 MAHON S HISTORY OF ENGLANDJUNIUS. From other passages admitting of more extended tion to set forth each for himself a new and observation, Mr. Taylor has been able to deduce striking theory, than merely, without the small that both writers appear equally unwilling to est claim of original discovery, or any hope of break a word at the end of a line, preferring in- honor thence arising, to follow as I have done in stead of it to leave a great space ; often with the footsteps of another. But I will presume to them filled up by a flourish of the pen, as is assert, with all possiblo respect for those who usual in law writings, but not usual in any have arrived at a different conclusion, that this other. Both re very careful of punctuation, vast mass of evidence is not to be shaken, not neglecting even the commas when required, far less subverted, by passing over its main to a degree very seldom to be found in MSS. features in silence, and by only seeking ( s ith Both agree in some minute peculiarities of spell more or less success is in general attempted) to ing ; as endeavor, for endeavour, in trace here and there scattered analoniesa. d lance, for enhance, and risque, for points of vague resemblance between Junius ~ii~a risk. some other person of his time. M. Secondly, as to Lord Holland. That nobleman, considering his line of politics, was one of the most obrinas marks for Junius to assail. Few men ot that time were more open to attack. Few men had loss of popular favor to shield them. Yet, by a most remarkable anomaly in Junius career, Lord Holland was on all occasions design- oily spared by that writer. In one of his private letters to Woodfall he goes so far as to say: I wish Lord Holland may acquit himself with honor. And when he believed Lord Hollands son to have written against him anonymously in the newspapers, he does not strike blow for blow as who could more readily?) but merely, under another name, throws out this public warning Whether Lord Holland be invulnerable, or whether Junius should be wantonly provoked, sw uembns orthy the Black Boys (Charles ox ~) conscieration. No theories then as to ~l~3 autnol ship of Junius can be complete or sat .4 sctoi y which do not supply some adequate oxpiaua& Ion of this remarkable anomaly. In very 1~w of theie theories is any such explanation e eo at en1)ted. In none is it so clear and plain in th case of Philip Francis, Lord Holland ixvoi ocen the early patron both of his father ni hiaselt . . . . With respect to Lady Fiancis a has been said to diminish the force of her tetoaony as published by Lord Campbell, that the vanity which was the ruling principle of Sir Philips mind might easily induce him to accredit, though not expressly to affirm, the rumor of bis being the Great Unknown. But let the reader weigh the following statement. Lady Francis says of her husband, His first gift after our marriage was an edition of Junius, which he bid me take to my room and not let it be seen or speak on the subject, and his post- humous present which his son found in his bureau was Junius Identified (as Sir Philip Francis), sealed up and directed to me. The marriage gift might pass on the score of vanity; but the posthumous present is not to be so lightly dismissed. To suppose that Sir Philip bequeathed such a book under such circum- stances, he not being in truth the author of Junius, is to heap a most heavy imputation on his memory. It is to accuse him of impart- ing a falsehood, as it was, from beyond the grave. Such is a part, and only a part, of the vast mass of circumstantial-evidence, as Mr. Macau- lay, in his letter, truly terms it, which proves Francis to have been Junius. It is no doubt far more gratifying for any writers on this ques Mr. Macaulays lettor is excellent, though we confess it surprises us that he should make even the concession he does to a theory that seems to us to have fewer rational sup- ports than any other even of the Junius extrav- agances. The Draper point is so happily turned by Mr. Macunlay, that hereafter it must undoubtedly be held as an important ad- dition to the proof. The supposed secret of Francis silence we formerly ourselves in- sisted on very strongly, in connection with his cruel attacks on such men as Welbore Ellis, to whom he was certainly under very great personal obligations. Lord Mahon s argument as to Lord 1101- land is ingeniously put, hut to give it any- thing like the solid weight claimed for it, it should be shown, we think, that something beyond a mere general temptation to attack had been resisted; for it is to be remembered that Lord Holland was not in power at any time during the publication of the letters. As to Lady Francis evidence, making all allowance for the fact that she only knew her husband in the later years of his life, and was too young to have any personal knowledge of the events in which he had taken part as a public man, it must be admitted to be at least decisive of the desire of Francis himself to be regarded (after death) as having written the letters. What effect this should have upon the general evidence depends solely on the view taken of Francis character. We do not quote what Lord Mahon says of style and handwriting, thinking this kind of proof extremely fallible. Indeed, if infer- ences derivable from similarity of style were to be held unassailable, we should think the authorship of, Junius settled by that of the authorship of a Letter to a Brigadier Gen- eral published ten years before. Nothing nearly so remarkable in that respect has yet been produced and we can offer no stronger testimony of our faith in Junius Identified, which, upon the whole, we find to have sur- vived all the many ingenious surmises of recent critics, than that, knowing Francis could not have written both the Letter to the Brigadier and the Letters of Junius, we yet believe the last to be his production. BULWEI{ S POETICAL AND DRAMATIC WORKS. From the Examiner. The Poetical and Dramatic Works of & r Ed- ward Butwer Lytton, Bart. Vol. III. Chapman and 1-lall. THE third volume of this most welcome republication contains the three closing books of the writers opus ma0 num as a poet, King Arthur, and a collection of minor poems whereof a large part (in our judgment also the best part) is entirely new. Of these the most satisfactory account that we can give will perhaps be afforded by extracting some specimens entire. Such is their character and beauty that to quote them will certainly to the reader be the pleasantest mode of recommending them. Among these shorter Lyrics we find the last and not the least striking evidences of the poets genius, of the thinkers intellectual activity. The more mature among them are collected into two hooks under the title of Corn-flowers, the title being interpreted by a brief motto. The Corn-flower opens as the sheaves are ripe. Song ie the twin of golden Contemplation, The Harvest-flower of life. SYe are thus prepared for the grave and thoughtful air of the most part of these charm- ing poems, and we find in them also a singular delicacy and variety of rhythm and musical ex- pression. Hardly two are alike in the form of the verse, but fancy and feeling are richly displayed in all, and in a few referring to classical subjects the scholar declares him- self equally with the poet in their learned felicity and imaginative subtlety of allusion. The first that we shall quote is called THE PILGRIM. Wearily flaggeth my Soul in the Desert; Wearily, wearily. Stud, ever sand, not a gleam of the fountain Sun, ever sun, not a shade from the mountain Wave after wave flows the sea of the Desert, Drearily, drearily. Life dwelt with life in my far native valleys, Nightly and daily; Labor had brothers to aid and beguile: A tear for my tear, and a smile for my smile And the sweet human voices rang out ; and the valleys Echoed them gayly. Under the almond-tree, once in the spring-time, Careless reclining The sigh of my Leila was hushed on my breast, As the note of the last bird had died in its nest Calm looked the stars on the buds of the spring- time, Calm but how shining! Below on the herbage there dttrkened a shadow; Stirred the boughs oer me; Dropped from the almond-tree, sighing, the blossom ccccxc. lAYING AGE. VOL. III. 7 Trembling the maiden sprang up from my bosom; Then the step of a stranger came mute thro the shadow, Pausing before me. He stood gray with age in the robe of a Dervise, As a kin0 awe-compeliin0 And the cold of his eye like the diamond was bright, As if years from the hardness had fashioned the light, A drau0ht from thy spring for the way-weary 1)ervise, And rest in thy dwelling. And my herds gave the milk, and my tent gave the shelter And the stranger spell-bound me With his tales, all the night, of the far world of wonder, Of the ocean of Oman with pearls gleaming under; And I thought, 0 how mean are the tents simple shelter And the valleys around me ! I seized as I listened, in fancy, the treasures By Afrites concealed Scared the serpents that watch in the ruins afar Oer the hoards of the Persian in lost Chil-Menar; Alas! till that ni0ht happy youth had more treas- ures Than Ormus can yield. Morn eame, and I went with my guest thro the gorges In the rock hollowed The flocks bleat lowas I passed them ungrieving, The almond-buds strewed the sweet earth I was leaving Slowly went Age thro the 0loom of the gorges, Lightly Youth followed. We won through the Pass the Unknown lay before me, Sun-lighted and wide; Then I turned to my guest, but how languid his tread, And the awe I h d felt in his presence was fled, And I cried, Can thy age in the journey before me Still keep by my side ? Hope and Wisdom soon part ; be it so, said the Dervise, My mission is done. As he spoke, came the gleam of the crescent and spear, Chimed the bells of the camel more sweet and more near Go, and march with the Caravan, youth, sighed the Dervise, Fare thee well ! he was gone. What profits to speak 6f the wastes I have trav- ersed Since that early time One by one the procession replacing the guide, Have dropped on the sands, or have strayed from my side; And I hear never more in the solitudes traversed The camel-bells chime. 97 BULWERS POETICAl AND DRAMATIC WORKS. How oft have I yearned for the old happy valley! But the sands have no track; He who scorned what was near must advance to the far, Who forsaketh the land-mark must march by the star, And the steps that once part from the peace of the valley Can never come back. So on, ever on, spreads the path of the Desert, Wearily, wearily Sand, ever sand not a gleam of the fountain Sun, ever sun not a shade from the mountain; As a sea on a sea, flows the width of the Desert, Drearily, drearily. How narrow content, and how infinite knowl- ed ~,e Lost vale, and lost maiden Enclosed in the garden the mortal was blest; A world with its wonders lay round him unguest That world was his own when he tasted of knowl- edge Was it worth Aden? The two following are also in melancholy strain, and set to as delicate though different music. TO A WITHERED TREE IN JUNE. Desolate tree! why are thy branches bare? What hast thou done To win strange winter from the summer air, Frost from the sua? Thou wert not churlish ia thy palmier year Unto the herd Tenderly gavst thou shelter to the deer, Home to the bird. And ever once, the earliest of the grove, Thy smiles were gay, Opening thy blossoms with the haste of love To the young May. Thea did the bees, and all the insect wings Around thee gleam; Feaster and darling of the gilded things That dwell i the beam. Thy liberal course, poor prodigal, is sped I-low lonely now ! How bird and bee, light parasites, have fled The leafless bough! Tell me, sad tree, why are thy branches bare? What hast thou done To win strange winter from the summer air, Frost from the sun? Never, replied that forest-hermit lone (Old truth and endless!) Never for evil done, but fortune flown, Are we left friendless. Yet wholly, nor fot winter nor for storm Doth Love depart! We are not all forsaken till the worm Creepe to the heart Ah naught without, within thee if decay, Can heal or hurt thee, Nor boots it, if thy heart itself betray, Who may desert thee ! THE SABBATH Fresh glides the brook and blows the gale, Yet yonder halts the quiet mill The whirrin wheel, the rushing sail, How motionless and still Six days of toil, poor child of Cain, Thy strength the slave of Want may be; The seventh.thy limbs escape the chain A God hath made thee free Ah, tender as the Law that gave This holy respite to the breast, To breathe the gale, to watch the wave, And know the wheel may rest! But where the waves the gentlest glide What image charms, to lift, thine eyes The spire reflected on the tide Invites thee to the skies. To teach the soul its nobler worth This rest from mortal toils is given Go, snatch the brief reprieve from earth And pass a guest to heaven. They tell thee, in their dreaming school, Of Power from old dominion hurled, When rich and poor, with juster rule, Shall share the altered world. Alas ! since time itself began, That fable hath but fooled the hour Each age that ripens Power in Man, But subjects Man to Power. Yet every day in seven, at least, One bright republic shall be known ; Mans world awhile hath surely ceast, When God proclaims his own! Six days may Rank divide the poor, O Dives, from thy banquet-hall The seventh the Father opes the door, And holds His feast for all Whoso would wander pleasantly through garden of such flowers as these, let him hetake himself to the book, let him go in a mong the sheaves. Of a different and perhaps higher order thought as well as verse this appears to us very striking. TILE POPE AND TRE BEGGAIL. I saw a soul beside the clay it wore, When reigned that clay the I-Iierarch-Sire of Rome A hundred priests stood ranged the bier before, Within St. Peters dome. And all was incense, solemn dirge, and prayer, And still the soul stood sullen by the clay: 0 soul, why to thy heavenlier native air Dost thou not soar away ? 98 THE MANUFACTURE OF FOOD. And the soul answered, with a ghastly frown, In what life loved, death finds its weal or woe Slave to the clays desires, they drag me down To the clays rot below It spoke, and when Romes purple ones reposed They lowered the corpse ; and downwards from the sun Both soul and body sunk and darkness closed Over that twofold one. Without the church, unburied on the ground, There lay, in rags, a beggar newly dead Above the dust no holy priest was found, No pious prayer was said. But round the corpse unnumbered lovely things, Hoverin~ unseen by the proud passers by, Formed upward, upward, upward, with bright wings, A ladder to the sky! And what are ye, 0 beautiful ? We are, Answered the choral cherubim, Ills deeds ! Then his soul, sparkling sudden as a star, Flashed from its mortal weeds, And, lightly passing, tier on tier along The gradual pinions, vanished like a smile! Just then, swept by the solemn-visaged throng From the Apostles pile. Knew ye this beggar ? Knew! a wretch, who died IJuder the curse of our good Pope, now gone ! Loved ye that Pope ? He was our Churchs pride, And Romes most holy son ! Then did I muse; such are mens judgments blind In scorn or love! in what unguessed-of-things, Desires or Deeds do rags and purple find The fetters or the wings Our last quotation shall be the last poem in the volume. EPIORAPIS. Cogito ergo sum. Self of myself, unto the future age Pass, murmuring low whateer thine own has taught, I think, and therefore am, exclaimed the Sage, As now the Man, so henceforth be the page A life, because a thought. Through various seas, exploring shores unknown, A soul went forth, and here bequeaths its chart here Doubt retains the question, Grief the groan, And here may Faith still shine, as when she shone And saved a sinking heart. From the lost nectar-strea s of golden youth, From rivers loud with Babels madding throng, From wells whence Lore invokes reluctant Truth, And that blest pool the wings of angels smooth, Life fills mine urns ef song. Calmly to time I leave these images Of things experienced, suffered, felt, and seen Fruits shed or tempest-torn from changefal tree. Shells murmuring back the tides in distant seas, Signs where n Soul has been. As for the form Thought takes the rudest hill Echoes denied to gardens back may give Life speaks in all the forms hich Thought can fill; If Thou~ht once born can perish not here still I think, and therefore live Few men have had a better ri6ht to use this language. There are few men, if any, hold- ing a place among the foremost representatives of our contemporary literature, who can assert effectively so many distinct claims on the gratitude of educated renders, or who will have left such various vouchers for future and lasting remembrance. Tic MANITFACTUR or Foon. In addition to the large demand from AustU ha for all kinds of iron implements of labor, there has been lately, in this country, a very great i ~crease in the manufacture of agricultural labor-raving machines of various kinds ;, nor is that kind of manufacture likely to decrease for some tme. With increasin~ scarcity of hands in the rural as well as in the manufact ring districts, and the present highly remun rative prices of all kinds of farm produce, the farmers will be in- duced to adopt the latest improvements in the cultivation of the soil much more rapidly than heretofore. It is but a few years since they began to use guano as a fertilizer, although Humboldt had called their attention to it nearly half a century ago. Considerin~ that they have the finest market in the world for all the food they can produce, it says little for their skill and enterprise that the supplies they furnish should fall so far short of the demand as to require an average importation of about 20,000,00(1. worth of food annually. Next year they will probably reach 40,000,0001. ; nearly equal to half the declared value of our annual exports of manufac- tures. Compared with the production of calicoes, broadeloths, and cutlery, the manufacture of food, so far as one can judge from price, would seem to be only in its infancy. It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that the advance which has taken place in the price of farm pro- duce generally within the last two years has arisen from any sensible increase in the cost of production. The main cause has been increased consumption by the working-classes. Our farm- ers seem as if they could not bring the supply of any of the articles they produce up to the de- mand. Spectator. Ir is said that Mr. Francis Wlsishaw has in- vented and patented a new lock, applicable for banking purposes, by the employment of electro- magnetism; the lock is opened by breaking a magnetic current. 99 OLIVER WENDELL hOLMES. From the New Monthly Magazine. AMERICAN AIJTIJORSIIIP. NO. VI. OLIVER WENDELL hOLMES. PROFESSOR hOLMES is distinguished in ma- Lena medica as well as in lays and lyrics. lie is familiar with the highways and byways of those Realms unperfumed by the breath of song, Where flowers ill-flavored shed their sweets around, And bitterest roots invade the ungenial ground, Whose gems are crystals from the Epsom mine, Whose vineyards flow with antimonial wine, Whose gates admit no mirthful feature in, Save one gaunt mocker, the Sardonic ~rin ~ and with rare devotion he pursues the sternly prosaic calls of the healing art unable as his poetic temperament sometimes may be to repress a sigh for the beautiful, or a sonnet on the sublime, and, in passing disgust at the restraints of professional study, to ask him- self, Why dream I here within these caging walls, Deaf to her voice while blooming Nature calls Peering and gazing with insatiate looks Throu0h blinding lenses, or in wearyin~ books? t But, resisting temptation, and cleaving with full purpose of heart to M.D. mysteries, with leech-like tenacity to the leechs functions, he secures a more stable place in medical annals than many a distinguished medico-lit- erary brother, such as Goldsmith, or Smnollett, or Akeuside. Nor can the temptation have been slioht to one with so kindly a peuchant towards the graces of good fellowship, and who can analyze with such sympathetic gusto what he calls the warm, chain- pagny, old-particular, brandy-punchy feeling and who may arrogate a special mastery of the Quaint trick to cram the pithy line, That cracks so crisply over bubbling wine. Evidently, too, he is perfectly alive to the pleasure and pride of social applause, and ac- cepts the three times three of round-table ulorification as rightly bestowed. Indeed, in more than one of his morecaux, he plumes himself on a certain irresistible power of wag- ~ery, and even thinks it expedient to vow never to give his jocosity the full length of its tether, lest its side-shaking violence implicate him in unjustifiable homicide. His versitication is smooth and finished, without being tame or strait-laced. lie takes pains with it, because to the poets paint- ings tis Verse bestows the Tarnish and the frame and study, and a naturally musical ear, have taught him that Urania. 1 Astr~a. Our grating English, whose Teutonic jar Shakes the racked axle of Arts rattling car, Fits like mosaic in tile lines that gird Fast in its place each many-angled word. In his own Poetry: a Metrical Essay, he marks how The proud heroic, with its pulse-like beat, Rings like the cymbals clashing as they meet The sweet Spenserian, gathering as it flows, Sweeps gently onward to its dying close, Where waves on wavesin long succession pour, Till the ninth billow melts alon~ the shore. His management of the proud heroic, in serious and sustained efforts, reminds us more of Campbell than any other poet we can name. But it is in that school of graceful badinage and piquant satire, represented among our selves by such writers as Frere, and Spencer, and Mack~vorth Praed, that Dr. hhohues is most efficient. Too earnest not to be some- times a grave censor, tIlo thoughtful not to introduce occasionally didactic passages, too humane and genial a spirit to indulge in the satirists scowl, and sneer, and snappish mo- roseness, he has the power to be pungent and mordant in sarcasm to an alarming de~ree, while his will is to temper his irony with so much good-l~umor, fun, mercurial fancy, and generous feeling, that the more gentle hearts of the more gentle sex pronounce him excel- lent, and wish only he would leave physic for song. In some of his poems the Doctor is not without considerable pomp and pretension we use the terms in no slighting tone. Poetry: a Metrical Essay, parts of Terp- sichore, Urania, and Astrtea, Pitts- field Cemetery, The Ploughusan, and various pieces among the lyrical effusions, are marked by a dignity, precision, and sonorous elevation, often hi~hly effective. The diction occasionally becomes almost too ambitious verging on the efflorescence of a certain Eng lish M. D., yclept Erasmus Darwin so that we now and then pause to make sure that it is not the satirist in his bravura, instead of the bard in his solemnity, that we hear. Such passages as the following come without stint If passions hectic in thy stanzas glow, Thy hearts best life-blood ebbing as they flow If with thy verse thy strength and bloom distil, Drained by the pulses of the fevered thrill If sounds sweet effluence polarize thy brain, And thoughts turn crystals in thy fluid strain Nor rolling ocean, nor the prairies bloom, Nor streaming cliffs, nor rayless caverns gloom, Needst thou, young poet, to inform thy line; Thy own broad signet stamps thy song divine Fragments of the Lichfield physicians Botanic Garden, and Loves of the Plants, seem recalled revised and cor ~ Urania. 100 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 101 reeted, if you will in lines where the crepit man with the well-vouched tradition of Boston physician so picturesquely discrimi- his past comeliness and vi ~or: The scythes broad meadow with its dusky blush; The sickles harvest with its velvet flush The green-haired maize, her silken tresses laid, In soft luxuriance, on her hai h brocade The gourd that swells beneath her tossing plume The coarser wheat that rolls in lakes of bloom Its coral stems and milk-white flowers alive With the wide murmurs of the scattered hive The glossy apple with the pencilled streak Of mornin~, painted on its southern cheek The pears long necklace, strung with golden drops, Arched, like the banyan, oer its hasty props & c. Many of the more labored efforts of his muse have an imposing eloquence rather crude and unchastened, however, and to be ranked perhaps with what himself now calls his questionable extravagances. To the class distinguished by tenderness of feeling, or a quietly pervading pathos, belong with varyin~ orders of merit the touching stanzas entitled Departed Days, the pensive record of An Evening Thought, From a Bach- elors Private Journal, La Grisette, The Last Reader, and A Souvenir. How natural the exclamation in one for the first time conscious of a growing chill in the blood and calmness in the brain, and an ebbing of what was the sunny tide of youth: 0, when loves first, sweet, stolen kiss Burned on my boyish brow, Was that young forehead worn as this? Was that flushed cheek as now? Were that wild pulse and throbbing heart Like these, which vainly strive, In thankless strains of soulless art, To dream themselves alive? t And again this mournful recognition of lifes inexorable onward march, and the dislimnino of what memory most cher- ishes But, like a child in ocean s arms, We strive against the stream, Each moment further from the shore, Where lifes youn~ fountains gleam Each moment fainter wave the fields, And wider rolls the sea The mist grows dark the sun goes down Day breaks and where are we? t An interfusion of this pathetic vein with quaint humor is one of Dr. Holmes most notable qualities : as in the stanzas called The Last Leaf, where childhood depicts old a,,e totterin~, through the streets con- trasting the shrivelled weakness of the do- Pittsfield Cemetery. f An Evening Thought. t Departed Days. But now he walks the streets, And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan; And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, They are gone. The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names lie loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. My graudmamma has said, Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago, That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow. But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here But the old three-cornered list, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. These admirable verses set in so aptly framed a metre too would alone suffice to make a reputation. In a like spirit, dashed with a few drops of the Thackeray essence, are the lines headed Questions and Answers, among the queries and responses being these sarcastic sentimentalisms Where, 0 where are the visions of morning, Fresh as the dews of our prime? Gone, like tenants that quit without warning, Down the back entry of time. Where, 0 where are lifes lilies and roses, Nursed in the golden dawns smile? Dead as the bulrushes round little Moses, On the old banks of the Nile. Where are the Marys, and Anns, and Elizas, Loving and lovely of yore? Look in the columns of old Advertisers, Married and dead by the score. In such alliance of the humorous and fan- ciful lies a main charm in this writers pro- ductions. Fancy he has in abundance, as he proves on all occasions, grave and gay. Some- nates OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. times, indeed, he indulges in sirniles that may be thought rather curious than felicitous as where he speaks of the hali~built tower, which, thanks to Howes artillery, Wears on its bosom, as a bride might do, ihe iron breast-pin which the Rebels threw.5 A steam-boat is likened to a wild nymph, now veiling her shadowy form, while through the storm sounds the beating of her restless heart now answering, like a courtly dame, The reddening surges o er, With flying scarf of spangled flame, The Pharos of the shore.t of Gazing into a ladys eyes, he sees a matter Ten thousand angels spread their wings Within those little azure rings4 The Spirit of Beauty he bids Come from the bowers where summers life-blood flows Through the red lips of Junes half-open rose. In his summary of metrical forms The glittering lyric bounds elastic by, With flushing ringlets and exultin~ eye, While every image, in her airy whirl, Gleams like a diamond on a dancing girl. II We are told how Health flows in the rills, As their ribands of silver unwind from the hills. And again, of a Stream whose silver-braided rills Fling their unclasping bracelets from the hills.~~ In such guise moves the Arid fancy of the poet. In its more Puck-like, tricksy, mirthful mood, it is correspondingly sportive. A comet wanders Where darkness might be bottled up and sold for Tyrian dye.tt Of itinerant musicians the Discords stin through Burns and Moore, like hedgehogs dressed in lace.tt A post-prandial orator of a prononc6 face- tious turn, is warned that All the Jack Homers of metrical buns, Are prying and fln~erin~ to pick out thepuns. A strayed rustic stares through the wedged crowd, Where in one cake a throng of faces runs, All stuck together like a sheet of buns. ii ~ Urania. t The Steam-boat. ~ Stanzas. Pittsfield Cemetery. I Poetry. ~ Song for a Temperance Dinner. ~ Pittsfield Cemetery. i-f The Comet. if The Music-grinders. Verses for After Dinner. Ill Terpsh~hore. But we are getting Jack-Hornorish, and must forbear; not for lack of plums, though. The wit and humor, the vers de soczftf and the jeux-desprit of Dr. holmes, bespeak the gentleman. Not that he is prim or particu- lar, by any means; on the contrary, he loves a bit of racy diction, and has no objection to a sally of slang. Thus, in a lecture on the toilet, he is strict about the article of gloves Shave like the goat, if so your fancy bids, But be a parent, dont neglect your kids.~ A superlative Mr. Jolly Green is shown up, Whom schoolboys question if his walk transcends The last advices of maternal friends t which polite periphrasis is discarded where Achilles death is mourned Accursed heel that killed a hero stout! 0, had your mother known that you were out, Death had not entered at the trifling part That still defies the small chirurgeons art With corns and bunioust The last passage is from a protracted play upon words, in which poor hood is emulated though the author owns that Hard is the job to launch the desperate pun, A pun-job dangerous as the Indian one in unskilful hands turned back on ones self by the current of some stronger wit, so that, Like the strange missile which the Australian throws, Your verbal boomerang slaps you on the nose. A punster, however, Dr. holmes will be and already we have had a taste of his qual- ity in the kid-glove case ; so, again, the bunions annexed to the Achilles catas- trophe reminds him to explain, that he refers not to The glorious John Who wrote the book we all have pondered on, But other bunions, bound in fleecy hose, To Pilgrims Progress unrelenting foes ! A gourmand, sublimely contemptuous of feasts of reason, argues that Milton to Stilton must give in, and Solomon to Salmon, And Roger Bacon be a bore, and Francis Bacon gammon. II And the irresistible influence of collegiate convivial associations is thus illustrated We re all alike ; Vesuvius flings the scorimu from his fountain, But down they come in volleying rain back to the burning mountain; We leave, like those volanic stones, our precious Alma Mater, But will keep dropping in again to see the dear old crater. ~ Urania. j Astrna. i- A Modest Request. Ibid. I Nux Posteunatica. Ibid. 102 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. As a satirist, to shoot Folly as it flies, Dr. Holmes bends a bow of stren th. his arrows are polished, neatly pointed~ gayly feathered, and whirr throunh the air with cutting em- phasis. And he hath his quiver full of them. But, to his honor be it recorded, he knows how and when to stay his hand, and checks himself if about to use a shaft of undue size and weight, or dipped in gall of bitterness. Thea he pauses, and says Come, let us breathe ; a something not divine Has mingled, bitter, with the flowing line for if he might lash and lacerate with Swift, he prefers to tickle and titillate with Addison, and, therefore, adds, in such a case, If the last target took a round of grape To knock its beauty something out of shape, The next asks only, if the listener please, A schoolboys blowpipe and a gill of pease.* Genial arid good-natured, accordingly, he appears throunhout using his victims as old Jzaak did his bait, as though he loved them yet taking care that the hook shall do its work. Among the irksome shams of the day, he is smart upon those cant- mongers who With uncouth phrases tire their tender lungs, The same bald phrases on their hundred tongues Ever~ Time Ages~ in their page appear, Aiway the bedlamite is called a Seer ; On every leaf the earnest sage may scan Portentous bore ! their many-sided man, A weak eclectic, groping vague and dim, Whose every an~le is a half-starved whim, Blind as a mole and curious as a lynx, Who rides a beetle, which he calls a Sphinx.t here is another home-thrust The psuedo-critic-editorial race Owns no alle~,iance but the law of place Each to his region sticks through thick and thin, Stiff as a beetle spiked upon a pin. Plant him in Boston, and his sheet he fills With all the slipslop of his threefold hills, Talks as if Nature kept her choicest smiles Within his radius of a dozen miles, And nations waited till his next Review had made it plain what Providence must do. Would you believe him, water is not damp, Except in buckets with the iliagham stamp, And heaven should build the walls of Paradise Of Quincy granite lined with Wenham bet Elsewhere he counsels thus, feslina leate, his impetuous compatriots Dont catch the fidgets; you have found your place Just in the focus of a nervous race, Fretful to change, and rabid to discuss, Full of excitements, always in a fuss ; Think of the patriarchs; then compare as men These lean-cheeked maaiaea of the tongue and pen! Run, if you like, but try to keep your breath Work like a man, but dont be worked to death; And with new notions, let me change the rule, Dont strike the iron till it s slightly cool.~ Once more there is pithy description in a list he furnishes of Poems that shuffle with superfluous legs A blindfold minuet over addled eggs, Where all the syllables that end in dd, Like old dragoons, have cuts across the head , Essays so dark Champollion might despair To guess what mummy of a thought was there, Where our poor English, striped with foreign phrase, Looks like a Zebra in a parsons chaise. . Mesmeric pamphlets, which to facts appeal, Each fact as slippery as a fresh-caught eel ; & e., & c.t There is pleasant and piquant raillery in the stanzas to My Aunt, who, medi~vaL as she is, good soul still strains the ach- ing clasp that binds her virgin zone: know it hurts her, thou~h she looks as cheerful as she can Her waist is ampler than her life, for life is but a span. My aunt! my poor deluded aunt! her hair is almost gray: Why will she train that winter curl in such a spring-like way? How can she lay her glasses down, and say she reads as well, When, through a double convex lens, she just makes out to spell? Que de jolis vers, et de spirituelles indices! And so arain in The Parting Word, which maliciously predicts, stage by stage, ma gradual but rapid succession, the feelings of a shallow-hearted damosel after parting with her most devoted from tearing of jetty locks and waking with inflamed eyes, to com- placent audience of a new swain, three weeks after date. We like Dr. holmes better in this style of graceful banter than when he essays the more broadly comic as in The Spectre Pig, or The Stethoscope Song. The lines On Lending a Punch-bowl are already widely-known and highly-esteemed by British readers and of others which deserve to be so, let us add those entitled Nux Post- coenatica, The~ Music-grinders, The Dorchester Giant, and Daily Trials, which chronicles the acoustic afflictions of a sensitive man, beginning at daybreak with yelping pug-dogs Mcma nonian son-odo, clos- ing at night with time lonely caterwaul, Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall, of feline miscreants, and including during the day the accumulated eloquence of womens tongues, like polar needles, ever on the jar, Astrrea. t Terpsiehore. ~ Astraia. * Urania. t Terpilehore. 103 104 LIEUT. MAtJRY. IMPROVEMENTS IN NANIGXTION. and drum-beatin children,and peripatetic hur- dy-gurdies, and child-crying bell-men-an as- cending series of torments, a sorites of woes On the whole, here we have, in the words of a French critic, un podte d~lite et qui comte cest une nature individuelle tr~s-fine et trds-marqude one to whom we owe des vers gracicux et aimables, vifs et idgers, dune gaietd nuanc~e de sentiment. And one that we hope to meet again and again. prom the Economist, 27 May. LIEUT. MAIJRY. IMPROVEMENTS IN NAVIGATION. ON May 14th we referred to the improve- ments in navination suggested by Lieutenant Maury of the United States; we pointed out that they were to be extended by observations made at different parts of the ocean; and we remarked that it would be discreditable to us, owning four tenths of the mercantile marine of the world, and our ships traversing the ocean in all directions, if we did not use our opportunities to enlarge science and make navigation safe and expeditious. Whatever doubt there may be, we said, as to the best method of securing the accomplishment of Lieutenant Maurys project, ship-owners, ship-captains, and underwriters should do what they can to promote it. Now that it is known, it concerns their honor to increase, by following his suggestions, the celerity and safety of travelling by sea.~ Lieutenant Maury is now an England, come bitber to promote by his personal exertions the success of his very useful undertaking. lie met a large body of merchants, ship- owners, and underwriters at Lloyds on Thurs- day week, and explained his views to them. He was cordially w-eicomed, and after bear- ing his explanations, on the motion of Mr. ID. Dunbar, a great ship-owner, seconded by Mr. IV. Phillips, tbe meeting unanimously adopted a resolution, expressin0 gratifica- tion at Lieutenant Maurys detail of the meas- ures adopted by the government of the United States for improving the science and practice of navigation, and pledging the ship- owners and their officers present to assist in the completion of the system so ably com- menced. A vote of thanks, also, to the government of the United States, for their liberal offer to furnisb copies of Lieut. Maurys valuable charts and sailing directions to mas- ters of British nierchant ships who should undertake to furnish the results of their obser- vations in the prescribed form, was unani- mously ajeed to; as was a resolution, That a letter be addressed by the chairman to the First Lord of the Treasury, expressing the earnest hope of the meeting that her majestys government would cordially co6 perate with that of the United States in this object. That Lieutenant Maury should be thus grate- fully received by our merchants and ship- owners, and that his plans should b~ zealously seconded by them, was to be expected ; but the meeting is not the less to be mentioned with all honor as tendina to promote an improvement which will save time life, and property, and will eminently serve the best interests of humanity. By collecting observations already made and recorded at different times and places by ship-masters, Lieutenant Manry was enabled to construct charts of prevailing winds at dif- ferent parts of the ocean in all seasons. By this means he has learnt which way the wind blows, and has taught seamen to shorten the voyage from the United States to Rio Janeiro by one.third, and save a mouth in going out to and in returning from Australia. These are substantial benefits conferred on all peo- ple. From the most remote periods the maritime population have been active a~ents in promotin~ comm unications between dis taut nations, in diffusing over all the advantages of each, and in promoting civilization. Their arduous labors cannot be too much lightened, nor their dangerous voyages too much short- ened ; and Lieutenant Maury, like the great men who invented the compass and the qual- rant, and perfected the time-piece ~vho dis- covered, by investigating celestial phenomena, easy and correct methods for ascertainin a ships place at sea, for which our government long offered a large reward who gave sea- men in the marine barometer an oracle which, duly consulted, warns them of coming storms, or, like Colonel Reid, showed them how to sail away from them Lieutenant Maury, like these great men, is a benefactor to his species. The government of the United States, sen- sible of the great advantages of his plans, has had charts prepared of the courses of the winds at different parts of the ocean, as far as they are yet known, and of the direc- tions of currents wherever any have been dis- covered. As the subject is yet very imper- fectly known is now, in truth, for the first time investigated in a careful, scientific man- ner the government issues these charts gratuitously to all captains of American ships who will undertake to forward to Lieut. Maury an abstract of their logs, in which, accordin~ to a prescribed form, the winds they meet with in different places, and other phenomena of the atmosphere and the ocean, are re- corded. Discarding all petty national jeal- ousy, and anxious only for the safety and welfare of the increasing multitudes who cross the deep sea, the American govern- ment, through Lient. Maury, now offers to give the same charts to all our merchant cap- tains who will contribute to the perfection of the good work. All that will be asked of them will be to for ard to some person ap- pointed by our Admiralty, and acting in con- junction with Lieut. Maury, or to forward di- rectly to him at Washington, an abstract of LIEUT. MAURY. IMPROVEMENTS IN NAVIGATION. their logs in such a form as to be available for the advancement of this important branch of scicnce. There is yet much to be done ; but by and by, if he be assisted, we shall be pro- vided with a complete map of the prevailing winds all over the globe at all times. The charts are offored to our shipmasters to show them by practice the utility of what has al- ready been done, and what is yet needed to make the charts perfect. They are merely put in the way of helping to improve their own art and securing their own safety. No constraint is put on them. Lieutenant Maury and the American government seek only vol- untary assistance to be given for the general benefit, and the especial benefit of all the maritime portions of society. That the offer will be thankfully accepted and extensively acted on, cannot be doubted. Our ship- owners and ship-masters will cordially unite with their brethren of the States, in endeav- orin~ to procure information that will make all voyages more safe and more expeditious. \~Te might be led into curious speculations were we deeply to inquire into the cause why the suggestion of such a useful scheme should have been reserved for an American. Some- thing like it indeed an instinctive clubbing of knowledge from all quartersa free com- mun~cation of scientific observations has long been ~oing on; but to suggest and adopt the plan to promote correct knowledge and general improvement, by inducing all ship- masters to record their observations in one cer- tain form, and to communicate them to some man or board of science to methodize and draw deductions from them, was reserved for Lieutenant Maury and the American govern- ment. The Americans, however, seem to be an eminently practical race. Their numer- ous inventions all tend to the common and general advantage, to bring about equally beneficial results for all by less labor. Their intellect is exerted for the benefit of all. It is not warped to consult the gratification of a few. They open their eyes and their senses to present ~vants, and set all their faculties to work to gratify them. They look Nature in the face, attend to her minutest signs, learn to read quickly her directions, and they are inventive, skilful, and prosperous. Only they, we believe, could have constructed a villa0e to move on rails, because only they have the opportunity of driving railways through a country into which they must carry as they go nearly all that they require. The Illieois Journal says, that a new plan of accommodating laborers on railroad improve- ments is practised on the Chicago and Missis- sippi railroad. The entire working force on this road is 100 persons, who liVe in cars fitted up for the purpose of boarding the men, and are pushed alonc, as the rails are laid, thus securing the advantage of having the men always near their work. This locomotive boarding house, or village, comprises fifteen large covered c rs, with all the necessary conveniences for cooking, eating, and sleeping. They carry the cows along, they graze alongside, and are put in the stalls when the locomotive village changes ground. Not being an old people, their senses are not perverted, nor their faculties benumbed, by a reverence for ancient prejudices. To master the world they follow its present teach- ing the only system which can ensure suc- cess. They unite that perfection of the senses which is proper to the sava~e with the knowl- edge and appliances of civilized men. More than any existin0 people like the ancient Greeks or the Assyrians, or any other primi- tive race they are free to use all their faculties to promote their worldly success, and they are eminently successful. hampered by old prejudices filled with an idle reverence for religious and political trumpery their Spanish neighbors are in- volved in perpetual difficulties and squabbles, and would, but for European example and assistance, rather turn the noble continent of America into a desert, than people it with swarms of active, intelligent, and inventive human beings. It is clear that if the Italiane or the Austrians, or any other European peo- ple, could be transplanted to the most fertile part of that vast continent, they could no more make progress there than in Europe, as long as they reverenced monkish mummeries as reli- gion, and honored their present military police and passport contrivances as governments. The iron limits to their progress and improvement exist in their own minds, and no boundless continent of the most fertile territory could enlarge them. They would be as helpless, as poor, as degraded there as in the narrow limits of old Europe. A young and a new people (and in relation to the old inhabitants of the greater part of the continent of Europe in relation to the Italians, inheriting a long- descended reverence for the arts and opinions of antiquity the English may be considered a young and a new people) a people not fast bound by the forms of an ignorant antiq- uity a people free to interrogate Nature, and walk and work by her directions, can alone thrive on the surface of the globe. Both the English and the Americans are com- paratively new and young people in another sense. Their numbets continually and rapidly increase, and all the increase may be called a new people. Where there is no increase of population no renewal of the youth of a people improvementis generally stationary. The Americans are eminently practical and successful because they are free not because they have a Republic or any particular form of government, but because, as the rule, they are each and all free to use their senses, to exert their faculties, and free to follow the instruction, whatever it may be, of the natural circumstances under which they exist. 105 A DAY WITH PITT. From the Press. A DAY WITH PITT. IN the afternoon of a fine day in November, 1788, a tall horseman, with a groom after hint, might be observed crossing Westminster ~ridge to the Surrey side. Riding with excessive rapidity, and seated almost bolt up- right in the saddle, he looks neither to the right nor to the left, but seems rapt in abstraction. A pbysiognomist, at a passing glance, would pause before saying whether the countenance was most expressive of mental thoo~ht or personal arrogance. The grave face, indeed, tells of habitual reflection but that prominent, haughty nose, tossed dis- dainfully upwards, is suggestive of pride car- ried even to scorn. his figure is gaunt, and more wiry than muscular, but the well-opened chest and manly bearing promise elasticity and energy. Some few of the foot-passengers look after him, and recognize his striking form, for they have often seen that haughty horseman riding thus rapidly about town; and, once seen, few could forget the sov- ereign look of that uncrowned ruler of men who answered to the world-famed name of Mr. Pitt. It is even he, and he looks more grave and resolute than usual. As the servant has saddle-bags, it appears that his master was going some considerable distance. But he would scarcely go very far at this advanced season of the year. Onward he rides faster and faster, and more rapidly than his livery- groom likes,# and the minister takes the road that crosses the Surrey hills by Norwood and Dulwich. lie pulls up for a moment in ascending a sharp acclivity, and draws aside to let a yellow barouche pass by. Ilow that showy, bold-looking woman stares after him! Ab! that is Miss (or rather Mistress) Hervey, who twenty years ago used to be toyin~ at the bar at Nandos with gay youn~ Templars, and who is now at the head of the Lord Chancellor Thurlows establishment at Knights hill, Dulwich. But the minister is not going there, and canters by its gate with- out stopping ; and on he rides, until he reaches the hei~hts by White horse house, and, if lie had any feeling for the picturesque, the man of great orations might enjoy the striking effect (if the declining day upon that vast burst of country, which meets his eye as he looks over the cultivated tracts of XVest Kent and East Sorry. But for that fair landscape, and the c/siaroscuro of the darkling light over Croydon town, the horsenian has not the least sentiment. And Pitt still trots forward at his rapid pace, taking the road to Beckenham, ~ Several grooms died in Pitts service from the effects of long waiting while in a heat after gallop- ing after their master. but he is not going so far. He soon turns off the high-road about a mile to the east of Croydon town, and dismounts at an old- fashioned villa, seated in a flat and rather swampy paddock, which gives the courtesy title of park to Adgecombe, or Addis. combe, according to later orthography.* Pitt is glad to learn that its owner, Lord hlawkesbury, has recovered from his severe cold, and soon he is in the study, where the veteran official (now a new peer) is laid up before the fire, in a lialf-invalided condition. In a monient the sudden visit is explained. Pitt wants to talk to old Jenkinson about fifty things that press. The crisis has become very serious indeed, and Lord Hawkesbury is dismayed, as he sees the very grave expression of Pitts face. Darker and darker becomes that bold and manly countenance as he describes the terrible state of things. Yester- day he was at Windsor, and saw the King of England in the paroxysms of madness. lie beheld earthly majesty laid prostrate by an actus Dci; and he had seen the queen, and all the household, struck with consternation. He had witnessed the alarm of the loyal and prosperous citizens of London, and had beheld horror on the faces of great umerchants that swayed Change. A panic political, offi- cial, and commercial is seizin0 on the public mind. The rank and file of the imdn- isterialists are threatening to desert. The faction at Carlton-house expects to carry all before it. The kings sons George, Prince of Wales, and Frederick, Duke of York have shown themselves, in an hour of anxious trial, to be bad Englishmen, and bad sons! And Fox Ah ! there is the cause of their errors. The princes have fallen into the hands of bad advisers. Fox has left Mrs. Armstead behind him on the Continent, and he will now strive might and main to repair his coalition defeat, and restore the fallen political fortunes of his rapacious faction, thirsting for revenge. All this, and much more, is talked over by Pitt and Lord Hawkcsbury, when a loud and joyous laugh is heard outside. T is only Robert, and one of his youn~, college friends from Oxford. And the statesmen continue their colloquy, until the noise of wheels is heard coming, up to the door. T is Sir Peter Burrell, on his way to Beckenhansi, along with his visitor, Sir William Young. They had no idea that Pitt could be here, amid ~ord ilawkes- bury makes them stay and dine. As Pitt will sleep at Addiscomube, there will be time enough for their privmtte colloquy at ni ~ht and Pitt, who never tires of parliamentary or official topics, is glad to have comilpanions who ~ Wilberforce records the fact, which we know also from other sources, that Pitt~ as constantly in the hahit of taking secret counsel with the first Lord Liverpool. 106 A DAY WITH PITT. 107 will take their xvine after dinner, since the inquiries of the anxious visitors. And Sir host is not equal to the bottle. William Young talks of the princes, and how And now dinner is announced, and Rob- the Duke of York has taken kindly to play, ert, himself to be a prime minister in after and how the hawks at Brookes pluck his days, comes in. But who is that along with feathers without mercy, reducing him to the him, whom he familiarly calls George ? vowels 1. 0. U.* And the Prince of Wales It is a tall and manly youth, with a form of is even worse. And all that, cries Lord uncommon grace, a countenance in which llawkesbury, when their father is so terribly amiability and intelligence are stamped, with afflicted ! and he then chimes in with many lustrous eyes, a voice of singular sweetness, stories that he has heard from Lord Bulkeley and an air of genius in his every look and about the libertine lives that the royal broth- gesture. Pitt is not mistaken. It is that ers are leading at this time of public sorrow. brilliant lad who struck him so much at Eton But Pitt seems to be getting tired of all this, in the delivery of the complimentary speech and he appears impatient, and the subordi- when Robert Jenkinson good-naturedly gave nates think it better to take a hint and retire; his place to his friend George Canning.* Both and the two visitors depart for Beckenhain, Sir C. Borrell and Sir W. Young are also leaving Lord Hawkcsbury~ ith Pitt, who then struck by the appearance of the gifted young retired to the library, where Pitt calls for an- Oxonian, who eagerly listens as he hears these other bottle of that capital ~vine. And politicians fresh from the great world tattle then his host ~sks with incredulity whether of the topics of the day. Nor is Pitt unob- eli the stories about the hardness of heart servant of his animated look, as Sir W. Young and utter want of feeling sho n by the princes tells the story of Lord Mornington (a name can be true Pitt at first makes no other dear to Oxonians) having consulted the Sortes answer but a si~nificant look at his friend, Virgilicoce on the question, Whether the and, then drawing close, whispers in his ear, Prince of Wales would be Regent B and his The queen told inc this; and adds, solto opening at the passage in the seventh book of voce, facts which make Lord Hawkesbury cry the lucid with a start, You mcke my blood run cold.t Sic regia tecta subibat But Pitt does not care for indi~nation :t Horriclus he proceeds to the crisis of the day, and again puts all the eventualities of the occasion be- and how, when he put the qnestion, fore the practical mind of the veteran official, Whether the king would recover his under- who replies in the quiet manner of one who standing B he ~vas answered by, had been in close connection with another Corpora viva nefas Stygia neetare carina, prime minister when the political waves were and Pitt calls on young Canning to translate running high& ~ Yes! Pitt is heartily glad he cantered out to Addiscombe ; it eases his the last line, and he cries, Good, sir, good ! mind to have Ilawkesburys common sense as the ready tongue of the orator in his teens and experience on his side. And now he replies, It is criminal to treat as dead a man must retire for the ni ht and who has in him the principle of life and, will have ~ lie says that he breakfast at seven in the morning~ amid allusions to Welwoods memoirs and So he proceeds to his bedroom earlier than Lord Falkland, dinner is announced, and the had been anticipated by the household at small party adjourn. The two youngsters find Addiscombe. As he opens his chamber door themselves out of place while the politicians he sees that there is some one in the room. talk in the unknown tongue of St. Stephens, It is a maid servant arran~,in~, the toilet-table, and they have tact enough to retire early from and within ten miles round of Croydon a pret- the table. tier girl than Madge Brooks could not be found. Pitt has scarcely spoken at all, but he has Look at her trim spruce figure, with her listened ~vhile Sir Peter Burrell prattles on neatly-made kirtle tucked up so nicely, and about the way thin~s are going at Carlt~n- her pretty coquettish mob cap, surmounting house, where Jack Payne, and Master Leigh a face fit for a May Queen. With her bloom- from Eton, and Lord Barrymores young ing cheeks, her sparkling eyes, and gypsy-like brother, and Mrs. Fitz, form the cabinet,f glance, and with lips that niight tempt an along with Fox and Sheridan; and then Pitt, anchorite, she looks the very model from which in a quiet, subdued way, talks of the state of George Morland painted. Sweet Madge! affairs at Windsor, where the prince grasped how that mantling blu~h becomes you as you at the command, but really ordered nothing find yourself alone with a youthful prime that was decent, and how it was only at his minister, flushed with wine! But your lips (Pitts) entreaty that a couple of grooms of the chamber were appointed to receive the ~ Idem (vol. ii., p. 98). j Idem (vol. ii., p. 68). * Historical. That valuable commodity indignation. ~ Courts and Cabinets of George III. (vol. i., Canning. p. 445). He had been Lord Betas private secretary, 108 A DAY WITH PITT. are safe from any rude coalition with those down over the mighty city, and tbink~ of the of the orator before you. Madge blushes still Fuinum, et opes,strepiturnque Rom~~. Lon- deeper as the great man addrcsscs her with don, in all its outstretched vastness, is the & oy! you most let me have , and material type of that great developed Empire Madgo thinks th~ t he is going to say some- of which he thinks. India the Colonies thing like what other young bachelors would a mighty marine a great zone of British in- say ; but, pshaw t is only a matchbox fluence circling the world such are the ideas he wants, and Madge retires, sayin0 to her- that loom through the solitary statesmans self that he s not such a great man to look mind, as he casts his piercing glance over at, after all, and if her John Thomas was only the great city, whose spires and forests of dressed up he M be a finer gemmuan, that he masts are only dimly, yet 0randly, visible be- would ; but thus it is ; and, with an indiffer- neath his view. ence worthy of Sir Isa~ e Newton, the states- And now he is again at the Treasury. He man, unmoved by the apparition of rustic gives a look at his office book, and observes the beauty, goes to his couch: It wants ten mm- number of interviews with all manner of utes to eleven us he lays his head on his pillow, people that he has appointed for this day. and before the clock has struck he is fast While looking over it he utters a regret that asleep, and enjoys most refreshing repose be- he has not Pretyman still for a private secre- note, in fore the midni5ht hour has gone. And one, tary and, while he is makiwr and two, and three, and four, are told from comes William Grenville with a hurried letter the turret clock, and still, with the calmness froma Doctor Willis, from Windsor, written in of a child, the tired statesman slumbers on. a more sanguine mood about the king; and But as the Kentish wagoner guides his their colloquy is interrupted by Dundas, who wain towards Croydon, he can see a light in talks at once of more ratting amongst one of the upper rooms at Addiscombe. T is their supporters, but says the Scotch members scarcely haW-past four; but Pitt is up, and will be faithful. I wish we could say rumma~mn~ in one of the saddle bags. He the same of more important people, cries finch; what he wants. He has the full report Pitt; for example, Thurlow. The word of the proceedings at the Convention Parlia- has scarcely left his lips when the chancellor meat in 1688, and he has the written remarks is announced, and Dundas mutters a Scotch on portions of it which he made his new So- sayin0 in which the deil is all thitt is licitor-General (Sir John Scott) note for him. heard, and soon after Pitt is closeted with one According to his usual custom, lie goes back who looks black and bold enough to make us to bed, to read and meditate, and prepare for think again of Dundas proverb. lIe is in- the emergencies of the comain~ day. how deed the black browd phantom that he cool is his mind how collected his faculties was described by Burke, and Pitt thinks of how calm is his unfaltering self-reliance! Foxs witty saying that there never was any The crisis is one that would ruffle the temper man so wise as Thurlow looked. how calmly even of a master-spirit; but Pitt, with Fox, and proudly Pitt looks down upon the arch- Burke, Wiudham, and Sheridan in his front schemer, while the deep intriguer tries to hide with Lansdowne hovering on his flank his heart from that penetrating gaze. Well, with Thurlow acting traitorously towards him they have not broken with each other yet. with the princes above him, conspiring for Thurlow has come to talk about the Irish his fall and with his royal master out of chancellorship, for Lord Liffinrd has resi~ned his reason amid the falling funds and dreary at last, and Fitzgibbon wants to get it. in a forebodin~s of frightened capitalistseven in few minutes he departs, and Pitt is forced the monarchys travail Pitt is undaunted to select from his crowded antechamber what as a Marlborough amid the roar of battle, in persons he will see. The first lie names is his own person incarnating the one poetic Bob Smith Phoebus! Wlmat a name passage of Addison, like whose angel he, lie is quite a pet of the great statesman, and, too, like most of his favorites, lie comnes froma Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm, the citya banker, still residing east of Temple-bar, but shortly to emerge into a Pitt feels that still the public voice of En~- splendid mansion in the Green Park, and land is with him, not with his foes. And tl7e wear the sparkling coronet of Carrin0ton. luinister, after three hours pondering, descends And next he sees the Irish Fitzgibbon small to an early breakfast, hurriedly swallowed, in stature, but great in audacity of design and he is soon scourimig on his high-trotting a provincial Thurlow, as towering in arrogance 8teed over the road to London. as his English prototype yet Pitt likes his lie sees the rural landscape around him, clear intellect and his ready comprehension of beautiful even in November, with as utter the ministers imperializing views. Then indifference as on the evening before. But as he come the thronging deputations from the advances his rrmind is roused when, descending city West Indian planters raisin~ an alarm from the heights near Norwood, he looks about Wilberforces plans for abolition, anti A DAY WITH PITT. 109 East Indian merchants with talk about ship- is so ill. But still volley after volley is heard ping, voyaging, cargoes, excise, Eastern pos- joyous, exhilarating, and heart-stirring. sessions, and all that perplexed business But it is of gen nine Ilighiand laughter, as matter on which Pitts mind rejoices to exer- wildly, madly joyous as if each burst were cisc itself Lie is quite happy in listening to the echo of another Burns striking his lyre in all their statemeurs; his intuitively logical praise of John Barleycorn. In comes the intellect grasps the relations of their facts to cause of it, mingling her saucy air of fashi3n that seheme of a commercial empire which is with a familiar popularity-hunting style ever and anon recurrin~ to his great, teeming the bold and brilliant Duchess of (gordon. brain. Yet he listens without emotion, while Yes she must see him, and, while the lie is told of the city prophet of yesterday officials stare at her masculine assurance, she to purchase him an annuity of three thousand succeeds in forcing her company on the minis- a year, in case he should be driven from ter. But, no! not even after all her active power.* services in counteracting (ieor~iana, Duchess But he must assimilate all this knowled~e of Devonshire Pitt obstinately refuses to go with vast plans of his own, and he desires that over this evening to PalImall, to a quiet a certain person from his thronged waiting- private dinner at Buckiugha~ll-house (where room should be next shown in. Let us follow the duchess now resides), and she makes her one of his assistant private secretaries, and exit in another volley, and vows, in joking see whom lie calls in to the minister. Several mood, that she 11 set on her friend Sir John members of Pimrliamnent are waiting their turn, Sinclair to write pamphlets against Mr. Pitt. but he does not call on them, nor on that Irish And Sir John is a canny chiel wi the pen. lord who, for further promotion in the peerage, Ye dinna ken Sir John as she does, Mr. minis- is waiting to offer five seats in support of the ter. Fast as ye wad empty decanters of cleret, Lord Lieutenant at Dublin Castle ; nor that Sir John wad clean out ink-bottles ; and, bid- general officer with a letter of introduction; ding the minister take thct for not being nor that bishop wantin~ translation; nor the more douce to a lady fra the north, off she dean wishing for a stall. There are Burke goes, making the walls rin0 a~ain with another and Sir Philip Francis, also, conic about ar- burst of cheery laughter. ranging certain forms of the Hastings case And then Pitt clears out the rest of the and they, too, are passed by; and there is antechamber, and tells Lord Moruington Lord Bulkely, crammed with gossip and to come along with him to Chathams, scandal ;t and he, too, is passed by, and the and they can talk about what Arthur, wants secretary whispers a clerical-looking person, (and Arthur is a good boy) to have done at whom my Lord the Bishop, and Mr. Dean, with tIme yeomanry at Trimn : and they stroll have looked rather disdainfully, for they guess up to~ether to the Admiralty. They are met that he has graduated only in a Hackney acad- by a strange-looki% person, walkin~ on tip- emy. lie looks awkward, with a stoop in the toe, flourishing his ri~ht hand in the air, shoulders of his ungraceful person, yet there while, with his eyes upon the ground, lie is frankness, intelligence, and the unmistakable converses eagerly with Sheridan. He salutes stamup of mind upon that meditative facet Lord Mornington. Thats Grattan, doubtless How an~ry Burke looks when he finds that over here intrignin~ about the Regency. this oracle of Newin ~ton-green is called in And Pitt thinks how, if he could have per- before himself, and how the throu~ in the ante- suaded the English manufacturers to adopt chamber is impatient at the long tarrying of his Irish Commercial Propositions of 1785, the dissenting divine! And, it they could Irish nationality, with its dangerous have seen through stone walls, they might patriots, might have been neutralixed. have beheld Pitt deep and absorbed in converse But the English manufacturers, led on by this with that downright Unitarian parson very gentleman, with a cold, purse-proud Richard Price who is like a conjurer manner, coming hither, prevented his plans. drawing forth coil after coil of statistical And Pitt then speaks with much courtesy to tables, and results in finance, which the san- one of his new baronets, Sir Robert Peel guine and figure-loving minister swallows with but the day will come when Pitt will play the only too much avidity, new Irish Chancellor (Fitzgibbon) against Their interview would have lasted longer Grattan, and incorporate Ireland with Eng- but for a volley of what? Artillery an- land. And now they n~ on the steps of the nouncing an anniversary or a review in the Admiralty, and they are going in to the First park? For shame! Think not of such jubi- Lords door; but the valet, running out, tells lant sounds in days when the King of England them Lord Chatham is not up yet, and the words 0 degenerem Neoptolemum ! almost ~ Courts and Cabinets of George Ill. (vol. ii., leap out of Pitts mouth, while Lord Morning- p. 14). t Idem,paesim. ~ See his character, under the title of $impli- * Idem (vol. ii., p.90; and vol. i. p. 348, and elmis, in iIrs. Chapones Letters. - supra). TUE MAUVAlSES TERRES OF NEBRASKA. ton spouts a Homeric line against men of pub- lic council sleepin0 long but Pitts ear is arrested, not by the high-sounding Greek, but by tbe eager whisper of the half breathless Geor~e Rose, telling him tbat a kin~s rnes- senger has come from Windsor with a special and immediate despatch from the queen. Within twenty-four hours from the time when we saw him yesterday on Westminster bridge, the minister is postinz to Windsor to aid with his loyal counsels tbe consort of his royal master. In A Day with Fox we saw the mighty chiefs matched against each other as orators. On the floor of the House of Commons criticism would pause in assigning the palm of superi- ority to either, mae, is pares guam sirniles. Contrasted together as men, the sympathies of tbe human heart will more powerfully be evoked by the union of the amiable and bril- liant in Foxs nature; but history can have no doubt in assigning victory in statesmanship to that vigilant spirit of command shown by the subject of A Day with Pitt, Who, when terror and douht through the universe reigned, While rapine and treason their standards un- furled, The heart and the hopes of his country maintained, And Old England preserved mid the wreck of the world. Prom the National Era. TILE MAUVAISES TERP~ES OF NEBRASKA. PART OF A LETTER FROM J. 0. wHITTIER. THE traveller who enters the Territory of Nebraska from the Great Bend of the Mis- souri, and takes the direction of Fort Laramie, along the valley of the White river, finds him- self passing over a fine high prairie country, luxuriant with unshorn grasses, and gay with uncultured flowers. Suddenly, from one of the terraced elevations which slowly and grad- ually uplift the prairie to the spurs of the Rocky Mountains, the calm monotony of the landscape is broken by an abrupt depression of from one to three hundred feet below the level of the surrounding country. Before him stretches a vast valley, the width of which is estimated at thirty miles, and which reaches westerly to the feet of the Black Hills, a dis- tance of nearly ninety miles. He looks out upon a dreary waste, scantily clothed with grass, and rough and ridgy with tall, irregu- lar, prismatic, and columnar masses of rock, risin,,, splintered and abraded, into every con- ceivable form, to the height of from one to two hundred feet. It is as if, in some great convulsion of na- ture, this vast and dismal tract had suddenly sunk from the great prairie level, leaving its bony articulations of rock standing thickly over it, like the ribs of some gigantic skeleton from which the flesh had fallen. Seen in the distance, these rocky piles, so tall, so vast, so multitudinous, intersected by labyrinthine passages, thcir turrcted walls, truncated pyramids, and sharp, clustering spires, risiun into light from the black masses of their shadows, assume the appearance of ar- tificial structuresa wild ni~l~t-mare dream of Cyclopean architecture flanking but- tress and lofty arch, shaft, colonnade, and spire the Pctrea of the Western wilderness a silent city of the dead stretching out to the horizons line on the right hand and on the left, and westwardly in endless succession of towers and mural escarpments, to the grim background of the Black Mountains a scene to remind one of the ruinous stony halls of istakar, through the portals of which the mad Caliph in Vathek sou~,ht the presence of the inferna4 deities. So thickly, says the geolo~ical stir- veyor of this wonderful tract, in his report to Congress, are these natural towers studded over this extraordinary region, that the trav- eller threads his way through deep, intricate passages, not unlike some quaint old town of the European continent. One might almost imagine oneself ap- proaching some magnificent city of~tbe dead, where the labor and genius of forgotten na- tions had left behind them a multitude of mon- uments of their art and skill. On descending from the heights, however, and procedding to thread this vast labyrinth, and inspect in detail its deep, intricate re- cesses, the realities of the scene soon dissipated the illusions of distance. The castellated forms which fancy had conjured up vanish, and around one, on every side, is bleak and barren desolation. The whole region is, in fact, one of savage and irremediable desolation. The curse of sterility broods over it treeless and pathless a maze of innumerable defiles, choked with debris, and overhung with ash-colored walls of rock. For the geologist, however, this melancholy tract has no lack of interest. It is rich in fossil remains of animal races long extinct, and heretofore unknown. Grim secrets of an early world, unshapely and monstrous forms of rudimental life, present themselves in some localities at every turn. The enormous Polo- cotherium, which formed a connectin,, link between the tapir and the rhinoceros, the horse and the hog one specimen of which measured five feet along the range of its teeth the Ar- chiotherium, uniting in itself the characters of the pachydermous, plantigrades, and the digitigrades, foreshadowing in its singular combination the hog, the bear, and the cat the small rhinoceros Nebrascensis, bearing a marked resemblance to the living babyrousa and peccary, together with many other remark-~ able and novel varieties of animal life, roamed over these lands at a period so remote that the mind staggers under the effort of computation. 110 SUNDAY IN AUSTRALIA.NEW BOOK. Geology ascribes the date of their existence to a time when, of all which now constitutes Europe and Asia, only a few scattered islands, slowly risinD from a wide waste of ocean, were visible when Mount A~tna and the plateau of Sicily were still deep under the tertiary Mediterranean Sea; when the Alps and the great sub-Himmalayan range of North- era India were yet unformed; when, on the continent, the now far inland mountain chains were the seaboard of the Atlantic, ~vhose waves washed the great Mississippi valley, and beat against the bluffs of Vicksburg. These fossil deposits are excitin0 a great degree of interest in the scientific world; and already, during the present season, three cx- leditions, one of theta composed of European savans, have left St. Louis, to renew the in- vestigation of their mysteries, and decipher their marvellous record of the history of our planet. The Mauvaises Terres, notwithstanding their great extent, occupy in reality but a small portion of the beautiful Territory of Nebraska. Close around their waste and desolation, Spreading between the streams are the wondrous beautiful prairies, Billowy bays of 0rass ever rolling in sunshine and shadow, Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amorphas. Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk, and the roe-hock, Over them wander the wolves and the herds of riderless horses, Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary of travel. And over all is the sky, the clear crystalline heaven, Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. SUNDAY was always kept as a holiday, not only on account of work being forbidden by the authorities on the Sabbath, hut I should say eight-tenths of the people would not have worked had they been allowed ; and, in spite of all that has been said about the immorality caused by the discovery of gold and its consequences, I was perfectly surprised at the small amount of crime that existed amon~st so mixed a population, con- sisting of every grade of society, from the most hardened wretch from Norfolk Island, to a repre- sentative of every trade and profession that ever was beard of, not excepting honorables and captains in the royal navy, army officers, barristers, & c. ; and I am confident there was not more vice (if even so much) than there would be in any town; of course, there was plenty of riotously disposed people, but far more of the other way of thinking. As far as females are concerned, I have no hesitation in saying that they might and did con- sider themselves as safe, both regarding their persons and feelings, as it they were in Sydney or at home. I never heard on the Turon of any outrage or incivility. (I have heard screaming and rows, but from whom did it proceed? in- variably husband and wife.) At the period of my leaving, great numbers of respectable women were arriving daily, and in the town of Sofala, bark, log, and weather-boarded houses, with three or four inns, had sprung up ; the latter, very properly, always keeping closed on Sundays. A brickm ker was hard at work ; and no doubt ere this many houses of that description are to be seen, with good shops, stores, & c. As it was, the town had a lively appearance, which hut twelve months before was inhabited only by kangaroos, cockatoos, and opossums, or a solitary shepherd with a flock of sheep. I understood that the shepherd at Sheep Station Point had re- sided there twenty-two years, and never bad been away but three times dnrin~ that period. Even the gold fever had not affected him. his argument was, he cared for nobody, and nobody cared for him ; therefore, what inducement was there for him to go and make a fool of himself by getting money for some one else to spend? The greatest vice that men and boys (the latter especially) at the di~gings used to habitu- ate themselves to, was swearing the most horri- ble oaths, and using coarse, low-life language ; so much so, that a man would hardly speak to his friends without calling them some sort of un- mentionable name ; but I invariably saw even that checked in a moment, if there was any female of apparent respectability in a tent, near, or passing ; showing the moral influence woman has, even over the roughs at the diggings. Reads .ilustralia. The Philosophy of Atheisne E mined and Com- pared with Christianity. A Course of Popu- lar Lectures, delivered at the Mechanics Insti- tute, Bradford, on Sunday Afternoons in the Winter of 185253. By the Reverend B. Godwin, I). U. Third edition. There is some interest attached to the story of these plain and popular lectures against Atheism. Some twenty years ado, when political and religious or irreligious fever ran higher than it does now, a divine at Bradford made some allusions in the pulpit, which excited the anger of the sceptics of the town. A sort of challenge to persons to speak in a place where their dog- mas could he gainsaid was thrown out. Dr. Godwin in consequence gave a series of lectures, which were well attended, and subsequently printed both in this country and America. Years passed; the doctor left semi-Infidel Bradford for semi-Papistical Oxford, and returned to find Atheism rampant in another form, or under another name Secularism, meaning, Attend only to things of this world. Again he mounted the platform, and again with acceptance; the lecturer bearing full testimony to the fairness and courtesy of the working men, who formed the ma- jority of his audience. His lectures were in sub- stance the same that he delivered in 1834, hut with many changes. The second edition appears to have been published last spring, and autumn produces a third. Spectator. 111 112 CARDINAL WISEMAN S ESSAYS. From the Examiner. I have ceased to entertain. What was hut hope Essays on Various Subjects. By His Eminence may have ripened into fulfilment but I see no CARDINAL WIsE~L~N. In three Vols. Dol- reason to regret that Ii hoped: what was implored man. may have since been granted but I have no THESE Essays are republications chiefly from cause to grieve that I entreated : what was a suggestion may have grown into a reality but the Dublin Review and the Catholic Magazzne. I cannot be sorry that the su~cstion was made. Though upon various subjects there is a Tbin~s and persons and circumstances m y have strict unity of purpose by which they are all changed much, so that one cannot, and must not, connected they all tend throughout carefully feel now as then: but it is consolation to have to promote the credit nnd xvell-being of that~ still the conviction that one did feel right then, which his eminence regards as the true because those feelings were the necessary germs church. The first volume is upon points of of what we know to be right now. faith, and practice, and church history; and has chiefly in view Roman Catholic readers. That a man gifted with brains could get The second volume is devoted wholly to ex- through sixteen years of his prime without ercitations upon Puseyism. The third volume experiencing any of those changes of opinion contains miscellaneous essays upon literature which must accompany all mental growth, is and art, but tile topics are all chosen with the as impossible as that a tree can grow for six- discretion of a good ecclesiastic. By far the teen years and always keep the form it had longest essay in it is an exposition of the ex- when it first broke out of the soil. The car- cellent condition of the church in Spain. dinal has either lopped and pruned his wits The temper of all the three volumes, we most cruelly, has either kept them down by must add, is excellent, and the tact displayed shaving diligently, as he has shaved down day in them equally great. The cardinal can by day the sproutings of an interdicted beard, write nousense when it serves a purpose, but or there is less of the old woman in him than he is always a shrewd and clever man. Few he would sometimes have us suppose and, know better how to prop up, with subtle but- indeed, now and then we seem to spy a beard tresses, opinions that ~vant foundation and under his muffler. solidity ; and, when he is clearly in the right, A cardinal, however, is on the whole a he is invulnerable against all comers. He is social mystery with which ~vc are not now the man of his chuich, and of his church as specially called upon to meddle. Neither it is in our own day. lIe might indeed have shall we say anything of Dr. Wisemans lived three hundred years ado, but he has Catholic endeavors to uphold the abandoned adapted himself to an easier task than lie text upon the Trinity in the first epistle of would then have had. There is a great St. John, or to vindicate against unjust as- difference apparent between the movement of persion the memory of the just Pope Boniface the gaudy mitre-painted coach that jolted on VIII., or to prove the blessing power of Cathol- its state niareb over the old roads of the six- icism over Italy and Spain. Essays upon tecath century, and the same coach (only the such topics will interest all readers who know rottener for being older) th4 now rumbles how to derive profit from the habit of con- quietly along our modern ways. There is the sidering all sides of any question. Dr. Wise- same pretension, there are the same adorn- man may not be a man of genius, but he is ments carefully relackered the gay piece singularly shrewd and ready of perception. of lumber may seeni to the irreverent as obso- Ilis mind is well trained, and is as quick and lete as the lord mayors sarcophagus of lively in its movements as it dares to be within state but on improved roads it rolls along a body columned on red stockings and crowned more pleasantly than ever, and its coachman with the venerable hat. Often in these essays knits his brows less fiercely as his trouble with we find the driest topics made delightful by the reins is lessened, the skilful treatment of the ~vriter. Take, for In the preface to the cardinals first volume example, the subject of Biblical criticism. Dr. there occurs a profitable illustration of the Wiseman having been gently admonished by spirit of the Roman church. As is the a brother Romanist of too great freedom in church so is the cardinal. His eminence the recommendation of a free criticism of the would tell us that having dutifully cut his mind Scriptures, proceeds in the course of an Essay to the church pattern, he has had nothing to on Miracles to show mainly how a scholar learn from his youth upward: may revere the Bible all the more for a minute I feel it a duty, rather than a satisfaction, to study of its component parts, and incidentally that, on looking over this collection of papers, how much pleasure is derived from the mere intellectual act of determining the character stretching over a period of seventeen years, cover- and value of old manuscripts, an art in which ing that critical period of life which comprises the maturity of youthful vigor, and the com- the practised wit can acquire great expertness. mencement of intellectual decline the age of Taking the history of one particular Arabic bold thoughts, and that of cautious emendations text as made out by internal evidence, he I have not found an opinion or a feeling that gives it thus: CARDINAL WISEMAN S ESSAYS. Look into that cell. It is in an Eastern inon- astery, on the crag~y side of Mount Libanus, with palm-trees shooting up slender around it, and wavin6 their graceful heads to the evening breeze. All is still and calm ; the chanting has ceased, and each pious recluse has slowly returned to his cell. Look again at the one we have chosen, rude and hare as it is. There, by the latticed window, thrown open to the setting sun, on his little square mat, sits, Arabfashion, a bearded monk, rave and furrowed with lines of thought. At his eft ~ide is his inkstand with his reed holder 1 a~-ed hetaind the ~irdle like a dirk. In his left haiad he holds his page of vellum on a slight. tena d in his iight his ready cane pen fhr he leans not his holy nor his book on anything when lie u i ite~ Tle lives at a time when the sacred lan us o of his country, the Syriac, is be- coming le hums n ci en in religious houses, and an Aixee m ear a ular, version is required of the Psalm lie heiii ~ well skilled in languages, and a ix oath in in has been ordered to make it, iind is already plvin~ his sacred task. Now, hi at ax Ii at is he translating from? On a low three los ved stool beside him, lies the open vo~umc. ~X Ii at 1 too ua.e is it How, you reply, can I possibly see, at this distance of place Ci d time ~ Then I will tell you it is a copy of tie ep5agint, or ancient Greek versioii of the l3ibio How do we know this? Every verse of ha ~ranslataon tells us so. For, while that vet ~ion daffet s cry remarkably from the Hebrew iia its readin~s, his translation through- out keeps clo~o to the far or. Well, this is a very siniplo discoi cry But we see that our good nmoiak is not ic, y stroe5 in his Greek, for he keeps ci ci iaoxa and then lookin~ at another old volume, ot ~atlie~ ioll, beside him. It is clearly the hebrew orioinal which, beiiig niore akin to his own Ian ua e lie can better master. He uses it, therefore as another would a lexicon. hence through hits tranolition, when a hard and puzzling word comes in the Greek, we find him putting the very Hoot iv wotd into his text, making quite a jumble of it This tells us that lie did not help himself out ot tatotlica version already niade from the Ihebr~w bn~ dealt freely with the oribinal. But we have oa~, curious proofs of this. We are now watchin~ abe trans~atc Ps. lxxvii., v. 74 (69 Heb. itnd Gr.) lIe iiCs hit upon two curious devia- tions from both the Greek and the Hebreav. And yet we can ii ra easily accouiit for them ; but oiily one ix ax It n two small ivords together, ive inaipane him to have mistaken, in one a bet/i fir a cap/i iii the other a cop/i for a beth (the two He/i r~w letters beiiig very much alike), we get jast his readin~ And the same verse con, ttinsaaothcr eertaan proof, but too complex for our present pui pose See lain n iv fairly nonplussed. lie has got to 1. xxxiv. (h{eh.),v. 9 (in LXX.,v. 6),andthere~ ho finds the two texts irreconcilably different. You may behold him, with his hands dropped before laim on his knees, waving his body back- wards and forwards, and gently stroking his beard, as Orientals do when they wish to convey el ~tricity to their brains. And now a hright titaught has struck him. He knows not which c4~CCXC. LIVING AGE. VOL. in. 8 reading to prefer, so lie will nut them both in arid consequently he combines thena, and gives us in his translation a double version, from tIme Greek and from the hebrew. having discovered this notable expedient, he has recourse to it arain an similar difficulties for exataiple in Ps. xlvi. (Heb.) verses 18, 14, ivhtere lie otice niore treats its to both texts. But this Psalm scouts to Isave greatly perplexed hiini ; for sonietimes, as in a fit of desperation, lie fairly t:akes lilt departure alto gethier from both his orirmrals, and hazards it most uniecoaamttahile p u aphi isa of his own, lie however flaids anothiet icmnody in his difficulties. There lie gets rap and takes down front his small library, or ratbet out of his book-chest, another volume. how shall we make that out? Very easily we can see at fiomn here, as we peep over his shoulder. It is the ~yi mae Peahito version. lie is engaged on Ps xciii (hieb.), and at every verse be looks into this ta amashation, and does itot hesitate to be guided lay it. Coincidences so curious occur, as to leave us no doubt of this. The hood old translator may have preteiaded what he hiked to his less learned brethren, and may have made them suppose that lie was very fluent in Greek, amad read it off hike an Athenian but lie cannot trick us, and we can make out, as plain as if we saw him, every book that lie used. Nay, ave can even decide to what country his copy of the Greek text belomaged, that it had the text as corrected by Lucian and probably that it avas what is called the Ilexaplar copy. We may be further asked, ivhty we put the author of this version on Mount Libanus, and not in Chaldea, or Egypt, for instance. Here again interior data combine to deternaimac its the tramas lation from the Greek, and the knowledge of hebrew, do not allow its so easily to attribute it LO the first country, where the Greek language had long ceased to lie known, amid hebrew to be but little cultivated, before this version was made; while the use of the Syriac version, unkImown or unused iii Egypt, does not permit us to assign it to the latter. But in Syria we have every requi- site condition for explaining the character cf this translatiota. Most especially interesting is the second of Dr. Wisemans volumes, which ive recom- mend to tIme attentive study of all English churchmen ivlto retain any doubt whatever as to the intimacy of the connection lately estab- hished between Rome and Oxford. It con- tains time whole of the fraternal dealings of Dr. Wiseman with our High Church party from the time of his first taking an affection- ate interest in their affairs, to the time when Newman, Wilberforce, Allies, and other English clergymen by dozens honestly trans- ferred their service to the master they had chosen, heaving scores still behind who con- tinue to keep dishonest occupation of their English pulpits. The line of demarcation be- tween the high Church people, and the mere Protestants of whom Imis eminence speaks with a great contempt, is strongly and justly indi- cated in this volume. One of the essays is 113 114 CARDINAL WISEMANS ESSAYS. devoted to the task of showm~ that the Au- would produce such works as should compel glican church could uot be Catholic, because all critics and all ages to admire them. even the Archbishop of Canterbury had cora- Ju spite, however, of these curious profes- mitted himself to codperation with the con- sional opinions wherever the propagandist tinental Protestants iu sending a bishop to aud the cardinal do not step out before the Jerusalem, there to preside over a chance com- man of taste this astute 1~ornan churebruan ]uuuity of Anglicized Confession-of-Augs- shows a good deal of honest rcli~h for the burgh men. Could there be any doubt beautiful, and can prove himself sometimes therefore whether the Anglican church were an able critic on a work of art. An exam- in its essence Catholic or Protestant? Come plc of his skill in thi way occurs in an essay out from her cried the Roruanist doctor to on Italhin gesticulation, one of the pleasant- his friends, our reformation-hating clergy est in the three volumes. We all know and it is edifyin- to observe how cloverly he generally how abundantly Italians gesticulate, discussed with them tire points on which they thouah some of us may learn now for the first differed, and what exceedingly small points time that the gestures employed in modern they were. Get out from amoun us we say Italy are the s me in kind and significance also to remaining Puscyites. Read Wiseman, witir those that have been represented in old and be converted, statues or upon old prints, and referred to We have alluded to the rigidity of mind verbally even in the days of Plautus. Let demanded by the Church of Rome, and the us first indicate the fuluess of the language external pomups aud vanities by which it of sinus used in Italy labors to make Christians humble and de- To convey the idea that an individual is de- vout. In his article on Spain his eminence dwells on the treasures contained in the cathe- ceirmug you, a friend will simply place his fingers between his cravat and his neck, and rub the dral of Seville with the zest of an epicure latter slowi with the back of iris hand. La the who has a dainty bill of fare to talk of; and I Neapolitan dialect the expression is, la me in a paper on Lord Lindsays Christian Art, nata dioto die cravaltino, or e canna he expresses his dislike for the irreverence or he has put it within his cm vat, or down bad taste of those artists who present the his throat. The expression corresponds to our imanes of saints and holy men in any less se- terms to cram and to swallow; and the gesture rapimic costume tlman the trappings of a bishop. represents, most p~ etically, the enlargement of The artist ~vho should represent a Roman in a the rasophagus imecessary for conveymn~ the decent toga wronged the cimurcim, if such a Roman do a time patients throat. hence, another sym was a saint. Out of respect to the ceclesias- bol of the same idea consists in opening the tical system, the idea of sanctity should mouth, ammd pretending to throw something into have been associat d with the stole and mitre. it from the united fingers of the right hand. Almost every gesture may thus be traced to In the public square at Milan is a statue in some proverbial or idiomatic phrase, as several marble, of modern sculpture, representing a per- other instances in the course of this paper will son in a Roman toga ; ammd we remember being show. It is indeed necessary sometimes to travel almost shocked on being told, in answer to an in- through a ion0 drain of ideas to comprehend a quiry, that it represented St. Ambrose. We could sign. Let us suppose a youth at a window, in- not give assent to our friendly and learned vited by one in the stmeet to come down and walk, guides aranments that this was the truer repre by a beckoning not as amommgst us wmth the sentation. FVe coal] act bear to see the sasist fineers upwards, which would onmly maean saluta otimerwise timan as a bishop. In like manner we tron but with them turned downwards, and re- would have the raiment of the celestial hierar peatedly moved towards the palm. He answers chy, where they appear upon earth, copied from by placing his hand, with all the fingers part, that of the church here below. For the an~els become bins fece. What does timis mean? Why, are represented to us as ministering at the altar he thu-~ represents lmimself as looking through in heaven, and our faitim teaches us to con. indor time barred window of a prison ; and so, cons- the triumphant and the militant, but as port s I munmeates to Isis friend timat domestic autimority of one indivisible church, and those blessed continue lminn to the house. In the nei0lmhorhood spirits as fellow-ministers witim our visible prmest of N aples your carriage is sure to be followed hood. Moreover, the eye of the faithful is mc I by a covey of brats, who, well aware that you customed to consider fline ecclesiastical garninents, probably do not understand their sian trust nsed only at the altar, as the most sacred of minnuch more to the graphic langua0e of gesture to outward apparel, and more dignified, in trutir, excite your pity. For this purpose, they dispose than the most splendid distinctions of mere seen- their fore-finger and thumb in the form of a lay rank. horse-shoe, and apply their points first vertically The Pre-Raphaclites are the artists of whom above ainind below the mouth, and then Imorizon- condi- tally to its corners, alternating time movement his eminence has the most hope, the with ~reat rapidity. Unfortumnately, tie Indi- tion of their safe arrival at the pinnacle of crous, woc-begone expression of face which ac- fame being, of course, their conversion to the companies the action, usually destroys its Roman church. Under the guidance of real intended pathos, and prevents even an acute Catholic devotion it is promised that they observer from penetrating its poetry. It signifies CARDINAL WISEMAN S ESSAYS. that the mouth has be I ~r~ ci or sealed up ; in other words, tl +ne suif~rer has had nothing to cit for a ion Lii e We remember obser~ ii i rnai..able instance of quickness in the spot atic i of a symbol to a comphcatecl idea, in a ra~ od little boy at Genoa, whose perseverance in w~idcant suppli- cation was rewarded by an Engh~hman with a ore zie, a miserable couu~r foil coin half as thin and half as large as a ate, An English beg ~ar would hue peihips, ~t once given vent to his indignition by tiiron ii~ it on the groirnd not so the little Itihan W~ uliceol the coin de- liberately on the p tim of hand, brou~ht it to the level of hi~ niouth a~cl wth a roguish look at the gixer blew it away by a shup puff upon the ground The blow toue~ids a peison or thing is a stron expre~ion of contempt , so that ad- ditional einpt~i~oL was ~ixen to the less refined mode of ietectin~ with disdain But, at the same time, the action substanti ted its own mo- tive the urchin most scientifically proved the cause of isis discontent the li5htaess of the present. Dr. Wiseman multiplies illustrations, but we have space only for one set, gestures that relate to money We will only put one more case, which con- cerns the most engrosstn~ of all conversational topics money. You xi ill a~k it a man be rich or not, by an inquirin~ g ince and nod tow. rds him, at the same tini~ that you strike your pocket, or rub the polo s o fn~ cc and thumh, as though counting o. ~oney Your silent friend, by the proper iou looks and motions of the hands, tells you ro or so, so, or exceedingly, which 1a~t is expressed by a toss of the hand and i a(1 and a half sort, of whistle, or ~oniething betue~ia that aiid hiss. Well, suppose the latter ; you asIc, by word or by look, hoxv lie hiss become so. Your informant, with his thuieb, rubs his forehead from side to side, to signify that it russ by the sweat of his brow, his industry and application. But per- hiaps lie does not raise his hand so high, but takes hold of his cheek between his thumb and closed fingers, shakin~ the hand. That informs you that he has made Lie fectuxee by bribery and peculation He may core hoaxer stitl, and, doub- ling up hs hand ant Ii s thumb bent like a hook, unde his chin an you shall understand that he hc~ taken advar5.s~ of others necessi- ties for I s profit K in p ed a hook in their jan s Or, tue t o c cached fists are pressed strongly upon tac chest, which means that he has been ax icious, or, analo0ously to tue action oloe 5u 1 ~ In fine, the fingers are drawn in aisd clesd, be~inning with the first, and ~o to tixe last, making a species of mire, sad the ~imiflcatioa is, by theft and rob berx. Should the answer have been unfavorable to the person pecuniary condition, and you in turo the se. ii ,~ae iris nown once to have born rice cii i epla r cy be no lea varied. For instanco aoui 1nfoimant, joining all the fingers ot one oi iioth hands to ether as he wishes to be more os he s emphatic, brings their tips near his mouth and then, blowing on them a long, deliberate puff, with swelled chocks a itlidi aws and throws them (ipen, as thou di tb~ xvere bloxvn asunder and scattered by tim breats ibis iiatur~clly indicates that the to I e of xi you asked has been dissipated one hardly kno hex but by general inattention. Should he close up his fist, and, thirowisig back hits head tout re- peatedly with his extended thumb toxa ii is his atoath, lie will assign drink as the iii case. Should the same gesture be made with the united points of all the tiiisrs and thumb mao ~ohid extravagance, by ciba ax ill be deiiood In fine, if, closing has left It ad b fose his hicist., as if holding sonicthtiug tight between hi s thumb and fore-finger, lie with tIme 551cc finer of tIme right equally shut app xx to diaxi that inia~in ary thin~ out with ohflvuliy the meania is, that gartibhiag has been the ruinous pr ctice ; for the action represents a tiseic whub o niesters have in drawino out a caich front ti cii hiamid And now tot the application of this kind of knowledge of Italian life to works of art: Universally admired as leonardo da Vincis Last Supper is one of its principal beauties will be overlooked if the ation of the figures, as expressive of their words and s atinierits, be itot understood I al e foi instance, the fi gisre of Judas. The ~ospeh ax es as tavo characteris t.ics of bite thi ct lie xx us a thief, and earn a purse. The latter mask avas easily seized on by every painter, and macant as emblematical of t.l~e first.. Yet the sacred text represents the two as distinct. The genius of Leonardo lone contriveth to keep them so in paintin~5. In his ri0htt hand the traitor holds a parse ; but his heft is ex- tended and slightly curved, in the very position we described as denoting theft, xuhtichi in reality is iniltative of the pilferers act in drawing to him, and inchosin~ withda Isis h ad, the thing which lie steals. The painter, too, by a clever device, heft sip doubt of the import of the action. For while all the rest of the bread on the table is of a coarse quality, he placed one white loaf just beyond Judas hand, as the object towards which it xvas tending. By this simple expedient he not emily defines the action, lint gives us the most contemptible amid detest ble idea of the avaricious wretch, avhso could thins take advan- tage of the comifusion which his masters home driven declaration of a traitors bein~ among the company, made to pilfer a saiiserable morsel of finer bread. And in fiset Isis attitude scents to represent hini as hooking round to see whether all are so en5aged, that his h ad, moving in isa opposite direction frosia his eye, aicy perpetrate the theft. If from this perfect inc ruation of bareness we turn to the principal figure, time hiurast andi sweetest expression imnagimiable of superhum~s excellence, we have the attitude and action e~ aetly required in loving expostulation ; the hands thrown down with the pains upwards, and the heath bent forward amcd inclined to on side. No other action could possibly so well e~- press the words: One of you is about to betray me. It was a master thought of the artists to select this nioment for the subject of his picture of the last supper. Generally the institution 115 AUSTRALIAN GOLD-FIELDS. of the hless~d La bar~t b chosen, which allows no room for t .e p ry of human passions, and mrv arr~ ta~ e~ ~ n of a 1 the couritenances in a common s~otrrrr~nt of love arid adoration. Bat toe moment here choses, immediately after our h r\ rout hel u~ercd the nerds just quoted, ~dmrtel e~cry urety of expression, and greater notion. 0 i mrs r I bt we irave St. John in the de~pest attrtud~ of atrectionare grief that rs, with ors h~nds cro~sed into one another. But Pinners p~cdo imr mr feeming is fervid zeal prcnn~ uroa the hr k Cr Jolts, treadin~ upon Iris b Atr r foot he ures John iry the roost enrerNr nrnstne to scmtan exactly who tire trar~or rs Iry I rrr iii rood at once under stard tirn u o r e ~ firefinger pressed noon sorri s hne s At ~. tore firrre, Iris right arm ar~ no vi r~ a 1 rrrf r iris hand, t.oo well exorees~s a de~ermrned purpose of defending, if n~ee~ri v, my x roter e the life of iris roaster. Another of tire apostles, however, meant for James, sei ad iris sliorilder to draw him back, oslrile of tire two other ficrires on that side, Andrew muses Iris hnrnrd in an attitude expressive of astonislirrierit mingled with horror ; aird Philip, standin0 up, leans forward to ascertain the cause of a comorotion, which iris distance has riot allowed hiro to hear. (hr tire other side of our Saviour threre is equal expression ; one apos- tle is in tlre act of asking earnestly who is the wretch and Jude, beside iriro, nrc less earnestly protestin lirs own innocence. Ills head leans on erie d~ as he presses iris hind to his bosorsi, appearri at tire same tune to open iris vest, (le sirour to my it hare before his roaster. Tire last fivur e on th~s side manifestly expresses that ire coniniders he tiniis~ impossible, the position of ahie hands arid head are such as, in Itrily, would vnrfy ~ues a doubt; and the person standing up, by pointing with both iris hands to our Lord, whi his lre~d is turned towards iris incredulous comnari 00 no less plainly answers him, by ap- p eahn~ to tire express declaration of their Re -deserter. Another between them is more calmly a sos n 1mm Ci tire fret. A e have dwelt upon this sublime work of art, and selected it from a thousand of hers, both on account of iL truly eloquent character, and be- cause it is heft or known than most pictures, throunli the many prints and even medallions published of it. It is evident that an artist who wishes to pahirt an Italian scene, or svho desires to rival tIre expressiveness of tire great masters, rhouhnl be fully acquainted with this language of signs, as practised in their country. Instead of ~he dry and almost inanimate colloquies held among us, every knot of talkers there presents a group 7lth varied attitudes, expression, and gesture, ready to be drawn. It is the pays de cocagne of artists, where, if the streets are not paved with gold, living pictures run about them, seeming to call out, Come and sketch me. A study of its peasantry is worth a thousand abstract treatises upon action and ex- pression. With this pleasant sample of the stuff that they contain we think that we shall leave some of our renders in tire mood to cultivate somno further acqurrinrtnrrrce with Dr. Vise. roans Essays. IN justice to our friends across tIre Atlantic, I roust say, that, during tire rvhole hose I was nit tire Australian gold-fields, I never tecollect an Amerienro being brought nip cit her for robbery or ansytining else disreput Inc (unless it wrss for not. having a license, aird then but seldom) they generally secured to keep togetiser, and if people left theror alonme they would not interfere witis anybody, but if others would ronike theor selves obnoxious they roigist rest assured they wore awkward custonoers to deal with. When- ever I had to settle rr dispute between am Amen can arid any other nation, tire foruser were imivari ably in tine right ; and I emily wish all golddi agers would listen to reason as well as tirey rvould, and doubtless many sqo hbles would be pre- vented. There was a dislike generally to theur, on account of tire manner in which any erie almost was treated wire went from Australia to California. Certainly a etining would be more likely to occur than such a fcehin~, considering that every one who went from tire Aristrahinin Colonies to that El Dorado, no matter who ire wnrs or what he was, was looked upon as a Sydrreyite which vas an insinuatiero that ire was a convict, or had been one, or descended frons one ; at all events he orrest be connected, more or less, with conivietism. There wnis another clnras of people who were a most pnrrticuharly quiet, ordemly, well-disposed, and industrious set of people ; nd these were Germans and 1-lunganianis in fnret, airy rulmost from tIre central parts of Europe. I think the orost fortunate men, generally speaking, on the J)iggin~s, were the Adelaid miners, who were mostly Comniishrrnen ; nI. - sailors, Germans, excavators, farmlaborers, arid the ,,enerah mm of else hewer orders of Irish ; the mot unfortunate, I tlnirrk, were thoose who ca. e under tire denrominnations of swell di ~gers, and soldiers, or osen who have been soldiers the latter, fter a tinre, preferrin~ the police force to Ininiin~. Tisere wrus, however, several instances of great success attending gentlemoenn who were digging ; one with whom I was nry- self acquainted cleared upwards of 80001. inn six weeks; but this was a rare occurrence. Reeds ~~tnrtreliu. S~e1Thoth Evening Readings on the Xew Terta- errenrt. St. M~rtthew. By tire Reverend John Curoming P P F R. S. E., Minister of tire Scottish National Church, Crown Court, Co- vent Garden. The collection into a goodly volume of Dr. Cummings practical exposition of Matthews Gospel ; which, after being tested by delivery in the pulpit, avas published in weekly num rs. The work will be found a fresh and aractical commentary on the Evangelist; drawing it~ learned matter from other svriters, but illustrat- ing what is derived by a living spirit. Sped. 113 TIlE PASSAGE OF THE PRUTII. From e Athen~um. army was only 22,009 and the Torks 2 O~2).. THE PASSAGE OF THE PRUTH. in that critical juncture She hehaved herself not like a woman but a man, whereof our AT the present conjuncture the following whole army will witness and can testify to Proclamation of Peter the Great, by which he our whole empire. Wherefore, by virtue of raised Catharine to the throne of Russia, will the power we have from God to honor our probably be intercstin~ to our readers; and Consort, for these her labors, with a corona- the note thereto furnishes a striking lesson of tion and crown, ~vhich, God williug, we par- what may happen to those who, with more ambition than prudence, cross the fatal Pruth. stroyed by action, he thought it most advisable to We have extracted them from a volume of save their lives by surrendorin~ themoelves prison- ers of war, and himself took the resolution, with Tracts published in London in 1729, and a small body, to force his own way through the translated fromu the originals in the Selavonian enemy, in which attempt should he L 11 he bad and Russian languages by Thomas Consett, hound his arm with a white ribbon for distinction Chaplain to the British Factory in Russia. sake ; but this as a resolution so desperate, that These two volumes of Tracts contain many as it drew tears fiom 11 ahont him, so it made other instructing and amusin.n subjects. them think of exesy remedy and expedient rather First, Emperor and Soy- than their prince should run such a risk of life, We, Peter the whose preservation they declared themselves creign of all Russia, & c. & c. & c. & c., manifest willing to ransom it the expense of their own to the people of the spiritual, military, civil, lives and fortunes And in tos~ greatest emergeney nnd of all other ranks, our faithful subjects of the thou~ht very fomtuiiately occurred to the Em- the wools Russi~ n nation. Whereas it is press herself (then hi5 mistress), and that was to known to all that in all Christian kingdoms bribe the Grand X moses a th a sum of money of ps)tentates to and she no sooner piopo ~d than it was approved it is the constant custom resolved upon and a trumpeter sent to the crown their wives, and not only in these times, Grand Vizier, who so opted the proposal, and caine hut anciently the most famous Grecian Emo- immediately to a treaty with the Czar. It is said perors frequently did this: namely, the Em- she had a great sum along with her in gold and poror Ussilius crowned his wife Zenobia ; the jewels, which she had frugally hoarded up as the Justinian, Lupitsia; the Fmnoror I tokens of his royal favor, and that now, though Emperor ~ sorry for the occasion, else expressed her joy to the Ilereelius, Martinia; the Emperor Leo, lii~ Czar that else was capable of making this applica- wife Maria ; these all crowned th~ir wives I tion of them for his majestys service and preser- with tIme imperial diadem. And others did vation. It is certain her example ud influence the same, which we think it needless on tlsis was so successful that a large collection was made occasion to instance more at lame. And in the army to answer the demands of the Grand whereas it is well known, during a war of Vizier; and by this public stratagem the Czar and twenty-one years, that we underwent the most his army were happily delivered from the last misery and ruin. No sooner was the Czar get out hazardous toil, and even exposed our person of this labyrinth, than iii the face of time whole to tIme perils of death itself for our countrys army he gratefully acknowledged her the author good ; that by Gods assistance we have put of his deliverance, and with due applauses for her an end to the war, that Russia never before undaunted courage and noble presence of mind in had seen so honorsible and advantageous a such ma ian~ mont dan5er Iso proclaimed her his and in all their affairs never had so wife and his children by her legitimate. And peace, from this time time Czar received and treated her great a glory. In syhsich our toils above as his queen with all the honors and dignities of our beloved consort, the Sovorei~n written, ~ that character ; and, what wses a singular and rare Catliarine, was a great aid and support, and example to his people with the most endearin not only herein, hot in several military ox- and undissernhi~d friendship and conjugal affection, peditions, without regard to the imbecility and at length crowned hem Emapress, at Moscow, on and tenderness of her sex, resolutely of her the 7th of May 1s21 mu pursuance of this edict, smotwitlsotamidin 50500 affaims of importance had accord present with us, and ~ave us own was a intervened, whwh detained the Czar iii Peters- all possiIde assistance, cepecially in the battle burgh this wintcs arid eccassoned this alteration with the Tisiks at the Prddo* (where our of time prefixed for h~r comonotion. And Pile was a redemption indeed to the Czar, and a very fortu ~ At this place, in 1711, by an over-hasty march nate deliverance so such an imminent danger, with a part only of his army, and probably by either of hein~ made a prisoner or destroyed with, some mistake in Isis intelli~ence, the Czar was ad- all his forces, ttmsc consequences of which were yet vanced too near the enemy, and presently sur- bad enough, for he was ohhm~ed to quit the con rounded and distressed by their great numbers, quests he had made on the borders of the Tartars and therehy his pies isions and succors bein~ in- along the Euxine, who arc 11 tributary to the tercepted h was reduced to the last extremity of Grand Seignior, to surrender Assph, which he had want and despair In this unhappy circumstance been in possession of near fifteen years, and there- of his a eir~ he made several strenuous efforts to with to lay aside all hispes of carrying on a design extriceto himself omit of this difficulty, and his of brin,,fng a fleet into the Euxine, and to desist soldiess isa a few isisahl engagements gave the from opemsin~ the communication for that purpose enemy sufficient proof of their bravery; but betwixt the Don amid the VoLa at Camishinka, being too sen ible of the inequality of engagin~ and to leave his allies, the Wallachians and Mel- such so 1101 isombems with so small a force, and davians, to the resentment of the Turks, for their rather than expOse his army to be inevitably de- intended revolt to the Czar. CROWNS IN LEAD. pose to effect at Moscow this pr~sent winter. This our intention we notify to all our fitith ful subjects, to fhvor whom we of our imperial grace are immutably inclined. (oven at St. PetersbuTgh, November the 15th, 1723, sibued and subserxbed with his Imperial Majestys own hand. (a. a.) PETER. Printed at St. Petersburgh by the Senate, November 18, 1723. From household Words. CROWNS IN LEAD. Bxrox~ railways were established, the traveller from Paids to Boulogne, whilst jour- neying down those vales of dust they called a road, which was eonfined between great rows of trees from which all shade was taken by the lopping of the lower branches, the spire of St. Denis was a well-known object. Towering above the plain, it was visible for miles around, and forme~ a beacon for the stranger who ap- proaclied the capital. That spire is now no moore, and the basilica of which King Dagobert and St. Elvi laid the lowest stones is lopped of its most precious relies. What outcries would he heacd iom the architects, utiquaries, and lovers of the picturesque in England, if Westminster Abbey ~vere treated thus But scmpp )Se a greater desecration suppose the tonibs were rifled ; the bones of our kings and queens removed ; our generals, and admirals, and poets, taken from their resting- ~ and thrown into the Thames ; under what pretence could the despoilers screen themscives ? The Abbey of St. Denis has been thus de- spoiled. it is not alone deprived externally of that which made its fame, but it has been rifled else of all that age makes sacred. The sepulebres and monuments are there ; you mark the spots where anxious tourists have lopped off a finger or a nose to carry away and place in their nauseumus ; but the bones or mahes which these monuments were xvont to cover have been gone for many years. N~t a Kio~ of France, since Dagohert, re- mains br the grins assaults of the republic 110 nsu~ spaied the loub departed than the livio~ A know that the bones of Cromwell w~r te eon t time Restoration and hung upon a shet that the tombs of the Dukes of Bur~undy ~xere opened at Dijon for purposes of plunder ~X e know that, for curiosity and in s a~c of food for history, the old Egyp- ti ~4ulc ircs have boon rifled, and that their linen-covered and well-preserved con- tents adorn the museums of the world and we are told that grains of wheat xvere found in one of them, which, being planted, grew, and left a progeny whose yearly produce feeds the English people. Of the tombs of all the Coesars only one remains undesecrated, for heaps of 0old were thought to rest in them; but the object of the French repub- licans, when they swept the tombs of their ancient kings, -as not gold. They required lead. In seventeen hundred and ninety-three, when France was hemmed in by hungry enemies who pressed upon her undefended frontiers, the manufacture of warlike missiles did not keep pace with their consumption. Measures of extraordinary kinds ~vere then resorted to to fill this void. To get saltpetre, the cellars of every house were dug and sifted till not a particle of salt remained. The roofs were stripped of everythimig that could be melted into bullets; pots and pans and leaden spouts were melted down. All was insufficient ; and, as a last resource, it was determined to exhume time old sarcophagi of St. Denis, to pass thorn through the bullet mould, and throw the venerable relies into a corumuon ditch. Au edict was therefore passed by which that energetic body, tIme Constituent Assembly, called upoms the municipals of La Franqiade for so St. Denis lied then been christened, from patriotic hatred of a saint to enter the basilica, and open ims succession the tombs of all those tyrants, the kings of France, despoil their coffins of the lead contained in them, and amix the bones and ashes of the royal houses in a common tomb. On the evening of its reception the orders were proceeded with. There was no faltering. A troop of soldiers accompanied by diggers with picks and shovels, amid armued with torches, and with frying-pans, for burning vinegar and powder, entered the abbey ; and whilst the lurid glare lit up the aisles and colonets, which the smoke blackened; amidst the eras Ii of piling muskets and the oaths of mustachioed veter- ans the work began. In searching for the relics of the Bourbons the workmen were not at first successful; and by a strange fatality it ~ves not a king they first dug up but, on raising time earth from the first tonish, they Ihumod. the frame and features of the great Turenne. They treated lime with greet respect; that is to say, they left him in his cofdmi. placed bins in the sacristy, where he was shown for months, at a Denny per head ; ud, afterwards, in the Garden of Plants, where lie was slmo~vn for nothing. They then interred him beneath a splendid rimonuisicist erected on the spot where he was disinterred. Tise scrutiny proceeded, and at lest tlsey found a Bourbon. lIe was perfect. The liriemuncuts were those of henry of Navarre, the fiethier of that long line of Louises of whom the last lied recently met with so mel anelmoly a death. his bemLrd, mustache, and hair were perfect ; and, as the soldiers stand- ing round looked on in awe at tIme strange 118 119 CROWNS IN LEAD. speetaolo, one of them drew his sword, and, - daughter of Charles the Ninth, were next dis- ca~t1ng himself down before the body of the interred. The v~ nIt of Charles the Eighth, viotor of the Lea~ue, lopped off one of his which was next opened, contained henry the mustaches, and placed it upon his own lip, Second and his wife, Catherine de Medicis, and ~xv1ng vent, at the same time, to a vehement her favorite son, Henry the Third, who was burst of national enthusiasm. murdered. Louis the Twelfth and Anne of There was no enthusiasm when the pick Brittany were discovered a little further on. and shovel had laid bare the cold and vacil- The workmen began at this time to reach lating features of the thirteenth Louis; which the oldest tombs and vaults in the Abbey. were mu perfect preservation also; but it was They - discovered Joan of France in a stone not without respect and admiration that Louis coffin lined with lead in strips, leaden coffins the Fourteenth, decrepit though he seemed not being then invented (one thousand three and deprived of wig and every other orna- hundred and forty-nine). Ilugues, the father muent which adorned him when called The of Capet, was known by an inscriptioa Great, was exposed to view. Near him on a stone sarcophagus, which contained his were discovered Maria Theresa and his son ashes. The pulverized remains of Charles the dauphin ; on whose frame were visible the Bold were also found enclosed within a the traces of his violent and untimely leaden casket in a stone sarcophagus, and the death. relict of Philip Augustus, contemporary and For days and ni~hts the search continued. competitor of Cocur de Lion, were found in Somime of tIme remnants of the house of Stuart the same state. The bones of Louis the were taken from the ground. Amon~ others, Eighth were found in perfect preservation in the remains of Henrietta Maria, wife of a bag of leather, which retained its elasticity Charles the First, and her daub hter, lien- althou~h buried in the year one thousand two rietta Stuart. Strange that of that family hundred and twenty-six. the hod of the father should be buried At dead of night and by the light of torches in an unknown urave, and that, ages after, held by weary troopers, the searchers stumbled the remnants of those he loved should be on the sealed stone vault which contained the desecrated, and thrown into a common ditch. body of Dagobert, who died in six hundred Philip of Orleans, father of Egalit6, and and thirty-eight. Did the profanators know Regent of France, was next discovered and that lie had founded that old church It near him Louis the Fifteenth, who seemed ~vas with difficulty that they penetrated into still living, so rosy were tIme tints on his face it, so strongly was it buttressed amid closed preserved. Mary of Medicis and Anne of up. They broke a statue at the entrance and Austria, and, with them, mdl the relatives of found inside a wooden box, two feet in len~th, henry the Fourth, Louis the Fifteenth, and which contained tIme bones of Dagobert and Louis the Sixteenth, lay close to0ethcr near his wife Nanthilde, who died in six hundred the same spot. and forty-five, both enveloped and kept to- Older monuments, more difficult of reach, gethier in a silk~n bag. were then broken into. Charles the Fifth The skeleton of thie Kiii~lit of Brittany of Fiance, who died in thirteen hundred Bertrand Duguesehin the terror of the and eighty, was found beside his wife, Joan Spaniards, was found in tIme vtiults of time of Bourbon, and his daughter Isabella. In chapel of the Charles. his coffin was a silver-frosted crown, a hand it ~vas not till after long and laborious search (if justice, and a silx~er-frosted sceptre four that the vault of Francis tIme First was found. feet long. 1mm that of Joan there were tIme lime leaden coffin which held his body was of remanants of a crown, a ring (if euld, and tIme gigantic proportions, and confirimied thie imis fragi mients of a spindle amid a bracelet. 11cr torical accounts of his enormuous size. Near feet or the bones of them were shod with mini were his mimother Louise oh ~avoy, his a pair of painted slippers, kno~vn in her wife Claude oh France, his dauphmin Charles, tinie as souliers d lc poulcine, on which were amid his other chmildren time Duke oh Orleans still the marks of gold amid silver workman- amid Chiarlotte of France. lime thiigh ot~ ship. Charles the Sixth and his wife, lsabeau Framicis on beimig measured was fouuim~h to be of Bavaria, Charles thie Seventh and ~Mary of twemity inches bug. Below the wimidows of Anjon, mvere taken up immediately minfter ; and tIme choir time vault was opened whicim con- the ditch in which the remmimmants of all time tamed time relics oh St. Louis amid his imimme Bourbons had been thrown was closed for- ditto circle. They were cimiedy bones and ever, dust comihmied iii leaden caskets, amid were A vault was then disclosed in which were thirowim imito tIme grave where lay time rem found Marguerite de XTalois, time gay amid miamits of Philip Augustus, Louis the Eighth, beautiful wife of Henry of Navarre ; amid near and Frdneis time Fim-sin. her Alen~on, whose love for her originmited a lime ia~t tommibs discovered were those of romantic chapter in history. The remimaimis of Philip oh Valois, Kimig oh liramice and Duke of Francis the Second and Mary Elizabeth, Burgumidy, and lAs wile Amimme oh Buigundy TO SPORTSMEN AND OTHERS. and that of John, who was taken prisoner by the Black Prince and brought to England, where he died in one thousand three hundred and sixty-four. In the tomb of Philip and his wilb were found a sceptre, and a bird of copper, a spindle, and a ring; and in the tomb of John a crown, a sceptre, and a hand of justice of silver gilt. The scarcliin~ after this was j up. Thus the Abbey of St. IJenis was despoiled of its most ancient relics. TuE French astronomer, La Caille, had con- tracted the ery wearisome habit of reading and writing with one eye only ; the ether eye was specially reserved by him for the purpose of telescopic observation. By this means, how- ever, he succeeded in obtaining very interesting results ; for instance, he was enabled to discern with ease and precision the height of the stars above the horizon of the sea ; an observation generally very uncertain, on account of the diffi- culty of clearly distinguishing the horizon in the obscurity of night. It does not appear that any astronomer since his time has sought to conform himself to so difficult a practice. }rom the Examtner, 27th Aug. TO SPORTSMEN AND OTHERS. SOME GOOD FISIHNG TO BE SOLD. SIMuLTANEousLy with the swindle of Tom Provis, a plant on a scale of liar greater magnitude has been attempted in the United Statesby the proposed sale of all the fisheries on the coast of British North America ; the seller beina an individual not altogether unknown to fame, bight the Earl of Stirling, and the purchaser Mr. Robert J. Walker, on the part of a company, including, it is said ,amonnst its members, a distinguished statesman, one of the most prominent bankers of Washin~ton, and several leading capitalists in Wall street. The Earl of Stirling is described as a man of venerable appearance (probably re- sembling Old Cosmogony in the Vicar of Wakefield ), some seventy years of age, of dignified and courteous manners, and of wel 1-establis bed personal honor and integrity. This noble earl claims as heir of his ancestor, Sir William Alexander, ofMenstrie, Scotland, Viscount of Camtda, Viscount and Earl of Stirling, and Earl of Dovan, to whom royal clartors under the great seal were granted, which were reco0nized and confirmed by act of Parliament in the presence of King Charles the First, and which give him, say his docu- unents, amongst other trifles, such as fifty leagues of territory on each bank of the St. Lawrence, the complete right of fishing within six leagues of the shores of Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Cape Breton, & e., to the extent of three thousand miles. It is alleged by this vast piseatorial claimant: That courts of competent jurisdiction have ju- dicially established that the present Earl of Sthl lag is lineally descended from the first Earl of Stirling, and the real heir to his titles and estates that the titles of the present Earl of Stirling have been otlicially reco5nize(i on the most solemn oc- casions in Englamid and Scotland ; and, further, that the Earl of Stirlings name was inserted upon the great roll of the peers of Scotland in l~3l, a roll inscribed in the archives of the Kink at Edinburgh, drawn up by order of the House of Lords, entered upon its register, and tran- scribed upon its minutes S ace that period the Earl of Stirling has oted a ama et time oneral dcc tions of ISbo and iSo His name is also entered on the list of those peers who competed at those elections lists recorded in flit i o~ al ii chives of the Upper house I mom these lists esults the proof that from IS )5 to 15 time pi eseat Earl of ~tirlin~, always recomized in his siThts, voted daring a pound of twehe years as peer of Scot- land, without effective protect And alxo that lie was not only recognized by his peers and the magistrates and courts of Edinburgh, but that the Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst, Earl Grey, the Prime Minister, tIme Lords of the Conumittee of Council, in time kings umamne, correspond officially with the Earl of Stirling, and addressed him by his title. So far all goes swimmingly; but, says the Morning Chronicle Thanks to Townsends Modern State Trials, we know a little too much of this Loin d Stirling. If Our Washington Correspondent will take the trouble to look into that inter rstmn collection, he will find that, in the ~car iSid), a Mr. Alex- ander Humpiereys, or Hunmphrevs Alexander, was tried before time high Court it Ldmnhurgh, on a charge of forgisig documents to Ec5i5+ him in substantiating his claim to time cam idom of Stirl- ing. The trial was one of time most interesting ever kiaown in Scotland, amid dthonrh a mamajority of the jury decided that time mult of the accused was riot proven, they wore amman mously of opinion that the papers in questm mm acm e for the most part a mass of forgeries As for the fact that Mr. Alexander was allow ed, witimout ef- fective protest, to assume the desimotion of an earl of Scotland, it proves nothimio for, so long as property is riot comices mmiii people amay help theniselves to titles pm etty mmmdi as they please. Even the circunist ammee th it he voted at elections as a Scottish earl does not establish the genuineness of his claiimm ; for, as was shown at time trial, the polling clerks were bound to take his vote when it was tendered. In the mean time, however, the honorable Robert J. Walker, formerly Socretmiry i)f the Treasury of the United States, ins taken up ti)e affimir, entertaining an undoubted con- viction that rather a good tlmimi made of it. may be [Why mi~ht not the United States protect his lordships claini as England does timat of the Mos- quito Kin~ I We might then settle the Fishery Question by some compromise as in the other case.] Living Age. 120 ALLIANCES EAST AND WEST. From the Spectator, 27th Aug. ALLIANCES EAST AND WEST. Br whatever settlement the Turkish dispute may he hushed up, it is impossible that the experience which it has afforded can be entirely wasted. Tltis country knows, far bet- ter titan it did before, how it stands with some of the p orties to the transactions in that quartei o~ the w I The altered position of Bussia in En41s estimation we have already noted. ~t th~ boi~nnin ~, the word of the emperor xxas tnou~ it to be his bond, believed against the cx iae~ce of commencing facts. At the end tie xei~ ~tcts of the emperor will share the sulicien that now attaches to his words md if the affair be patched up in accordance xx itlo 1 w, we have at least dis- covered in regard to Russia that her will to break the law of Europe is meted only by her power that her alliance is observed only while it serves her own purposes. The position of Austria is in many respects more vague and more complicated, and more to be considered as a question apart; but in this Russian matter we have found her showing at the coin menceinen t aa extraordinary unreadi- ness to stand by that public law which she of all others has put to the severest strain for her own purposes ; and at the last joining in the negotiations for the maintenance of order with a peculiar degree of mental reservation. Prussia has been simply unintelligible ; and no power speaks ef her in diplomatic docu- ments without a niarked reserve, indicating either ignorance of her intentions or mistrust. In regard to France, we need not dwell upon the short time which has been as yet allowed to the eniperor to consolidate his own power, in itself so recent and originating in events so dubious ; but we may point to the circum- stance that his present position amongst the powers of Europe is characterized by every trait of uncertainty. At fast the powers eniulated each other in avoiding the connec- tion ; England, among the principal states, being the sole exception to that rule. If the Emperor Napoleon were a man of less in- scrutable disposition, it mi ht be ~ supposed that the close alliance which he has observed with Great Britain daring the Turkish quar- rel was dictated by a sense of that early recognition. it is, however, an evident fact that the powers xvhich held back from him are now mnaki% advances; and it would be an obvious stroke to acquire him for that side in European politics, to which accident, or the early mistake of Absolutist powers, has placed him in opposition. Russia treats Napoleon Ill. with a newborn courtesy; and Austria, which has been peculiarly axarked in retreat- ing from too familiar intercourse, is now pick- ing its envoys to his military fete with a nicety of selection intended to render the coin- phimnent the more exquisit~ Gret prize. mi~ht be surrendered to a potent te xx ho has shown such remarkable and such une ctd skill in the accjuisition of ix ii the 10 icr, And, however our leadin statesnieri may tare reason to trust in the profe sions of I Napoleons iiiinisters, the whob. imen it L bees of Europe, amid conseqoent~ t~o~ uha mat balance of interests for France tic to) douht- ful for those who observe it a coot tin e to place iiiiplicit faith in tile ultimate groupin~ of European alliances. The general tendency of the great powers of Europe draws them into a closer sympathy amongst themselves than they can feel to ard our island state. Th policy towards xvhicha they incline is one in which it is impossible for England thoroughly to share. Those states which have the great- est community of feeling and of political principles with us, are ci titer in a minor rank, or under oppression. England can scarcely feel any strong footin_ in the alliances to the East of Greenxvich. Contemporaneously, events hav~ tended much to simmiplify and smooth our relations to the xvest of that meridian. The emombarrassing and prematurely vexed question of Cuba has been happily closed by mutual consent on the part of the powers whom it had drawn into negotiations; and En~lmnd is happily released from any greater iniphication in tue decaying Transatlantic imiterests of Spain. Recent in- dications have led to a hope that commercial and anti-slavery jealousies betx ecu England and Brazil are subsiding. It is to be hoped also that the intriguers xvho are raising new factions in Mexico have failed in imemplicating our governutent in their schemes. The other minor states of America never can cause us much trouble. Our oxvn colonies to the west at no time promised to be more cordial than they now are. No important question can arise save with regard to our relations towards the United States, and these appear to have decidedly improved. The trouble in the waters of the fisheries has been settled by directness amid moder tion on both sides. The convention concluded be txvecn the English and Amnericantrovermiments, of which the text has just been published, estal)hshes a utteans of settling reciprocal claims on the txvo govern- muents by a mixed connmnission, in a summary and final mode; it not only tends to brush away petty sources of vexation that might grow into great calamities, but still more im- portantly exemplifies the disposition of the two governments to eradicate causes of mis- understanding. The declaration of tIme sailors at South Shields, when they were stipulating tbr the exclusion of foreigners from English ships, that they regarded American and British sailors as the saute, is reflected in the conduct of the people about the Exhibition of Industry at New York, Amimerican or English, 121 MOVEMENTS OF AUSTRIA. who appeal to each other for help in explain- ing matters to foreigners addressing them in alien tongues. The expedition of Lieuten- ant Maury, to invoke that aid from master mariners and ~overnment in this country which he has already secured from his own, in red acing to a code the laws of winds and cur- rents on the ocean, for the benefit of mankind, coupled with his hearty reception both by the com mercial world and the official, illustrates the community of feeling, the community of interest and object, as it does the community of path in which the two great nations pro- ceed. There iuust always be diffcrences be- tween countries so differently circumustanced but whatever ca y be the reciprocal diversity of opinion on tIme ascendant policy in either country whatever the differences between the rough democracy which rather courts con- test and change, and the smooth conservatism xvhich avoids vicissitude or concussion the difference is but an exaggeration of the same diversity of opinion which may be found between different parties in the capital of either country. In fine, with a community of objects, of views, and of language, the two countries have a IhIlow-feeling, and in many respects an inevitable unity of action. The substantials of their relations are stronger than the parchment basis of alliances to the east; and hence we cannot l)ut feel, after the experiences of tue summer, a stronger trust in leaning friendsumio of on the our natural rela tives than in returning to the diplomatic friendships of the European continent. From the Spectator, 27th Aug. MOVEMENTS OF AUSTRIA. WhEN a storm is ~atheri can yon ~ ng, tell th in tm es oh the clouds Can you find why t is th tt t cC (liange posture and color I You knox tb tt it ma in obedience to some law; you know tb tt it is to fulfil the storm which is de0tmncd but you etinuot fraume a motive you c tn only watch. It is xx ith swae such feeling now that one looks tin oo the muoveuments of Atistria ; her C p tnsioi in thm~ or th it direction ; or a break in um~m solleui sor ~ , or a ~ilding of the edge, xvbmn ems U 1 aplv tIm ma the storm is to P tss oxer a itiout coimeussions. It is possible thit not ooe in Au~trma not the very Em p~rom, vbo si~s at its centre can tell you on r oh it all is ; emma poiiit to pu m , or explain the vast move acite the speculatioio of the day. Austrian intentions in Servia used th~ whole public opinion of me it p bx an invasion of Turkey and of tb u sxstein. Austria, xvoose very ii I up with that system, first cm mm time protest; ultimuitely did so; and latterly has be~.n Ou~H Prince of Servia an unit itmon of the ~uom~mamm occupation of the Principalities It is u Stt)Od that the Austrian ocemipauron xx ut this difference, that it would he conceived mu a sense friemidly to tIme Suzemamn But xx ho tea divine tIme motives of a mo1emcnt mu Sw- via 1 The Emperor of AustrPt, i~ ~s id is A verse to the idea of winnmn ft erable opiem~ mb by good actions, strongly co dodent mm die sys temmi of direct coercion yet ju t b fome his birthday, lie rutises the sttte oh 5iC~O in N icuna Prague, arid stinme other placcs mu his doaxmn ions. This looks like a glimpse of the sun shine; yet it is a very slight glimpse dtcr thc sullen blackness waich has prexamled cxci since 1848. The blockade of Switzerl tud is closer than ever; scarce a loaf of bread, it is said, can pass. If tIme clouds are moving from tIme Austrian sun, it does not shine upon the little republic. But it does shine by alliance matriint)nial on Belgiuma that liamited monarchy and manufacturing state, which has so limited a political miffinity with Austria. Arm Austrian princess is married to tIme crown prince of Belgium, after a decided fraternizing of the king and the emperor. Is Belginam to be pro- tected by Austria I is Austria about to be rather more liberal than she has been I questions which are rumised, bat not answered, by royal mitrriages. It is an incident of such alliances that they lead to great expectations and often disappoint them. WIm t help could Leopold furnish to his fkthmer-in-laxv Louis I~hmihippe? xvhat service has Leopolds marriage domino him xvith the present Emperor of the French I of what use to tIme first Nmmpo- leon was his Austrian marriage 1 The Emperor of Austria hinmself is in want of a wifh it is certain that time partner of his heart should have a due rinmount of royal af- finities ; and he selects the daughter of Duke Maximilian of Bavaria, judicious and conserv- hive son mif the poetic father who abdicated in a paroxysimi of admiration for Lola Montes the Marc Antony of a Cleopatra that did not die for him. Time marriage reminds cal- culating politicians that Austria has Imitfierto favored time project of a South Cermiman Cus- tomus Union, as opposed to Prussia arid tIme Zoll- veremn. Strange that the most natural acts of kings must ahwmtys loave time mimost 1km fetched Younme Francis J mnterpretatimiris oseph and tIme yoummg Princess of Bavaria mire united, and iii tIme publication of the bans time quidnune sees time germs of a Customus lJrmioim. Yet the quidnune is not clways mistaken. If not a Custommis iiniomm, a matrimnoimiaf union is now pushed, by time south of Gerimmarmy almmrmg the Rhine, even to Belgium ; forbiddimm~ tIme n t ural houmidmmry to France, and placing Prussia, 122 THE PREDICAMENT OF TURKEY. From the Examiner, 3d Sept. TILE PREDICAMENT OF TURKEY. whose conservatives are newly protesting territory invaded, her authority nsnrp~d, h~r against the Russiam leanings of her court, be- tribute seized as a conqoerors spol tween the two great rival empires which aid But, say her excellent friends tlio II and snepect each other. The mutations on which have surely never cornfoi ted th o the clouded map of Europe excite while they tunate since the days of Joo Clu~ xo tb baffle curiosity. Russia on the terms proposed ond it the _____________________________ Czar prove faithless, and persist in Ins gressions, it will put him so much uoie in the wrong in the eyes of the whole woild And what then? may natur oily ask the Porte. He has got my provinces and thot wrong is not wrong enough for a cceos bellm he may next, upon the policy of putting him more in the wrong, be permitted to po& ess himself of Constantinople, and what note- writing at Vienna, or plotting of four wise heads, will patch up the Turkish Thupire after the consummation ~ It is very well for kind friends to desire to see what lengths a wrong- doer will go, but it is extremely inconvenient to the sufierer to be the suhject of this sort of experiment. But them comes the grand argument, You will be ruined if you refuse accommodation in plain, honest words, submission. To which the Turkish response may well be, that the choice seems to be ruin in either alterna- tive, the only question being one of time and that, if the empire is doomed to fall, it is better that it should fall mit 011CC with dig- nity, than be dragged through humiliation after humiliation to the K me final doom. But this issue would not suit the game of the four powers, which is neither for a stand nor for a fall, but for a tcrtium quid; economi in as it were the decline of the Ottoman Empire, suffering the fabric to be loosemed for the next easy process of separation u on the next equally easy pretext. The four powers would avoid two thinns war on the one hand, and the open disgrace and serious evils of abtndoning Turkey on the other. Both these thin~s are staved off, in present appearance at least, by a com- promise which, thou~h it may iiot seem to give up macli in substance, will nevertheless leave Tur ey injured without rep~tration, strip her of the prestige of European protection, and with cruel distinctness dehine 011(1 map out her weakness. This is the first instalment of her ruin. Husbanded economically, she may be made what the Freudi cook0 cdl a piece of resistance, for Russia to cut and come again, for soicie few years; and when nothing reniains worth contending for, then, and not till then, the spirit of Europe will be roused to repel Muscovite aggression and am- bition, and Besika Bay will nut bound Enor- lish daring, and our fleets will probably have (to fight their way through the Turkish waters precisely when nothing remains worth fighting for. It is the fashion to rejoice that the Czar has discovered his true character, that lie has TURKEY 15 soundly rated for not accepting the terms proposed by her four excellent friends at Vienna promptly and gladly. How ungrateful of her to slight the offices of the kind mediators on her behalf! how impolitic to make dilbeulties about conditions, and to run a chance of brcakin~ off ne~otiations which have been brought to such a happy pass, the Russian troops meanwhile pouring into the provinces in token of sincerity and good faith Contrast, too, the conduct of the Czar with that of the Porte. flow ready was his impe- rial majesty to accept the arrangemmient which had been concocted with no other design than to be acceptable to him (his own ullirncturrm substantially, differently couched), while the Sultan is omureasonable and ungracious enough to be fiestidious about the method of appeasing his invader ! How apposite is the trite say- ing, Beggars must not be choosers ! here is a power whose independence is the fond concern of Europe, and who yet presumes to be independent. She forgets that her in- dependence is out at a dry-nurse. The Sul- tan is in fact like a man en~aged in a duel, who is in the hands of his seconds, and who has nothing to do but to hold the pistol and take mighty good care that it does not go oW In this particular affair, indeed, there is this novel peculiarity, that while the one party is kept strictly in an attitude of peace, lie has his toes trodden on, and his nose pulled by his adversary ; friends advising that such acts, however unpleasant to the sufferer, should not be regarded in the light of hostilities. And while these little liberties are proceeding with great vigor and show of persistence, the Sultan is found munch to blame for not meeting Russia half-way to shake hands. But is the posture a foir one for that act of reconciliation? Can you shi ~ke hinds pleasantly with a man who is treadmnrr on your toes with all the wem ht ond vmor he can command? That no o~ x,as doubtless a note of peace V t nii sort of acconipaniment to it is that mo tie invaded provinces, the drum of mo-Poll no forces the rumbling of long trains P o ~dorx, nd of b%gage-wagons and ma- for a long occupation, or a mihi- tarv settlement? to (cOot humor can Turkey be for fair words while coo is Sn criug these foul deeds, her 123 TIlE PREDICAMENT OF TURKEY. shown the cloven-foot; but the foot, cloven as it is, has triumphantly trampled on rights which the great powers of Europe were bound to protect both by interest and honor. And though Russia has lost in moral respect, the opinion of her power and wei~ht is immensely augmented hy the very wrongful position she has been permitted to assume with impunity. The bold bad man has had his way and the boasted combination to restrain him has after all left him master of the situation, and of advantages dishonestly seized which will henceforth be turned to further and most im- portant account. The conduct of this question is to be judged by this fact, that the only party who gains in the transaction is the wrong-doer. The Times, arguing that Turkey is to blame for hesitating to accept the proffered terms, ol)sCrves The Porte is morally bound by its own propos- al of the 26th of May. It will be remembered that when Prince Menschickoff was on the eve of his departure, on the 19th of May, he reduced his demands to a note, which has ever since been termed the Russian mdtiemctumn. That was re- jected; but a few days later Redschid Pasha produced the draught of another note, which as the Sultans minister he was ready to sign, and this was communicated to the Four Powers. The whole question lay, therefore, between these two notes, which were respectively the most ad- vanced stage of the negotiation on either side. But ha.s nothing happened between the framin~ of these notes and the arrangement at Vienna? May not the invasion of the provinces Iitirlv cause the Porte to reconsider its proposals, and to withhold, under duress, concessions which it might have made with- out dishonor before coercion was attempted Neither party stood in the same relations to the other in May and in August. In May the Czar had not taken forcible possession of the material ~uarantce for the extortion of his unjust demands; nor had the Sultans authority and respect in the eyes of his sub- jects been shaken by the example that a flagrant insult and wrong could be done to him without summoning his allies to the rescue their fleets skulking in Besika Bay, while the Muscovite forces, in contempt of treaties, were filling the principalities, and trampling the sovereign rights under foot. If there had been a counterpoise to that aggres- sion, the ease would have been of less difficulty to Turkey. Had the combined fleets entered the Dardanelles when the Russians crossed the Pruth, the support on the one hand would have balanced against the invasion on the other, and negotiation might have proceeded on the part of Turkey -without the disadvan- tage and dishonor of an apparent submission to coercion. The powers may have taken the course most suitable to their common interest. hut, however that may be, it is most noWr to blame Turkey for not accepting a humoiliatiem and injury with alacrity and eagerness. S~c is told to be grateful; but for what? The Turks know thoroughly well that it is not for any love of them that Europe is so nazi us about their preservation. Not a toogno would wag, not a finger would be raised to avert the destruction of the Turkish empire, ~~erc it not for the fear of the scramble for the carcasses and the derangement of the balance of power by the dismemberment. If the great powers can see any way of letting down Turkey ~vith- out that danger to themselves, they will not scruple to sacrifice their old friend to their new convenience. They let Russia gain a point now as preferable to war; the calcu- lation may, or may not, be a correct one; but do not ask Turkey to be grateful for an arrangement which is all at her own expense, either in honor or interest. It is the beginning of her end. She has now woful experience what a pliant reed is the western alliance against the inflexible iron will of the northern foe always bearing on to his object, never losing ground, except as the wave of a flowin~ tide retires to swell the ad- vance of the next surge. Amongst the thin0s settled for a time, in this eastern affiuir, is certainly the English name in European repute. Waving all ques- tion of the justice of the judgment, it cannot be denied that the position of En~land is lowered in the eyes of the world. Perhaps the previous estimation of our country was exag~ crated, perhaps we were elevated by a sort of moral refraction, and arc now seen at our true level, and the level is, comparatively at least, a humble one. What Europe un, med to be a bulwark against the encroach- inents of Russia, or any other power, has turned out to be nothing more than a counter, ccowned by way of citadel with a till. Such is the change of view. The Gerimans say that En~land, reversing the lot of Francis, has saved all but honor. Be the truth as it may, and the judgments of the world are LI ways in excess one way or the other, our ])restige is wofully diminished ; and for some time to come it will behove us to carry a low sail, and to abate our pretensions to some ace nd with the real lowliue~s of our aims, and their repute in the opinion of the world. To illusuxite our present figure in Europe, Punch must design I3ritannia put in the corner in I3esuka liLy. Both consistency and a decent pride would now counsel the disbanding of oum forces, so that whenever the next occasion may arise for supporting an ally against wrong. we oay be enabled to plead in excuse our inability to affhrd the succor. Unarmed, tie a may give us credit for a spirit wan tjag o:mty the means for display ; but what is to be tiought 124 i -~ AMERICA AND AUSTRIA. of the ne~d cap-a-pie who waits round the con x oh. Ic frieads house is being broken opeo The arms of England have been aecusto e~i to many hard knocks, but to -cock on I ~ w ~th them is a new use, which doubtl~ F d inhaite favor in the eyes of the Peace A-:oiation The part played may have been the wisest and best possible, but it elcarly could dispense with armies and navies and the retrenchment would save both money and pride, when the business is to yield. See how secure woman is in the strength of weakness, and let Britannia doff her theatri- cal trumpery of muniments for show, assume the Quaker bonnet instead of the casque, and place her trust in the respect for helpless- ness. From the Examiner, 3d Sept. AIUERICA AND AUSTRIA. Muen praise has been not undeservedly liestowed on those maxims which the founders of the American constitution left for the guidance of succeeding generations and perhaps none of the principles adopted by American statesmen have been the subject of more unqualified approval than the rule to which they have generally adhered of refrain- ing from all iaterlhrence in European politics. We shall not stop to inquire whether the admiration with which this abstinence has been repaid by Eastern nations is entirely disinterested but we may be pernaitted to doubt whether Franklin himself would have insisted on its Qerpetual observance, if he could have foreseen the unparalleled progress in wealth and population which his country has made th~ LeiTht of power to which she has arrixnd and tue invention which has brought t m oA world almost into contact with the nt. But v. hatecer opinion may he entertained on this pun t it is napossible to doubt that the day is no ar di0t at when America will break through the restraint to which she has hitherto submitted, and will play no secondary part in the decision of these great questions on the solution of which the future destiny of Europe depends. An uppare~ tly trifling and every-day occur- rence, the illegal capture of a Hungarian refugee by an Austrian officer, has been suffi- cient to make manifest the deep and eager interest taken by the people of the United states in the affairs of Europe ; and we verily b& lieve, from all we see stated in connection with the iaeident, that the New York Tribune by no means exaggera s the popular feeling on the su~jeet when it says that, although it knows not whether Captain Ingraham is a whig, a free-soiler, or a democrat, yet cer- tain it ic, nevertheless that if he had suak the Austrian ship of war to the bottom ho would have been the next piesident o~ the United States. It is evident, then, that the Austrian - ov- eminent has been guilty of no triflin~ error in bringing formally under the notice of other European cabinets the affront md mujum N w Imieb she professes to have sustained It would be next to impossible for the American oovern- ment, even if convinced th it C ipt on In- graham was in the wrong, to mn~ike any con- cession to Austria ; and it is equally certain that Austria, even thouhh backed by her Russian ally, will obtain no redress by force of arms from America. An Amimerican Pres- ident is as little in the habit of yielding as a Russian Czar. Blusterin~ will not succeed with the Senate, however effectual it many have been with a House of Lords. Austrian officers must therefore be tau~,ht to let alone gentlemen who are provided with Anmerican passports, and to confine their amusements to cutting down Englishmen; a sport which experience has shown they may enjoy with perfect im- punity. But the appearance of America on the theatre of European politics may well afford a subject for reflection if not for disquietude to Enelish statesmen. The power and security of Eng- land depend chiefly on her naval superiority; France is the only European state which can compete in this respect with En0land, and her inferiority is so considerable that French- men even cannot refuse to acknowledge it. No efficient assistance could be rendered by Russia to France in a war against Enmland, unless she had previously obtained possession of Censtantintiple so as to liberate her fleet in the Euxine. A~ long, therefore, as the status quo in the Mediterranean is maintained, the pre~minenee of England at sea is unassailable, and 11cr comnmunication with Imidia secure. But when the United States shall have ob- tained, as in a short time they undoubtedly will obtain, a navmil station in the East, it is by no means improbable that the ambition of the American people, heightened by the con- templation of an overflowing treasury, will impel them to assume the high position amongst the nations of Europe which England appears to be weary of retaining for when did the first place ever w~ nt a candidate long And as the British government has pro- claimed by its organs, and yet more emapliati- cally by its acts, that the insolent aggressor is safe from the resentment of Enmland, pro- vided he wounds her honor merely, or hr reputation for good faith, anmi confines the in- jury which he inflicts on her national interests within reasonable limits and to a distant shore it emmnnot but be clear to Americans, thirst- ing as they arc to render their maine glorious amongst the classic regions of the East, that it is not impossible for their country to become AUSTRIA AND AMERICA. the arbitress of Europe, and to perfbrm the part which Canning vainly ascribed to their southern neighbors of redressing the displaced balance of power. Should a passion for this high enterprise seize upon the American people, England will have cause to rue the nervous timidity of rulers who, by shrinkin~ from an Imaginary danger, have called into perilous activity the only power which she has reason to dread, because the only one that can ever ventur9 to encounter her upon the element whereon alone she is assailable. From the Spectator 35 Sept. AL3TPLIA AND AMERTCA. Tn general tendency of the relations be- tween Great Britain and the United States is towards a better understandin~ not an alli- ance offensive and defensive, aecordin~ to the old interpretation of that phrase, but a natu- ral approximation of all parties who are en- gaged in disclosing the solid grounds upon which their approach or joint action is recip- rocally beneficial. To neither country, for instance, can it be advantageous that there should be outstanding, unsettled, and ques- tionable claims that there should be fre- quent disputes on the indefinable water-boun- dary of a fishery; or that they should continue to exclude each others produce, to the loss of both. The commission which has been appointed under the convention for the settlement of claims, followed by the endeavor to arrange a treaty on the sub- icet of the fisheries and other questions be- tween the States and our Colonies, are ex- .~nples of this joint endeavor. In all these cases, it may be said that the concession which is asked by one party would not be more beneficial to that party than to the other. This endeavor to promote a clear understand- ing upon the basis of solid facts and material things, is a striking contrast with the state of the relations between the United States and Austria; powers which, for almost abstract questions of the vaguest possible kind, are ~tting up a quarrel upon a point of honor, and risking an inextricable entan lemnent. There are scarcely two powers in the world that would on most grounds stand more apart than Austria and the United States. Ameri- ca is commercial, Austria is not so; America is democratic, Austria absolute ; America is maritime, Austria for the most part inland and maritime only by ambition; other states stand between them, and their points of con- tact are few. Both might exist in the world a~ul scarcely interfere with each other. It xvQi:ld perhaps be best for both, at present, if eac.i were courteously to ignore the existence & the other. A erious questie might be, discussed, as to the good taste, propriety, or policy (if the noisy demonstrations in Ameri- ca. othcial as well as popoltir, on behalf of an Ilungarian leader who had endeavored to subvert the royal house of Austria; but the government of America is as little open to personal correction as that of Austria. The Kossta afihir, no doubt, more nearly con- cerned Austrh ; and, prima facie, it may be admitted that Austria had a right to demand that a refugee deported from Turkish doinin- ions should not return. But the Kossta ques- tion does not stand in any clear and isolated position ; amid the proceedings which Austria has taken to secure what she believes to be her right are qucstionablc not only in law, nor only in reason, but still macre in policy. Austria claims the right to enforce tbe depor- tation of Kossta under stipulations with Tur- key, and it is said that the Turkish authority h~id a iven the commander of tile Austrian ves- sel leave to capture the Ilungarim refugee but in the eyes of Captain lugrabam, of the corvette St. Louis, Kossta was a man bearing an United States passport, and possibly also bearing the character of an American citizen by naturalization. In those respects, the Turkish surrender did not concern Captain Ingraham; and when the Austrian officer seized the refugee by force, Captain Ingraham recovered him by threat of force. The con- duct of both officers is open to scions question but there are other questions of which the solution is by no means to be presumed by either side. For example, is Kossta an American citizen, or is he noU If lie is a naturalized American, does his naturalization give him protection beyond the boundaries of the Union, especially as against the sovereign in whose domninions he was born Does the Turkish stipulation with Austria, stated to permit forcible seizure in Smnyrna, preclude the subject of another foreign poever from resisting violence upon a colorable denizen of that other power Where important and unsettled questions arise, it is desirable to approach theirm with the utmost regularity of procedure. Austria, however, appears to us to have taken a course very unusual, and very inconvenient. The government at Vienna has issued a circular note, stating the case gemierally, amid making a comuplaint to .the nations, that tile captain of the United States has imode war an in- fraction, it is contended, of public law, aggra- vated by its having been committed in the port of a neutral power. The retort is obvi- ous that the Austrian captain had equally infringed the sacredness (if a neutral port; but if that be overruled by time special stipula- tion, there is still a more seiious flaw in tile proceedings of the Austrian government. What representation has been made to the United States! What reply has beca received! 126 THE EASTERN QUESTION. 127 The conduct of Captain Ingraham is a very gained his end. For his end Wa. not, in all pr.)per subject for accusal and explanation ; probability, permanently to occupy the Princi- but until it was explicitly adoptcd by his own palities, nor to obtain the protectorate of the ~overniucnt in a categorical reply to the state- Christian subjects of the Porte, but to strike a ment on the part of the Austrian government, fresh blow at the prestige nd to add a new America is not really brought into court, and wound to the weakness of Turkey. Ilis end thus the foreign powers are called upon by was not to march straight and at once to Con- Austria to fjr;u conclusions upon an ex-parte stantinople, but only to pave a few more le%ues case. of the road which is one day to lead himo thither. The relations in which the two powers Even if the Porte accepts the suggestions of stand greatly aggravate the inconvenience of the Four Powers, and if Russia evacuates the this course. On macre than one occasion time Principalities, still the mischief has been done. American goverumuent has shown no indis- The Czar has been virtually successful, and we position to undertake a quarrel with Austria, have been virtually baffled. We do not say and Austria shows no disposition to shrink this by way of blame either to our own govern- but it is desirable lbr the peace of Europe that ment or to that of France. It could scarcely r~either nation should be driven to extremi- have turned out otherwise. In the present ties. The collective opinion of Eu rope would state of civilization, the stru~le must always be the best check; but the forma in which be an unequal one between recklessness and Austria muakes the present appeal not only caution between love of peace and indiffer- fails to facilitate the intervention of other ence to war between unscrupulous aggres- states, but almaost precludes them by its illogi- siomi on the one hand and calculating prudence cal reasoning and irregular appeal. Without on the other. It was worth while for Russia a well-ascertained locus standi in court, to seize much, for the sake of being permitted Austria has almost cut herself off from a reg- to retain a little. It was worth while for Turkey ular appeal to law upon the subject; and, to submit to a certain injury for the sake of should actual extremities ensue, it is very avoiding the incalculable cost and the uncertain difficult to see how any of the powers could issue of a war. It was worth while for Europe to interfere on behalf of one ~vhich has rendered meditate bet~veen the robber and his vietimn, on its case technically so difficult to approach. the principle not of justice and of punishment, It is not very probable that the American but of expediency and of bargain, in order to es- government, as such, will take any proceed- cape a conflagration which might have involved in ~s a~ ainst the Austrian empire, but there whole nations and burnt up many dynasties. is sufficient irrc~ular enterprise in the United Russia knew all this well, and calculated on it States to make political or pecuniary capital shrewdly. She probably never contemplated out of the Austrian empire ; if that power a war ; but she knew that her opponents would should place itself even for a brief space be- connive at some portion of her unjust aggres- yond the pale of the public law, its house is sion~ in order to avert one and that, how- not so solid that it can afford to risk even ever much she was compelled to recede, it could improbable hazards. Other powers, which scarcely be to the whole extent of her advance. must feel a very imperfect sympathy with the A~gression is a safe game to play, either with Austrian dynasty or policy, would yet do weak, with timid, with cautious, with scrupu- their best to sustain the peace of Europe, if bus, with calculating, or with peace-loving an appeal w-ere made to them in somne form antagonists. less seriously inconvenient than the present. We will suppose that the dispute is now ________________ _________ settled on the terms proposed, and that Russia From the Economist, 3 Sept. evacuates the Danubian Provinces and returns to her old profession of magnanimity and mod- THE EASTERN QUESTION. eration. She will still have made great prog Foe six mnonths the quarrel between Russia ress towards her ultimate object. In the first and Turkey has been harassing the statesmen place, she has given a great stimulus to the and perplexmn~ the nierchants of Europe; and, internal political movements of the Greek and in spite of repeated announcements that all Selavonian Provinces of Turkey. She has was satisfactorily arranged, a final settlement shown them on how frail a tenure the Porte of the affair seems still distant and uncertain, now holds her sovereignty in Europe, how One thing only seems clear, as the issue of the shaken is the sceptre of their former masters, whole transaction that Russian violence has how much nearer than they dreamed may be been too clever for the diplomacy of Western their day of emancipation and supremacy. In Europe. The Czar has been prompt, astute, and the second place, she has roughly disturbed unscrupulous: we have been slow, cautious, the organization of the Hospodarships, diverted and pacific ; and though we may have forced their revenue, confused their administration, him to retire from a position which he should familiarized their inhabitants with Russian never have reached, still we have been outma- domination, and taken care (we may presume) neuvrcd. lIe has lost his character, but he has not to disgust them with Russian behavior. TlIl~ EA~STERN QUESTION. She xxiii a left behind her many indelible tr ~s Y her ocenpation, will rcta~n many clues of muti ync, xiii have established communica- tions torouTh which she can at any time foment disturbin es xx bich will ive her an excuse for futumo mute larence, or excite conspiracies which may ke.p the Porte in perpetual hot w~tem limmidly, she has compelled Turkey to lay the fourd tiou of future cmharrassmnent and ucakrmc~s by the vast expense in which her preparations for h ostili ties have involved her. The most distant provinces of the era- pire have been summoned to send in their con- tingents Egypt has sent her regiments of reg- ulmis, Syria and Anatolia their cavalry ; tIme militia has bean mined ; the reserve called out munnitions of war provided at a ruinous cost the navy placed in readiness for active service and altogether an outlay has been in- curred ~ and uselessly incurred which the revenue of Turkey will be years before it can recover, and which xvill most fatally impair her poxver of resieting any future encroach- ments or demands. Lastly, Russia has given a heavy blow and a great discouragement to Ottoman loyalty and zeal. The fanati- cism of the Turks has been sumnioned forth from its recesses only to be told that it is not needed and may go to sleep again. The warlike enthusiasm of the remotest tribes has been aroused and called upon as if for im- mediate action only to learn that this alarm, like all previous ones, has ended in tame and, as they will (leemmi, ignominious submission. The steam has been nOt up with every sign of urgency and vigor only to be blown off again, to the infinite dis~ust and disheartening of the Faithful.. The fatal habit of yielding has had one other link added to its chain. Russia has done all this, and has contrived to do it through the medium of the friends of Turkey. This is xvhat Russia will have gained by her unjustifiable violence, on the supposition least favorable to her viz., that the Porte accepts tIme proposal of tIme poxvers, and that time Czar immediately evacuates the Principalities. But supposing what seems very probable, and what we may be sure Russia is endeavoring by every secret intrigue to bringaboutthat Turkey demurs to suggestions which may amount to at all events some unpopular con- cession to unprincipled aggression ; supposing that she delays her acceptance so as to give Russia an excuse for remaining in the Princi- palities till it be too late in the season for an army to move, or a fleet to manoeuvre in the Euxine so that Gortschakoff shall winter at Jassay and at Bucharest then Russia may end in passing a whole year in the territory of her foe, living at his cost, preying on his vitals, seducing his subjects from their allegiance, in a word, doing all that subterranean and insidious work wlmich no one knows bow to do 00 well. Or if the Porte should finally decline to accede to time pmapo~ I of tIme Four Powers which, as it is sore to be founded less on strict justice than on concession and on coin- promise, she may well do iii xvhat position will we and she find ourselves then Can we join Russia in compelling her to submission Can we make ourselves parties to aim unjust 3 Can loin in coercin her t~) a rrcssmo n xve take advice which we gave only because conce~ sion xvr~s rimore pruden t than resistance 3 Or can we sit tamely by and dlox Rrm~sia to en force her demands upon our mar set chIc ally, un- just and fatal as we helP ye timemim to be, because that ally has rejected oar embiti itmon Or. finally, can we aid Turk~y ma domncr tlaat winch by our arbitration we h ~x e counsel d her not to do I In any case, xxe In eli be mu a position of sin~ular and painful pemplexity in any case, it is evident that hnmssi and not Franc , En4and, nor Turkey, xvi 1 heve cau e for jubi- lation. Or again suppose that Turkish enthusi- asia aroused as it has been by the Sultans government, stiniulated we know it is by the ultra-~Iahometan party in tIme empire, f - mented as we have reason to believe it will be by the secret machinations of Russia should prove too strong for diplomatic policy and pru- dence, and should insist on resolute resistance and immediate war. Suppose, too, that Persia and Circassia, which are both ready for hostil- ities, should proceed actively to aid Ottoman fanaticism. Suppose that, by the indiscreet zeal of subordinates on either side, the first blow should be struck, and blood begin to flow, who xvould be able to withhold all time in- flammable materials now collected around Turkey from feeding the ~eneral conflagration I What could prevent the formation an(l employ- ment of a reginient of hungarian refugees If so, would Austria, or could she, be faithful to the Western Powers I An Hungarian in- surrection must follow perhaps an Itali n one and the part which France and England would have to play would become complicated to a degree which it is positively bcwilderin~, to contemplate. Probably our mistake tire mistake of France and England was in not having, inn- mediately the Russians crossed the Pruth, sent our fleets into the Black Sea, and declared t!me Dardanelles and the Euxine henceforth free to the navies of every nation. Russia would then have been glad to accept any termns in order to escape from an event which she dreads mnorx3 than almost any other. Our protectorate of Turkey would then have been an efihetual one; mend we should always hr ye been at hand to cover Constantinople and to watch Sebastopol. Is it too late now to take this decisive amid con- clusive step Not, surely, if Russia delays a single day, on any pretext, to evacuate the Principalities. 1 28

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The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 491 Littell's living age Every Saturday; a journal of choice reading Eclectic magazine The Living age co. inc. etc. New York etc. October 15, 1853 0039 491
The Living age ... / Volume 39, Issue 491 129-192

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. No. 491.iS OCTOBER, 1853. CONTENTS. 1. Search for Sir John Franklin 2. Saint Simon 3. Fancys Sketch 4. Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd 5. Kensington 6. A Touch at the Touchy 7. American Diplomacy 8. The Tents of the Tuski 9. History of the Chinese Insurrection, 10. The Slave Trade, Domestic and Foreign, Chambers Repository, 131 Chambers Journal, . 148 Eliza Cooks Journal, 153 New Monthly Magazine, 156 Household Words, . 161 Chami3ers Journal, . 166 Frasers Magazine, . 167 New Monthly Magazine, 173 Times 180 Economist 191 POETRY: J. II. Bright, 129 ; Earthly Honors The King taken from the Dead, 130; She Nursed her Sorrow, 152. SHORT ARTICLES: The Cucumber, 152; Shakspeare Pilgrim Polecats, 165; The Cunning Thrush, 179; Extraordinary Site of a Tree, 192. NEW BooKs: Treatise on the Book of Common 179. Prayer, 160; The Old house by the River, From the Brooklyn Eagle. J. 11. BRIGHT. ONm of the truest gems of poesy I have ever seen is a piece called The Dying Boy, which is in many of our school Readers classed among anonymous selections. It commences thus: It must be sweet in childhood to give back The spirit to its Maker, ere the heart has grown familiar with the paths of sin And sorrow, to garner up its bitter fruits. I knew a boy whose infant feet had trod Upon the blossoms of some seven springs; And when the eighth came round and called him out To revel in its light, he turned away, And sought his chamber to lie down and die. It was written byJ. Huntington Bright, Esq., who was born in Salem, Mass., in 1804, and died at the South in the year 1837, at the mye of thirty-three. Through the columns of the Albany Argus and Knickerbocker Magazine he has ~iven to the world imperishable gems of thought, under the signature of Viator. The piece we quote from is a touching produc- tion. But no less beautiful is his In Coelo Quies, which Mr. Bryant called one of his most touching lyrics.? But I can do no better than quote it; although it is worthy of a more lasting place than the columns of a newspaper: ccccxci. LIVING AGE. YOL. iii. 9 Should sorrow oer tby brow Its darkened shadow fling, And hopes that cheer thee now Die in their early spring Should pleasure at its birth Fade like the lines of even, Turn thou away from earth, There s rest for thee in Heaven. If ever life shall seem To thee a toilsonme way, And gladness cease to beam Upon its clouded day; If, like the wearied dove Oer shoreless oceans driven, Raise thou thine eyes above, There s rest for thee in I-leaven. But, 0 if tbornless flowers Throughout thy pathway bloom, And gayly fleet the hours, Unstained by earthly gloom Still let not every thought To this poor world be given, Nor always be forgot Thy better rest in heaven. When sickness pales thy cheek, And dims thy lustrous eye, And pulses low and weak Tell of a time to die; Sweet hope shall whisper then, Though thou from earth be riven, There s bliss beyond thy ken, There s rest for thee in Heaven 130 EARTHLY HONORS.THE RING TAKEN FROM THE DEAD. how felicitous is the followin0: some neglected spot. Yet, to use a frag ment of a beautiful poem written by him for HVENING ON THE HUDSON. the Knickerbocker Magazine, The moon hath deserted her watch-tower on high, Yet it matters not much, when the hloom is fled, And the stars are all out in the beautiful sky And the light is gone from the lustrous eye, Mount Menno looms up from the valley below, And her white harvest gleams like the wind- And the sensitive heart is cold and dead, drifted snow Where the mouldering ashes are left to lie While her cone-fashioned pines, cold, gloomy and ~ matters not much if the soaring mind, still, Like the flowers perfume, has exhaled to Stand like sentinels guarding the sheaf on the heaven, bill That its earthly shroud should be cast hehis~d, And the fire-flies ever glancing about To decay wherever.place is aiven. Seem but lamps which the fairies have hrought to their rout. The cricket doles out a monotonous song From the Illustrated Magazine ef Art. To the hours as they noiselessly s unter along, EARThLY hONORS. And the tadpole is croaking his burdensome strain, A 5ONNET nv EDWARD HOaTEN, FUDRIsIIED IN And making his plaint to the night air in vain. 1010. All is silent beside the murmuring breeze As withereth the primrose hy the river, Neither bends the lank grass, nor disturbs the As fadeth summers sun from gliding foun tall trees ; tains, One mi~bt think for this moment the world had As vanisheth the light-hlown bubble ever, been made, As melteth snow upon the massy mountains, For the world was created this moment of So melts, so vanisbeth, so fades, so withers shade The rose, the shine, the bubble and the snow T is the Sabbath of Nature ! 0, turn not away Of praise, pomp, glory, joy, which short life From its peace to the rude Saturnalia of Day. gathers. here the I-hudson winds waveless and quietly hy Fair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle Where the shallops at rest on its broad bosom lie joy Far beyond the blue lines of the Kaatskill ar~ The withered primrose hy the mourning river, spread, The faded summer sun from weeping foun- ANd clouds for a diadem crown his old head; tains, A lone star hangs oer it, lucid and bright, The light-blown bubble vanished forever, T is the queen star of eveaing, the glory of night. The molten snow upon the naked mountains Who bath eyes that can see and will wander Are emblems that the treasures we up lay, abroad, Soon wither, vanish, fade and melt aw y. And unthinkingly gaze on this Temple of God _________________________ The blossoming earth, and the limitless heaven, And the shade and the sunshine alternately From the Dublin University Magazine. given! THE RING TAKEN FROM THE DEAD. Here s Eve for the thoughtful, and Day for the FROM ~ ITALIAN OF BERNARDINO ROTA.* glad, ~ Questa scolpita in ore amica fede, & c.) And a season of rest for the weary and sad. Mv loved and lost! thou thus hast been to me 0, when lifes busy din hath drawn near to its Fairest and best among the good and fair, close, Well hast thou kept with fond fidelity And the heart-broken pilgrim shall pant for re- This golden ring that thy dead hand doth hear. pose, May the st.ars still beam forth from their regions This ring, faiths pledge, gift of my hallowed of bliss, love, And may night be as calm and as tranquil as Well hast thou kept it since I graved thy name this. Within my mind well did our union prove Union of hearts, in love and will the same No true poet can read this last quotation and not see in it thoughts sublime and beauti- I Now from thy finger, cold, and ivory white, ful. That part commencing, The cricket I take the ring, I place it on my own doles out a monotonous song how simple ! here let it dwell, fond object of my sight, Not lost within the grave, so dark, so lone. I said Mr. Bright died South; away from kindred and 0 theft of love ! spoil that from One so dear His home the spot of earth supremely blest II take with breaking heart! Forgive for-. A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. If oft give, thy shrine with bitter tear A wooden slab now ~marks the spot where When shall I cease to weep? when cease to lie his remains ; and it is melancholy to think live? that one so stron~ly endeared by domestic ties, ~ A Neapolitan, Knight of San Giacopo. Died ~hould die among strangers and be buried in 15Th. SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. From Chainbzrs nepository. THE SEARCH FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. THERE are few subjects at this moment ex- citing so generally the interest and sympathy of the civilized world, as the fate of the missing expedition under Sir John Franklin. As year after year rolls by, and squadron after squad- ron returns to our shores from an unsuccess- ful search after the lost navi~ators, the mind recurs with a melancholy interest to those dreary seas, amid whose icy solitudes our lon absent couutrymen are, or have been, impris- oned for so many years. What is being done, and what has been done, for their rescue ? what has become of the missing ships, and what means are there for the sustenance of human life for so long a period in those frozen regions? are questions which are heard on every side, as each successive failure brings more vividly before the mind the terrible fate awaiting so many gallant and devoted men, unless timely succor be afforded them. In the following pages it is proposed to bring to~ ether, in a clear and connected form, such information as will satisfy the readers inquiries upon most of these points. Of the fate of the missing expedition itself, no intel- 1i~ence, unfortunately, has as yet reached us. Beyond the discovery of Franklins first win- ter-quarters at the entrance of Wellington Channel, the only result, indeed, of the va- rious searchinn expeditions which have left this country within the last six years except the large additions that have been made to our stock of geographical knowledge has been to show where our lost country- men are not, and to incite us to fresh efforts for their rescue from their present perilous situation, wherever that may be. The gen- eral belief of those officers who have served on the former arctic expeditions appears to be, that Franklin must have penetrated to a far greater distance to the westward than has yet been attained by any of the parties despatched in search of him, and indeed by any previous expedition to the polar seas; and that, whatever accident may have be- fallen the Erehus and Terror, they cannot wholly have disappeared from those seas, but that some traces of their fate, if not some living remnant of their crews, must eventually reward the search of the diligent investigator. It is possible they may be found in quarters the least expected. There is thus still reason for hope, if for nothing more, and still a necessity for the great and honorable exertions which hope has prompted and still keeps alive. The Erebus and Terror, for the safety of whose officers and crew& ~ so deep an interest is now felt, sailed from Sheerness on the 23th May, 184.5, and are consequently now passing throunh the severe ordeal of their eighth winter in the arctic regions. The two vessels had just returned from the an- tarctic expedition to the south polar seas under Sir James Ross, where their qualifica- tions for the peculiar service upon which they were about to enter had been fully tested. The total complement of officers and seamen in each ship was as follows EREBUS, Screw Discovery-ship, 30 Horse-power. Captain Sir John Franklin, K. C. II. (Rear- admiral). * Commander James Fitzjames, (Capt in). Lieutenants Graham Gore (Conomander), Henry T. P. le Vesconte, James William Fair- holme. Mates Charles F. des Vmux (Lieutenant), H. 0. Sargent (Lieutenant), Edward Couch (Lieutenant). Ice-master James Read (Acting). Surgeon S. S. Stanley. Assistant-surgeon H. D. S. Goodsir. Paymaster and Purser C. H. Osmer. Second-master II. F. Collins. Fifty-eight petty officers, seamen, and marines. Full complement, 70. TEaxon, Screw Discovery-ship, 30 Horse-power. Captain F. H. M. Crozier. Lieutenants Edward Little (Commander), G. H. Iiodgson, John Irving. Ice-master Thomas Blenky (Acting). Surgeon John S. Peddie. Mates E. J. Horaby (Lieutenant), Robert Thomas (Lieutenant). Assistant-surgeon Alex. MDonald. Second-master C. A. Maclean. Clerk in charge E. J. H. Helpman. Fifty-seven petty officers, seamen, & c. Full complement, 68. Total complement of the two ships, 138. The instructions issued to the expedition are too voluminous for insertion here ; but their general purport is sufficiently well. known. The ships, after entering Lancaster Sound, were to proceed in a nearly due-west. direction, in the latitude of about 7440 N., until they should reach the longitude of that portion of land in which Cape Walker is sit uated, or about 950 W. From that point, every effort was to be made to penetrate to the southward and westward, in a course as, direct towards Behrings Strait as the position and extent of the ice, or the existence of landi at present unknown, might admit. Should it be found impracticable to effect a. south-west course in this direction, a passage was directed to be attempted northwas-dround. the Parry islands, throue,h Wellington Chan- nel. As this route, wl~ich,in contradistinc tion to that by Cape Walker, ~ may denominate the northern route, has latterly ~ The promotions which have taken p es since the departure of the expedition are indicated within parentheses. 131 132 SEARCh FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. acquirod a great importance from causes that should wish to try some other channel, if the will afterwards be more fully explained, we state of our provisions and the health of the shall quote, in extenso, that paragraph of crews justify it. Franklins instructions which relates to it. The Eyelets was spoken on the 22d of the We direct you to this particular part of the same month by Captain Martin, of the whale- Polar Sea [the sea to the south-west of Cape ship Enterprise, in lat. 750 I~/ N., nnd long. Walker], as afibrding the best prospect of ac- 600 XV. The latest date at which the expedi- complishing the passage to the Pacific, in con- tion was actually seen was foer days subse- sequence of the unusual magnitude and ap- quently. The Prince qf VVclcs whaler re- porently fixed state of the barrier of ice oh- ported that, on the 26th of ~July, 1845, she served by the Hecle and Griper in the year saw Franklins vessels in lat. 740 48 N., and 1820, off Cape Dundas, the south-western long. 660 13 W. They were then moored to extremity of Melville Island; and we, there- an iceberg, awaiting an opening in the middle- fore, consider that loss of time would he in- ice, to enal)le them to cross over to Lancaster curred in renewing the attempt in that direc- Sound. Of the copper cylinders Franklin tion ; but should your progress in the direc- was directed to throw overboard from time to tion before ordered be arrested by ice of a time, after passing the latitude of 650 N., one permanent appearance, and that when passing only has been recovered; but as it bore a date the mouth of the strait between Devon and anterior to that of the last dispatches, no in- Coruwallis Islands [Wellington Channel], you formation of any importance was derived from had observed that it was open and clear of ice, it. Between this period and the 23d of we desire that you will duly consider, with August, 1850, when the traces of their first reference to the time already consumed, as winter-quarters at Beechey Island in 184546 well as to the symptoms of a late or early were discovered by Captain Austins squadron, close of the season, whether that channel no intelligence, direct or indirect, has been might not offer a more practicable outlet from received of the missing ships. Our positive the archipela~o, and a more ready access to accounts of the expedition e. tend, therefore, the open sea, where there would be neither up to the winter of 1846 as to time, and to islands nor banks to arrest and fix the floating the entrance of the Wellington Channel as to masses of ice; and if you should have ad- place; and no further. vanced too far to the south-westward to render It was not anticipated that the Erebus and ~it expedient to adopt this new course before Terror ~vould return before the close of the ~ e end of the present season, and if, there- year 1847, nor was any intelligence expected fere, you should have determined to winter in from them in the interval; but when the that neighborhood, it will be a matter for autumn of that year arrived without any tid- vour mature deliberation, whether in the en- ings of them, the attention of the government suIng season you would proceed by the above- was directed to the necessity of searching for meu~ioned strait, or whether you would per- and conveyin~ relief to them, in case of their sever to the south-westward according to the being imprisoned in the ice, or wrecked, and former directions. in want of provisions and the means of trans- TI vessels were accompanied as far as the port. For this purpose, a searching expedi- Whale Fish Islands in Baffins Bay by the tion, in three divisions, was fitted out in the tender.Barelto Junior, under the command of early part of 1848. The investigation was Lieuteiiant Griffith, who brought back dis- directed to three different quarters simultane- patches from the expedition the last ever ously namely, first, by the ~vestward to received from it of the date 12th July, 1845. Behrings Strait, where, if successful in effect- In aletter to Colonel Sabine, of this date, Sir ing the passage through the Polar Sea, the Johnlrankhin speaks most hopefully of the missing expedition might now be expected; prospects of the expedition at this point, and second, by the eastward to Lancaster Sound of the ~pirit which animated all on board, in the direction Franklin himself had been while thus as yet but on the threshold of their directed to pursue, to meet the contingency enterprise. After noticing that the Erebus of the ships havin~ been arrested in an early and Tror, including what they had received stage of their progress ; and, third, a boat-ex- from the transport which had accompanied pedition to explore the coast~f the Arctic them thus far, had on board provisions, fuel, Sea, between these two points it bcin~ sup. clothing, and stores for three years complete posed that if Sir John Franklins party had from that date that is, to July, 1848 lie been compelled to leave the ships and take to continuea: I hope my dear wife and their boats, they would make for this coast, dau0hter will not be over-anxious if we should whence they could reach the Hudson Bay not return by the time they have fixed upon; Companys trading-posts. and I mu t beg of you to give them the bene- The western expedition consisted of a single fit of your advice and experience when that ship, the Plover, under the command of Lieu- arrives, for you know well, that even after the tenant Moore, which left England in the be- second winter without success in our object, we ginning of January, 1848. Instruction were SEARCh FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. 133 sort out at tho same time to II. M. S. Ifcrald, Harbor, ~vhore they doubtless remain to this Captain Kellet, then stationed at Panama, to day, nearly in the state in which they were proceed to Bebrings Straits to join the Plover; left. and it \VOS expected that both VOSSOIS would The boat-expedition through the hudsons arrive there about the 1st of July. They Bay territories, intended to connect the east- ~vcre then to proceed along the American em and western divisions of the sevrch, was shore, as far as possible in an easterly diree- placed under the command of Sir John Rich- tion froni Point Barrow, exploring the coast ardson, the faithful friend and companion of where necessary with boats, until symptoms Franklin in his former travels. From Mont- of winter should appear, when the Plover real, where the party commenced their jour- ~vas to be secured in a safe harbor, and the ney northward in the beginning of May, 184S, H~rcld was to return and transmit to England, a succession of rivers and lakes con(lueted rid Panama, intelligence of their proceedings them to the mouth of the Mackenzie, on the up to that thac. The herald was to proceed Arctic Sea, where they arrived too late, how- the folloivin~ season once more to Behrings ever, to effect any very extensive exploration Strait, with any fresh instructions that might of the coast that season. Great Bear Lake, he deemed accessory while the Plover was from its proximity to the sea, and the inex- directed to despatch boat-parties from Point haustible supply of fish it affrded, was Barrow in the direction of Mackenzies River, selected as a convenient wintering-station, to communicate, if possible, with the boat- from which a more extended examination of expedition through the Hudsons Bay ter- the lands and islands to the north of the Cop- permine River was subsequently carried on for Onmn~ to the bad sailing qualities of the three years in succession, chiefly nuder Mr. Plot cv and to obstructions from the ice and John Rae, of the hudsons Bay Company, Sir othiem cau~~s, it took the vessels two seasons John Richardsons assistant, and frivorably to accomplish w hat their instructions antici- known as an arctic traveller of great energy peted ~~ovbl be effected in one. In the sum- and endurance. During these explorations, met of 1 A however, Lieutenant Pullen, Mr. Rae made very considerable additions to wtth a boat paitv from the Plover, succeeded our knowledge of the geograpl~y of the arctic in coal Wtin the survey from Behrings coasts and islands but as regards the main Strait to Yl mckenzies River, and reached in object of the expedition the discovery of safety one of the trading-posts of the hind- traces of the missing vessels it was, like son s B my Company on that stream, where he its predecessors, wholly unsuccessful. winteich end subsequently made his way After the subject had received the most ovemtm ad t YmAand, without discovering, it ample consideration, such was the hope that is scarcely necessary to say, any traces of the the missing ships had penetrated to the west mis~in~ eapediti in. ward in their attempts to win the lou 0-con- The cistern division of the search, consist- tested prize of a north-~vest passage, that, on ing of two hip , the Enterprise and the In- the return of Sir James Ross squadron, vestmgotor, wins in the mean time placed under which arrived in England in the beginning of the able and e ~oerienceml conduct of Sir James October, 1849, it was at once resolved to equip Ross, who s aWn fro am England early in June, a second series of expeditions in the same 1843 The I etc period of their departure, directions as before. Mr. Rae Sir John and tIm un~mxom ible state of the ice in Baf- Richardson having meanwhile returned to fins Thy presented the ships from entering England was instructed to continue his re- Lancaster Sound until the season for the navi- searches along the unknown lands and islands gation of these icy seas had nearly closed, between the mouth of the Coppermaine and They were unable, therefore, to advance that Banks Land. Captains Colhinson and season beyond Leopold Iharbor, on the west MClure evere next despatched to Bebrings side of the opening of Prince Regents Inlet, Strait with the Enterprise and Investigator, where they wintered. On attempting to re- which had just returned from Barrows Strait new their operLmtiorms in the following spring, and being there joined by the herald and they got entangled in the pack-ice off the inlet, Plover, which were still out, thee whole squad- and were dm-~fted with it bodily through Lan- ron entered Bebrings Strait in the autumn caster Sound into Baffins Bay, where, unfor- of 1S50. The Investigator, Captain MClure, tunately, naissin~ the store-ship, the North alone succeeded iii penetrating through the Star, which baA been sent out with a supply barrier of ice which blocked up the entrance of provisions and fuel to enable them to re- of the strait, arid was last seen by her con- main out another year, they were compelled sort, tIme Plover, on the 4th August, 1850, to return hoIne unsuccessful. They had been bearing gallantly, under full sail, into the supplied with a huerge ,~tock of provisions, a heart of the pack to the eastward of Point steam-launch, and a portable house, for the Barrow. The Enterprise, finding it impos- use of Sir John Franklins party; and these sible to get through the ice, was forced to they had secured in a safe depot at Leopold retura and pass the winter at llong-Kong~. SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. She departed a second time in May, 1851, and the last accounts report her having quitted Port Clarence, in Behrings Strait, on the 10th of July, 1851, for the purpose of carry- ing on her explorations to the north-east. The Herald returned direct to England, arriv- ing at Spithead in June, 1851. The Plover was stationed as a reserve or store-ship to the Enterprise and Investigator at Port Clarence, Behrings Strait, where she was to remain until the autumn of 1853. Fresh stores have since that period been forwarded to the Plover, and a regular communication kept up with England; but up to the 7th September, 1852, no intelligence of any traces of Sir John Frank- lin had been received at Port Clarence, and no communication respectin~ the progress of the Enterprise and Investigator under Collin- son and MClure. Upwards of four years endeavors, and many attempts from that direc- tion, have therefore been fruitless. having settled the question with reference to the possibility that Franklins ships might appear at Behrings Strait, the next thing that pressed upon the attention of the Admi- ralty was the necessity that Lancaster Sound should not be ne0lected, as Sir John Franklin might be retracing his steps eastward in boats, or even in the ships themselves, having given up the hope of making a north-west passage. With this view, four ships were placed in commission, under the command of Capt. H. T. Austin, C. B., and their ample equipment for arctic service was making rapid progress in the beginning of March, 1850. T~vo of these vessels were steamers, of suffi- cient power to advance in calm weather and smooth water at the rate of five or six miles an hour, with the two sailing-vessels in tow-. The difficulties of navigation in Baffins Bay, and especially in the northern portion, from Melville Bay to Lancaster Sound, having be- come apparent by the previous expeditions, the Admiralty decided on adding to the power of the navy the experience of a whal- ing- captain. Accordingly, they appointed Captain Penny, an experienced whaler from Aberdeen, to the command of two additional vessels, the Lady Franklin and the Sophie, fully equipped and fortified for a prolonged voyage in the arctic seas. Both squadrons left Enjand about the beginning of May; and after, on the whole, a very favorable passage across the Atlantic and through Baffins Bay, entered Lancaster Sound about the beginning of August. Simultaneously with these expeditions, three others, equipped mainly from private resources, entered Lan- caster Sound about the same time ; one, con- sisting of two vessels, the Advance and Rescue, fitted out in the United States by a noble-minded citixen of New York Mr. Henry Grinnel; the second, under Sir John moss consisting of a small vessel, the Felix, accomp nied by a tender fitted out chiefly by public subscription in London ; and a third a single schooner, the Prince Albert, under commander Forsyth equipped al- most entirely from the private resources of Lady Franklin. It was during this autumn that the first au- thentic traces of the lost expedition were dis- covered. On the 23d August, 1850, Lieu- tenant Cator, in the Intrepid screw-steamer, attached to Captain Austins squadron, landed at Cape Riley, and subsequently at Beechey Island,at the entrance of Wellington Channel, and was gratified by finding positive and undoubted traces, at both places, of Franklins first winter-quarters after leaving England. The interesting circum stances attending this important discovery are thus related by Lieutenant Osborne The steamer hay- in~ approached close under Beechey Island, a boatful of officers and men proceeded on shore. On landing, some relics of European visitors were found; and we can picture the anxiety with which the steep was scaled and the cairn torn dow-n every stone turned over, and the ground underneath dug up a little, and yet, alas! no document or record found. A short distance within Cape Riley, another tent-place was found ; and then, after a look at the coast as far as Cape Innes, the two steamers proceeded across towards Cape ilotham, on the opposite side of Wel- lington Channel; having in the first place erected a cairn at the base of Cape Riley, and in it deposited a document. Whilst the Assistance and Intrepid were so employed, the American squadron, and that under Captain Penny, were fast approaching. The Ameri- cans first communicated with Captain Om- maneys division, and heard of the discovery of the first traces of Sir John Franklin. The Americans then informed Penny, who was pushing for Wellington Channel; and he, after some trouble, succeeded in catching the Assistance, and, on goin~ on board of her, learned all they had to tell him, and saw what traces they had discovered. Captain Penny then returned, as he figuratively ex- pressed it, to take up the search from Cape Riley like a blood-hound; and richly was he rewarded for doing so. At Cape Spencer he discovered the ground- plan of a tent, tIme floor of which was neatly and carefully paved with small smooth stones. Around the tent a number of birds bones, as well as remnants of meat-canisters, led him to imagine that it had been inhabited for some time as a shooting station and a look-out place, for which latter purpose it was admira- bly chosen, commanding a good view of Bar- rows Strait and Wellington Channel. This opinion was confirmed by the discovery of a 134 SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN~ 135 ?iece of paper, on which was written, to he ling parties, sent out over the ice early in the called evidently the fragment of an officers spring, explored several hundred miles in a night-orders. circle round their winter-quarters. Between Some sledge marks pointed northward the months of April and July, fourteen sledges from this nei0hhorhood; and the American and 104 officers and macn, from Captain Aus- squadron hein~ unahle to advance up the tins division alone, were engaged in this strait, in consequence of the ice resting firmly duty. No trace whatever of Sir John Frank- against the land close to Cape Innes, and lin having been found by any of the sledge- across to Barlow Inlet on the opposite shore, parties, Captain Austin concluded that the Lieutenant de Haven [commanding the United missin~ expedition had not been to the south- States squadron] despatched parties on foot to ward amid westward of Wellington Channel. follow these sled~c-marks ; whilst Pennys In the mean time, the exploring parties sent squadron returned to redxaminc Beechey to examine this remarkable channel, from Island. The American officers found the Captain Pennys division of the squadron, had sledge-tracks very distinct for some miles ; been arrested by open water as early as April. but before they had got as far as Cape Bowden There is reason, indeed, to believe that a the trail ceased, and one empty bottle and a sea of considerable extent and depth, compar- piece of ncwspaper were the last things found atively unencumbered with ice, exists beyond in that direction. Not so Captain Pennys it, if it be not, in fact, the entrance to that re- squadron. Making fast to the ice between markable expanse of open water which the Beechey Island and Cape Spencer, in what explorations of Baron Wrangell have placed is now called Union Bay, and in which they beyond all doubt as existing to the north of found the Feli.~e schooner to be likewise lying, Siberia, to a great extent frec from ice all the parties from the Ledy Franklia and Sophie year round. The probability of an open sea started towards Beechey Island. A long point existing to the north of the Parry Islands of land slopes gradually from the southern had long been a favorite subject of specula- bluffs of this now deeply interesting island, tion among arctic navigators ; and it is well until it almost connects itself with the land of known that Franklin himnself was one of the North Devon, forming on either sidc of it two most ardent supporters of this theory, and good and commodious bays. On this slope, frequently, before his departure from Eng- a multitude of preserved meat-tins were land, expressed his determination to effect, strewed about; and near them, and on the if possible, the solution of a geographical prob- rid~e of the slope, a carefully constructed hem of such first-rate interest and importance cairn was discovered. It consisted of layers as the exploration of this open sea, and his con- of meat-tins, filled with gravel, and placed to viction that Wellin0ton Channel afforded the form a firm and solid foundation. Beyond most likely opening into it from the westward. this, and along the northern shore of Beechey Of late years, more than ordinary interest has Island, the following traces were then quickly attached tp this question, from the possibility discovered: The embankment of a house, of Franklins having succeeded in penetrating with carpenter and armorers working places, within this so-called polar basin, and been up ~vasbin~-tubs, coal-bags, pieces of old clothing, to this time, from some casualty, unable to rope, and, lastly, the graves of three of the extricate his ships. It will not be unmuterest- crew of the Erebus and Terror placing it ing, therefore, to the reader to learn upon beyond all doubt that the missing ships had what grounds the presumption of the existence indeed been there, and bearin0 date of the of such an expanse of open water, in the winter 184546. heart of a region long supposed to be the seat The absence of any documents amon~ these of a perennial frost, is based. These grounds relics calculated to throw auy light upon are thus succinctly stated by Colonel Sabine, the direction taken by the missing expedition in the preface to his translation of Baron from this point, is one of those inexplicable Wrangells narrative.* circumstances which it would be needless to All the attempts to effect the north-west endeavor to account for. In the vain search passage, since Barrow~s Strait was first passed for this all-important information, every foot in 1819, have consisted in an endeavor to force of ground within and around the winter-quar- a vessel by one route or by another through ters of the Erebus and Terror was dug up, this land-locked and ice-encumbered portion and every cairn and mound ransacked, but of the Polar Ocean [in immuediate contiguity without a vcsti~e of a record of any kind being with the coast-line of North America]. No discovered. The movements of the searching examination has made known what may be squadrons were thus coumpletely paralyzed. the state of the sea to the north of the Parry The ships wintered within a short distance of Islands whether similar impediments may each other, near the entrance of Wellington Channel, prepared, notwithstanding this dis- Narrative of an Expedition to the Polar Sea appointment, to prosecute their researches with along the Coast of Siberia. By Admiral Ferdinand renewed vigor the followin0 season. Travel- von Wrangell, of the Russian imperial Navy. 136 SENRCH FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. there present themselves to navigation, or ing or analogy. The seasons of 1S51, 1852, whether a sea may not exist oflhring no diffi- appear to h ye been unusually open ones culties whatsoever of the kind, as M. Von and there can hardly have been imagined a Wran~ell has shown to be the case to the more favorable concurrence of circumstances north of the Siberian islands, and as, by strict than was presented on the arrival of the analogy, we should be justified in expecting searching squadrons off the mouth of XYelling- unless, indeed, other land should exist to the ton Channel, for deciding the important ejues- north of the Parry group, makin0 th t portion I tion, ho~v far this remarkable expanse ~vas ~f the ocean also a land-locked sea, accessible from the direction of Lancaster The equipment of the expeditions of MM. Sound; and thus setting at rest the anxious von Wrangell and von Anjon, for the proseen- conjectures which had so long prevailed, as to tion of their researches, ~vas formed on the whether Franklin had been induced to deviate presumption of the continuance to the north into this route in his attempts to force a pas in the winter and sprin~ at least of the sage westward. A series of untoward cir- natural bridge of ice by which the Siberian cumstances, however, prevented the accom- islands are accessible from the continent plishment of an object so desirable and im- of Asia; but every attempt which they made portant. The United States expedition, per- to proceed to the north, repeated as these haps the best equipped of theia all for a pro- were during three years, and from many longed and successful navigation of the arctic different points of a line extending for several seas, had scarcely completed the usual prep- hundred miles in an eastern and western arations for wintering, in what was eon- direction, terminated alike in conducting sidered a sufficiently safe position, near Grif- them to an open and navigable sea. From fiths Island, about which all the searching whatever point of the coast their departure squadrons were concentrated for the winter was taken, the result was invariably the same; when, by one of those sudden and inexpli- after an ice-jourucyof more orless continuance, cable movements of the ice so common in they arrived where further progress in sledges these seas (a similar instance of which has was impossible where, to use the words of been already noticed in the case of Sir Jaraes M. von Wrangell, we beheld the wide, im- Ross), both vessels were swept out, and became measurable ocean spread before our gaze, imbedded in the pack-ice opposite Wellington a fearful and mannifleent, but to us a melan- Channel. This occurred about the middle of choly spectacle. I need scarcely say, that September ; and from that time the ships the spectacle whieh to them appeared mel- were helplessly drifted about in the heart of ancholy, because it compelled them to re- the pack, during the whole winter, through nounce the object for which they strove so Lancaster Sound and Baffins Bay, as hmr admirably through years of privation and toil, south as Cape Walsiugham a distance would wear an aspect of a totally opposite altogether of not less than 1200 miles character to those whose success should de- where, after much exposure, trial, and danger, pend on the facilities of navigation. . . . they were at length liberated on the 10th of When, in 1583, Davis sailed through the June, 1851. Although the commander, noth- strait, which has since borne his name, his ing daunted, determained to return northward, heart misgave hima when he was able to he was unable to get beyond Melville Bay, discern, though in the extreme distance, whence the expedition was finally co:npelled land on both sides of him. Notwithstand- to steer home mvard, arriving at New York on ing, desirous to know the certainty, he the 30th Septemuber, 1851. proceeded ; and when he found himself in The Priace Albert, after examinin~ the lat. 75~, in a great sea free from ice, large, western side of Prince ilegemits inlet ,as far very salt, blue, and of an unsearchable depth, south as Fury I~oint, mind subsequently corn- his hopes revived, and it seemed most man- munnicating with the other expeditions off the ifest that the passage was free and without Wellington Channel, returned honieward the impedimuent. Those who believe that the sarmie season, arrmvmng at Aberdeen on tIme recent researches are fimr indeed from disprov- 22nd of October, 1851, after an absence of no ing the existence of such a passage as Davis umore than four muouths. sought, will undoubtedly find in M. von Notwithstanding this unfortunate dimninn- Wrangells narrative a strong support to their tion of the efihetive force of the searching opinion, in the probability which it sanctions squadrons, there was still ample provision for of tIme existence of an open sea in that portion prosecuting the search with the remaining yes- of the passage which has not been traversed sels, and this with every prospect of success. by ships namely, between the meridians of As already stated, they wintered very nearly Melville Island and Bebrings Strait. together, within a short distance of the spot The fact of tIme existence of a polar basin which had been identified as the wintering- untraversed as yet by any adventurous keel, quarters of Franklins expedition in 1845-Ad, would appear thus to rest upon evidence from which travellirmg-parties, despatehed in stronger than any mee hypothetical reason- ~the course of tIme spring, had made the inter- SEARCh FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. esting discoveries in the l~\Tellin ton Channel, already adverted to. On the opening of the navigation, however, instead of following up the promising indications of a comparatively open passage to the westward in this direc- tion, through which there were such strong grounds for believing the missing expedition had proceeded before them, the surprise and disappointment of the public ~vere great on learuin~, towards the end of September, 1851, that Austin and Penny had returned to Eng- land with all the remaining ships, leaving the great and absorbing question of the fate of the lost navigators shrouded in the same painful and iiupeuetrablc mystery as before. As the expeditions had been equipped for an absence of three years, with means amply sufficient for the vigorous prosecution of the search for that period with safety in the estimation of those most competent to form an opinion, with perloct safety this return was as un- expected as it was unwelcome. It appears, indeed, to have been no question of means at all, but purely a question of personal nature l)etween the coraraanders of the two chief sections of the expedition Captain Austin and Captain Penny. The subject is a painful one. Without catering into the controversy which ensued on their arrival in England, it is sufficient to state, that a committee of experienced arctic officers, among whom were Sir Edward Parry, Sir Ceorge Back, and Captain Beechey, was appointed to examine the officers of the expe- ditions and the evidence, as it was taken, was in due time laid before the public in the form of a voluminous Blue Book. It was part of the duty of this committee to obtain from the reports and evidence of the commanders of the expeditions, and the officers of the travelling-parties, such details as mi ht be necessary for the guidance of a fresh expedi- tion, which it was at once decided should be despatched, in the same direction as before, early in the following spring. The researches of the previous expedition had been attended with good results in one sense the search for the lost was not to he given up ; and a faint ray of hope was rekindled that Franklin or SOLUe of his gallant band might yet be seen. This hope appeared to rest almost, if not entirely, upon the supposition that he went through Wellington Channel. An expedition, under the command of Sir Edward Beleher the most extensive as yet despatched in the search consisting of five vessels, the Assist- a?tce, Resolute, North Star, and the Pioneer and Intrepid steamers, accordingly sailed once more from England on the 21st of April, 1852, direct for Wellington Channel; Beechay Island, at its entt~nce, being in- tended as the head-quarters. Two of these the Assistance, and one of the steamers, the Pioneer ~vere directed to proceed, under Sir Edw~ rd Belehers own orders, up the Wellington Channel; while the other two vessels, under Captain Kellett, were instructed to advance towards Melville Island, and deposit provisions there for the use of Captain Collinson and Commander MClure, in the event of their having succeeded in reaching that island from Bebrings Strait. The North Star was to remain at Beechey Island as a depot store-ship. While the preparations for this extensive equipment were in progress, the search so disastrously abandoned during the previous year had not been lost sight of. LadyFrank- lin and her devoted companion, Miss Sophia Cracroft, the niece of Sir John Franklin, had labored ince& antly in the good cause which lay so near their hearts ; and it is to their untiring exertions that iluch that has been done in search of him whose long absence they still mourn has been mainly owing. The name of Lady Franklin has indeed, through these labors, become as familiar as a house- hold word in every quarter of the civilized world ; and all interested in the fate of Sir John Franklin and his devoted companions, must feel the deepest sympathy for, and admi- ration of~ the zeal, perseverance, and con- jugal affection displayed in her noble and un- tiring efforts to relieve or discover the fate of her distinguished husband and tIme gallant party under his command, despite the difficul- ties and disappointments by which these effrts have been attended. In the spring of 1849, she had made a touching and pathetic appeal to the feelings of the American a tion, which, as we have seen, had been nobly responded to by tIme munificent equipment of an expedition at his own cost by Mr. (irinnel, of New York. A few extracts from this appeal, addressed to the President of the United States, and the reply to it from the American government, although somewhat digressing fro our sub- ject, may not be uninteresting here, as indica- tive of the deep and wide-spread sympathy existing in other countries in the fate of the missing expedition. LADY FRANKLIN TO TIlE IlIESIDENT OF TIlE vxirxn STATES. Bedford Place, London, 4th April, 1849. Sia I address myself to you as tIme head of a reat nation, whose power help rue I cannot doubt, and in whose disposition to do so I have a confidence which I trust you ~vihl not deem presumptuous. The name of my husband, Sir John Franklin, is probably not unknown to you. It is intimately connected with the northern part of that conti- nent of which tile American republic forms so vast and comispicuous a portion. When I visited the United States three years ago, amongst the many proofs I received of respect and courtesy, there xvas acne which touched and even surprised 137 SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLiN. to he the case, you will still find, I am sure, even in that personal intensity of feeling, an excuse for the fearlessness with which I have thrown myself on your generosity, and will pardon the homage I thus p y to your own high character, and to that of the people over whom you have the hi~h distinction to preside. I have, & c (Si0ned) JANE FEAtxanc. me more than the appreciation everywhere ex- pressed to rue of his former services in geograph- ical discovery, and the interest felt in the en- terprise in which he was then known to be engaged. [Her ladyship here gives the details of the doparture of the expedition, and the measures already taken for its relief.] The Board of Admiralty has been induced to offer a reward of 20,0001. sterling to any ship or ships of any country, or to any exploring-party what- ever, which shall render efficient assistance to the missing ships or their crews, or to any por- tion of them. This announcement, which, even if the sum had been doubled or trebled, would have met with public approbation, comes, how- ever, too late for our whalers, which had unfor- tunately sailed before it was issued, and which, even if the news should overtake them at their fishing-grounds, are totally unfitted for any pro- longed adventure, having only a few months provision on board, and no additional clothing. To the American whalers, both in the Atlantic and Pacific, I look with more hope as competi- tors for the prize, bein~ well aware of their numbers and strength, their thorough equip- ment, and the bold spirit of enterprise which animates their crews. But I venture to look even beyond these. II am not without hope that you will deem it not unworthy of a great and kindred nation to take up the cause of humanity, which I plead, in a national spirit, and thus gen- erously make it your own. I must here in grati- tude adduce tIre example of the Imperial Russian government, which, as I am led to hope, by his excellency the Russian ambassador in London, who forwarded a memorial on the subject, will send out e~ ploring-parties this summer from the Asiatic side of Behrings Strait northward, in search of the lost v& sels. It would be a noble spectacle to the world if three great nations, possessed of the widest empires on the face of tire globe, were t.hus to unite their efforts in tire truly Christian work of saving their perishing fellow-men from destruction. It is not for me to sug~est the mode in which such benevolent efforts might host he made. I will only say, however, that if the conceptions of my own mind, to which I do not venture to give utterance, were realized, and that in the noble competition which followed, American sea- men had tIme good fortune to wrest from us tire glory, as might be the case, of solving the prob- hour of the unfound passfye, or tIre still greater glory of saving our adventurous navigators from a lingering fate, which the mind sickens to dwell on ; though I should in either case regret that it was not my own brave countrymen in those seas whose devotion was thus rewarded, yet should I rejoice that it was to America wo owed our restored happiness, and should be forever bound to her by ties of affectionate gratitude. I am riot without some misgivings while I thus address you. The intense anxieties of a wife rind of a daughter may have led me to press too While thus endeavoring to enlist the earnestly on your notice the trial under which sympathies of foreign nations in behalf of an we are suffering yet not we only, but hun- object which hay so near her heart, Lady dreds of others and to presume too much on Franklin was no loss active in stimulating the the sympathy which we are assured is felt beyond flagging energies of her own countrymen at the limits of our o~n land. Yet if you deem this home. Keeping up an extensive and volumin To ~vhich tire following reply was re- ocived Mit. CLAYTON TO LADY ritANitarN. Department of State, Warhin0ton, 2lth April, 1849. MADAM Your letter to the President of the United States, dated April 4, 1819, has been received by him, and Ire has instructed me to make to you the following reply The appeal made in the letter with which yen have honored him, is such as would strongly enlist the synipathy of the rulers arid the people of any portion of tIre civilized world. To the citizens of the United States, who share so largely in tire emotions which agitate the public nilud of your own country, tIre name of Sir John Franklin has been endeared by hs heroic virtues, and the sufferings and sacrifices which he has encountered for tIre benefit of man- kind. The appeal of his wife and daughter, in their distress, has been borne across tIre waters, asking tire assistance of a kindred people to save brave men who embarked in his unfortunate expe- dition ; and the people of tIre United States, who have watched with the deepest interest that haz- ardous enterprise, will now respond to that peal, by the expression of their united wishes that every proper effort may be urade by this government for the rescue of your husband and his companions. To accomplish the objects you have in view, the attention of American navigators, arid espoc ialhy of our whalers, will be imurediately invoked. All the information in the possession of this gov- ernment, to enable them to aid iii discovering the missing ships, relieving their crews, and restoring threna to their famihies, shall spread far arid wide among our people ; and all that the executive government of the United States, iii the exercise of its constitutional powers, can effect, to uureet this requisition on American en- terprise, skill, and bravery, will be promptly un- dertaken. Tire hearts of the American people will be deeply touched by your eloquent address to their chiefmagistrate, and they will join with you iii an earnest prayer to Him whose spirit is on tIre waters, that your husband and Iris companions may yet be restored to threir country and their friends. I have, & c. (Signed) JoniN Al. CLAYTON. 138 SEARCH FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. aus corre~1nnbne~ x~ ith the piincipid ship owners eui~~d n th~ C, mlind fisheries. and pers dlx i~i ~in the chief shipping ports in Fu~i ~n nd ~c )tland she had suc- ceeded in iutreednv s ~uie of the moSt ad- venturous w biincr ~pt uns in the object who, by her pci nisien and induced also, proha:)V, b5 the hope of pai ticip itirmo in the promised u x~ ~rd Ii id Irujuently diveyed froni then accustonied hohin reunds in Sc inch f tin aces cm intelligence of the missing ills As abe edy sLated, she had, besides, f1ttd out mmiainl at her own cost, an ox yediti n in the 1 ieee Albert, auxiliary to that of Captains & ustin and Penny, with the ~m w of exploiino Punce Regents Inlet, an object xx hich h ind been frustrated by the picinature r Len of tnt vessel in the autumn 01 1~ A) Much importance was attached to this dii smon of ehe held (If search, from the fact, that a large depot of provisions left at Fury Point, about half-way down the inlet, by Sir Edward Perry in 1823, was known to he still there, at the time Franklin sailed, in excellent preservation and ready for use and it was believed, that had Franklin and his party heeli stopped in their progress anywhere within a reasonable distance of it, they would probably have followed the example of Sir John Ross, when arrested under shnilar cir- curustances in 1830, and directed their steps thither in the first instance, instead of falling back on the utterly barren region of the north coast of America, of which Franklin had him self had such disastrous experience in his first journey to the iimoutlm of the Coppermine River in 151320. As this division of the search was totally unprovided for in the instructions to tajitalim Austin and Captain Penny, Lady Franklin, on the return of the Prince Albert, at once decided on sending her out again, to c(intimue the examination of this promising quarter. Accordingly, on the22d of May, 1851, the Prince Aib(rt a. am left Aberdeen, to continue the semireb in Prince Regents Inlet under the command of Mr. William Kennedy, who has published a short and sensible narrative of his voyage. M. Bellot, a lieutenant in the French navy,~oined as a volunteer, and his generous ardor and valnable scientific attain- nients appear to have contributed greatly to the efficiency of the expedition. The Prince Alberts intended course was first to Griffiths Islmmnd, xv here intelligence of tIme proceedings of Captain Austin and Captain Penny had been directed to be deposited ; but, driven by an extraordinary accumulation of ice in Bar- rows Strait upon Leopold Island, Mr. Ken- nedy was obliged to take refuge in Prince ~ Narrative of the Second Yoy~ ge of the Prince Albert to the Arctic Seas in Search of Sir John Franklin. Dalton Cockspur Street, Pall Mall, London. Re,~ents Inlet, where the ship found a safe harbor for the winter in l3ally Bay, on the west side of the inlet. From this point Mr. Kennedy made a series ofjommrneys during the ~vmmiter and spring to the south and west, which, xvhether xve regard their extent, or the slender means by which they xvere accom- pushed, are perhaps unparalleled in the his- tory of arctic explorations, and show xvhat it is mu the poxver of a really intrepid traveller by skilful and judicious mumanagemnent to effect. ihe first journey xvas undertaken in the depth of winter, when the sun had for some time dis- appeared below the horizon ; and time success which attended the simple arrangements for securing the health and safety of time party, at this most trying and critical season, must for- ever set at rest the question as to the power of the European comistitution to endure the severest rigi)rs of an arctic chimnate. In his modest narrative, Mr. Kennedy describes the general order of his tirrangemnents. Ilis party, including M. Behlott and hiimriself, con- sisted of six persons. Their luggage and stores were borne on sleighs, made alter the Indian fashion, five Esquiinnaux dogs very materially assisting in their draught. Their provisions consisted chiefly of peinummuican (a preparation of dried meat mind melted fat, which forms the common food of the natives of North America during their journeys), to which were added a fexv bags of biscuit, some flour, tea, and sugar. They were ainaterially indebted for some usefuh additions to their equipments to the old stores of time Fury, xvrecked in Prince Regents Inlet dmmring Sir Edward Parrys second voyage, xvimich xvere found not only in the best preseremintien, but much superior in quality, after thirty years of exposure to the wemuther, to seine of the Prince Alberts oxxn stores, and those ~upplied to other miretic expeditions. The routine of the days immarchm, wimich may be uninteresting from the insight it affords into the arrangeinuments of a wimiter-travelling party, is thus described by Mr. Kennedy At six oclock, generally (although from various circumstances this hour was not alxvays strictly adhered to), nfl himunds xvere roused by myself, and the preparationis for time days march begun. Bmcakfost seas time first operation, and thmenm came time bundling up of the bedding, cooking utensils, & c., the lashing of the sleighs, and time Imarnessing of tIme dogs, which altogether, on an average, occupied the next two hours. Then came the start, I leading the xvay, nail selecting the best track for the sleigh, and M. Bellot, with the rest of the party, following in regular line with the four sledges. At the end of every hour, five minutes xvere allowed for resting the men and breathing tIme dogs. When the weather pernuitted, sights for the chronoirmeter were taken at any convenient 139 SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. hour in the forenoon, and a~ain for latitude at noon. The proper corrections had been prepared beforehand, the previous night or inornin~, so as to enable the observations to be worked off on the spot without the trouble of referrin~ to books. A half aa hour on each occasion ~enerally sufficed to get through all the necessary operations for ascertaining our latitude or longitude, as the case might be. The construction of the snow-house, and the preparations for the evening meal and our repose for the night, concluded the labors of the day, which were seldom over before ten at night. With a little practice, all hands became expert in the erection of snow-houses, which formed the only protection to the travellers at night, and were found far superior to tents, which, from their bulk, it would have been, besides, impossible for the party to carry nlon~ with them during so long a journey. The process of constructing these snow-houses Mr. Kennedy describes as going on something in this way varied of course by circum- stances of time, place, and materials First, a number of square blocks are cut out of any hard drifted bank of snow you can meet with adapted for the purpose, which, when cut (we generally employed a hand-saw for this purpose), have precisely the appear- ance of the blocks of salt sold in the donkey- carts in the streets of London. The dimen- sions we generally selected were two feet in length by fourteen inches in height, and nine inches in breadth. A layer of these blocks is laid on the ground, nearly in the form of a square, and then another layer on this, cut so as to incline slightly upwards, and the corner blocks laid diagonally over those underneath, so as to cut off the angles. Other layers fol- towards tI low in regular order, archinn rntop, until you have at last a dome-shaped struc- ture, out of which yen have only to cut a small hole for a door, to find yourself within a very light, comfortable-looking bee-hive on a lar~e scale, in which you can bid defiance to wind and weather. Any chinks between the blocks are filled up with loose snow with the hand from the outside. As these are best detected from within, a man is usually sent in to drive a thin rod through the spot where he discovers a chink, which is immediately plastered over by some one from without, till the house is as air-tight as nn egg. These snow-houses were found so conipletely im- pervious to the air, and the snow proved so perfect a non-conductor of heat, that the flame of a common candle, or a little spirits of wine, sufficed to diffuse an agreeable warmth throughout the interior. While travelling, the party had a cup of hot tea night and morning a luxury they would not have exchanged for the mines of Ophir. A gill and a half of spirits of wine, which was used as a substitute for fuel, and served the purpose admirably, boiled a pint of tea for each person. When detained by bad ~veather, they had but one meal daily, and took ice with their biscuit and pemumican to save fuel. To lengthen out their stock of pro- visions, they fed the dogs on old leather shoes, and the fag-ends of bufflilo-robes, on which they not only lived but throve wonder- fully. A few ptarmigans were shot during the journey, which, having no means of cook- ing, they ate frozen! In this way it is computed the party must have travelled during their various journeys fully 2000 miles. On one occasion, they were ninety-seven days absent from the ship, ex- ploring minutely the west coast of Prince Re- gents Inlet, and the lands and islands to the west as far as Cape Walker, and round by Barrows Strait and Port Leopold back to the ship. From the result of these extensive explorations, in connection with those of Cap- tain Austins squadron durin~ the previous year, Mr. Kennedy is decidedly of opinion that Franklin has not taken the south-west route by Cape Walker, but has gone up the Wellington Channel, and has probably pro- ceeded to an advanced west longitude, and is now to be sought from the westward by Behrings Strait. On liberating his ship from her winter- quarters in Bally Bay, Mr. Kennedy proceeded to Beechey Island, at the entrance of ~Yel- lin ~to n Channel; and havin~ there received communications from the Nor/h & er, one of the ships of Sir Edward Belehers squadron, shaped his course homeward, and arrived at Aberdeen on the 7th October, 1852. No fresh traces of Sir John Franklin were found during this protracted and arduous journey but Mr. Kennedy brought with him to Eughind the most satisfactory and cheering intelligence of the progress and prospects of Sir Edward Belehers squadron, whiph had sailed up the Wellington Channel as early as August through open water; Captain Kehiet had like- ~vise advanced a considerable distance in the direction of Melville Island, which he had no doubt of being able to reach before the winter set in. The summer of 1852 witnessed also a third effort of the untiring devotion of Lady Frank- lin. The search for the Erebus and Terror, protracted through so many years without success, has given rise to a variety of rumors and conjectures as to their fate, of which it will be necessary here to notice only two, which attracted for a time a certain degree of public attention. One was, that the missing vessels, or vessels answering their description, had been seen by the crew of an American trader, named the Renovation, stranded on an iceberg in the North Atlantic, and abandoned by their crews. The second was a tale de 140 141 SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. vised by the Esquimaux interpreter of Sir John of Lady Franklin, and placed under the corn Ross, Adam J3eck (and which Sir John Ross mand of Mr. Kennedy h~tve been despatched himsel[ professed to believe, and thus ~ave it to Behrin~s Strait to reinforce the squadron a certain currency), to the effect, that Frank- at present en~aged in that quarter. Mr. R e un ani his crew had been treacherously mur- has likewise been despatched to in ke a second U (icred at an e~sqo~uaux settlement at Woisten- examination of the North American coast, in holine S Kind, in the north of Baflins Bay. the neighborhood of the Isthmus of Boothia. The isabel screw steamer, having, through By the last intelligence from America, we the failure of Captain Beatsons intended cx- learn that Mr. Grinnel, of New York, has fitted pedliion, been thrown on the hands of Lady out the Adccncc, under the corainand of Lieu- Franklin, Commander Inglefield, RN., under- tenant Kane of the United States navy, once took to proceed in her arid explore the coasts more to explore the coast of Greenland and of Baflins Bay, from which, if the story of the passa~es leading out of BaCins Bay into the Reeouctiou was credited, those iceber~s the unknown region surrounding the pole. probably drifYed on which the vessels were Commander Inglefield is, while we write, on seen. the Isabel was absent four months his way to Barrows Strait with two fine ships, and during that period a minute examination the P/iwo? and the Lady F,cnAiin, to rein- was made of both coasts of Baffins Bay, rind I force the expedition now out in that quarter the settlement at Wolstenlmolme Sound, and under Sir Edward Beleher. Add to this, that the tragical story connected with it thoroughly a company has been recently formed in London investigated, without trace, it is almost need- for the purpose of carrying on whale and other less to say, hem6 found of any such event fisheries, and founding a permanent settlement having occurred there, or any catastrophe like on the west coast of BaIRns Bay. The corn- t it ue~rimbed by the crew of the Renovation pany propose sendin~ two new screw steam- hi in iken place. whalers, of 509 tons each, in the spring Ihi~ i~ the last of the terminated expedi- months, to the seas between Greenland and tion~ LOO result of whose explorations has as Nova Zembla seas into which Franklin may y~ t reached us. But the search has by no be finding his way, or by which relics of the iue ins been abandoned. In the course of the expedition may be reached. Thus, it is not preseni yeai, three fresh expeditions have left impossible that there may iso sixteen vessels F o id for prosecuting the search in new with their crews in the arctic rec4ons this diiLctions, or for reinforcing those already out. summer; and, if the Prince Albert and the W 1thin the last few weeks, the Rattlesnake, two whaling-ships of the Arctic Company tomminder Trollope, and the Isabel once are employed, nineteen. Or, in a tabular nra-c fitted out by the indefati0able solicitude view: Eebu~ lerror lioxci I~nterproe fivesti er, N rthi ~ ii , Asitiuce I ronee, j)~ lute Intrenid Rrttlcu ike, Libel I adi I ruiklin Pbenix Inited ~ntes Expedition, Ox c laud Expedition, Capt. Sir J. Franklin, Capt. F. R. Crozier, Coin. Maguire, . Capt.. H. Collinson, Coin. R. J. MClure, Coin. W. J. Pollen, Capt. Sir E. Beleher, Coin. Sherard Osborne, Capt. H. Kellet, Coin. MClintock, Coin. Trollope, . Mr. Win. Kennedy, Coin. Inglefield, Lient. Kane, Dr. Rae, .1845) 1845 ~ Position unknown. 1848, Point Barrow, Behrings Strat. 1850 Position unknown; last aeon 1850 5 north of Point Barrow. 1852, Beechey Island. 1852) 1852 ~ Wellington Channel. Melville Island. Bound to Bebrings Strait. 1853) 1853 ~ Bound to Weilin~ton Channel. 1853, Bound to Baffins Bay. 1853, Isthmus of Boothia. Amon~ the numerous parliamentary returns from various sources, and based, in the case of which have appeared from time to time in the government expeditions, upon the annual connection with the arctic expeditions, there parliamenary grants,undcr the head of Arctic has as yet been no official estimate of the gross Searching Expeditions, will, we believe, be expenditure entailed upon the country by found a tolerably close approximation to the these mna6nificent but costly tributes to hu- outlay i~ each case: nianity. The following estimate, derived SEARCH FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. ESTIMATED COST OF THE EXPEDITIONS. FIRST SERIES OF TIlE SEARCILING EXPED1TIONS, DESPATCIIED IN 1848 AND 1819. Vessels. 2 4 (boats), 4 (boats), 2 1 142 I3ehrings Strait Expedition (Kellet and Moore) and l3ranch Expedition, in boats, to Mackenzies River (Pullen), Land Expedition through North America (Richardson and Rae), Lancaster Sound Expedition (Sir James Ross), .Aorth Star, storeship (Saunders) SECOND 5ERIE5 or TILE 5EARCIIING EXPEDITIONS, DE5PATCIIRD IN 1850. Bebrings Strait Expedition (Collinson and MClure, Moore and Kollet), 4 Lancaster Sound Expedition (Captain Penny) 2 Lancaster Sound Expedition (Captains Austin, Ommanoy, MClintock, ? and Osborne) . . . 5 Lancaster Sound Expedition (Prince .qlbert, Commander Forsyth), . . 1 Lancaster Sound Expedition (Sir John Ross and Captain Phillips), . . 2 Lancaster Sound United States Expedition (Lient. de Haven), . . . 2 THIRD sERIES OF THE SEARCIIING EXPEDITIONS, DE5PATCIIED IN 1851 AND 1852. Land Expedition through North America (Rae) 1 oat), Regents Inlet Expedition (Kennedy) 1 Baffins Bay Expedition (Inglefield), 1 FOURTH SERIES OF ThE SEARChING EXPEDITIONS, DESPATCIIED IN 1852, NOW IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS. Lancaster Sound Expedition (Sir Edward Belcher, K eliot, Pallen, ~ MClintock, and Osborne) 5 Additional stores forwarded to Behrings Strait, for the use of Collia- son and MClure, under Commander Magnire of the Plorer, . . . $ FFTII SERIES OF THE SEARCHING EXPEDITIONS, LEAVING ENGLAND DURING THE PRESENT YEAR (1853). Behrings Strait Expedition (Rattlesncclce, store-ship, Commander ~ Trollope) S Behrinns Strait Expedition (Isabel, Kennedy) Lancaster Sound Expedition (Inglefield) United States Expedition (Lient. Kane), Land Expedition to the Isthmus of Boothia (Rae) I 1 2 2 1 (boat), Total estimated cost of the Searching Expeditions If to this be added the original outlay in the equipment of Franklins own expedition, the entire sum expended by the country upon arctic expeditions, including the contributions from the United States and from private sources, within the last eight years, will thus amount to not far from a million sterling! Ilaving thus briefly traced the efforts which have been made during the last six years for the rescue of Sir John Franklin and his corn- panions, the qr~estion naturally arises, as these efforts have hitherto been wholly unsuccessful, ~vhat prospect is there of the party bein~ still in life, after so prolonged and unprecedented a detention ~vithin the inhospitable regions of the arctic seas? It would be idle to speculate upon a question to which so much doubt and uncertainty must necessarily attach. Among the various casualties incident to the situation of the lost navigators, public anxiety appears to point more especially to two the absence of food and the severity of the climate and they are undoubtedly those which furnish the strongest grounds for anxiety and apprehen- sion for their safety. That they are not such, however, as necessarily lend to the unfavorable view which some have taken of the situation of the missing ships and thcir crc~vs, roust, we think, be obvious on the most cursory con- sideration of the facts in relation to the cli- mate and resources of the arctic regions which the recent explorations have brought to light. It has long been a common but erroneous sup- position, that animal life within the arctic regions decreases as the Pole is approached. This opinion, probably, had its origin chiefly in the observation made respecting the dis- tribution of mankind; for the number of our fellow-creatures living beyond the Arctic Circle is very small, and, so far as we know, ceases altogether between the 75th and 77th parallels of latitude. This fact may, however, be quite otherwise accounted for. It certainly has no relation to the moans of exis~enoe, for animal life, as has been observcd by a well-informed writer on this subject, is found as much in the polar as in tile tropical regions; and though the number of species is decidedly inferior, the immense multitude of indiciduals compensate for the deficiency. Cost. ~ 92,466 10,000 70,000 50,000 100,000 15 000 145,000 4,000 4,000 6,000 2,000 5,000 5,000 150,000 20,000 50,000 4,000 60,000 6,000 4,000 802,466 SEARCH FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 143 Mr. Pctcrmann, the writer to whom we refer, found in a line drawn from Melville Island to has, in a variety of publications on the sub- the River Lena, in Siboria, and which grada- ject of the Franklin expeditions, brought to- ally advances towards the Atlantic Occan, getber much interesting and valuable jaforma- till, in July, it is found in a line drawn from tion, froni the narratives of various travellers, Winter Island, in the north of hudsons Bay, on the resources of the arctic regions, which across the northern extremity of Baffins Bay give certainly a very encoura~in~ view of the and the peninsula of Greenland to Nova means of sustaining life in that remote and Zembla, whence it gradually recedes during inhospitable portion of the globe. Without the succeeding months to its former position. adoptin~ altogether his high estimate of these Winter Island, in lat. 660 30 N., is conse- resources, they are undoubtedly much more quently the pole of cold of the northern abundant than has been generally supposed. hemisphere during the summer; while Ya- The severity of the climate, severe as it un- kutsk, in Siberia, may be taken as the winter doubtedly is, has likewise been greatly over- pole. And it appears from the researches of rated. Mr. Kennedys remarkable journeys, Mr. Seemann, the naturalist of the Hercid performed, as has been stated, in the depth of which are so far, therefore, corroborative mid-winter, are a fine example of what may of this view that Winter Island is likewise be effected under prudent guidance, and by a the phytological north pole, namely, that party of resolute men. These journeys cx- point which possesses the smallest number of tendin~, as already mentioned, upwards of genera and species of plants, and whence the 2000 mu iles were perforumed at the most in- number increases in every direction. elenment period of the year,without fuel or any A line drawn from Winter Island to Lan- shelter from the cold beyond that obtained from caster Sound would, therefore, represent the the emnbankments of snow the party threw up line of lowest summer temperature ; and yes- every night around them, and with no other sels having crossed this line, and reached light for a considerable part of the time than Melville Island or Wellington Channel, may that of the moon or stars; and all this with- be said to have passed, not the mathematical, out a single case of serious illness occurring but certainly the natural or physical north during the whole period of their absence from pole. Actual experience is so far corrobo- England. rative of this physical fact, that no other part The climate of the arctic regions has, in of the arctic renions has offered greater diffi- fact, been divested of much of its terrors by culties to navigation, as the narratives of Sir the experience of the last few years. A Edward Parry have shown, than the one careful comparison of the meteorological data here designated as the physical north pole. furnished by the late expeditions, from differ- The great mass of the polar ice, formed where eat localities within the Arctic Circle, has the winter cold is the greatest namely, in enabled us to arrive at a tolerably precise the region between Melville Island and Siberia acquaintance with the laws which regulate would appear, when broken up, to be tIme distribution of temperature within these annually drifted through Lancaster Sound limits ; and, like all other knowledge, it has into the Atlantic, reducing in its progress the served to dissipate much of that unthinkin~ and temperature wherever it goes. These umoving mysterious dread with which the frozen regions masses of ice, meeting through various outlets of these icy seas have been hitherto regarded. in Baffins Bay, and drawn to0ether by the It has been a too common error, in regard- natural law of gravitation, constitute the ing the climate of the arctic regions, to take well-known phenomenon of the middle-ice, into consideration the lines of latitude only ; so frequently referred to in the narratives of and on the principle of considering the equator our arctic voyagers, and which in its progress and the poles as the centres of the greatest along the coasts of Labrador and Newfound- heat and the greatest cold, to infer that in land, until it is finally dissipated by the warm advancing northward the temperature will in current of the Gulf-stream, influences in so all eases be found to correspond with the remarkable a degree the climate of the east latitude. Nowhere, however, are the in- coast of America. ferences drawn from such views more errone- Bearing these facts in view, in connection ous than in the arctic renions, where the with the existence of the large sea along the temperature depends in a great measure on Asiatic continent, observed by Wrangell as the currents and drift-ice, the influence of being more or less open and free from ice which is remarkable. during the whole of the year, it is not un- Taking the data of Professor Dove as a reasonable to conclude that Franklin sup- basis, Mr. Petermana has laid down on posing him to have taken the northern route twelve polar charts the lines of equal temper- by the Wellington Channel will not have ature of every month in the year, and from a been exposed to any greater severity of climate careful study of these lines, tas deduced the than the experience of previous voyages to the following conclusion: that there exists a arctic seas has shown to be quite within the movable pole of cold, which in January is power of an average European constitution to 144 SEARCH FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. sustain without any permanently injurious undergo on political or other ground effects, so far as we know, in any way injuriously It may be added, also, that the northern aff~cted by the climate. The following com- coasts of Siberia, though exposed to a climate parative view of the distribution of tempera- much more severe during the winter months ture on both sides of the arctic ham, as than the corresponding coasts of America, are shown by a series of meteorological observa- inhabited by permanent communities of Rus- tions at the several stations mentioned, will sians, who, whatever hardships they may put this in a clear light COMPARATIVE VIEW or THE MEAN TEMPERATURE ON THE AMERICAN AND ASIATIC COASTS OF T E POLAR SEA. Siberia. Yakutsk (wiuter pole of cold), Ust Yansk Nishaci Kolymsk Nova Zembla Yakutsk Ust Yansk Nishnei Kolymsk Nova Zembla Spitzbergen Sea (lat. 8O~), WINTER TEMPERATURE (JANUARY). Arctic America, 4505 Melville Island . . . 39% Port Bowen (Regents Inlet), . . 3P3 Fort Churchill . . . 20.9 Winter Island Great Bear Lake 5UM~IER TEMPERATURE (JURY.) 680.8 Melville Island 5509 Port Bowen G2~ Fort Churchill o6~3 Great Bear Lake . . . o5~.9 Winter Island (summer pole of cold), Taking all these facts into consideration,.the conclusion seems to be a reasonable one, that Franklin, ever since he entered Wellington Channel, has found himself in a district of Country certainly not below the average temperature of the polar seas; and under such circumstances he and his party could there- fore exist as far as the question of climate is concerned as well as other inhabitants of the arctic regions; more especially as, in nddition to other resources, they would in their vessels possess more comfortable and sub- stantial houses than any native inhabitants whatever of these regions. Closely connected with the subject of tem- perature is the distribution of animal and vegetable life in the arctic regions. As pre- viously remarked, though few in species, the animals composing the arctic fauna are, in- dividually, found in us great, if not greater numbers, than in any part of the globe. Though seVeral classes of the animal crea- tion to quote Mr. Petermanns summary as, for example, the reptiles, are entirely wanting in this region, those of the mammals, birds, and fishes, at least bear comparison, both as to number and size, with those of the tropics the lion, the elephant, the hippopot- amus, and others, being not more notable in this latter respect than the polar bear, the musk ox, the walrus, and, above all, the whale. Besides these, are the moose, the reindeer, the wolf, the polar hare, the seal, and various smaller quadrupeds. The birds consist chiefly of an immense numbei~ of aquatic species. Of fishes, the salmon, salmon-trout, and herring, are the principal; the latter especially occur- ring in such myriads as to surpass everything 29~9 980 23 42 090 9 o8 520.1 35 4 of the kind met with in tropical regions. Nearly all the animals furnish wholesome food for man. The geographical distribution of these animals is very irregular, following in a great measure the distribution of the temperature. Thus, of all the shores of the arctic basin, those of north-eastern Siberia possess the greatest abundance of animal life; the tem- perature being there comparatively the highest in summer, although in winter the same region is the coldest on the face of the globe. Wrangells description of the natural re- sources of the Kolyma district of Siberia is a very striking one. As soon as the dreary winter is over, large flights of swans, geese, and ducks, begin to make their appearanee, and are killed in large numbers by the natives. When the rivers begin to open, which is gener- ally about the month of June, immense shoals of fish pour in along the coast and ascend the streams. The principal species are the sal- mon, the salmon-trout, and the herring. In the interior, wherever vegetation has reached, large herds of reindeer, elks, bears, foxes, sal)les, and the Siberian squirrel, fill the stunted forests, or roam over the low grounds. Ea~,les, owls, and gulls, pursue their prey along the sea-coast ; ptarmigans are seen in troops among the bushes; and little snipes are busy among the brooks and in the morasses. This is precisely the description given by travellers of that portion of the American side of the arctic basin corresponding in position with the region of the Kolyma. The yearly produce of the Russian Fur Company, who occupy the greater part of this district by permanent trading-posts, is very groat. Mr. SEARCh FOR SIR JOhN FRANKLIN. Robert Campbell, an enterprising oflicerof the hudsons Bay Company, has for some years been employed in explorin~ the interior of this remarkable section of country, with the view of opening its resources to the enterprise of his countrymen and his description would lead to the conclusion, that, notwithstanding its northern position, it is not inferior, in fertility of productions, to any part of the fur territories of North America occupied by the hudsons Bay traders. This account is sustained by the published narratives of Richardson, Isbister, Dense, and Simpson, and other arctic explorers, who have visited this section of country. On both sides of the polar basin there is the same tendency, both in the genera and species of the animal tribes, to decrease in number from west to east. On the shores of Baffins Bay, Regents Inlet, and Lancaster Sound, fewer are met with than in Melville Island and the neigh boring lands and islands and some species which exist in abundance further west nrc not found at all in these localities. The animals available for the food of man, most generally diflased, and which are met with throughout the entire area of the polar seas, are the reindeer, the polar bear, the common Greenland whale, the seal, the walrus, the arctic hare, and certain species of aquatic birds and fishes. The reindeer has been found at certain Leasons of the year amongst all the islands of the Polar Sea, even in the barren and isolated SiItzbe~en. They generally cross over the ice from the mainland in the early months of spring, pass the summer on the islands, and return on the approach of winter to the more gema 1 climates of the south. Melville Island, the most distant point from either continental shore hitherto reached by us, was found by Sir Edward Parry to be a common resort of these animals during tbe warm season. lie gives the following list of the quantities of game procured there during a few bunting excursions made by the officers of the Hecle and Griper, when these vessels wintered here inI3lb 20: 3musk oxen, 24 deer, OS hares, 53 geese, 144 ptarmigans, 59 ducks. An animal that may be classed with the reindeer in its universal diffusion over the artic seas, is the Polar or Greenland bear (Ursus meritieaus). He is the soverei~n of the quadrupeds of the arctic countries. Trav- ersing extensive fields of ice in pursuit of his prey, he is as much at home on the ice as on tile land. He has been found on field-ice above 200 miles from shore. In some places, part~cularly along the lands surrounding Baflins Bay, polar bears are met with in great numbers. On the east coast of Green- l~mnd, according to Dr. Scoresby, they have been seen like flocks of sheep on a common. The flesh of the bear, according to the same authority, is, when cleared of fat, well tecexci. LIVING AGE. VOL. III. 10 flavored and savory, especially the muscular part of the ham. The skin, when dressed with the hair on, forias beautiful mats, and may be used as a substitute for blankets or clothing when necessary. Prepared without being ripped up, and the hairy side turned inward, it fbrms a very warm sack-bed, and is used as such in some parts of Greenland. The seal and the walrus are likewise exten- sively diflased species, and the former, more especially, is to be met with in all seasons of the year, and in all parts of the Arctic Sea. The flesh and skins of these animals may be applied to various economic uses, of great iiaportance to any party, cut off, like that of Franklin, from intercourse with any quarter whence supplies might be procured. The skin of tile walrus, Dr. Scoresby states, is used in place of mats for defending the yards and rigging of ships from being chafed by friction against each other. When cut into shreds and plaited into cordage, it answers admirably for wheel-ropes, being stronger and wearing much lon~er than hemp. In ancient times, most of the ropes of ships, in northern countries at least, ~vould appear to have been made of this substance. The uses of the seal are various, and, as is well known to the native inhabitants of the arctic regions, highly important. It yields a fine clear oil, and its skin, xvhen dressed xvitli the hair, is admirably adapted for winter clothing. To the Esqui- maux, the seal indeed is everything. Its flesh is food; its fat gives light and heat in time winter igloc, or snow-hut, and its skin, dressed so ~s to be waterproof, is used for coverings for boats and tents, and for garments, every variety and every article of which, from a head-dress to a shoe, is made from this ma- terial alone. The various tribes of cetacen peoplin~ the arctic seas are very numerous. Time flesh of some species is frequently found, even by our Grecul nd fishermen, to be a grateful chan0e from the ordinary ship-fare of salt provisions: all of them furnish a wholesome, if not to Europeans a very palatable food, and are obviously available, in the last resort, as a means of supporting life when other resources may have failed, it is well known that the flesh of the whale is not only eaten, but prized as a delicacy by the native Esquimnaux; and it is also well authenticated, according to Dr. Scoresby, that in the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, it was used as food by the Icelanders, the Dutch, the French, the Spaniards, and probably the Eng- lish. Besides forming a choice eatable, the inferior products of time whale are applied to other purposes by the Indians and Esquimaux of arctic countries, and are, to some extent indeed, essential to their comfort. Some membranes of the abdomen are used for an upper article of clothing; and the peritoneum 145 146 SEARCh FOR SIR JOhN FR~NKLIN. 20 ~rQ~u1ar 1 tim and i~2~ 01 LI iattcr of men accustomed to weigh ns~ 1 12 0 o~ ii i i I ~ boo ~f the kind, and entitled to respect hn~s th hon~ e onvertd into oai hums ol atten Con from their position and eminence and sp s fGI strikin~ the se U 01 it in cicncc, we may be pardoned for giving one thi s m h~rds and uc U~i en2plovcd in ti I inor~ and a concluding, cxtract on the subject, crection of toeir ten ~ tad, \~ dh bJOi( t~ir~ whici we shall now leave, with this brief io the fhrmation of their huits tn~ s~ne~ teineot of facts, to the readers own judg- divided into filaments and usod as thread, meat. It is front a speech of the Rev. Dr tiLL \v!iich they join the scalds of their boats Robinson. Dean of Arinagh, who while re ~nd tent~cloths, and sew, with great taste and viewiub the business of the different sections nicety, the different articles of dress they at the late meeting of the British Association 10 ~tue and the whalebone and other for the Advancement of Science at Belfast, nor products, so valuable ia European makes the fohloxving observation in refcrcnce ~traets haxe also their uses amon~ them, to a coutmunication from Mr. Petermaun on tie so meet of the resources oi the arctic the Zoology of thte Polar Regions, to xvhich mu is ax ulable to Franklin and his party, we have already referred in time course of this ta on tie extreme supposition of the de- paper From the abundance of aniiiial 2e~ion of h ships and stores by any of the life in those regions, there is no room to (1001)1 me ~n Ities incident to the navigation of the the safety of muon so energetic, so fearless, and iii ma we cannot perhaps do better than so true to their officers and to themselves, I ti fdlowing extract from a lecture as that noble band of our countrymen, about miebtered at W ashington in the course of the whose xvelfare or whose existence every right- I ~t winter by Lieutenant Kane, of the United miminded man is anxious, who accompanied iL~5 searcimog expedition Franklin on his last expedition, unless they ~xor is there any reason to apprehend, have been the victims of some casualty by even on this supposition, that the missing which both the ships of the expedition xvcre party has perished from cohd or starvation or instantly destroyed for they were certain to disease. The igloe, or snow-house of the find an ample and abundant iiieans of sustain- Esquimaux, is an excellent and wholesome ing life with both fuel and food. It was an ex- shelter; the servants of the hudsons Bay ceedingly interesting paper, mind not rendered Company prefer it to the winter-lint. And for less so by the discussion xvhieh it produced. clothin ~, the furs of the polar re ions are bet- One of our naturalists xvas rather disposed to ter than any of the products of Manchester. doubt the high probability to xvhich I allude The resources which that region evidently mind I was glad xvhen the discussion called possesses for the support of hmumnan life, are up Owen mind Murchison, and our president, certainly snrprishsgly greater than the public Colonel Sabine one xvho has passed through are generally aware of. Narwhah, white all the perils of tile artie voyage, and is per- whale and seal the hatter in extremue abun- fectly aware, by his ow-n experience, of mill the dance crowd the xvaters of Wellinaton dangers of an mmrtic winter. Perimaps I can Channel; indeed, it was described as a re- add nothming to what Colonal Sabine said when gion teeming xvitlm animal life. The mi~ra isked did line think our comma trymmien could exist lions of the eiderduck, the brentnoose, and in tile rigor of thmese pollir regions I The the ank a bird about the size of our teal Esqoinma ox, said line, live thmere ; and where were absolutely xvonderful. The fatty envel- they live, Enghishumen can live. That con- ope of these marine animals, known as blub- tamed the whole solution of the question. leer, supplies light and Iseat; their furs, warm These men xvould have energy, smite resources, and xveil-adapted clothin~ their flesh, whole- and, above all, nothing could deprive them of some and anti-scorbutic food. Time reindeer, the unconquermiblo courage and xvarm-hearted the bear, and tIme fox, also abounded in brent devotion to each other xvhich ever was and numbers, even in the hdghest hititudes at- ever will be time cimaracter of British sailors. tamed. Add to all this, that the three years And when these gentlemen expressed their Irovislon which Franklin carried out xvas assurance and conviction, that it xvms the calculated according to time proverbial liberal- bounden duty of the government never to rest ity of the British Admiralty, and was indeed until they obtained certain information of the abundant for a support during four years and death of Franklin and his companions, or a half; and that lie was the nina of all others certain evidence of their existence ; when they whom necessity had taught the lesson of has- said that public opinion would never cease to bandin~, his resources, and of adding to them impress and force the miecessity of this, their when occasion permitted and we have a bounden duty, on the governament, I felt, from solamary of what might be made a conclusive the cheer that echoed the sentiment, that it reply to the apprehenisions on the seore of a xvas imimpossible but thmat expectation would be want of food. realixed to the fullest extent. This question has become, in fact, one of autoonity ; arid1 as indicative of time opinions Such, lInen, is a summary of the main facts SEARCh FOR SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. JoWi F inklin cx~ e (1 ~ Char I axe hi en ir~ do fr it~ ii li xx a~ our purposo to 1ru I Yr Th t Ci oft its I x ~. I n x holly no uooo~fu1 ~o I ix ~Icr tho endex ore which, r ~ surely roost croditible C I ~ ~ut of the c Pen, 1 Ii 0 br tixoir resuc, wili I lax fortun xt~~ ie~uI*Q r xx 1 r~ of Li Perouse t i fto of I 0 .rl~ ~ ~oiipiuions is cloQned to be Ici in ~ropenxtiabI roy toiy, qu 1eV ie solution we ruu~ learn to c on in ill-xx iso and riier ci i i ihoic ~ fe ~itudc md suhusi~sion. Of a i in I li~~o So John Fianklin, has i b cU ( nob urivoril ii rilix c i a~ tiy, a Lxv biographical 0 LOIS v ii os not prove unroterestino in a Ii x r len w in Kt K IA. G., K. C. II., I) C 1 P ~ was born in 1786, at u D~ ~~u~iiic an I is brother of the I ito V F kin, chief lustice of Madras. lYsuned fiox ~m early period to the naval IFLO, h~ w~ pt r d it the age of tourtem on exrd the Polypliemus, Captain Lawford uno whom he served as midship roan in roe n oft Copenhagen, 2dof April, 1801 TIe rb~n sailed with Captain Flinders in II M sit 0C investigator, on a voyage of discoxory to ~xv holland, in the course of which he xmas wrecked on a coral-reef, near Cato Think ~m tile 17th of August, 1803. Txvo y is u cix ards, xvc find him taking part in the heAth e~ Trafal6ar, on board the flJoj ph m a he was sional roidehipuxan. On t~r lirii a February, 1808, he receixed his c xoui~ o as lieutenant, and xvas ap- pointed to tho Bc(ford, seventy-four, in xvhich the rovd ire e of Portu6al xvas transported froim L~brni - oath America, lit the time of the ocni~ ti a f their country by the French. lie xx is curl ed in very arduous services donor the oxeedition against Nexv Orleans in 114 xxhn he xvas xvounded. In the year 1818 eoinroncd the brilliant series of arctic expeditions orlolnating in the suggestion of the Lt~ i eho Barroxv, Secretary to the Adiiiiialty and xxith xxhich Franklins name has Ps a honorably associated. Oii the 14ta of J nuary, 1818, he xvas appointed to the comniand of the Treat, in which he accompanied Captain Buchan of the Dorotliea on a voyrce to ~pitzhergen, of which Captain Beechiey has published an interesting account. On his icturni n the autumn of the sanme year, l~e xx as inxe- 4 cith the command of an over- land p fioni hudsons P~ay to the A America, for the purpose of exaininin i coasts of the Polar Sea to the eatxvmru a the Coppermine River, and txin Ce ~ ~ and longitude of the mouth of that stream, xxrhicli hal 1 ron treced to the ocean in the previous centumy by I rime, but regarding time accuracy of xvhiose mop )rt con- siderable doabt had been expressed x rtrimkhin, in this voyo0e, established beyond doubt the existence of an extensixe sea, xxa0biug the northern shores of Ainerom xvhimch he traced in a common Indian canoe such as i used by the voyogemers of Hudson s Lay fun lid iiiihes to the east of the Copperi inc Iii return of the plrrty fro~a sea xvas nmared by inuchi lmardship and sufibring; and it xvas dimly after the loss of more timan hmalf his crexv, under the eunbined effect of cold, hunger, and exhaus- tion, that Franklin xxas able to retrehi York Fort, on hudsons Bay, after an absence of three years ; duiing which time he had tiav died by land and xxater a distance of 5550 umiles. The details of this tragical journey are well knoxvn from Franklins own navrative of the expedition, published shortly after his re- turn to England. In 1825, lie undertook a second expedition over the same country, havin0 more especially for its object a coiiper- ation xvith C ptain Parry and Captain I3eeclmey, in the task of ascertaining from op- posite quarters, by Lancaster Sound and Bob- rings Straits, the existence of a north-west p ssa,5e. During this journey, the details of xvhich will be found in Franklins Narrative of a Second Expedition to the Shores of the Polar Sea, in 18257, the coast of North Amer- ica, from the mouth of the Copperinine River to xxithin 160 miles of Point Barrow, compris- ing a distance of upwards of 1200 miles, was accurately surveyed, and added to our nuaps. For this important contribution to ~eogr ph. ical science, the Frenchm Geographical Society axvarded Franklin their annual gold xmedal, valued at 1200 francs. Shortly after his re- turn to England froai thais journey, h received tIme Imonor of knighthood, and in July, 1830, had the dogrce of D. C. L. conferred upon hiiom by the Umsivcrsity of Oxford. After serving some years on the Mediterranean station, and taking an active part in the war of liberation in Greece, for his services in which he xxas re- warded with the cross of the Redeemer of Greece, Sir Johin returned to England, and was created a K. C. II. on the 25th of January, 1836. He was shortly after appointed gov- ernOr of Van Diemons Land an office lie con- tinued to hold till within a short period of his leaving England on his last ill-fated expedi- tion. It is pleasing to have record that, during the last year, the inhabitants of Van Diemen 8 Land, ~rate fully remembering Sir Johns rule, have subscribed lOOOl. in aid of the expedition in time Isabel, noxv on. her way to Bebrings Strtrit under Mr. Kennedy. It is understood that the friends of Lady Franklin, desirous of relieving her from tIme heavy responsibility of this the third arctic expedition fitted out by 147 SAINT SIMON. her indefatigable and self-sacrificing exertions, have opened subscriptions at Messrs. Drum- ruonds, bankes, Charing Cross, in aid of the Isoiwis equipment ; and it is to be hoped that their appeal to the generosity of the pub- lic, in behalf of an object, interesting not only to the scientific ~nd enterprising, but carrying with it the best sympathies of the nation, will meet with the success it so justly merits. It is satisfactory, meanwhile, to know that the interest in the search so long and so ardently prosecuted continues unabated, and that the public mind is made up that the fate of the missing ships shall be ascertained, if human energy can accomplish it. And the resolve is ~vise and generous to her navy England owes, under God, her greatness and her safety ; and in sending forth her gallant sea- men on distant and hazardous enterprises, she is bound by every possible obligation to inspire them with a full confidence that they are under the eye and guardianship of their coun- try, and that its resources will be exerted to the utmost in their behalf. From chambers Journal. SAINT SIMON. No literature is richer in memoirs than the French. In early days, the works of Frois- sart and Commines in later days, the work of Cardinal de Retz, shine out above all con- temporary productions. In due time came those of St. Simon, which present such merits of fulness, breadth, and methodical treat- ment, and such excellences in expression and coloring, as to make them the greatest and most valuable collection of the kind in exist- ence. Although not published in a complete form until 1830, they were long known to historians and men of letters, and consulted by them Duclos and Marmontel, for exam- plc, making perpetual reference to them in their histories of the Regency. Madame du Deffand writes of them in ecstasies of interest to her favorite correspondent, Horace Wal- pole. You would be infinitely delighted with them, again and a~iin she assures him; they would give you pleasure inex- pressible; they would put you beside your- self. And madames verdict has been con- firmed again and again. The father of St. Simon had been a favorite of Louis XIII., to whom he owed his worldly prosperity. Under the instruction of his mother, who was a woman of high reputation, he showed an early taste for reading in gen- eral, and for the study of history in particular. It was in perusing the historical memoirs of his country, subsequent to the time of Francis Adapted chiefly from the French of Saints- ]3euve. I., that he conceived the design of committing to svrstsng, on behalf of coining generations, the events he should personally witness with a decided resolve to keep the secret to himself, and to secure the ma~ uscript under strictest lock-and-key concealment rare pre- caution in one so young, and of itself an emphatic testimony to his fitness for the task. lIe began his memoirs, accordingly, in July, l6~J4, in Isis nineteenth year, while in. the army. Nor did he cease, from that time forward, to write, and keep spying out, that he might write, whatever in the events of his time would contribute to h stores. Ilis public life was meanwhile simpli. Entering the army while quite youn , he left it before long, on occasion of some offence. Wedded to the daughter of the Marshal do Lorge, liviah a virtuous life though in the highest ranks of fashion, he proved lsimself, at all times, very sensitive in the maintenance of the preroga- tives of duke and peer ; and in this way be- came implicated in more than one lawsuit and litigation, which he pursue~ with ardor, and which involved him in some consequent ridi- cule. Referring to one of those contentions about etiquette and prerogative which St. Simon was so prompt to take up, Louis XIIY. could not help remarking, That it was strange how M. de St. Simon, ever since he quitted the service, dreansed of nothing hot the study of social caste, and the way to go to law with everybody. St. Simon certainly was possessed of a mania for classifying the grades of society, but above all, and before all, for peer- ing into human character, for spellin6 out the secrets of physiognonsy, for unravelling the intricacies of intrigue, and for entering the result in writing, in a style hitherto un- equalled for cousbined vivacity, fervor, in- genuity, smartness, and relief. St. Simon is the spy of Isis age ; that is his function, recognized by the Grand Monarque himsif. And how alarming~ spy, prowliu~ bout in every direction, with that inappeasable, fain ishin0 curiosity of his! My way of scruti- nizing people, lie keeps tellin~ us, was with my eyes and ears. ii7 descries a mans secret, and snatches it from him, though it be lodged in his inmost parts, and spreads it before us in a form of words steam- ing with hot excitement, palpitating with rapture or wrath, as the case may be. But we are bound to admit the good faith, time moral uprightness, the love of truth evident even in his mistakes and dislikes and the lofty courage in which he is never found want- ing. his originality consists in a close alli- ance of the moralist and the painter with the historian, and this is traceable throughout the immense fresco series which he has bequeatlsed to us. St. Simon was an orthodox Christian 148 SAINT SIMON. 149 a fervent and practical one too. Pot his the Duke of Burgundy (Monseigneurs son lofty views of rcl~ious charity did not inter- and heir), who, by the death of his father, fere with his pitiless treatment of ohno~ioas would become heir-presumptive to the great persons and things. To truth he professed Louis. While Monseigneur was dying at to sacrifice cverythin~. It is this love of Meudon, Versailles, writes St. Simon, pre- tii LO h~ P ~ws, that has mainly preju- sented a very different aspect. 1he Duke d1e~d may so~cess in life this I have often and Duchess of Burgundy were holding a 1. t ~o he tie case, but I prefer truth to aught public court, and to this eastward point, this bosid ~ u I nexci could truckle to anythin~ rising sun, was public worship directed. For ha dm~ om~ Nevertheless, we must not five days, the bulletins from Meudon left ify tois love of truth xvith impar- everything fluctuating and uncertain. At ti ~ ~ II \O iOO hot-blooded to be mi- length the patient, xvho had given signs of iti U t o mod a hater for fuel. Stoic- recovery, suffered a relapse a al died. Ver- i- ne save is a fine, noble ebb era. I sailles hears of the last agony itS begun, and ut~ no 13ieLrsions to ililpartiality it imuxedietely the xvhole court sets in like would be usiess to attempt it. All that he I a fioodin~ tide for the saloons of the Duchess did pr~vol ~o xvas, that, on the xvhole, truth of Burgundy. Thither hies St. Simon as should not b sLified by passion, and that, soon as ever lie is told of the royal sufibrers to due lois mee for frailtie~ of tempera- relapse, and there he finds all Versailles meat t s~e of his memoirs should be already congregated the ladies hut half- mafia ~ - s~. c ity and candor. At every dressed, the bSteS wide open, everything in page a mis xc see the scenes shift, the an imbroglio of confusion, and, on Pie whole, dra antI c~ouos form and mingle and defile one of the finest chances lie ever had to read bcfbr xl us action, actuality, loreathmiu0 the capital letters emblazoned on so many and soacin liie We assist at a comedy illustrious faces. This spectacle, he says, it krovs mo end. St. Simon excels in absorbed all the attention that the varied s temme bob individuals and companies, in emotions of my soul xvonlcl alloxv of. lie m~om~ in boh the general movement and the tasks himself, accordingly, to exercise, to its P Itum 1 fi I hoe combimmes the tsvofold utmost tension, his looxver of interpreting ii octoil and cosmetic. Hasty and ox- physiognomy, of dissecting and analyzing the n~g a d m~ is limnnin~s but had lie human countenance, and flomn such studies in stoppd to cornet and retouch, he had spoiled morbid anatomy to learn what breeds nh about the heart. He bebins ~vith the two X.s e--a-arhos of his table ux, xve may refer to sons of the dying prince; then takes their txx o ic OM ube scenes time first describing xvives; then descends by degrees to all orders time con t it the instant of thu death (Jr ~Ion and estates of men there assembled. lIe dis- semgnm toe usuo1mmu the see rnd represent covers a microcosin of expression on every i-mg (ad toms xxas perhaps the piono ~t dsy, brow not a prince or peer, not an adven- t/me xvhite dv in S Sine s hFu) tie bd of turer or p rvenu, not a lady or ladys-maid, justicu, a a ~s aceomn1ilmshmd to d~ra not a marshal or minister, pamphleteer or datioi ci too Dum of Mum. t Pem sxmtn poetaster, courier or valet, but has a visage the l U ruin el tIme rest of toe (amand Mon xvorths scrutiny. The riddles on each face are argo a natural chimla a In these tvo noxvays hard to read. The most neconi. scenes, fit ainon is not simuply the maqum utive phisimed of dissemblers is soon self-convicted o-niTht You need not knoxv a tittle about obset m ~ uhy interested mu born But in t P ~t to fiaSiOn lie fes is restrained the court, says St. Simon ; you have only xvi um i hi ~ in seropuhous to to use your eyes, in order to be satisfied as to keco tad th~ hlinter in the fore- who has, and who has not, a deep interest at ~r ~e, d , .~ in tI e seco id, he displays stake in that deathmchanaber at Meudon. u%u5, time x ces, nay, time Those who /mecPsuch mm interest, are, you ob & ua x en ful miature. serve, either overwhelmed xvithi grief~ or else It i meU, 711, and the royal flimihy is as are all caution to suppress that buoyant yet cooiplee, xvon all at once comes time news exultation xx hich keeps threatening to override that tie srn ot Louis XtV., Monseigocur, a their decorously-assumed gravity. stUmvur ~oan of some fifty years, and appa- [his crowd en d~shebill~, into the tumultu- reathy dstmn~d very soon, in course of nature, atmn~ heart of xvhich St. Simon ea0erhy forces to as end the throne of France, has just fallen his way, is to him the most delightful of dangrousiny ill at Meudon. Ins~anthy all the fetes Once more he confesses his own secret ambitions fears hopes of the courtiers awake feehn% as to the dauphins critical state. and dechive tb~mselves. St. Siumion, for his II n not satisfied with a crisis he wants part, cenleCoOS, xvmthmout hypocrisy, the pleas- a c mtastrophme. The dauphin has not done ure tis mmexvs ~ave him, diii bow it aniniated fin a m su ii yet, though lie has advanced 1Pm xx mb 1 n~ expectations (if the fatare to deuto s c1oor. The dauploin must cross the for St Simon ~e fi well at tIn miner coart of thr a Id tin doer must close upon hi~ 150 SAINT SIMON before St. Simon will be content. What b~weon sitting and stanciin~ n he neculiar though his highness is in the last a~ony I solieitnd~ to escape one anowel e iii St. S4mon would like to be sore that it is the thio curious momentary ro~nit~ (I occasional lastwould like to have the assurance of the rencootres in the indeseni ab1e fieedo~n physician Ina(le doubly sure by the under- natent in their whole mien ha aria0, de taker. In spite of myself, says he, I arc their ~tudied caution V I on the felt a lurking apprehension that the sick man I gu trd vs the vivacity, the sparkling anima big1 it recover ; and, as Mr. Pepys has it, tion to the ~enmuene~~ of xvrch thi~ir deport- this did vex rae. He has just grace mont from first to last, gires involuntary but enough left to be a little ashamed of this hot conclusixe wmtne~s haste, and to own that it hardly squares with II tim thus exh sust d x~ith greedy, crafty the ideal of Christian charity but having mncjui~mtmx en ss md with sorpassmnKy ~raphie eased his conscience so far, and depicted to deiineation dl the h aire~ al the jiostures this extent the state of his own mind, he and attitudes more ci it r tural or con turns from himself to others, and commences sti un d ol this vast hou~ o~ mosrnmg at forthwith that wholesale process of dissection, Versailles St Smumon reto us to his two that remorseless uncovering of shrouded princes and prmnce~ses ia thin 1r.t saloon, and thoughts and intents of the heart, which paints ivith the utmiiost nme4v of hsu~ and shade makes him resenalole, amid this medley throng, the countenanees of thes~ persons of quality. a wolf that has found his way to the sheep- io observe him as lie descimes e e y xpres- fold, or a hound i1 patient for Isis dividend of sion with such putmeularit~ and precision, the hounds fees, in consinon with those of the reminds one of in Llmppoci tt~ oesmde thie pillow baying pack who were in at the deaths, of a moribund p itment there attidying, in the In tIme course of the night arrives positive interests of science, every sx motitom, ox ~y con- intelligence of the deaths of Monseigneur. vulsion of time finee and e~ i~nino to every Such At the end of tise great gallery of Versailles, phenomenon its rel itixe ph ce mu the well- in an opvs saloon, are then exhibited to us ordered diahnosms But then ear Phopoeratos tlae two ptinees, Burgundy and Berry, sons is not cool enon ha over it , 1w gloats too rap- of th d~ceased each with his consort by his turously over his do ida bed irivesinmoation side, seated on a couch near an open ~vindow, there s no eoncealmn~ the ioy ho feels in tlaat avitha th ir hacks to the gallery the company strange study ci the o too t of the curiosity scattered about standima g, sitting, squmattin0 on in whaicis lie mndumow lba hi~ exclanaation the 0oo ill in niost adnaired disorder. on the ~deasuics of ~uehm on caperionco TIac At tue ommiosite end of the gallery are the quickness withs which one t ~maed ho 1 face to valets a minIs dibeulty stifling their belhoxvings hico, to learn time masmuds ~eal in aran favored (moo~usa omeeLs) and in desloair nt tlae loss of by this first gosh of surprm~ aismt suddeis so vulrt a r aster one made so expressly confusion the eoiaahmnation et ammeha a corn- after in icir cxx n heart. Among thaese bereaved plexity of aspects ; astonishamnent at imaissing his flunkhs there glide to and fro others, of a some eases xvhat one had filly expected, nail clearer hicaded and harder-lacarted sort, de- at finding in others avhat no o e lied antic- spe& oee tisithiorivards by tlaeir masters, in tlae ipated all thais accumulation of lively objects capacity of cur oxvn correspondents, to see and nacracutmous facts niakes up a kimad of and reort ad taey can the I io~eros of the pleasure, to the mars quelmlThd to ppreciate it, day, ins tiable in thacir greed for seandal, in- which, superficial ii5 it masay he is yi t one of dispensauc as supple purveyors to the gre d the 0reatest to be enjoyed at coart of otheis Then again, we have corirtmer~ of Tivo or tharee ridiculous moe~dentm suds as every color Of these, time fools accoid- the arm of the huge sleepmoo Sxviss, seen to ing to ~ Smnacs, decidedly prepomaderate stretch itself of a sudden close to tiac royal gentry as-Isa) tu~ cast sighas by ~m ins 1cm e ind coucia or the apparition c~ Madaia~ ha ball -ize Moasei.gneur avith eyes curiou4y court-dress, xveepirig end hioxxhmn vocifer sinAj I sin d perleetly dry, amad inlixass us tIme ously, withioust kosowing xx by aine appe~ sled seine formula of panegyric Ah, hoe Lied to these different aspects of rmaouimain~ to give he xx 5 To the fools succwcu superior thiermi variety arid relief; foin St Simon for~ets tvnes of mn~ehiect sonic unfeirnediv ormeved nothing that pertains to m tuie The long sir stmaoeked others calculating, in coin n~rs the night being thins miacre tisan h if sp~nt, they possissle results political and genemal of the all retire at last for repose the emotion being evemit (fthie niodat Ot ~ers tee lie x ho IN et cabansteul anal thie play played mint the most ama iumapassiblo orevih by xvse a taco ee tl tI emr affleinco to sleep thae best , xvhd~ St. Sirnois, deficien y of somrovv they tre af iii of beint my still intoxicated with so raine a fea,t of sight- in~ taemsehxes by a too hiehy md inno~enussu seemn~ h udly gets to sleep at all At seven deisnearsor Isut in spite of tiscr macsin -tren mis t lie miurmaing hie is up aramas Tlsere ~ non Si ins, tL& t as inusal tiinnph is cvi lent mm mic sissy o p is hsis roims o tim t sleepless every rcsture and gl taco us thmo oths ~st ii e the list are saveot crourhi, and rseis~o of posture, a to t Om rorle insatloal that I go like tise pr ions. SAINT SIMON. 1aests of poor human na- tare, c not as good as a feast. The e conl scene which may be commended to the attention of those who would see the p~etarc;qIW LO ien~ and ineaLin uLoable ruling 01Cc100 of ~ ~uoson teat of u~. Council of itogen e~ at xx h eb the Duke of Maine was degrancd (Aucus~ ~ 148) By the xxni of Louma XL the Duke of Ovlcaas was appointed regent, as the head f cuanoil the tim mneaxhems of which were hi1 ox ert en~nemes I o~ ~uardianship of the in~mnt hen (Loum~ X~v ) end the comninandof t0e household troops were intrusted to the Dci e of Maine, the leomtimatecl son of the md Menu 1ue by M mdam de Montespan. 1 e xviii proved xx aste papei. Orleans mde x deed e~ m~ oust Maine, acid all Maines kit m id kin ~t ~im ni che m ci on the lie- Tent mu his opoositmon xx ith ii0~l Leable hatred ~ lie opp~s d it hem the dariin~ Oh ~ ~jllOIi5 h~art to ho cede the Mon- teopan dyrsty at any colt ecu toerefore xx find our excitable ~ci mm s1,endmn~ nigV cft~ nicht ,just before ti c0~11 of \iiTmict 1 18 in stmeepicss expect- II is loocci foe tile d wa of a day wheich shIl at huta avcn5e him for countless affronts end stidod xvraths. Ia this second and hi mix dix iatc scene, he playS a more pm taco in the fornier he is the c COOT )i, t e imcator of time mnoxenent tee mine 0 11cr is of hi~ omen xx orkmmt cud no mc t t sc it xxok to xx tinhi it m dod I mine it mod hocx dcx emly it t m the a a p (cii aid nit eted by f it I ceirpis it 01 thii~o~~a5iti lie Cccii pioc ,s lii pci i r cml a pitmics h1 mx em it ms hems iiiiici e in mY lecs dmsmiitr ~eolv toan mu the X em c. ~ a yars hfr lime via diecice mutencmty of iii crmicl~y is ahmoeve too Sxveeium e ecreer acid ontri'es decemecy. W ii ci (juT ~ ~uin~ioa is e rid cxith any cue, I fare is inappeasa )l lie tears hiimmm to mmd cettecs befocie out fmmce. In his re ed of this Council o latemicy tahieau, the hind c to ha, stodmed m tht xvhich nar~ r mtc~ me ox el o Orleans prommipted by the arm etot himosemf, of his deterammnmetion to de oa d to u haal ehmlden of Louis MV. to amenpic ra~ia of pecis The hattcry thmmis nnm~memsked cxc ar dre ted to exateb the 0cm c on thee feces of C e con iou, th demos of in broemi ti e~ Ox eisinl I them. every h e c thus sonmhr color hi iii eminiphi mtie~hiy dm5eiiiieinmt ci ~s fom ~u ~imoon evhmo tries te 40 ccicci d Sijic liii tinjI Y am c Om mmiodeiccm ci mmii iceode4y in tie lic am of cietomy, manly his oxen xvomds can cx piecs the almost sensual matoxic mtiomc of his Cmi the xvatchi to dexoum time hehax mom of ci x mttmi an eye ~mt once to cli tim mt xx a ca mind to aiysit iaotionhms, ~meed ci y chair, migid in exery limmib, penetrated exith tim~ iiiast joymmus imlipressions of liveliest tramis~ pci t and m eptuirous mmgitation, and satisfaction so perseverimicly invoked mmnd now so umibound- edhy me mlizea I perspired ivith the a~omiy of lepressimiTi amy ecstasy, mend tile rm0omiy itse If evas dhmemoos ocyond xvhiat I ever felt before or since that glorious dcmy. Iloce inferiot arc the delights of sense to those of spirit And so he goes on, unable to contemia him self, pushihuig lemuomace to its utimmost himminits in hiS C hrts to express tile eclcernmccect of luis eniotion. L ugumige, imi his hands, is like a horse that has run its course its part is done, hut not so this fierce hcirsemans he would tax its poxeers yet further, and require from its exlmausted franie imicinre than it ca possibly supply. It is too xxeak to be burdened evitim such a freight of bitter, fiery triuniph. For us time almost incredible piece of jubi- Icetion just quoted mecy suffice. Such, cxc may say, in conclusiomi, xvas this nian, xvho lies not, disseumbles not, nor ma~mkes lmimnself out better than lie is, but portrays himmiseif unreservedly as lie does others. Inexitembly, evith peissious so ardent and obstinate, he oust ammo and cia have deceived hiiinmiself, ci mggmatei hmms st ctecie~nts, umttrihutcd to otimers his oexn qo ilitmes mmmd uchused that reere in tint mcmcmou mnsm'ht exithi which lie evas eciloecd Neveithiel ~, tcmking hmiimi alto cetimer thiou'ii unjust, extrcmvageent, and a isty in miiome the mu one questiomi of detemil, lie in my pm oh ebly he relied on for the general mini pr smon line he cx es What he held imi the miiost chins iute horror, and ucgainst which lie in t tie imiost semisitive antipathy, evas tIme dulne the servility, thic beescuess, and self- imie of narrow cliqne interests petty c chal xvhmatcver tends to merge the state in usd1 mu a evord, xxhiatevcr fosters court c(mrruh)tm(inmi With all this, it was his great runt to lie ungry, and on that riglut lie stood, ci e that Immut line spechie. XX itmoot affecting, therefore, to vouch for St. Siacons aceum icy in his verdict omi this personage or thet and simply laying stress on the sageecious the clmnost animucl instinct exhiicle guided has opinions, we miney venture to deny thiect he his, oc the whole, calummini ated his age, em libelled hiumcmaaity at heerge or at lecist, if lie lien time calumny is like that of Mindieme s Mis cnthmropo (Alceste) re- deeiiicd by tim it infusion of hmunucir which is a pungent chiaractemustic of strong minds and tue coloring s ep of t cleat s ice time di cmi atie ~ioopiug ef a scene, ~ A recent quarterly reviewer, who prone noes the meinomis ot Ot bimuon to be ~ probably the oily cxora mu the cmrele of French muemnoirs that e ict chici 1cpoinmit expeeteetlo mm, eininmilmuencls time doke s ciutcmokemi frimikiniess as simigmilarly valumehie acid ci ecoc mime to e, mi time icain, perfectly inmomi cii m oiniibce ltiI 152 TIlE CUCUMBER. such as the two we have sketched, so in mdi- t sought to secure for it splendor, independ- vidual portraiture St. Simon is proverbially er~ce, and a substantial share in the exercise great. From the vast series of whole len6ths, of the logislative and sovereign powcr. Be three-quarters, kit-kats, and profiles, to be forgot that the French nohlcsse w~ s now only found in his portfolio, we may refer, in the a court noblesse, and little suspected that, limited space at command, to his portrait of five-and-twenty years after his death, the the chief-president, liarlaythat oracle in most chivalric of the order would rjuiiate the world of parliament and belies-lettres. Up- their ancicnt idol, and be paying court to the right and immaculate as he was reputed, lie cause of rexolution lie was intolerant of was, by St. Simon~s account, a man of no the Vilieroy md D Antin el iss of dull servile actual honor without morality in private, courtiers, but without mnticipa tin the speedy without integrity except in public, without advent of quite onothem t~ pe tI e Mirabeaux, humanity in either case; in short, a consum- Lafayettes, I smeths mud th mt n ost eccentric mate hypoerite ; without faith, without of democrat nol h s his own desecnt1 tnt, the equity, without God, without soul, a cruel apostle of Soc ~disro In one m sp~ ct however, hushaud, a brutal father, a tyrannical brother, St. Simon di I m mgu y his ereer in honor- .a friend to none but himself; naturally ma ing it, by his litem ny ichiemeuts with the lignant ; delighted to insult, injure, and crush greatest writer it has ever produced wield- ethers, and on no occasion losing a chance of lug in its cause the loftiest, most independ- graeifyin~ that delight. A volume might be ent, honest, vigorous, and brilliant of pens; compiled of his sallies, infinitely trenchant, and thus St. Simon, duke and peer, t whom nnd overflowing with witwit naturally ap- his contemporaries smiled, is classed to-day, plied, and with a masterly caution against in- by the most critical of his cenutrymuen, be- mIring its employer in trouble. In appear- tween Moli~re and I3ossuet a ittle belov auce, Harlay was a little man, strong, but them, it is granted, yet be~ween thorn, not- meagre, with a lozenge-shaped face, a large withstanding and is there greeted as one aquiline nose, fine eyes, eloquent and pene- of the foremost glories of France. tratin which only regarded you by stealth, _____________ __________ but which, fixed on a client or a magistrate, were enough to make him sink into the earth. THERE was a curious old superstitiou that Of such a man, St. Sinion tells with palpahle woman should not be allowed to touch Cucuain- zest any of the current anecdotes which il- BEES, when growing, as the yellow, bell-lie lustrate his assumed or real character. This, flowers of these tender vegetables wo id wither for ixistance, of his root addressed to an ill- if handled by females; and that if a woman mannered duchess, who had styled Harlay, in walked three times (with her hair dishevelled) his hearing, that old monkey, and who, round encumber-beds infested by caterpillars, havina a cause to be tried before him soon the latter would all die Ancient herbalists afterwards, and in delight of his promptly recommended the pulp of the cucumber be~ ten deciding it in her favor, hastened to over- xvith milk for inflammatious of time eyes. whelm him with grateful acknowledgments. Tartary is thought to be the native country Madame, impressively replied the presi- of the cucumber, but it is said that no modern dent, in the hearing of an admiring circle, so travellers have met with it anywhere in- soon as the flood of her rhetoric xvas at ebb digenous. It was early known in England Madame, I am enchanted that an old then lost during the Yorkist and Laucastmian monkey should have it in his pow-er to oblige wars ; i)ut restored in the reign of Henry Viii. an old ape. Or again, when Bussy Babu- The cool and juicy cucumber of Egypt staumis tims married daughter interrupted her bus- first among the vegetables the want of baud while gina evidence before Ilarlay which was so bitterly lamented by the Israel- spoiling the husbands orderly statement iltes in the barren wilderness. by a garrulous parenthesis of words, xvords, words the president, after a protracted Fion Poems by Mary c. Hums. show of patience, mildly turned to the gentle- man with the question: Is madame your So she nursed wife, sir ? Monsieur affirmed it, in seine Her sorrow, as young mourners do, surprise. How I grieve for you, sir ! cx- When unto life and sorrow new. claimed Harlay, with look and tones of inex- For storm-clouds, in lifes early spring, pressible compassion, as he turned on his Can on no wild west wind take wing, heel, and left the happy pair to chew the cud But break in showers : in after years We learn the wastefulness of tears, of his bitter fancy. St. Simons chronicles And summon all oum energies are a copious repertory of such sayings and lo sweep our came-cloud laden skies doings ; at times highly ~iqaant, and usually And thus full many a joy we gleam, very French. Like autumn sunbeams, brighter even flis exertions to elevate the position of the Than summers, lent those clouds between, noblesse were strenuous and unremitting. He Which rather deck than shroud our heaven. FANCYS SKETCH. From Eliza Cooks Journal. FANCY S SKETCH. STISETCITED at full length on two sofas, which occupied opposite corners of an im- mense fireplace, were two young men, busily engaged smoking from long Turkish pipes. What is the matter with you, Alfred? You are not saying a word. Nothing in the world. I was waiting for you to break silence. Then we might have waited long enough for each other. I was thinking of a most delightful ad- venture. Wcli, then, you might as well think aloud. With all my heart, only that you may think I play somewhat too conspicuous a part in it. Pray begin; I promise you only to be- lieve half. It is now about a week since I received a card of invitation to a ball. The name was wholly unknown to me, so I lighted my pipe with the note. But stay; I m.ust fill it now. Ihore. And now to proceed. Some days after, feeling rather depressed and a little out of sorts, I thought a little gay society would do me no harm. By my faith, said I to myself, I ought to have gone to this ball. And a moment after I said again, I wish I had gone to this ball. lIa! there is actually a scrap of the invitation left; and it is for this evening. What is to prevent my going? Accordingly I dressed, and that, be it remarked, en passant, for reasons best known to my tailor and myself, was a matter of no slight difficulty. My toilet once made, such as it was, everything else ~vent on smoothly enou~h. I sent the porter for a cab to take me to the appointed house. You know the house that magnificent one in the Rue St. Ilenord, in front of which are those two splen- did statues, before which I have so often stood lust in admiration. I entered, was announced, and could see that my name made a great sen- sation. I made my way to the lady of the house to pay my respects. Beside her was a youu~ lady, evidently her daughter, who blushed deeply, and appeared somewhat em- barrassed as I approached. In a few moments, there being no listeners near us, she whispered quickly to me Be sure you do not forget that it was Ernest gave you an introduction. Thereupon sheleft me, and joined a lady who had just entered the room. Not to forget that it was Ernest gave me the introduction! But who and what was this Ernest? Why had he iven me an in- troduction? As I was puzzling over it all, I was ac- costed by a stout gentleman You are taking nothing, sir. The refresh- ment-room is quite near. I answered by a bow, and he immediately led the way to it. Where is Ernest? I want to thank hi for having brou~ht you to us. On the contrary, sir, it is I who ai deeply indebted to Ernest. Can you tell me how this law-suit is going on? What law-suit? O,the great family suit. O ! it is going on exceedingly well. I am glad to hear it. have you spoken to my wife and daughter? Yes, I have had that honor. Now tell me honestly, do you follow Er- nests example? Follow Ernests example! You may fancy how embarrassed I was to find a ready answer to this question, but a hem and a haw got me out of the serape, for my stout friend went on to say Ernest is good for nothing; he neither plays nor dances. I, on the contrary, am very fond of dancing, and if I am not, as I fear, quite too late, I would beg permission to en~ your daughter. cage I rather think her card must be full by this time. Still I know that she generally re- serves a dance or two for any late comers she may wish to favor. Come, I will make your request for you. And so saying, he led me up to his daughter, whose first words, when her eye fell upon us, were I see you have not forgotten our enga~.e- ment for the next quadrille. How is this 3 inquired my portly friend; you said just now I was as much surprised as he was, but hastened to say, I had asked the young lady, but she turned to speak to some one who was just cominh into the room, and left me in doubt whether she would accede to my re- quest. So you see my mediation was quite un- necessary; and now I will leave you. When you see Ernest, pray tell him I have got soniC- thing to say to him. Being left alone with my own thoughts in the midst of this perfectly strange world, I began to try and. brin~ them into some order. Everybody here, thought I, seems to know me, and I know not a human being. It is very evident this fair damsel is wondrously smitten with me, and would have no objec- tion to a little love-snaking. It is easily guessed what she wants to say to me. At all events I shall soon know; but what am I to say to her? If I only knew who this Ernest is. ln the mean time the music for the qua- drille began, and I hastened to secure my 153 154 FANCYS SKETCH. ye is a handsome, flue-looking forever, no If you will not allow me to soy gill of i~ut twenty. We danced the first to you how much I love you, I will write it tigume x~mthout utterina a word, but when ten times a day. If you will not concede me the tam i of the side-coupics came, the youa~ the privilege of seeing you in your own house, lady il to me I will station myself as a shoe-black opposite ~m as papa is concerned, there is no your door, brushes and all, and never leave lay dan~ ot do not trust Ernest. He knows post for an instant. But . ~ ii may easily perceive, lie You terrify me! is I ml in sincere friend, but I should 0 could I have ever thought, ever have mtnvaed of his knowing, and yet it expected toymeet only hatred in return for such ii s~ y that we should come to some undying love and devotion. eyalmouon. You may speak without any I did not say that it was only hatred nm~~ an I felt for you, but this I say, that it is the was I to explain I I was perfectly only feeling it would be allowable for me to bewilired lortunately, we were just at express. this iiinient separated by the figure of the The country dance came at length to an a 1 woen we rejoined each other, she end. As I led her to a seat, I whispered, hmo to a~ inexpressible relief, entirely for- Ilernember the shoe-brushes. got ~i i it was my turn to speak. I could She smiled as I left hei and mingled with miv ~ - .d the poor young girls flmlling the croxvd. I had enon b to occupy niy in 1 c a ~ta nie at first sight, but the pre thoughts in trying to un a el ef ~xhat romance a- X me lcd e of me implied utterly per she was making me the h iC XX Ii mt part did pl xi ii i if 51 e herself resumed the conver- this Ernest play in it, md who is he I Still, satio~ by saying, , however that might be I sm ~ in the whole lao Inst thing I must do is to return thing, up to this, nothinir bat a i tie frolic. I your ma was to be favored with ariothc~ conitry-danee confusion worse confounded, after three other enga en cuts which my fair tlou n ~ Ii have to my knowledge never partner w-ns obliged to keep w-ittm m line to her in uiy life. But she con- The time caine, and out con~cmsation was tinoed resumed. You could have been guilty of no 5meiier I have been thinking ever since, fair lady, lmp~-u ~ice t aa.n to write to me in suca a of my polishing-brushes. us nrn~ I nas always be ii my Ii Wit to AntI so have I, but I am afraid of b aid a ter every letter I tcccmxe before them. I vi, and it was by a most lucky You have only to forbid me to do it, chin tat I did not do so with citbet of then. v a I have not replied to them as I 0, certainly I forbid you mast posi ta t m bctter to do so by xi oid of mouth. tivelv. i3an [ 001(1 miot venture to have it private iii tmn thousand thanks. te-- - a Ii you here amongst so many For what 1 I do not understmand you. peool. i ~hml lainve more courage. You maust hr what! For the perasission you give really mu -ito to inc any more, nor remain mae to aisit you very often. ft A mix hmmns before my door. Tlacre is Indeed, I do not see why you may n:it no knonmn what people may say. come Many other young people visit here. lv fr)odIiesS What a game of cress Lut first you must renew the pledge you gave pin-pie I woo stood before the door niercly mac in your last letter. to luok ~t th~ statues ! however, noav I s ax I xx as agaimi in the mire, and deeper than am- iiid I mmnswered boldly, that bemno ever What proimmise had I given I Emit once adiaitmed into her house, I should no there xvas no time to hesitate, so I ansavered I asion to remain standing befimrc boldly tile 0o)r, and that if she avould permit me to I savore dear lady, by my love to yomi. shin1 to oem I need not xx-rite. She smiled. Xii I C movement of the dance again This is a strange way of in~iring inc s~n~- ad us After xvhich my fitir partner with confidence in you. went on What can you mean I I swore by all No it is fhr better that we should not see that is most sacred and precious to me. n. I am, as you know, engaged AIm ! so by your love von snore never xi no~ r d all intercourse ought to be more to speak to mime of yonar love. henciorts oat of ttmme question. This then was what I had sxvorw. I was IX oat madam, not see you again1 all ri~ht agimin. Afi a a o mr my xvhole life for so loni~ mm l)ear mime, dear lady I ax-ill not deceive ~o on alone , amte~ having accustomed j you. I will shiny whuttever you wish I ax-ill a i- on the subject of every converse am ith you tin any topic you pleamme tLon ~, 0 o ~ ot eacty hope. No ! no but you are to remeamber that hmencefoitim FANCYS SKETCH. 155 wIatever I soy, be the ~ t ~~ia.t it may, most be invited to the house. Put how was I shall always mean one md toe same thio~ this to be managed I love yen. Some days after, the conversation wa~ Bet what is to he ~ ich Linest? dexterously turned upon the young artist and 1 1: what on eaith ~ Linost to me? I they repeated many fiatterin9 tliio~o, whieb, I IL ~ to me, and i is feelings aeeorhn o them, were publicly se:d of my ncu~ h0 ed is muci as possible. unwortiiy self Ernest, who baa 1 ci n so lon~ x 11 b. as ceasiderate to him as engaced to her that she had had t ~e to for- Thu Cl ~ ~ get th it he w ~s her lover, thonob she did not en th it will oblige me gre tiy. for~~ct to d im fi in him every attentioo, and I v bin. the fntVst sebin ssien to her ev0ry esprie, 7i d not know Imim! Was it Eruest, who we~ slx~ ix 5 at hind precisely et lie t1i it teem you tie invitation 1 whenever lie was w mated x~ as not wiioout hi II iiote g en to iiiy porter with- hobby ud this mvi a d lie to b~ considered out a cid hciri~ said of whoum it caine as the particular f end oi tile acqunutance fiji at least, of any peison ot noVricty And lie told me he knew you very well. so ~vhen my name was mentioned lie said at Ii ix not out a sinole aeouaintcince of once it nm Bussault, I knoxv urn intimately In so t, dear friend by the time our Do bring liii then to pass an evening 1oii~ ii ~inon x ins at an end, I lied with us. lInt you must take time xx ooze thin~ guessed me upon yourself, w liii Ni ~jw~ ~ tie secret and it iuy fitlier If I ~xere to re~ ask papa myself he woud insi~t upon MI ic enioiseils do had seen me count- mammas adiiiittin sonme old tw mddies to our lees tunes s incan I ef we her door, adniiring, jxarty, and this would be payia~ L00 dear for i~ you Knoxv, tee statues. She had also re- M. do Bussaults presence. Ccii cc Lou noaxiiiuns love letters, in which, Very well I will ask your father for a mi iiii CL Ie~ i aps-iclned phrases, was the card for one of my friends, and will bring him fo lou ii I ic sx eetest moments of my to you. I ix t icoc xxhich I spend gazing at the And thus it happened that Ernest, who ~tot priiic cxl to hold you. AS Mademoiselle did nut know nine in tue lea~t, b t who easily ii in is fni y pci suaded that Ii xvas des- found out uxhmere I lived, merely sent ice the riLe1 ii love xvi ci ncr, so these letters were invitation, moping, before the evenioc? of thu inst n reLy put doxvn to icy account. Some ball, to find some one who xvouid introduce dx itO I, sic was goin~~ Ouc to dli mxe with a ice to him but somixe family emmenmnstances fimemil, as f Li 110 in huni ut the door. 11cr obliged him to leave Paris unexeectedly br c)inh)tlo ~ mine mud id some days. Meauxyhilo, I we inc tem the b ill, I ~ok tide ~~ M. \l ed d Bossault. and told you the dlddightful evenimi~ I had, amid \~ cx th it unme~ ix mc ~ the e(mudjnest I lied made. X~ cud the fim ud Do you not Au ! now I understand why yoi weic in Locux in ? such a deep reverie. I cannot boxy xei help N r0 you ieqiiaiixted invithi Ixima ? saying tixat tine xvhole story apixears to mae a (ie h cam lIe is a celebrated young little imuprobalde. Be candid with mae Lay orLi t aside all tine embroidery and let mae se the \\ 1- a locdsonxe, interestimx face! naked canvas. Alt(xgecber With all my heart. TIle t nib the pl un lie is quite divine, said cxv in aumumo trutix, unadomned and unvarnished is smaply Bit nec \ifced xvas interrupted by his au this While smokin0, I xxas thmnhtmnx Oc Cdi intel invitation invhmich I actually ii id to x lxiii ITex iv nxun inuhoon earth reported this given at tunis young ladys honoc, and xxhneh coax emiciomi to ~oc quite surprised nine, as I knew acne of the Ncov 1mb is part of xvhat I told you liimcily. It came off the day hefue yesterda~, I c~uessc and all tinat I have been telling you is iust (1) 1 uad~rs Land very wehh, go on. fancys sketein of xvhat it is miio~t lmtseuy wenid Yucm xxiii allow tixis was not doing badly have taken place had I gone to the bill xx inch f r u tost appearance The txvo young ladies, I should have done, but tixat may black coat in tieoa mo~ ICc friend, uxero 50 cixaramedl uvas somneuxhat too ahmxh!xy, 111 y inith me tit to sctled between them that II ininould not listen to reason. SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. From the New Monthly Mag ~ine. SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOUPLD. To win golden opinions (we speak not of fees) from all sorts of men, in and out of Westminster Hall, as Mr. Sergeant and as Mr. Justice, is good. To win renown in literature such renown as comes not of sounding brass and tinkling cymbal is well, out with it! better. To win the loving esteem of all ones associates, as a man with heart large enough for them all, is best. This good, better, best, bath Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd. his it is to enjoy at once the three degrees of comparison the positive forensic, the com- parative literary, and the superlative humane. A case in Rule of Three with a splendid quo- tient. To take a rule of that sort is not allowed to many. But Sir Thomas has it all his own way rule absolute. And prob- ably, were his wishes for his brethren as ef- ficacious as they are cordial and general, there would be hardly an instance of rule re- fused. But there is no surplusage of in- stances of combined literary and forensic success. To him who would be at once a great lawyer and a great poet, and would bind up together in his book of life the studies of Blackstoue and the dreams of Coleridge to him Experience, harsh monitor, whispers, or if need be screams, Divide and conquer. Eminence in both departments is of the rarest. Scott retained his clerkship at the Court of Session, but who ever heard of the Wizard of the North as a law authority Jeffrey is one of the select inner circle to which Talfourd belongs. Wilson and Lockhart % no, we never mention them in wig and gown. Sir Archibald Alison and Professor Aytoun, Mr. Procter and Sergeant Kinglake, Lords Brougbam and Campbell, Mr. Ten Thousand- a-Year Warren and a few others, are not all unexceptionable exceptions to prove the rule. And yet there has ever been, more or less, a hanke~4ng after the Muses and the Magazines on the part of Messieurs of the long robe. Very natural, too, if only by a law of reac- tion. But very hazardous, notwithstanding and alarmingly symptomatic of a fall between two stools. One thing at a time the ambigu- ously ambitious avocat may do triumphantly; but to drive Pegasus up and down an act of Parliament, whatever may be done with a coach-and-six, is no every-day sight, no any- bodys feat. Lord Eldon, when plain Jack ~ For example (though one swallow proves not summer), the French lawyers of the sixteenth cen- tury. A btographer of Etienne Pasquier, after relating his debut as ovocot at the barreou de Paris, proceeds to say ~twn mime temps, pours oc- cuper 000 isisirs, ii so livra h la poesie, h la oem- pooition lit%rairc, coroctebe qsei disti?sgut so ration dovocoto, et Pasquier ontre tons les autros. Scott, keeping his terms at Oxford, obtained the prize of English Composition, On the Advantages and Disadvantages of Foreign Travel ; and it has been remarked, we believe by Mr. Justice Talfourd himself,* that since the subject of this essay was far removed from Johns Newcastle experience, and alien from his studies, and must therefore have owed its success either to the ingenuity of its su~gestions, or to the graces of its style; and that as, in after-life, the prize essayist was never distin a uished for felicity of expression or fertility of illustration, and acquired a style not only destitute of ornament, but un- wieldy and ponderous; this youthful success suggests the question, Whether, in devoLing all his powers to the study of the law, he crushed the faculty of graceful composition with so violent an effort, that Nature, in re- venge, made his ear dull to the music of lan- guage, and involved, though she did not dark- en, his wisest wordsl Happily no such quere affects the career of the author of Ion. He, indeed, is not lord high chan- cellor ; which makes a difference. But nei- ther did the great Eldon write a triumphant tragedy; and that again makes a difference in the puisne judges favor. Fancy Lord Eldon editing the Reliques of Elia, or measurin ML cready for blank verse; and if that is not extravagant enougl~, then fancy yourself read- ing the one, or squeezing into the pit to see the other. Sir Thomas was not far gone in his teens when he wood and won publicity, it is said, by a poem on the liberation of Sir Francis Burdett from durance vile. While still a school-boy at Reading, he published a volume of poems, including a sacred drama, on the Offering of Isaac (inspired by that ad- miration of Mistress Ihannah More, of which lingering traces survive in the preface to Ion ), An Indian Tale, and some verses about Education of the Poor, suggested by a visit to Reading of Joseph Lancaster. School- days over, he came to London, and fagged undex- the famous Chitty, in whose Criminal Laxv he aided and abetted. Then we find him fertile in the production of pamphlets, on toleration, on penal institutions, & c., and tak- ing a gallant stand on the side of Wordsworth, at a time (1815) when to do so was to be in a scouted and flouted minority. Anon he is on the list of contributors to the periodi- cal literature of the day to the Retro- spective Review, the Encyclapeedia Metropoli- tana, and the London Magazine. This kind of work he engaged in for love and money. Himself is our authority for making ~ Unless we err in attributing to his pen the very pleasant notice of the Lives of Lord Eldon and Lord Stowell, in the Quarterly Review for De- camber, 1844. 156 SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. 157 lucre a art of his motive for when old God- ply. I esiod is desibnatcd the most unequal p ~un toddlod into the younr~ advocates chain- of poets; sometimes daringly and. ardently hers, the very mornin~ after an introduction imaginative, at other tunes insu~brably low, at Charles Lamh~s, and then and there care- creeping, tame, and prosaic ; in his didactic lessly observed that he had a little bill for poetry, rising occasionally into a high and 1501. falling due on the morrow, which he philosophical strain of thought, but commonly had forgotten till that morning, and desired giving mere trite means of prudence, and the the loan of the necessary amou. t for a few most common-place worldly cunning ; with- weeks ~ the fLittered and regretfulTalfourd out any of Homers refined gallantry, and, in- was obli~ed, with much conlhsion, he tells deed, something very like a misogynist and a us~ to assore my distinguished visitor how croaker. The three great tragic poets of glad I should have been to serve him, but that Greece are ably portmyed, though without, 1 was only just starting as a special pleader, perhaps, any very original criticism or subtle was obliged to write for magazines to help inc discrimination the intrepid and fiery on, and had not such a sum in the world. * schylus, on whose soul mighty imaginations The articles contributed to the Encyclop~die troop so fast, that, in the heat of his inspira- nrc the nuost notable of his labors at this tion, he stopped not to accurately define or period, and well deserved their recent republi- clearly develop them like his own Prorne- cation in a compact, collected foriut Fore- theus, stealing fire from heaven to inspire and most among tbese is his history of Greek vivify his characters however mighty his Literature. Here he contrives to press a large theme, always brin~in~ to it a kindred erno- amount of information into very narrow limits tion, but never losing his stateliness in his as tOcy seem, at least, when compared passion, never denuding his terrors of an un with tb use defined for himself, on the same earthly grandeur and awe. Sophocles al- elts~uc d ground, by Colonel More. We are ways perfect master ef himself and his sub- tolo. II that is known, and of course a trifle ject ; conscious of the precise measure of mor~, uout such early birds as Linus be his own capacities ; maintaining, undisturbed, he snumlar, dual, or p!~riunol and Orpheus, his majestic course, in calm and beautiful pro- who hi ugbt Wisdom into Greece, and mar- gression ; in everything lucid and clear, never nod 1 to immortal verse, and by his music forgetting the harmony and proportion of the subonod -iIofeoeo itself, creating a soul whole, in the variety and complexity of the under the ribs of death and Musmus, parts his philosophy musical as is Apollos ~ nest ci the inysterie s of Orpheus, and per- lute his wisdom made visible in the form h Cl 5 his son. IIomer is amply discussed 2f beauty. Euripides appealing less to the lingo place being given to what hartley Cole- mmaoination than to the sensibilities and the ridge calls the Wolfish and Heinous point of understanding loving to triumph by involv- vmew, and due stress laid on the good old con- mug us in metaphysical subtleties, or by dis- servative creed, which believes in the strict solving us in tears, and scarcely ever laboring individuality of the bard. To divide, the to attain the great object of the other tra~c- stanebly orthodox feel, is to destroy that dians, a representation of serene beauty ; fame wtuich has so long resisted time, change, a mind more penetrating and refined than and mortal accident, ~vould crumble into ruins exalted; holding up to nature a mirror rather an immense blank would be left to the im- microscopic than ennobling; intent on depict- agination, an aching void in the heart the ing situations the most cheerless and externally greatest lihht, save one, shining from the desolate, so that Electra appears tottering not depth of time, would be extinguished, and a only beneath the weight of affliction, but of a glory pass away from the earth. Homer, huge pitcher of water; and Menelaus mourns therefore, is assumed to be, not a class, but a at once the mangled honor of his wife and the maim; not an abstract, impersonal Un-Self tattered condition of his garments. To the and Co., but our familiar childhood-honored same Encyclop~dia, Sir Thomas contributed Homers own Self; the man we came to know the notices of the Lyric Poets of Greece, of in connection with Donnegans obsolete lexi- Thucydides, sections of the history of Greece con, and Popes sonorous verse; the well- and of Rome, the Arts and Sciences of the known blind old man of Sci& s rocky isle Ancients, & c. who was born in one of the seven states hexa- He stood well, too, on the once brilliant metrically immortalize4, staff of the London Megczine, that bright- starred, thickly-starr& d, ill-starred rival of Smnyrna, Ithoclus, Colophon, Salamis, Chloe, Argo, Old Ebony. Remembering how noble an Athena, army of coadjutors it once maintained, we and not in all seven at once, not in seventy may well concur in Hoods saying, that per- times seven, as the German theory would im- haps no ex-peniodical might so appropriately ~ Final Memorials of Charles Lamb be apostrophized with the Irish funeral ques ~ In the series of reprints by Messrs. Griffin, in tion, Arrali, honey, why did you die ~ crown octave, commenced in 1840. had you not, he continues (and as poor SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. John Scotts successor he speaks feelingly), an editor, and elegant prose writers. and be sutiful poets, and broths of boys for criti- cisa~ ~n(l c assics, and wits and humorists Liii, Civ Procter, Cunningham, Bo vring, I eston JJaz!itt, Elton, hartley Coleridge, I dfour I Soane, Horace Smith, Reynolds, I ado Li ic, and Thomas Benyon, with a power Vs,des? Had nt you Lions heads with Tradtionnl Tales ii had at you an Opium-eater, and a Dwarf, and a Giant, and a learned Lamb. and a Green Man? Arrab, why did yon die ?~ To that longer-lived Magazine which the ,cader no~v holds io his hand, ~vas Mr. Taifourd, also, a steady contributor and he has amusingly recoiled his sense of the sitter unfitness of the then editor (Campbell) for his office alleging that he re~ ardcd a magazine as if it were a lonn affidavit, or a short answer in Chancery, in which the abso- lute truth of every sentiment and the pro- priety of every jest were verifi I by the edi- tors oath or solemn affirmation ; that lie stopped the press for a week at a comma, balanced contending epithets for a fortnight, and at last grew rash in his despair, and tossed the nearest, and often the worst article, unwhippd of justice, to the impatient printer. Both the great Quarterlies, we be- lieve, may also claim the name of Talfourd, on their respective lists of critical allies. But though periodical literature had pro- vided his labors with a local habitation, a name of prominent import and illumi- nated letters was first secured to him by the production of Jon. The play was privately printed in 1834, and reviewed in the Qssar ~ Hoods Owe (1846). Thc pathetic Why in this inquest touching the dear deceased seems to find its answer in the mismanagement of new proprietors, and the falling off of old contributors. Thus we read in a letter of La. bs to Wordsworth (1822) Our chief reputed assistants have for- saken us. The Opium-eater crossed us once with a dazzling path, and bath as suddenly left us dark- 1in~ : and again, to Bernard Barton (1823) The London, I fear, falls off. I lie or am aug its creaking rafters, like the last rat ; it will topple down if they dont get some buttresses. They have pulled down three ; Hazlitt, Procter, and their hest stay, kind, li0ht-hearted Wainwright, their Janus. (Of the last mentioned [Janus Weathercoek], Justice Talfourd disclosed a lament- ahle history in the haol Memorials.) Thomas Hood thus sketches the catastrophe of the declin- ing Ma~azine Worst of all, a new editor tried to put the Belles Lettres in Utilitarian envelopes whereupon the circulation of the Miscellany, like that of poor Le Fevre, got slower, slower, slower, and slower stilland then stopped forever It was a sorry scatterin, of those old Londoners! Some went out of the country one (Clare) went into it. U aeb retreated to Colobrooke. Mr. Cary presented hisureif to Qhe British Museum. Rey- nolds and Barry took to en ,rossin~ whe nthey should pen a stanza; and Thomas Benyon gave up literature. terly; its pe~isrri~nee at Cove ~t Gird n in ISdo urns one Of tee socasos ebsiss of the read era ste a Ms0s Mitford hos tdd us Os one hulli eat Pberin~ con~re~atcd to ~v stub the fortunes at the traeedy on its openin~ night and Mr L i h Hunt lies picturud the dazzlin~ coss~o d rn1 of the the etic u acre ever and s~ a Is ends o~un~ x~ tb tearthi I led eyes 5fl5PPifl~ the silcnc~ * busu in crash ing thunders and ~vhere the proud, glad hearted dramatist might, amid thick-clustered intellectual bevies, see his high compeers, Wordsworth arid Liador see the piled arrsy, The manyvisageci heart, lookiisg erie way, Came to drink beauteous truth at eyes and cars. Of Jon we may say, as its antlsor isas said of the Ton of l~uiipides th it the simplicity and reverenc~ inherent in the mind of its hero are no le s distinct end l~velv loan the picture of the scenery x~ itis xvoi s lie is surrounded. Ihis feelin s of huinbl gi sti tude to the power w lii h Ii is la st~ctel bun his virtue unspotted ft ens toe x~ arId sal Isis cleaving to the sacred seclusion u limb li is en wrapped him from ehildhood era hi eutifully drawn. The picture seems sky tinctured of an ethereal purity of caloring.~ Ions life hiath flawed From its mysterious urn smecred sire no, In whose calno depths the beautiful and pure Alone are mirrored. Love is the germ of his mild nature, and hith- erto the love of others bath made his life one cloudless holiday. But a curse sinites the city pestilence stalks there by noonday, and its arrows fly by night, and there is nota house in which there s not one dead V ! ~ ereQipsfer 9so~ ~s~sfagilevs,,1oi1so;iy Cars;, ezedir.t And with this crisis in the history of Argos opens a crisis in the nature of lois Isis sisal responding mysteriously to the public afilie- dais, and conscious of strange connection wills it; his bearing becomes reltered; Isis smile, gracious as ever, wears unwonted ssrrox irs its sweetness ; Isis fiorin appears dilated ; in those eyes where plesisure danced, a thought- ful sadness dwells ; stern psorp~se Visits the foreheads, Wloich till now knew- not lisa pass- ing wrinkle of a care. All this is touchingly and tenderly brought out; send indeed lIsa whole trmsgedy is to~cliing and tender. Beau- tiful passages; feelingly thoughtful, and in ii duclet strain of rlsytlsusical expression, enrich its scenes. But that it loss nisassiva power, as some allege, or tlsat it is a outburst of archaist ~ All this, hy the way, is rather difficult to con- strue, Mr. hunt. t Traeis Posts of Greece. ~ ~dip. Tyr. 278. 158 SIR ThOMAS NOON TALFOURD. 159 gCnms, or that it is true, first and last, to the Witness, too, his descriptio of love svirit of the ancient Greek drama, and is in triumphing over death in~the plaguehi i ~h ted deed the one solitary and peerless specimen homes of Argos, and his appeal from Adrastus in modern times of that wondrous coruposi- the ruthless tyrant to Adrastus the sportive ti:n when we hear this sort of thing dog- child, and his compact with his old playmate inaticelly reiterated, ~ve are stolidly infidel. Phocion, when the latter would ante-date the The very atmosphere of Attica, is it we coming sacrifice. The frame-work of the c~nnot swallow it, then. Byron tells us tra~edy is not, perhaps, very artfully con- how John Keats structed, nor the exigences of stage elket without Greek carefully studied, nor the subordinate actors Contrived to talk ahout the gods of late, individualized in any memorable degree ; but, Much as they might have been supposed to speak. on the whole, Ion is surely a line play, The author of Ton, z~ith Greek, has made and a moving a thing of beauty, and there- his Ar~ives talk as the real old folks fore a joy forever. Or if forever ~vill may not stand as a logical sequent to such on he supposed not to have talked. Medan and esthetic and Keatsian antecedent if literary Agenor, Ion and Ices, are a whit too good to immortality be too infinite a conclusion to Us true, arid a little too metrical, smooth, and deduce from such a premise let us at least polished, to be vigorously effective. We will give the will, which ispenes nos, for the deed, not go so far as to assert with a recent writer ~vhich is not; and take up our parahol~, and (famous in the anti-Church and State circuit, say, in easteruly devoutness, O ton, live for- mmcl not unknown on the floor of The ever! and may thy shadow never be less! house ),that ancient civilization not only The Athenian Captive is thought by exhibits little benevolence, and wants tender- some, in the face of that stubborn thing, fact, ness, h)ut also shows none of the healthier to be a better acting play than Ion. It is moral sensil)ilities that it is not humane generally allowed to be inferior in poetry and nor can it be pretended that the most in- style. Passages and lines there are, however, timate converse with it through the medium of strength and beauty more than most of its literature tends to elicit or to cultivate barristers could find brains and time to insert our more 0enerous sympathies ;~~* but WO in the product of a Christmas vacation. The may pretty safely ignore in the venerable Ar- description of Isomenes death recalls that of give heathens the benevolence, tenderness, Lady Randolph in homes now unacted healthy moral sensibilities, humanities, and drama: the lines that tell how the frenzied generous sympathies, which their histrionic queen, at the caves mouth, doubles on the boards of Covent Garden dis- played so winsomely. Evidently they have Tossed her arms had the schoolmaster abroad and the mis- Wildly abroad ; then drew them to her breast, ~ionary among them. They have been hand- As if she clasped a visioned infant there suinely cvangelized, and gone through the add rcflex energy and pathos to her own fine curriculum of a polite education. Ion espe- utterance, enilly is good and wise enough to deserve Listen! I was plucked benefit of clergy, whatever parricidal or sui- From the small pressure of an only babe ; eidd freak lie may indulge in. Lie has plainly and her destiny is wrought out with highly read the Bible and the Elizabethan dramatists, and mnoulds his manners and eloquence accord- impressive art, as fits a matron of heroic ingly. But, after all, it goes a~ainst the line her majestic form, lost finally in clouds grain to affect levity in speaking of one so and mystery, departed like (Edipus, here finely and delicately wrought as this royal none may follow or inspire. Thoas declaims orphian of the temple, some of whose words with glowin~ rhetoric, and plays the high- so penetrate the soul. Witness his logic on sould warrior almost grandly cleaving in the hamnortahity of man : captivity to the loveliness, the mi ~ht ,the Lie. 0 unkind! hope of Athens one that is foe to Corinth not a traitor, nor one to lea uc And shall we never see each otuer with treason whose b Ion (after a pause). Yes! earing and speech I have asked that dreadful question of the hills under the pressure of thraldomn are shaped, That look eternal ; of the flowing streams with a difference, after those of the Mil- f hat lucid flow forever ; of the stars, tonic Agonistes. Glencoc is moore per- Amid whose fields of azure my raised spirit emptorily repudiated, as a Highland tragedy, Hath trod in glory ; all were dumb ; but now by North Britishers, than the Athenian While I thins gaze upon thy living face, Captive and Ion, as Greek tragedies, by I feel the love that kindles through its beauty ilellenizing Sonthrons. Lord Jeffrey permit- an never wholly perish ; we shell meet ted it to be inscribed to him, but his country Again, Clemanthe! - men protest against the stage massacre, as Bases of Belief. By Edward Miall, M. ~. murder most foul and most unnatural, P 112. committed on their unapproachable territory; 160 SIR THOMAS NOON TALFOURD NEW BOOK. so perilous is it to meddle with the national ciation of creature-comforts such as the property of a people characterized, according we sat down to an excellent breakfast, on to Elia, by such Imperfect Sympathies a large cold roast fowl, broiled barn, eggs, with the rationale of homage ab extrd. Thus, excellent coffee, and a bottle of greet Ithen- one Edinbnrgh critic Professor Aytonn, ish, followed about two oclock by an was it not was spokesman for a phalanx admirably-dressed little dinner, made up of others, all armed to the teeth, when he of a thin beefsteak, thoroughly broiled (or declared that a more lamentable failure than fried, as the case might be), with a sauce of this attempt to found a tra0edy on the woful parsley and butter, and a cold cream-chicken- massacre of Glencoc a grosser jumble of salad, & e., ~ accompanied by a bottle nonsense about ancestry and chieftainship of Asmanshauser wine. Even in the family was never perpetrated. As though even bivouac at the Grand Mulets, we are conducted in Glencocs ashes lived their wonted fires through the details of the dinner, joyously nemo me irnjnen~ lacesset being practically protracted till it merged in sup per synonymous with noli roe tengerefor off thoubh the head of the family feelingly says, at a teingertt of the tenderest quality flies I regret to confess that I could not eat much the genus irritabile, and take that, you myself; but I looked with a pleasure a.kin to pock-puddin0 ! (illustrated by the adminis- that with which the French kin0 watched the tration of a conker ) is the reward of any breakfast of Quentin Durward, on the activity such ordeal by touch. We fear that had of my younger friends who with Homeric this particular tragedy been a stage triumph, intensity tore asunder the devoted chickens, it would have been damned with something and left the bones there, to be matter of spec- else than faint praise, across the Tweed. ulation to aspiring geologists and scientific But even sturdy Cis-Tweedites are constrained associations in future ages. to own that Glencue is flat and feeble, and The Life and Letters of Charles Lamb, that no mountain breeze freshens it, no moun- and the Final Memorials, are household tam cataract chants a wild obligato to the treasures. Exception may be taken to occa- stern theme, no swelling pibroch utters its sional passages but the net result is delight- wail, no heather-leg0ed son of somebody ful, as every memorial of Elia must be that shows us where we are, to the oblivion of an cordial old man, whose lot it was to accomplished Londoner in his study, inspired leave behind him, freed from griefs and ye~ rs, by Macready as model of Celtic heroism, and Far worthier things than tears, content with the stage of the Little Theatre The love of friends without a single foe: in the Haymarket, as a tolerable approxima- Unequalled lot below tion to the romantic fastness of the Macdonalds. Thus, by public judgment, both from the An Historical and Explanatory Treatise on the closet and from the play-house, Sir Thomas Book of Common Prayer. By William Talfour& s second dramatic venture was pro- Gilson Humphry, B. D., late Fellow of nounced a decline from the first, and still more Trinity College, Cambridge, Vicar of North- decidedly the third from the second. lIe is olt, Middlesex, and Examinin0 Chaplain said to have now on the stocks another to the Lord Bishop of London. tragedy, which we hope to greet as an em- This volume contains some biographical phatic reaction from this scale of descents. notices of saints, archmologieal explanations of May it take precedence as unquestioned of the customs, and expositions of Christian doctrine. existing trilogy, as Mr. Justice on the bench Essentially, however, it is a book of bibliog- does of Mr. Sergeant at the bar. raphy. The Reverend Mr. Humphry traces In his Vacation Rambles we find the the history of the forms of prayer from their hearty glee of a fagged counsel at escaping first germ in the primitive church, to their from work, not indeed to take his ease at his corrupt and superstitious exuberance in the inn, but to bustle about guiltless of horsehair later ages of medimval Popery. He then shows coronal and defiant of common law steam- the manner in which popular alterations were ing from Havre to Rouen, whizzing along the introduced by Henry the Eighth, and describes St. Germain Railway, playing the gourmand th~ compilation of Edward the Sixths Prayer- at Meurices, and the critic at the Parisian book noting the subsequent changes made at theatres and the galleries of the Louvre, pil- different times till the Book of Common grimizing to Geneva and the Alps Mont Prayer assumed its present shape. The Blanc reminding him, as he saw it, of noth- work may be recommended as an able expo- ing so much in nature or art as a gi~antic sition, hitting the medium between a treatise twelfth-cake, which a scapegrace of Titans dryly theological and a mere popular compen- enormous brood, or younger Saturn, dium. Spectator. had cut ut and sla~hed with wild irregu- ~ Addressed by Mr. Landor to The Sister of larity. His frank expression of so unsen- Elia whom, mourning, he would fain comfort timental a thought is one characteristic with the reminder yet awhile! again shall of this book of rambles; another is, the zest Elias smile refresh thy heart, where heart e a with which he so frequently records his appre- ache no mere. KENSINGTON. 161 From Household Words. Thc kin~s mistress was the once famous KENSINGTON. Duchess of Portsmouth, a Frenchwoman Louis de Querouaille who first came to FRoM Gore house to the town of Kensino- England in the train of Henrietta, Duchess ton we pass houses hoth old and new, some in of Orleans, the sister of Charles the Second. rows, and some by theruselves enclosed in She returned and remained for the express gardens. They are all more or less good; purpose (it is said) of completing the im- and the turnings out of them lead into a con- pression she had made on him, and assisting siderable district which has lately been con- the designs of Louis the Fourteenth and the verted from nursery and garden ground into Jesuits in making hiru a papist, and reducing more streets, and is called Kensingtou New him to the treasonable condition of a pensioner Town. It is all very clean and neat, and on the French court. Traitor and pensioner, astonishes visitors who, a few years ago, be- at all events, he became, and the French held scarcely a house on the spot. A pleasant young lady became an English duchess; but hedge lane, paved in the middle, and looking whether she was a party to the plot, or towards the wooded grounds of Gloucester simply its unconscious instrument, she has Lodge, where Cannin ~ lived, leads out of it hardly had justice done her, we think, by the into Old Brorapton. One street, which has historians. She appears to have been a some- no thoroughliire, is quite of a stately charac- what silly person (Evelyn says she had a ter, though defaced at the corner with one of baby face) ; she was bred in France at a those unmeaning rounded towers, whose tops time when it ~vus a kind of sacred fashion to look like spiee7boxes, or tritles from Margate. admire the mistresses of Louis the Fourteenth, The smaller streets also partake of those im- and think them privileged concubines; she provements, both external and internal, which had probably learnt in the convent where she have succeeded to the unambitious, barrack- was brought up that lawless things might be- like streets of a former generation; nor, in come lawful to serve religious ends, and she acquiring solidity, have they, for the most was visited during her elevation by her own part, been rendered heavy and dumpy the parents straightforward, unaffected people, too common fault of new buildings in the according to Evelyn; the father a good suburbs. It is ridiculous to see lumpish stone fellow, who seems at once to have re- balconies constructed for the exhibition of a juiced in her position and yet to have sought few flower-pots; and doors and flights of steps, no advantages freak it. The duchess, to be big enough for houses of three stories, put to sure, ultimately got as much for herself as cottanes of one. Sometimes, in these she could out of the king. She was as lavish dwarf suburban grandiosities the steps look as as lie was; became poor, a gambler, and a weighty as half the building ; sometimes the ourmande; and as her occupation of the door alone reaches from the ground to the house at Kensington appears to have been story above it, so that cottages look as if subsequent to the reign of Charles, it probably they were inhabited by giants, and the door- took place on one of her visits to England ways as if they had been maxisuized, on pur- during the reigns of William the Third and pose to enable them to go in. George the First, on which latter occasion This Kensington New Town lies chiefly be- she is supposed to have endeavored to get ~ tween the Gloucester and Victoria roads. pension from the English government on Returnin0 out of the latter into the high what uround it would be curious to know. road, we pass the remainder of the buildings But the baby face probably thought it all above noticed, and, just before entering Ken- ri~ht. We take her to have been a thor- sington itself, halt at an old mansion remark- oughly conventional, common-place person, able for its shallowness compared with its with no notions of propriety but such as were width, and attracting the attention by the received at court; and quite satisfied with fresh look of its red and pointed brick-work, everything, here and hereafter, as long as It is called Kensington ilouse, a ad surpasses she had plenty to eat, drink, and play at Gore house in the varieties of its history; cards with, and a confessor to make rdl smooth for it has been, first, the habitation of a kings in case of collateral peccadilloes. The jumble mistress; then a school kept by an honest of things religious and profline was carried to pedant, whom Johnson visited; then a such a height in those days, that a picture French emibrant chool which had noblemen representi% the duchess and her son (the among its teachers, and in which the late Mr. infant Duke of Richmond) in the characters Shiel was brouuht up; then a Roman Catholic of Vir~in and Child~ was painted for a con- boarding-house with Mrs. Inebbald for an in- vent in France, and actually used as an altar- mate; and now it is an asylum a term piece. They thought her an instrument in into which that consideration for the feelings the hands of God for the restoration of which so honorably marks,~the progress of the Popery. present day has converted the plain-spoken Adieu to the baby face looking out of mad-house of our ancestors, the window at Kensington house in hope of cecexca. LIYLNG AGE. VOL. III. 11 KENSINGTON. some money from King George, and hail to Not a word of explanation, though the book that of the good old pedagogue, James Elphin- is full of the longest and most superfluous stone, reformer of spelling, translator of comments. It is a quarto of six hundred Martial, and friend of Doctor Johnson. lie pages, price a guinea in boards; and among is peering up the road, to see if his great its hundreds of subscribers are the leading friend is looming in the distance; for dinner nobility and men of letters ; so prosperous had is ready; and he is afraid that the veal stuffed some real learning and a good character ren- with plums (a favorite dish of the doctors) dered the worthy schoolmaster. will be spoilt. Elphinstone had won Johnsons heart by Mr. Elphinstone prospered in his school, taking charge of the Scotch edition of the but failed in his reformation of spelling, Rambler. lie also translated the Latin which was on the phonetic principle (one of mottoes at the head of the papers; and did it his books on the subject was entitled Propri- in a manner that gave little or no token of the etys Pocket Dictionary) ; and he made such coming Martial. Johnson, Jortin (of whom a translation of Martial, that his friend Stra- more hereafter), and we believe Franklin han, the printer But the circumstance visited him at this house. must be told out of Boswell : I am going this evening, said Johnson, to put young Otway to school with Mr. El- phinstone. Lettcr to Mrs. Thrcle. Otway is an interesting name. One would like to know whether he was of the poets race. it is pleasant also to fancy the doctor, then in his sixty-fourth year, walking hand in hand down the road with the little boy. On Monday, April nineteenth, seventeen hundred and seventy-three, he calied on me (says Boswell) with Mrs. Williams, in Mr. Strahans coach, and carried me out to dine with Mr. Elphinstone, at his Academy at Kensington. Mr. Elphinstone talked of a new book that was much admired, and asked Dr. Johnson if he had read it. Johnson: I have looked into it. What, said Elphin- stone, have you not read it through! John- son, offended at being thus pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading, answered lastly, No, Sir; do you read books through B It is said in Falkners history of Kensing- ton, that Elphinstone was ludicrously char- acterixed in Smolletts Roderick Random, which in consequence became a forbidden book in his school. But none of the brutal schoolmasters of Smollett resemble the gentle pedagogue of Kensington. The book might have been forbidden in consequence of the commOn character of the profcssor; to say nothing of other reasons. But we must not stop longer with Mr. El- phinstone. Of the school kept in this same house by the Jesuits, a delightful account has been left by Mr. Shiel in the memoir prefixed to the volume of his Speeches. Charles the Tenth, of France, was one of the boys. Poor Charles the Tenth! himself one of the least of children in the greatest of schools adversity; which he left only to be sent back to it and die. In the year eighteen hundred and nineteen Kensington House was a Catholic boarding establishment, kept by a Mr. and Mrs. Salte- relli. In the chapel ~says Bowden, in his .Memoirs of ~Wrs. Inchbald) the Archbishop of Jerusalem GARaIcir. Of all the translations that ever were attempted, I think Elphinstones Martial the most extraordinary. He consulted me upon it, who am a little of an epi~rammatist myself, you know. I told him freely, You dont seem to have that turn. I asked him if he was serious ; and, findin, he was, I advised him against publishing. Why, his translation is more difficult to understand than the original. I thought him a man of some talents; but he seems crazy in this. JoHNsoN. Sir, you have done what I had not courage to do. But ae did not ask my advice, and I did not force it upon him to make him an,ry with me. GARRIcK. But as a friend, sir JoHNsoN. Why, such a friend as I am with him no. GAmuncu. But, if you see a friend going to tumble over a preci- pice? JOHNSON. That is an extravagant case, sir. You are sure a friend will thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a precipice; but, in the other case, I should hurt his vanity, and do him no good. He would not take my ad- vice. His brother-in-law, Strahan, sent him a subscription of fifty pounds, and said he would send him fifty more i1 he would not publish. GARRIcK. What, eh! is Strahan a good jud,e of an epigram? Is be not rather an obtuse man, eh? JOHNSON. Why, sir. he may not be a judge of an epigram; but you see he is a judge of what is not an epigram. That the readers of Household Words may judge for themselves, especially as the book is very rare, and nobody who speaks of Elphin- stone quotes it, we add a specimen or two. We confess they are not favorable specimens; but they arc not unjust: TO THE 5U~5CRfl3ER5. If Martial meekly wooed Subscriptions charms, Subscription gracious met a Martials arms; Contagious taste illumed the imperial smile, And, Julius greater, Martial, won our lie. ON APOLLODORUs: TO REOULUS. Five for Ten, and for LiX~ty he greeted you Lean As for Free he saluted you Bond. ~ow he Ten, Free, and Lusty articulates clean. 0! what pain8 can! He wrote and he conned. 16~ KENSINGTON. peribrmed mass regularly during the early part of her residence, and the Abbd Mathias officiated when the primate quitted the house. The soci- ety was extremely genteel and cheerful, chang- ing, however, too frequently for perfect cordial- ity and the formation of intimacy. The Schia- vonettis~ however, seem to be acquaintances end Mrs. Beloe, and Mr. Skeene from Aberdeen, were old friends, who on their arrival met with an unlooked-for pleasure ; the celebrated ar- tists, Mr. and Mrs. Cosway, upon leaving Strat- ford Place, were at Kensington house from Au- gust to October, before they s ttled upon a house in the Edgeware road. Here Mrs. Jnchbald spent the last two years of her life; and here, on the first of August, eighteen hundred and twenty-one, she died, we fear how shall we say it of so excellent a woman, and in the sixty-eighth year of her age? of tight-lacing! But she had been very handsome; was still handsome; was growing fat; and had never liked to part with hcr beauty. We have dwelt a little on this point as a warning if tight-lacers can take warning. We almost fear they would sooner quote Mrs. Lnchbald as an excuse, than an admonition. But at all events, beauties of sixty-eight may perhaps consent to be a little ~tartled. If this was a weakness in Mrs. Jnchbald let tight-lacers resemble her in other respects, and if their rickety children can forgive them the rest of the world may heartily do so. Mrs. Inchbald never had any children to need their forgiveness. She was a woman of rare endow- ments an actress, a dramatist, a novelist and possessed of virtue so rare, that she would practise painful self-denials in order to afford deeds of charity. Her acting was perhaps of the sensible, rather than the artistical sort; and though some of her plays and farces have still their seasons of reiippearanee on the sta0e, she was too much given, as a dramatist, to theatrical and sentimental effects too melo- dramatic; but her novels are admirable, par- ticularly the Simple Story, which has all the elements of duration invention, passion, and thorough truth to nature in word and deed. To balance these advantages, which she pos- sessed over other people, she must needs have some faults; and we take them (besides the ti ~ h t-lacing) to have been those of temper and stubbornness. Charles Lamb speaks of her somewhere as the beautiful vixen. The ~vord must surely have been too strong for such a woman, who is said to have possessed both the respect and affection of all who knew her. If our memory does not deceive us, he applies it to her upon an occasion when she mi ht well have been angry, and when she tlmught herself hound to resort to measures of self-defence, physical ~s well as moral. A distinguished actor, who was enamored of her and who seems to have been a warmer lover off the sta0e than he was upon it per- sisted one day in forcing upon her a saluta- tion, which appeared so alarming, that she seized him by the pigtail and tugged it with a vigor so efficacious as forced him to desist in trepidation. She related the circumstance to a friend ; adding, with a touch of her comic humor, which must have been heightened by the difficulty of getting out the words (for she stammered sometimes) How lucky that he did not w-w-wear a w-w-w-wig. Mrs. Inchbald had lived in several other houses in Kensin ton, which shall be noticed as we pass them; for the abodes of the authoress of the Simple Story make classic ground. We have now come to Kensington High Street, and shall take our way on the left- hand side of it, continuing to do so through the whole town, and noticing the streets and squares that turn out of it as we proceed. We shall then turn at the end of the town, and come back by Holland house, Campden House, and Kensington Palace and Gardens. On our right hand, over the way, is the Palace Gate with its sentinels, and opposite this gate, where we are halting, is a sturdy good-sized house, a sort of undergro~vn man- sion, singularly so for its style of building, and looking as if it must have been the work of Vanbrugh ; one of whose edifices will be noticed further on. It is just in hits No- nonsense style; what his opponents called heavy, but very sensible and to the pur- pose; built for duration. It is only one story high, and looks as if it had been made for some rich old bachelor who chose to live alone, but liked to have everything about him strong and safe. Such was probably the case ; for it is called Colby House after a baronet of that name, who lived in the time of George the First, and who appears to have been a man of humble origin, and a miser. A spectator might im- agine that the architect was stopped when about to commence a third story, in order to save the expense. Dr. King, the Jacobite divine, who knew Colby, and who thinks he was a commissioner in the Victualling Office, says (in his Literary and Political Anecdotes of his own Times) that the baronet killed himself by rising in the middle of the night, when he was in a profuse perspiration (the consequence of a medicine taken to that end), and going down stairs foi the key of the cellar, which he had inadvertently left on a table. lie was apprehensive that his servants might seize the key, and rob him of a bottle of hi& port-~vine. This man (adds the doctor) died intestate, and left more than two hundred thousand pounds in the funds, which were shared among five or six day-laborers, who were his nearest relations. Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, Sees but a backward steward for the poor. 163 KENSINGTON. The High Street of Kensington, though the place is so near London, and contains so many new buildings, has a considerable re- semblance to that of a country town. This is owing to the moderate size of the houses, to their general style of building (which is that of a century or two ago), and to the curious, though not obvious fact, that not one of the fronts of them is exactly like another. It is also neat and clean; its abutment on a palace associates it with something of an air of refinement; and the first object that presents itself to the attention, next after the sentinels at the palace-gate, is a white and pretty lodge at the entrance of the new road leadin to Bayswater. The lod0e, how ever, is some- what too narrow. The road is called Kensing- ton Palace Gardens, and is gradually filling with mansions, some of which are in good taste and others in bad, and none of these have gardens to speak of; so that the specta- tor does not well see why anybody should live there who can afford to live in houses so large. Pleasant, however, as the aspect of lImb Street is on first entering it, the eye has scarcely caught sight of the lodge just men- tioned when it encounters a sore, in the shape of some poor Irish people handing about at the corner of the first turning on the left hand. They look like people from the old broken- up establishment of Saint Giles, and probably are so; a considerable influx from the Rook- ery in that quarter having augmented the Rookery in this ; for so it has equally been called. This Rookery has long been a nui- sance in Kensington. In the morning you seldom see more of it than this indication at the entrance ; but in the evening the inmates mingle with the rest of the inhabitants out of doors, and the naked feet of the children, and the ra0ged and dissolute looks of men and women, present a painful contrast to the gen- eral decency. We understand, however, that some of these poor people are very respectable of their kind, and that the improvements which are taking place in other portions of the king- dom, in consequence of the attention so nobly paid of late years to the destitute and un- educated, have not been without effect in this quarter. The men for the most part are, or ~profess to be, laboring bricklayers, and the women, market-garden women. They are calculated, at a rough guess, to amount to a thousand; all crammed, perhaps, into a place which ought not to contain above a hundred. [he reader, from late and painful statements sn these subjects, knows how they must dwell. [he place is not much in sight. You give a 4anee and a guess at it, as you look down Lhe turning, and so pass on. There was a talk, not long since, uf bringing the new road, just mentioned, from over the way, and continnin~, it through the spot, so as to sweep it clean of the infection, as in the case of New Iloihorn and Saint CUes; and in all probabil- ity the improvement will take place, for one advance brings another, and Kensington ans become of late so much handsomer, as well as lamer, that it will hardly leave this blemish on its beauty. But leases must expire ; and lettings and sub-lertings for poor people die hard. It is not the fault of the Archdeacon. non-resident in Kensington (we mention it to his honor), that these lettings and sub-lettings are still alive. Most of this unhappy multitude are Roman Catholics. Their priests tell us of a fine house at Loretto, in Italy, which the Virgin Mary lived in at Nazareth, and which an~els bromi ht from that place into the dominions of the Pope. They also tell us that miracles never cease, at least not in Roman Catholic lands and that nobody feels for the poor as they do. What a pity that they could not join these feelin ~s, these hands, and these miracles, and pray a set of new houses into England for the poor bricklayers! Continuing our way from this inauspicious corner, we come to the turning at Young Street, which leads into Kensington Square, formerly as important a place in this suburb as Grosvenor Square was in the metropolis. Kensin~ton Square occupies an area of some hundred and fifty feet, and was commenced in the reign of James the Second, and finished towards the close of that of William. It is now a place of obsolete-looking, though re- spectable, houses, such as seoul made to be- com e boarding-schools, which some of theum are; and you cannot help thinking it has a desolate air, though all the houses are in- habited. In the reigns of William, of Anne, and the first two Georges, Kensington Square x~ as the most fashionable spot in the suburbs; it was filled with frequenters of the court; and these are the identical houses which they inhabited. Faulkner says, that at one time upwards of forty carriages were kept in and about the nei~hborhood ; and that in the time of George time Second, the demand fiinr lodgin~~ was so great that an ambassador, a bishop, and a physician, were known to oc- cupy apartments in the same house. The earliest distinguished name of arm inhabitant of this spot in the parish-books is that of the Duchess of Mazarin, in the year one thousand six hundred and ninety-two. We know not which house she lived in ; but the reader must imagine her, after the good French fashion, taking her evening walk in the square, the envy of surrounding petticoats, accompanied by a set of English and French gallants, Villiers, Godolphins, Ruvignys, & e., among whomn is her daily visitor and constant admiring old friend, St. Evremond, with his white locks, little skull-cap, and the great wen on his forehead. Lie idolizes her to the very tips of her fin;er~ though she borro~v~d hi 164 SHAKSPEARE PILGRTMS.POLECATS. 165 money, which he could ill affrd, ud gambled for thorn. They must have been louis dors, n away bcsid~s, which he could not but pray or so many pounds sterling; a sum worth her not to do. lie also begged her to resist two or three times the amount at present. the approaches of usquebaugh. She says that the amusement was thought to The duchess was then six-and-forty, an have hastened her uncles death. She was Italian, with black hair ; and, according to his afterwards accused, wlaile in a convent, where description of her, still a perfect beauty. Field- her husband succeeded in stowin~ her for iu~ thought her so when she was younger, a time, of putting ink into the holy water box for he likens her portrait to Sophia Western. (to blacken the nuns faces), and of frighten- Jiortensia Mancini was niece of Cardinal ing them out of their sleep at ni~ht, by run- Mazarin, at wlmose death (to use her own ning through the dormmmitory with a parcel of words, in the Memoirs which she dictated to little dogs, yelping and howling. She says Saint Real) she became the richest heiress, that these stories were either inventions or and the unhappiest woman in Christendom ; exaggerations ; but we are strongly disposed that is to say, she found she had gotajealous, to believe them. mean bi~ot for her husband, who grudged her a handsome participation of the money he SHAKSPEARE Psacamams. A curious statement obtained with her ; and, as this was touching has just been prepared of the nunsher ud na- her on the tenderest point, she ran away from tions of the several visitors to Shakspeares house him in pure desperation, to see how she could at Stratford-upon-Avon. The statement has been enjoy herself elsewhere, and what funds to pay compiled from the signatures of the parties them for it she would get out of him, by disclosing selves ; and for the period from the 1st of May, their quarrels to the world. The duke (his 1851, to the 30th of April, 1852, the total numn- name was Meillerayc, but he took the name of ber is 2,216 ; and of these Mazarin when he married her) was inexorable, England furnished 1,642 Italy and not to be scandalized out of his meanness; Scotland . . . . 58 Newfoundland . . -. 1 Ireland 9 South America . . 1 so his wife, after divers wanderings which got United States . . 444 Russia 2 her scandalized in her turn, came into England East Indies . . . 1 Sweden 1 on pretence of visitin~ her cousin Mary, of Australia . . . . 3 Mauritius . . . 1 Este, Duelsess of York, but in reality to ~et a Brazils . . . . . 5 Cape of (1 Hops . 2 pension from Charles the Second. This she Germany . . . 18 Canada I did, to the amount of four thousand a year; Channel Islands 1 holland every penny of which was probably grudged hungary . . . 3 Finland 1 himself who could not Switzerland . . 2 Bagdad 1 her by the lavish king , California . . . 2 Madeira 1 afl~rd it, and who is said to have been dis- France 4 Belgium . . . . . gusted by her falhiun in love with another man New Zealand . 1 Austria the moment she ~ot it Ch miles, when in For a like period, from the 1st of May, 1852, exile, had sued for Jiorteusma s hamad in vain to the 30th of April, 18.53, the return shows a from her uncle the ti udmn ml ~ho thought the slight increase, the total being 2,321 royal prospects hoeless and ~xho w-as in fear England . . . . 1,898 East Indies of the 1~rotector. Xi id muse de Mazarin, ho~v- Seotland . . . 41 hhungary 2 ever, continued to flourish among the ladies at Ireland 14 Islands of S. Pacific . Whitehall duriun Charles reron ; she had half United States . 306 Russia 3 her pension comifirmued to hae~ by King William ; Australia Canada 5 did nothing fromim fir t ta 1 inst but keep company New Zealand 5 Sil esma South America . . 4 California 1 and gamble it uwa~ and sm~ sears after her France . . . . 12 Turkey I residence at Kerrsmn~ton coed so poor, at a Egypt 1 China 2 small house in Cl Ci c (tIre list, as you go Switzerland . . 5 West Indies . . . 1 from London, in Parodmat Row), that laer body Cape of 0. hope 1 Spain was detained by her creditors till her husband Germany . . . . S redeemed it. The husband embalmed it; and, Jonathan, it will be seen, considering the surviving her mimany years, is said (which is distance at which he lives from the poets house, hardly credible) to have carried it about with is about as great a Shakspeare-worshipper ~ him all that time, wherever he went, as if John Bull himself. .d1hen~um. determined on having the woman with him, dead, who would not abide him while she THE Shrewsbury Chromiicle states that was living, while J. Roderick, o~ Llanidloes, carpenter, was Madame do Mazarin was praised by Saint returning home from Pantygessel, in the parish E~-remond for every kind of good quality of blanwaug, he was attacked by a number of except prudence in money matters. When polecats, which bit him in several places, and one crept up his body and bit him severely on she was a girl, she tells~us that she and her the shoulder. With difficulty he made his es- sisters one day threw upwards of three hun- cape, and upon arriving at Pantygessel he dred louis out of a window, for the pleasure of aroused the inmates, who set out in chase of the seeing a parcel of footmen scramble and fight animals, and killed four. 166 From Chambers Journal. A TOUCH AT THE TOUCHY. I navx heard a great deal in my time, through hook and pulpit, of offensive people that is, people who, being of a rude or malicious dis- position, frequently give offence to their neigh- hors and friends. It strikes me that the remarks thrown out upon sueh persons are in a great measure uncalled for and useless, for it so happens that I scarcely ever meet an of- fensive person. I believe there was a class of such people once, as there once were plesi- osauri and anoplotheria; hut if such a class are to be found in the present world at all, it must be in a grade of society I am little ac- quainted with. In my social sphere, the op- posite error of an excessive complaisance is considerably more conspicuous. If writers and preachers, however, were to direct a little of their thunder against offence- taking people, they would, I apprehend, he doing useful service. This is a class which has, I suspect, been increasing in numbers and sensitiveness, precisely as the offence-giv- ing class has heen diminishing a discord with its co-relative which is only apparent, seeing that the peculiar property of this por- tion of the human race is always to he the most affected by the least cogent causes. In the days when there was a general roughness and want of mutual respect, there was I sup- pose hardly such a thing as taking offence at all. If there was rudeness on the one side, there was good-humor or thick-skinnedness on the other; and so sulking and firing-up were both of them hardly known. It was only when we all became such very nice ladies and gentlemen, as scarcely ever to utter a word out of joint, or fail in one of the formalities of society, that we began to be so much pestered with intimations that great offence had been taken at us for something which we had said or done, or something which we had failed to say or do. In the beds of roses on which most of these people pass their days, a single crumpled leaf is enough to give pain. Bow to them in the street with only a little less than your usual fiexure, fail to go up and converse with them in a crowded evening-party, and they go home full of resentment at the slight you have put upon them. Pass them over in the invita- tions you give out for a dinner or soir6e where they would wish to be, and they begin to speak of you as a heartless person who forgets old friends. To he unmoved at one of their jokes, to give a wry look at the crying of one of their children, to fail to speak with sufficient warmth of their piano-playing, or their last novel or poem, is enough to discompose them effectually at the moment, and throw a cloud over their behavior towards you for a long time ~to come, if not forever. Much worse is it if A TOUCH AT THE TOUCHY. they should have hear4 a report of some half- jocular remark you had made upon them, not quite respectful in its tendency. Then, without affording you any opportunity of ex- planation or apolo~y, they seal a vow of eter- nal resentment against you, or, what is quite as had, withdraw into a cold abstraction which it is vain for you to try to penetrate. Confirmed offence-takers are so exceedingly disagreeable as acquaintances, that few care much for their society, or feel any great con- cern when they give symptoms of having taken umbrage. We pass them over as unfortunates, and quickly cease to think of them. It is chiefly in circles of relationship they become seriously annoying, for then they cannot be so readily dismissed from consideration. The mischief they do in such circles by their ex- igeant tempers, their reclamations against imaginary ill-usage, and their raising little cabals and factions a~ainst every one who fails to please them, is enormous. how often do we find that a course of consistent kindness, persevered in for years by one person in a family circle towards another, will become a blank in recollection the moment some triv- ial word or look has been taken amiss. It is from such causes the greater number of family quarrels spring. Bystanders usually affect impartiality in such cases, as being totally unable to say which party is in the wrong. I have no difficulty whatever in the case. Only tell me which party first complained of an offence, and I will tell you with whom, in all probability, the mischief originated. If you analyze the character of a confirmcd offence-taker, you will almost always find an inordinate self-love at tile bottom of it. Such persons never get the attentions and consider- ations they think their due. They deem all around theno to be in a conspiracy to use theni ill, when they themselves are more truly in a conspiracy to torment society. The source of their infirmity is revealed by a converse fact namely, their extraordinary liability to thin~ favorably of all who will pay them court, not even excepting the most silly and the most worthless. It is equally demon- strated by another attendant circumstance that they instinctively shrink from the friend- ship of all kinds of honest and manly people. In short, offence-takers, in general, are about the most contemptible people one meets with, as unfortunately they are also not far from being the most mischievous. With the best feelings towards unfortunate and reduced people generally, and also towards those who are struggling upwards, but have not yet mounted very high, I am painfully sensible of there being a difficulty in keeping on good terms with them, in consequence of their great proneness to taking offence where none is meant. It requires a very nice diplo- macy to get comfortably along with people AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. who feel their Fortunes to be below their merits and their pretensions. With easy, well-off friends you can take some little liberty: you may call or not as you choose; you may in- dulge in jocular chat, partly at their expense, sure that they will take it all in good-humor. But there can be no such fr~edom with poor friends; there we can have no safety but in the rigor of etiquette, under whose deadly shade all social enjoyment fades and perishes. It is a sad consideration; but we all daily feel how fortune determines our associations and our friendships, and it is easy to see that this sensitiveness of the inferior towards the superior is one grand cause why it is so. One wearies of constant explanations for doing nway with unintentional offence; we, in time, shrink with apprehension from persons whom we fear by every trivial word to throw into a paroxysm of resentment. The society of our peers becomes more convenient, and we at en th are content to leave our unfortunate old friends to their own reflections. There is such a thing, of course, as occa- sional offence-taking by worthy people, simply under mistaken views of what is due to them, or of what has been done towards them. I would speak of this with forbearance, as an error into which the most amiable humanity may fall; but I must also take leave to warn all my friends against it, as a very grievous and dangerous one which they may well take some pains to avoid. Many a well-meaning person must have had occasion to regret that he once gave way to a feeling of offence, and spoke and acted about it in a way that mag- nified a trifle into a serious evil. A regret of this kind may last a life-time, though the original offence was but the feeling of a mo- ment. Let such facts put us on our guard against everything like undue irritability or sensitiveness, or at least a~ainst diving way to resentment until we have been fully assured that offence was really meant, and find that an opportunity for repentance has been neg- lected by the offender. And even then let the sense of irritation be restrained within the narrowest limits possible. From Frasers Ma& azine. AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. Paocxss has at last caught the diplo- mates by the skirts. The strong hold of what the Americans call Old Fogyism has been carried, and henceforth these gentlemen of mystery must jog on a little faster with the rest of the world. His majesty, the present Emperor of the French, is entitled to the conception of the idea which has produced such results. After the battle of the Boulevards and the labor of constitution-making (not much labor one would think with the quantity of unused ones all the way from the Channel to the Grecian Archipelago), he turned his fertile imperi~ I brain upon the mysteries of Sartor Resartus, and decreed unmentionables. But he has been thrown quite in the shade by the Ameri- cans, who, as usual, have followed French fashions and outdone them. When the Pierce administration took the reins, Eucope looked doubtingly for some demonstration about Cuba or Mexico, or the Sandwich Islands, on all of which Jonathan keeps as hungry an eye as the Indian government does on Burmah. A little loud barking about Central America was thought to be not unlikely; or possibly a growl at Austria, whence no harm could come. The new premier, however, was oc- cupied with the subject of diplomatic breeches (with which New York journals say he was before not unacquainted), and after three months labor brought forth the following circular : In performing the ceremonies observed upon the occasion of his reception, the representative of the United States will conform, as far as is consistent with a just sense of his devotion to republican institutions, to the customs of the country wherein he is to reside, and with the rules prescribed for representatives of his rank but the department would encourage as far as practicable, without impairing his usefulness to his country, his appearance at court in the simple dress of an American citizen. Should there be cases where this cannot be done, owing to the character of the foreign government, with- out detriment to the public interest, the nearest approach to it compatible with the due perform- ance of his duties, is earnestly recommended. The simplicity of our usages and the tone of feeling among our people is much more in accordance with the example of our first and most distin- guished representative at a royal court, than the practice which has since prevailed. It is to be regretted that there was ever any departure in this respect from the example of Dr. Franklin, History has recorded and commended this ex- ample, so congenial to the spirit of our political institutions. The department is desirous of re- moving all obstacles to a return to the simple and unostentatious course which was deemed so proper, and was so much approved in the earliest days of the republic. It is our purpose to culti- vate the most amicable relations with all coun- tries, and this, we believe, can be effectually done without requiring our diplomatic agents abroad to depart in this respect from what is suited to the general sentiments of our fellow citizens at home. All instructions in regard to what is called diplomatic uniform, or court dress, being withdrawn, each of our representatives in other countries will be left to regulate this mat- ter according to his own sense of propriety, and with a due respect to the views of his govern- ment as herein expressed. All commendation to Mr. Marcy. If the race of Franklins is gone, Franklins breeches at least shall remain, and we shall probably 167 138 AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. see the next American minisLer in the dress Christendom. Neither republicanism nor any so graphically described by the New York form of free government forbids the acqoisi- Herald. But what the unfortunate gentle- tion of wealth, or its expenditure according men attacli~s, as they are gregariously called to the taste of the owner; and as long as it is in court circulars, are to do is not so clear, easily acquired, and will gain social position, The gold must come off: but what shall go it will be used in display for that nurpose. on l The simple dress of an American citi- Still more, if a lavish expenditure will con- Zen is a vague term, stretching all the way stitute the American embassy one of the from the effeminacy of Broadway to the coveted places in fashionable life, we may be leathern breeches and buckskin,jacket of the sure that it will be made, if possible, in spite Itocky Mountains. Be it such as it may, it of circulars. And, to our way of thinking, must not be what everybody else wears, lest the minister who spends his thousands for a the simplicity should be unmarked, and splendid establishment is a truer representa- the unostentatious unobserved. tive of the national mind than the one trying Seriously speaking, we did not look for such to live on the modicum allowed by a penurious a document from a common sense government government. The secretary is a brave muon to like the American. This confounding of terms undertake to stay the progress of his country- would not have been surprising in the Re- men towards luxury, and more especially to- public which proclaimed Fraternity at the wards doing as all the rest of the world does; point of the bayonet; but a man of En~lish but we doubt whether he will succeed in descent and ordinary common sense knows bringing back the gentlemen under his charge very well that simplicity or ostentation are to the simuplicity of good old Dr. Franklin, affairs of social life or individual taste, coming who used to breakfast with ladies in their and going with poverty or wealth. The boudoirs at one, and mnake love to duchesses simplicity of American usa~es is an absurd- after late dinners. ity, when we remnember that more money is ceiling, and braekets on the side walls contain near spent in the United States upon Sybaritic one hundred additional burners. The floor is a tes- luxury* and display than anywhere else in selated pavement ef black and white Italian mnarble Along the sides are lar~e semicircular plush sofas, ~ The following description of an eating-house huilt high up against time w 11, and set in the in Broadway, taken from the New York Journal recess are oval marble-top tables, the frames being of Commerce, of July 13, 1853, gives a vivid pie- of iron, with gilt decorations on a white round. ture of the Simplicity of American usages. The dividing point in the sofas is formed of mine, Taylors International Hotel and Saloon, just representing a nondescript creature with a curved opened, is deserving of especial notice, as indicat- beak, claws, and flaming eyes. Other tables are hog the progress of luxury and extravagance in this arranged in the centre of the floor, with movable city, as well as affording a remarkable instance chairs. The back ground is filled with two conser- of the achievemnent of individual enterprise. The vatories lined with mirrors, each containin~ a crys- entire expenditure has been not far from 400,000 tal glass fountain ingeniously constructed. Ar- dollars, of which 120,000 dollars was for the ran~ed in appropriate places are curious objects. ground, and about 180,000 dollars for the buildin~ One is a clock that runs a year; another is a dial the remainder being for furniture, decorations, connected with the roof by a perpendicular shaftina, & e. The buildin~ has a front in Broadway of fifty and indieatina the state of the wind. The third oh- feet, and extends back on Franklin street one jeet is a calendar clock, a new invention, made to hundred and fifty feet. It contains alto~etber two run four years, and desi~natina the month, the day hundred rooms. The whole establishmuent is di- of the month, and time day of time week. Beneath vided into two departments, the five upper stories these are two beautiful statues in coniposition, sym- being set apart as an hotel, which is to be opened bolizin~ art and nature. Passin~ from the main in September. The front ~vall is of brown stone, saloon tQ the one below, the mieseent is made by a from architectural designs by T. Thomas and Sons. staircase of solid marble, dividin0 to the right and The saloon is the ore, t point of attraction, and in left ; the cost of tlmis stairway was 3000 dollars. rendering it what it is a vast sum has been ox- But now the attention is arrested by a still moore pended. It occupies the first floor and basement, striking object a fountain of glass rising from connected by a grand marble stairway. The orna- the lower saloon twenty-one feet in height, with mental work of the ceiling of the main saloon cost jets of water and gold fish playing in each basin. alone 10,000 dollars. It is richly overlaid with The fountain consists of forty-four pieces. One graceful moulded figures and foliage, gold and of the glass basins weighs fifty-two pounds, and is fresco painting. The gold thus used cost 1200 dol- believed to be the largest ever made. Beneath lars ; the painting 3000 dollars; the mouldin~, plas- this basin are six dolphins, supplying as many term,, & e., about 5000 dollars. The sides of the sa- shells with water. The lower saloon is arranged loon are covered with large mirrors arranged in in keeping with that above, presenting much that panels, and surrounded with figures and ornamental is elegant and costly, & e. The description con- work of rich desi~n, in the Venetian style, repro- tinues in the same style, but we have given enough ~enting fruit, flowers, human figures, beads of aol- to show that luxury is not unknown in the New muals, & e. The entire expenditure for mirrors in the World. The truth is, the Americans are rich, and saloon is nearly 10,000 doll s. The ceiling is sup- like rich people everywhere, they use their money ported by nine highly ornamented columns, and be- to buy comfortable luxuries, and frequently to tweon cads are pendant drops, all very ole~ant and make a little display. Time same process of muinis- heavily overlaid with gold. Three massive chan- teriug to the sense of sight has created art in deliers of graceful pattern are supported from the every country, and will very soon do it there. AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. We sometimes hear the diplomatic system of the United States praised in this country, and pointed out for imitation by penny-wise politicians. But it certainly has very great radical defects, which have hitherto impaired its~ efficiency, and which must, before long, compel an entire re~irganization. A career has been impossible, as there has been no dis- tinct diplomatic service. All appointments, from highest to lowest, have been given as partisan rewards. America has hitherto had little to do with European politics, and, conse- quently, not much evil has resulted from this beyond the general isolation of her envoys. But now that she is atabitious of playing a more important r6le, she will feel the need of n trained corps, whose members have resided in turn in the capitals of the world, and are personally acquainted with the various public men, countries and lan~uages. She will rec- ognize the necessity, too, of paying her rep- resentatives so that they may be representa- tives in fact as well as in name of a wealthy and powerful nation, and may exercise the political influence which results from social station. Republicanism is not necessarily pov- erty; and Democracy even does not disdain to use means for its ends. Then secretaries of state will pay less attention to what covers the lower, and more to what lines the upper, man; and Democratic Talleyrands and Ester- hazys will advance, by the legitimate means of money and brains, the interests and influ- ence of the great Republic. A pleasant and readable little book,* by Mr. Trescott, late Secretary of the Legation of the United States at this court (whose resignation was much regretted by a large circle of friends in London), has called atten- tion to the early diplomatic history of Ameri- ca. The work professes to be no maore than a study ; but it is filled with proofs of an acute analytical mind, embued with all the elements for just historical criticism. As Mr. Trescott has put off the trammels of official life, we hope he will continue his labors in the field lie has occupied so honorably. The American mind is at present turned towards historical researco. Sparks and Bancroft have distin- guished themselves in the elucidation of phil- osophical American history, and Prescott has enriched the lan~uage by his beautiful pic- tures of Spanish conquest. It is no small honor to have achieved success in such com- pany. With Mr. Trescotts book at one end and Mr. Marcys circular at the other, we cannot avoid the conclusion that American diplomacy has been half a failure that the system of appointing partisan friends has not unfrequent ~ The Diplomacy of the Revolution an Ills- torical Study. By William Henry Treseett. New York. Appleton and Co. 1852. ly placed incompetent, and sometimes worse, men in office that when it has furnished competent men it has often created jealousies which have gone far to destroy the legitimate influence of the minister, amid to render his mission useless ; amid that when it has, by chance, filled an important post with an able man, untrammelled by rivalry, it has left hima in office only just long enough to begin to be useful. It is not impossible that rival candi- dates for the presidency may have Imeld the relative situations of foreign secretary and envoy, and may, without discredit to their patriotism, have do ed the movements of each other. Still more likely is it in such a case that while the minister, on the one hand, may have desired to arrogate to himself a layer share of discretion than tIme just rules of responsibility dictate, the secretary, on the other, has aimed to snake him an electric wire, niechanically to pass m essages from one cabinet to the other. The meagreness of the salaries also has excluded men without private fortunes from some of the more iniportant posts; as gentlemnen do not like to accept positions where they must receive hospitahi- tines which they cannot return in the same spirit and measure. Although a mission abroad may be a very pleasant variety in life to a ~entleman of cultivation and fortune, it is hardly just to a nation to make it the half- paid reward for party services; nor to the bolder of it to leave him an automaton. Failure is a strong word to use of a history of seventy odd years, covering a growth from three mihions of people to twenty-five, from thirteen states to one-and-thirty, from the Mississippi to the Rio Grande and the Pacific. But this growth has been the result of a provi- dential comabination of circumstances, called in the slant of tIme day, manifest destiny, which man could not nor can prevent. As the revocation of the edict of Nantes drove forth time Protestant artisans of France to en- rich other lands, so the too grievous weight of capital and plethora in Europe has sent it~ surplus labor to the new world to create capi- tal, amid, in the end plethora there. The problem in the old world has been to timid em- ployment for lmmbor and investments icr capi- tal. The problema in the new still is to find hands to do die work, and money to pay them with. As long as this difference comitinues, labor will cross the Atlantic, and the states will grow, be the form of government what it may. Diplomacy has neitb~r accelerated nor impeded their growth except so fi~r as, by peaceful treaties, it has made the laborer sure of his reward. In many of the impor- tant negotiations to which time United States have been a party, the result has either been retarded by time jealousies of rival politicians or brought about by adventitious circummistanees. Mr. Trescott bears testimony to the imijurious 169 170 effect of the disagreement between Franklin and Lee in the negotiation of the first treaties with France. If such men as these could not avoid jealousies, it is fair to conclude that, while ambition sways politicians (which may it ever do), they must regard the effect of their acts upon their future career, and keep a good eye also upon those of their neighbors and rivals. Since the treaties of 1778, many eminent men have acted as diplomatic agents of the United States in Europe; Dr. Franklin; Jay, the jurist and friend of Washington; Jeffer- son, the apostle of democracy, who seems not to have been much au courant with things at the court to which he was accredited; Gal- latin, the philologist; the elder and younger Adams, each in turn president, and each in turn also quarrelling with his friends and ruining his party; Clay, who said he would rather he right than be president; Washington Irving; Wheaton; Cass, the British-lion hater; Everett; Bancroft; Law- rence; and others, who have had more or less social standing in the courts to which they have been accredited. But they have gen- erally been known among smaller circles as agreeable, well-informed men, rather than felt politically as the representatives of a great nation. The foreign secretary has judiciously selected Dr. Franklin as the model whose excellence the new appointees, like little boys at school, are to copy beginning with the breeches. The doctor is a capital model. He was a venerable-looking man; which is a good be- ginning, as first impressions go a long way in this suspecti% world; it enabled him also to visit his female friends, and fathom court secrets without the imputation of intrigues. He was a philosopher, which was especially fortunate in his case, as philosophy happened to be the r~e in Paris. He was a man of wit, a dangerous quality in bad hands, but serving one well anywhere (and especially at Paris) when united to an amiable temper and generous heart, both of which he had. He was a liberal man on all subjects (too much so on some) ; and liberalism, as well as philosophy, was the fashion at the Court of Louis XVII. lie had done much for his race, which, with reflecting men, even in those days, was accounted no slight merit. He was a consistent patriot; but at the same time re- posed a generous, and, as events proved, a not unworthy trust in those to whom he was accredited. He was industrious even beyond the demands of advancing science of fashion of diplomatic labor of private correspond- ence and of a sinking treasury, of which he was to the last, ~vithout dishonor, finan- (her, treasurer, and cashier. He was an honest man in his own dealings, but under- stood the tricks of others. He was a man of AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. the world, and, of course, a man of society; charming every circle to which he was intro- duced by the brilliancy and variety of his con- versation, and the fund and fertility, so i~o speak, of his information. His manners and bearing were simple and nnostei~ta- tious, as, indeed, are those of every gentle- man, even though he may not possess Frank- lin s range of knowledge and experience of life. And he bore himself ever as remember- ing, and at the same time forgetting, that he wa~ one of the most illustrious of the founders of a new empire, and one of the most distin- guished lights of science. If his qualifications were such as few, if any, of his successors can hope to acquire, the duties imposed upon him, and the difficulties he surmounted, were arduous in proportion to them. The son of a tallow-chandler apprenticed to a printer a fugitive from his master editor, com- positor, printer, and publisher of a newspaper, he rose steadily to the rank of the first Ameri- can savant, and as a patriot, stood second only to Washington. Transferred from his native land to Europe, he became the com- panion and friend of men illustrious in rank. science, and letters, in this metropolis, and left behind him here a monument to his be- nevolence and practical sagacity in the Royal Literary Fund. From hence he carried his ripe experience and knowledge of the world to France, and applied them with patriotic zeal to the difficult task of establishing the nationality of his country at the Court of Versailles. With a just apppeciation of his new associates, he made hiruself known at once in the salons of the Faubourg, which his great reputation opened to him, became as in- timate in political circles as state policy would porutit, and maintained himself there, a favorite with both sexes, by a display of conversational powers beyond even French exi- geance. And then, having placed himself in a position to be accurately informed of every new move, he adroitly urged the American alliance upon the government, on the ground that it would add to the glory of France to undertake the cause of the oppressed. When honest, acute, hot-hearted, puritanical, patri- otic John Adams, who understood logic better than he did men, came to be joined with him in the negotiations for the treaty of peace, he could not comprehend the simple doctor, and nearly spoiled everythin~ by talking of the great gain to French interests by the pro- posed treaty. Franklin appreciated the nation better. He says, in one of his de- spatches: This is really a generous nation, fond of glory, and particul rhy that of protecting the oppressed. Trade is not the admiration of their noblesse, who always govern here. Telling them that their commerce will be advanta~ed by our suc- cess, and that it is their iaterest to help us, AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. seems at much as to say, help us, and we shall not be obliged to you. Such indiscreet and im- proper langua e has been sometimes held here by some of our people, and produced no good effects. By such means, and aided by the victories at Saratoga arid Yorktown, he succeeded, with his colleat~nes, in negotiating the treaties of alliance and of peace, and returned to his country with an affluence of glory such as rarely falls to the lot of man. Learned, wary, acute, penetrating, simple in demeanor understanding the use of~neans honest, pa- friotic, sensible, and knowing where to trust as well as to distrust, he is certainly a good model far new-fledged diplomatists to study. If Mr. Marcy succeeds in bringing his regi- ment up to this standard, we shall advise that he be sent for to manage the Foreign Office. We have allnded to the want of a cordial understanding between Franklin and some of his collecaucs. The disagreement between him and Lce is well known to have amounted to an open quarrel. But we apprehend that his relations with John Adams are not quite as well understood. It has been our good fortune lately to be permitted to examine a valuable collection of on _ inal manuscripts and letters of Franklin of which some are published in Mr. Spaik s collection, but many have never yet been printed. These manu- 8cripts are of great importance, and shed a new light on the history of the times. It is possible that we may hereafter, if permitted, draw more largely upon them. For the present we content ourselves with one or two extracts, exhibiting the unfortunate truth, that when diplomatic services are en- trusted to politicians who have interests of their own at stake elsewhere, there is danger that rivalry may swell into discord, to the detriment of the public interests. Among the letters from Franklin, published in Mr. Sparks collection, is one to Mr. Car- michael, Secretary of the United States Lega- tion in Spain, dated at Passy the 12th of April, 1781, in which occurs the following inentence: I thank you much for your friendly hints of the operations of my enemies, and of the means I might use to defeat them. Having in view at present no other point to gain but that of rest, I do not take their malice so much amiss, asit may farther my project, and perhaps be some advan- tage to you. and are open, and so far honorable enemies ; the , if enemies, are more covered. I never did any of them the least injury, coed can conceive no other source of their malice bitt tory. [The italics are ours]. To be sure the excessive respect shown me here by all ranks of people, and thelittle notice taken of them are a mortifying circumstance ; but it was what I could neither prevent nor remedy. Those who feel pain at seeing others enjoy pleas- ure, and are unhappy, must meet daily with so many causes of torment, that I conceive them to be already in a state of damnation ; and, on that account, I ought to drop all resentment with regard to these two gentlemen. But I cannot help being concerned at the mischief their ill-tempers will be continually doing in our public afikirs, whenever they have any con- cern in them. It appears by reference to the original manuscript in Franklins hand, which lies before us as we write, that the blanks in this extract should be filled by the names of Lee, Izard, and Adamnses, respectively, which were erased (fur no good reason, in our judgment) by Temple Franklin, the original editor. Mr. Sparks, not having the manuscript, was obliged to print from Temple Franklin, and of course could not supply the deficiency. The commentary which follows evidently applies to Lee and Jzard alone. Yet it is due to John Adams to say, that his pure patriotism was untainted by selfishness or malice. He was the last man in the world to be associated with Franklin. His dogged puritanism, even to th~ close of his long lifis, never learned that plia- bility and firmness may be joined in the same nature without detriment to principle. He always wanted to drive public opinion instead of leading it ; and, ruining the party which followed him, he spent the last five-and twenty years of his life in retirement apart from station or influence on the policy of the country which his genius had done so much to create. An unpublished letter, from Franklin to Vergennes, exhibits still more glaringly th~ false position in which Adams contrived to place himself, his colleague, and his constitu- ents at home with the French court, and the dexterity with which the Doctor extricated himself and the Congress. We print it entire. Passy, August 3, 1780. Sin It was, indeed, with very great pleas- ure that I received the letter your excellency did me the honor of writing to mime, communicating that of the President of Congress, and the reso- lutions of that body relative to the succors then expected ; for the sentiments therein expressed are so different from the language held by Mr. Adams in his late letters to your excellency, as to make it clear that it was from his particular indiscretion alone, and not from any instructions received by him, that he has aivea such just cause of displeasure, and that it is impossible his conduct therein should be approved by his con stituents. -. I am glad he has not admitted me to any par- ticipation of those writings, and that he has taken the resolution he expresses of not commu- nicating with me, or making use of my imiterven- tion in his future correspommdence ; a resolution that I believe he will keep, as he has never yet communicated to me more of his business in Europe than I have seen in newspapers. I live 171 AMERICAN DIPLOMACY. unon terms of civility with him, not of intimacy. I shall, as you d~ire, lay before Congress the whole correspondence which you have sent me for that purpose. With the greatest and most sincere respect, I am, sir, yours, & c., & c. B. FRANKLIN. An allusion has already been made to Franklins labors in Europe in behalf of the treasury of the Federation (a branch of duty from which his successors will be relieved). These manuscripts give a high idea of the difficulties in which he was frequently placed, and of his skill in relieving himself. Congress drew upon him, his colleagues drew upon him, and in fact everybodys hand was in his pocket. Yet he contrived to keep his credit untainted; not, however, without ocasionally striking a hard blow for it. Among other loans, was one made in holland in 1781, with which Colonel Laurens and a Mr. Jackson were also concerned. Jackson, it seems, a young man, wanted to carry the money to America, pro- bably for the sake of the eclct at home (still the same eye to interests there). A por- tion of the correspondence which ensued is published by Temple Franklin and Mr. Sparks. But the following, by far the raciest of the whole, is not in those collections. The Doctor could hit a hard blow when he chose. Passy, July 10, 1781. Sia Last night I received your fourth letter on the same subject. You are anxious to carry the money with you, because it will reanimate the credit of America. My situation, and long acquaintance with af- fairs relating to the public credit, enable me, I think, to judge better than you can do, who are a novice in them, what employment of it will most conduce to that end; and I imagine the retaining it to pay the Congress drafts has infi- nitely the advanta~e. You repeat that the ship is detained by my refusal. You forget your having written to me expressly that she waited for my convoy. You remind me of the great expense the de- tention of the ship occasions. Who has given orders to stop her? It was not me. I had no authority to do it. Have you? And do you imagine, if you have taken such authority upon you, that the Congress ought to bear the expense occasioned by your imprudence? and that the blame of detaining the necessary stores the ship contains will be excused by your fond desire of carrying the money? The noise you have rashly made about this matter, contrary to tIme advice of Mr. Adams, which you asked and received, and which was to comply with my requisition, has already done great mischief to our credit in Holland. Messrs. Fizeaux have declares they will advance to him no more money on his bills upon me to assist in paying the Congress drafts on him. Your com- N inodore, too, complains, in a letter I have seen, that he finds it difficult to get money for my acceptances of your drafts in order to clear his ship, though before this proceeding of yours bills on me were, as Mr. Adams assures me, in as good credit on the Exchan a e of Amsterdam as those of any banker in Europe. I suppose the difficulty mentioned by the com- modore is the true reason of the ships stay, if in fact the convoy is gone without her. Credit is a delicate thing, capable of hem,, blasted with a breath. The public talk you hi ye occasioned about my stopping the money, and the conjec- tures of the reasons or necessity of doing it, have created doubts and suspicions of most pernicious consequences. It is a matter that should have passed in silence. You repeat, as a reason for your conduct, that the money was obtained by tIme great exertions of Colonel Laurens. Who obtained the grant is a matter of no import nec, though the use I propose to make of it is of the greatest. But the fact is not as you state it. I obtained it before he came. And if he were here I am sure I could convince him of the necessity of leaving it, es- pecially after I should have informed him that you had made in holland the enormous purchase of 40,0001. sterlings worth of goods over and above the 10,0001. worth, which I had agreed should be purchased by him on my credit; and that you had induced me to eng ge for the pay- ment of your purchase by shox in,, me a paper said to contain his order for making it, which I then took to be his handwriting, though I after- wards found it to be yours, and not si~ned by him. It would be additional reason with him, when I should remind him that he himself, to induce me to come into the propoc I of Com- modore Guillon and the rest of the Holland transaction, to which I was averse, assured me he had mentioned it to the minister, aimd that it was approved of ; that on the contrary I find the minister remembers nothing of it, very much dislikes it, and absolutely refuses to furnish any money to discharge that account. You finish your letter by telling me that ~the daily enhancement of expense to the United States from these difficulties is worthy the atten- tion of those whose duty it is to economize the public money, and to whom tIme com muon weal is entrusted without deranging the special depart- nmek~t of another. The ships lying there with 500 or 600 men on board is undoubtedly a ~reat daily expense, but it is you that occasion it ; and the superior airs you give yourself, young gen- tleman, of reproof to me, and renminding me of my duty, do not become you, whose special de- partmemmt and employ in public a kirs, of which you are so vain, is but of yesterday, and would never have existed but by my concurrence, and would have ended in disgrace if I Imad not sup- ported your enormous purchases by accepting your drafts. The charging me with want of economy is particularly improper in you when the only instance you know of it is my having indiscreetly complied with your demand in ad- vancing you 120 louis for the expenses of your journeys to Paris, and when the only instance I know of your economizing nli)Imey is your send- ing me three expresses one after anotimer on the same day all the way from Ilelland to Paris, 17~2 THE TENTS OF THE TUSKI. each with a letter sayio6 the same thing to the same purpose. This dispute is as useless as it is unpleasant. It can only create ill blood. Pray let us end it..! I have the honor to be, & c., & c. Bax~. FRANKLIN. It i~ due to J c~son to say that he sub- sequently iconieseed in the wisdom of Frank- lins viewa nd xuote him to that effect. Mr. Marcys d ~lomates probably will not be called upon to make the same exertions for the Na- tional Tre my If th~y should be, however, and be oW~ red alno to firht for the money after they get it, th~y may learn from their model how to str antifi ally. Injustice would be doue to the American government if we were to close ~vithout notic- ing the Consular Circular issued at the same time with the Diplomatic. In the midst of a good deal of nonsense of the same sort about (Iress, and about the name by which the dignitarys office shall he known (that it shall not be called cisancellerie, when the commercial convention with France, negotiated by this very Dr. Franklin, provides that it shall be a choecclierie) in the midst of all this staiR. shall we call it l there is an important direction, that consuls shil collect and transmit to XX ashington all knowledge which in theirjudgment may he useful to their countrymen, in order that the government may print and distribute it annually at the public cost. If ~vell done, n compilation made up in this way, from all leerts of the globe, cannot fail to he of great value ; and we hope that the new admniiui~ subon, in its consular appoint- ments, na5 hd rerard to the capacity of the appointee to perform tais service to knowledge. Inc eha to kmerican government al- ready in this way have been highly creditable. Its expiormn exp ditions have traced the coasts of new continent in the Southern bemnisphie a d in the Northern it has gone side by sid v~ itli British courage and enter- prise w liii the results of both have been distribute at national expense. Its corps of euginee~ a, under Fremont, Emory, Stans- bury, and otner captains, has with incredible perseverane a id at the public cost, made large ad litions to geographical knowledge. The enteipi a of Maury has gone far towards discovering the laws which govern the cur- rents of air, and has succeeded in materially shortenin the long voyages through the Pacific and Southern Atlantic; and his labors are given freely to the world by an appreciat- in0 government. The gift of Smithson, an Englishman, in energetic hands, is making large contributions to knowledge. Owen, Foster, and Whitney, and other geologists, make elaborate reports upon the geology of a country which, ~vithin the memory of children, was inhabited only by the Indian. Througb the agency of the Patent-office, two bulky volumes, sent without expense to every part of the country, each year, give an account of the discoveries in agriculture and the inven- tions in mechanism, during the preceding twelve months. The combined engineers of the aruiy and navy are engaged upon a survey of the coasts, both of the Atlantic and Pacific and their accurate and beautiful charts are furnished to navigators at about the cost of the paper and print. To this the governmnnt no propose to add the annual collection of information furnished by the various consuls. How valuable such a document may be made, if properly compiled, it is needless to say. Let it be done in such a way as to he worthy the enterprising and enhi6hmtencd nation which is about to undertake it. From the New Monthly Mm~azine. THE TENTS OF TILE TUSKI. ~ Wuc are the Tuski ~ we hear some kind reader inquiring. People who dwell in the country whence Captain (now Admiral) Beechey brought home the tusks of antedilu- vian mammnoths and elephants of colossal di muensions 1 No, the Tuski are the Tehut- ski of the maps, a Mongolian brotherhood, who dwell at that extreme point of Asia which is separated from the American continent by Bebrings Straits. And what are the tents? Ay, there is tIme curiosity of the thing. Positively and indisputably if kept clean the niost eummodious tents in the world tents of translucent walrus skins stretched on gigantic whalebones, and heated by moss dipped in oil, that gives oil the most pleasant and fairy-like light imagin- able, and transforms an Arctic domicile into a palm-house at Kew ! It was on the first going out of the Plover a gallant little vessel, to whose doinas in the Arctic Seas we have frequently had occa- sion to refer in 1848, that a combination of untoward circumstances drove the vessel and forced it to winter on a coast and among a people rarely visited. Cook was the first who touehed on this shore, and Behrinn fol- lowed him, but neither went beyond Tchutskoi or fuski Noss; Billings, Novikof, and one or two other Russian navigators, hive left arm occasional notice of the Tuski themselves. Wran0ell and his expedition only saw them at the fair of Ostronowie, but that was sufficient to create an intense desire for further ac- quaintance, which was not destined to be orat- b ~ Ten Months among the Tents of the Tuski, with Incidents of an Arctic Boat Expedition in Search of Sir John Franklin as far as the Macke - mm River and Cape I3athurst. By Liout. W. H Iloopor, R. N. With a Map and Illustrations Job ftturr y. 173 THE TENTS OF THE TUSKI. ifled. Lieutenant loopers work fills up then what has hitherto been a desideratum in the history of the human race. Lie had no lan- guage at least till he made himself ac- quainted with a few words with which to ad- dress them or obtain information; most had to be done with signs ; but still the results are as satisfactory as they are curious. A very brief acquaintanceship at the outset satis- fied our author as to the general honesty of the people, and that there existed among them even a sense of honor I made an essay this night upon the honesty of our friends ; a fine young man, named Ahmo- leen, belonging to a family which pleased me more than any of the rest, sold me his outer-co~ of reindeer-skin ; but fearful that he would feel the loss of his garment during the ni~ht, I re- stored it to him, making signs that it was to be restored on the morrow. Busy next day with my duties I did not heed the approaching de- parture of my favorites, and am delighted to record that my friend, as I am proud, from. after experience, to call him, sought me out and delivered up the borrowed dress with many signs of acknowledgment for the favor. This fixed him in my esteem, nor had I ever after- wards cause to alter my opinion of his probity. When a first visit was made to the native habitations the visitors were received with joyful hospitality, being at the same time, although in November, nearly roasted, as with the Tuski the increase of heat is the in- crease of honor. In return, the Tuski visited the Plover, then housed in for the winter, and became quite domesticated; they were allowed to visit the mess-room, and go from cabin to cabin, and to eat and drink with the officers and men. They behaved upon these occasions with uniform good-nature, and evinced an almost invariably obliging disposition. The dress of the Tuski is, with the wealth- ier sort, composed almost entirely of deer, fawn, and dogskin, beautifully dressed by the women with the hair on; the poorer people often substitute shoes and breeches of scalskin. Their country is desolate in the extreme. Ranges of hills, chiefly of volcanic origin, cross and recross each other with little variety ofappearance; a few stunted twi~s of androm- eda, and mosses and lichens, are almost the whole flora. The Tuski, it is almost needless to say. live chiefly by fishing, and they travel in sledges drawn by dogs of different breeds and by reindeer. And now for one of the first visits paid by our author to the natives We started from the ship on a splendid morn- ing, with a temperature of 20 deg. below zero, nearly calm. I had ~he honor of conducting the really pretty wife of Mahkatzan, who seated her- self astride behind me on the sledge while my co .panmon was placed with our worthy host. I was of course desirous of acquitting myself cred- itably as a Jehu ; but the first essay h~ do~driv lag will scarcely be a successful one. Reins there are none; the animals are to be guided almost entirely by the whip, particularly with strangers, their masters alone having power by the voice; and herein great management and watchfulness are necessary, and an unpractised hand will be quite unable to run the d%s off a beaten track, or prevent their returnin~ to their homes. Fortunately for my escape from total discomfiture, Mahkatzan led the way, and our canine steeds were going homeward, so we dashed along without any more than an occasional overturn, my fair companion holding me in a vigorous grasp in any such case otdan& r ; con- sequently a double effort of clinging to our sledge was of course necessary on amy part. After a rapid drive of four hours. dnrin~ which my com- panion had his face slightly frost-nipped, we arrived at Kaygwan, where our conductor re- sided, and were scarcely permitted to look round, so eager was lie to press upon us the hospitable shelter of his roof. Kaygwan is a very small place ; I cannot even call it a hamlet, since it consists only, if my memory serve me right, of five huts, of which that of our entertainer, though greatly larger than the others, was not of extra- ordinary dimensions. And then for the tents, or huts As the huts of the Tuski are all of similar form and materials, and differ only in size, clean- liness, and convenience, I shall here describe them generally, noting peculiarities in their proper places. Mound, and resting upon one or two props, are ranged at equal distances ribs of the whale, their number and the area of the hut or tent, which is mostly circular or oblong spheroidal in shape, depending upon the dimen- sions. Over these, tightly stretched and neatly sewn, is drawn a covering of walrus skin, so beautifully cured and prepared as to retain its elasticity, and to be semilucent. Some of these skins are of an enormous size ; I saw one in the roof of Metras tent at Wootair, which could not have contained less than between seventy and eighty square feet, and the whole clear as parchment. So much li~ht being admitted by theroof, no windows are necessary ; an aperture on the most sheltered side serves as a door, over which, when not in use, a screen of walrus skin is drawn ; snow is heaped to the height of about eighteen inches round the tent, to keep wind or drift from penetrating beneath, and the outer shell is complete, with the addition of cords of hide sometimes passed over and across the roof to secure the skin. The yaranga (plural of yaranj, as these huts are called, are constructed of a rounded form, to prevent snowdidft from collecting at the gables, and to oppose few points to the fierce winds which sweep remorselessly over these treeless regions ; the same rule is not observed with regard to the interior. As the yaranga vary so much in size, some being only ten o~ a doz~n feet in diameter, while the 1 rgest measure from thirty to forty, the internal arrannements also 174 THE TENTS OF TILE TUSKI. differ much. In the smaller, a single apartment frequently scarce large enough for two per- sons runs across the hut opposite to the door, while in the habitations of chiefs, who have generally three or four generations living under their roofs, the sleeping places extend in a front and two sides nearly round the walls of the dwelling. These extraordinary chambers are formed by posts let into the soil at a distance from each other, and from six to eight feet from the exterior walls, on which, at heights varying from three to five feet, a roof of skins and laths is supported; thick layers of dried grass are placcd over all to exclude the cold ; deerskins dressed with the hair on, and closely sewn to- gether, hang from the edge of this roof on the inside, and can be drawn aside or closed at will when shut they entirely exclude the external air. On the ground are stretched more well- cured walrus skins, over which, when repose is taken, those of the reindeer and Siberian sheep, beautifully prepared, are laid above, close under the roof, against the side of the hut, small lattice shelves are slung, on which moccasins, fur soc~s, and the dried grass, which the more pru- dent place iu the soles of their boots to absorb moisture, are put to dry. A species of dish, oval and shallow, manu~actured, as I understood, by themselves, of a plastic material and after- wards hardened, but from its appearance pos- sibly cut out of stone, serves as a lamp ; against a ridge, running along the middle, and nearly an inch high, fibres of weet-o-weet, or moss, are neatly arranged, only their points showing above the stone edge ; the dish is filled with train oil, often hard frozen, and a light of peculiar beauty produced, giving enormous heat, without, when well trimmed, either smoke or smell, and cer- tainly one of the softest lights I ever saw, not the slightest glare distressing the eyes ; around the outer wall are ranged any trifling articles of ornament which may be possessed. Wooden vessels scooped from drift-wood are placed in the corners ; they contain ice and snow, of which the Tuski consume vast quantities ; in- deed, snow-munching appears to occupy the prin- cipal part of their time between the important periods of food and repose. The area of the ya- rang not occupied by the salons is used quite as an antechamber or hall of entrance ; here food is deposited previous to preparation for cooking, much of which is also done here over larger lamps than those inside. Here are unloaded sledges, and the porters of ice and snow ; the former be- ing afterwards placed on the roof of the sleeping apartment. Here too the dogs feed and sleep, the faithful creatures ever seeking to lie close to their masters at the edge of the inner rooms, and even thrusting their noses into the heated atmosphere. The atmosphere was, indeed, to the feelings of our countrymen, overheated, and is de- scribed as being painfully oppressive after the pure, cold air outside. I cannot under- stand, says the author els~where, how the natives can endure these great extremes of heat and cold; I have quitted an outward temperature of 200 (that is to say, fifty- 175 two degrees below freezing point) to enter yarangas where the thermometer registered ~ 1000. A change of 120 degrees in one day seems almost enough to kill one; hut this is experienced by the Tuski pretty well during their entire lives, and they are certainly hardy and robust enough. The last circumstance is partly accounted for by the information received by Wrangeil, that all weakly, and deformed children are destroyed, and although Mr. looper did not see anything to corrobor- ate this statement, and, on the contrary, a parents love for his offspring is more than usually exemplified among the Tuski, still he says it is probable that Wrangells informa- tion was correct, as he never remembers hav- ing seen a deformity, nor children of a sickly constitution. On the other hand, matricide, where the parent has become so old and weak as to be helpless, is an event, we are told, of frequent, indeed habitual, occurrence. There is one more point connected with the tents of the Tuski that cannot be passed over. It is the reverse side of the picture, but essen- tial to its completeness: The persons, clothes, habitations, and even dogs, of the Tuski were covered with vermin, not in a slight degree, but absolutelyswarming and it is doubtless from this cause that they clip the hair on the head. The first days of our journey brought the horrible conviction that it was hopeless to avoid the plague while in contact with the people. In vain our clothes were changed and washed repeatedly ; in vain we at- tempted to isolate ourselves as much as possible the evil increased each day ; and at last our condition became insupportably tormenting those of excitable temperament being denied sleep or rest by the constant irritation, and reaching a state bordering upon madness. It was particularly when repose was courted that our torment was greatest. When travelling out of doors the cold checked the attacks of the foe, which only resumed their onslaught with new vigor when reiinimated by the great heat of the yarangas. This was the most fearful infliction experienced during our stay in Tuski land, and far surpassed anything I ever suffered ; pro- ducing in me aa agitation of the nerves, like St. Vitus dance. The Tuski, living chiefly on fish, seal,. whale, blubber, a little reindeer flesh, and pemmican, despised the edibles of their vis- itors; the spices employed in the preparation of the preserved meats being particularly dis- agreeable to their palates. Their passion for sugar, and indeed anything sweet, was, on the other hand, general; and they were equally partial to the use of tobacco and of strong drinks when they could get them. The best idea of the food of the Tuski, and of their culinary attainments, is to be obtained from an account of a feast given to the officers of the Plovcr: THE TENTS OF THE TUSKI. I proposa now to set before you in detail the withdrew them quite in applepie order once history of a Tuski repast of the most sumptuous nature, as myself and companions partook of it, and trust you may find it as much to your taste s they do to theirs. It is, I believe, wit.h nearly all people in a primitive condition, the first and paramount duty of hospitality to provide tbe visitor with food immediately on his entrance and suTh was the rule in Tuski customs. First was brought in, on a huge wooden tray, number of small fish, uncooked, but intensely frozen. At these all the natives set to work, and we essayed, somewhat ruefully, it must be con- fessed, to follow their example, but, being all unused to such gastrononilo process, found our- selves, as might be expected, rather at a loss how to commence. From this dilemma, how- ever, our host speedily extricated us, by practi- cal demonstration of the correct mode of action, and under his certainly very able tuition we shortly became more expert. But, alas a new difficulty was soon presented ; our native com- panions, we presume, either made a hasty bolt of each morsel, or bad perhaps a relish for the flavor of the viands now under consideration. Not so ourselves ; it was sadly repu~nant to our palates, for, aided by the newly-acquired knowl- ed~e that the fish were in the same condition as when taken from the water, uncleaned and un- embowelled, we speedily discovered that we could neither bolt nor retain the fragments which, by the primitive aid of teeth and nails, we had rashly detached from our piscatorial share. It was to no purpose that our host pressed us to fall to ; we could not manage the consump- tion of this favorite preparation (or rather lack thereof), and succeeded with difficulty in evading his earnost solicitations. The next course was a mess of green stuff, looking as if carefully chopped up, and this was also hard frozen. To it was added a lump of blubber, which the lady presiding, who did all the carvin0, dexterously cut into slices with a knife like a cheesemongers, and apportioned oat, at diffc~ ent quarters of the huge tray before mentioned, which was used throu0hout the meal, together with a modicum of the gr ss-like stuff, to the company ; the only distinction in favor of the stringers and guests of high degree being that their slices were cut much thinner than for the rest. We tasted this compound, and we did nt like it; at this no one will wonder the blubber speaks for itself, and the other stuff, which really was not very unpalatable, we dis- covered in after-times to be the uorumainated food of reindeer which had been slaughtered at least so we were told, but I am not quite clear on this point. Our dislike to the dish had no offensive effect upon our host, who only seemed to be astonished at our strange want of taste, and, with the rest of the guests, soon cleared the board, the managing dame putting the fin- ishing stroke by a rapid sweep of her not too scrupulously clean fingers over the dish, by way of clearing off the fr~ments, to prepare for the reception of the next delicacy. After this inter- esting operation she conveyed her digits to her mouth, and, cagulfin ~ them for a brief period, more. The board was now again replenLhed, this time with viands less repellent to our unnur- tured tastes. Boiled seal and walrus flesh ap- peared, and our hospitable friends were greatly relieved when they beheld us assist in the con- sumption of these items, which, bein~ utterly devoid of flavor, were distasteful only from their extreme toughness and mode of presentation, but we (lid not, of course, desire to appear too sin- gular or squeamish. Next caine a portion of whales flesh, or rather whales skin ; this was perfect ebony in hue, and we discovered some apprehensions respecting its fitness as an article of food ; but our fears were groundless. It was cut aiid recut crosswise into diminutive cubes venturing uponone of which we were agreeably surprised to find it possessing a cocoa-nut flavor, like which also it ate very short ; indeed, so much astonished were we on this occasion that we had consumed a very considerable number of these cubes, and with great relish too, before we recovered from our wonder. This dish was ever afterwards a favorite with inc. On its dis- appearance a very limited quantity of boiled reindeer meat, fresh and fat, was served up, to which we did ample justice ; then came portions of the gum of the whintle, in which the ends of the bone lay still embedded, and I do not hesi- tate to declare that this was perfectly delicious, its flavor beinn, as nearly as I can finnd a par- allel, like that of cream cheese. This, which the Tuski call their sugar, was the wind-up to the repast and ourselves, and we ere fain to admit that, after the rather unpleasant auspices with which our feast commenced, the finale was by no means to be contemned. The Tuski, in reality no better than untu- tored savages, are still not deficient in inge- nuity and skill, even as applied to the arts. Their inventive genius is particularly dis- played in the manufacture of frocks and breeches of reindeer, fawn, seal, and dogskin also of eider-duck, okonches or over-shirts, caps, moccasins, mitts, and such like. They embroider very prettily, and, to a great extent, with the hair of the reindeer and pieces of heather cut out in the form required and sewn on. They also join many parti-colored pieces of skin together, which have frequently a very pretty effect. It was curious to notice how, with them, as in more civilized communities, certain persons were famed for their skill in particular hranches of manufacture. Some women were remarkable for dressing skins in a superior manner; others were noted for em- ploying better dyes than usual. One man made whip-handles well; another produced the best thon~s. Their skill in cutting ivory was also considerable. Models of sled~es mmd of household furniture, pipes, and toys of ivory, among which were ducks, seals, dogs, & e., evidenced great taste and variety ; fish- ing-hines of whalebone, with hooks and sinkers of ivory, scalakia bags, coils of rope, of walrus, 176 TIlE TENTS OF TIlE TUSKI. or seal-hide, cut without a join lbr full fifty ihthoms, and of all thicknesses sledges and harness were also amon~ the products of their industry. There was one artist, a very Tuski Cellini, whose skill in sculpturing ivory was the theme of praise throughout the country. It appears that even dandies are not un- known in Tuski land: I suppose it is an inevitable provision of all societies that some few among their components are doomed to act the popiajay, and seek to be esteemed by their outward show. The votary of Bond-street, the pctit-ieoitre of the Boulevards, were here fitly represented by our Tuski friend his dress was cut and donned in a manner en- tirely differing from the mode adopted by his fellows ; pendant tags of leather, each strip having a bead, and scraps of dyed far aptly mimicked the frogs and braids of his more ad- vanced brother iii fashion ; nor was he blind to the indispensable qualifications of the fop ; his cap aiad moccasins were as carefully selected as hat and boots elsewhere. Thus bedecked and bedizened, he strutted on the scene with an air of self-satisfaction and of admiration, which, while it provoked a smile, incited rather melan- choly reflections on the likeness of man here and elsewhere. Our uests were as much diverted as we could desire, and night was far encroached upon crc they were all disposed in slumber. The Tuski are raturally a very courageous people, and full of endurance. They attack the fierce polar hear singly without hesitation, and sanguinary contests are often the result. We met one man, Mr. Hooper relates, who was said to have encountered a huge and savuge hear with only a species of large dagger-knife, and to have succeeded in de- spatcliing it. lie was fri~htfully injured in the contest in his breast : five huge scars, caused by the claws of his adversary, were visible; a terrible seam appeared on one side of his face, and he was, moreover, crippled for life. It is quite manifest, from Lieutenant Hoop- ers narrative, that the officers and men of the Plovcr were solely indebted for the hospitality and kind treatment they received at the hands of these people to their own exceeding civility and forbearance. The whole work is, in this respect, a lesson of the good that can be ob- taine(l by kindly intercourse with semi-savages. Mr. Ilooper is himself a most remarkable ex- ample of the combination of a tender, suscep- tiNe temperament, with daring courage and endurance. These peculiarities are nowhcre made more manifest than on the journey to East Cape, performed on snow-shoes, with dog-sledges for provisions. Lieu tenant [looper, accompanied by Messrs. Martin and W. 11. Moore, and some friendly natives for guides, started en the morning of February 8th a clear and beautiful day, with the temperature ranging from 20 deg. ccccxci. LIVING AGE. VOL. III. 12 to 23 deg. below zero (that is, 52 to 55 below freezing-point). The first night they reached tents where only a few fisla were set before them both frozen and boiled. A blinding snowdrift detained them the 9th, but, getting impatient, they set off, notwithstanding, on the 10th. With such discomfort, the fine, fiercely-drivcn snow blowing directly in their faces and nearly blinding them, they only got to Noo- ~vook, a miserable fishing-station, but where hospitality, according to the means of the poor people, was at once shown thena. here one of their dogs departed from theta, but they bou~ht another the next day for six ounces of tobacco. The 11th was still misty, with dazzling snow; and passing Tchaytcheen five small huts upon a splendid harbor they crossed to the opposite shore, and struck off to the westward of a ridge of hills, where they stopped to refresh tlaemselves: The day had been misty throughout, and while we thus tarried for a space, flue snow com- menced to fall thickly, and obscure our path increasing heavily as we continued on our way. All surrounding country was now completely hidden from view ; it was even difficult for my- self, who always brought up the rear, to distin- buish with clearness the form of our guide, Mooldooyah, who, notwithstanding, pursued his way unhesitatingly until the brief daylight be- gan to decrease, when he showed ominous signs of wavering and doubt, stopping at times to consult with his wife, and peering anxiously into the fast thickening gloom. At last, after de- scending a bill, and proceeding for a slaort time along a level surface, Mooldooyah came to a de- termined halt, and realized our fears of his hav- ing been misled by telhiub us that we were now on saltwater ice, probably only an inlet of the sea, but he did not know what or where in fact, that he had lost his way in the snowfall and darkness, and that we must wait until moonrise for light and guidance. This would not happen for four or five hours, so we sat ourselves down contentedly to wait for the advent of the queen of night to relieve us from our difficulties. We proposed, indeed, to show the direction of the land by compass ; but Mooldooyah rejected the offer as of little use, as even then he would be unable to find the road. Fortunately the fall of snow had brouglat a moderation of tlae cold, from which, therefore, we suffered little ; and so shi~htly did the condition of affairs depress our spirits, that several favorite songs were sung in chorus, and Martin and myself had a dance ma the snow, which deserves the name of Tuski Polka. It was, however, rather too laborious an amusement to be long continued, as we were heavily encumbered with our clothes, and the snow was three feet de p ; recourse was then had to smoking, and sure I am that the severest con- demners of this practice would withhold their strictures in our case, where its indulgence was so great a solace. The rising of the moon brought no alteration in their condition; the heavy snow-flakes fell 177 178 TilE TENTS OF THE TUSIjI. so thickly that they could barely tell, by a fuel nor means of obtaining light ; the snow, faint glimmering, in which direction she lay, I penetrating our outer garments, thawed upon and they were perforce induced to arran e the under clothing ; g~ untlets and caps, fre- their sledges for repose, following in that t~e quently dropped or mislaid, were full of snow movements of their Tuski friend Mooldooyah when recovered, and little round crystal balls and aided by the suggestions of his good wife fringing our inner caps and hair, greatly in- Vaneenga, who was ever watchful for their creased our discomfort. It may thus be imag- comforts not more anxious perhaps than her med how truly wretched w 9 our situation, that of our poor messmate particularly, aggra- husband, but more alive to thexr wants. vated as it was by illness and extra exposure. Mooldooyah and his wife were evidently in a Another day dawned, but brought no comfort state of terrible anxiety for our safety ; for to our now chilled souls as well as bodies. themselves they could have but little fear, inured Think, dear friends, of the utter desolation and as they were to the rigor of the climate, although dreariness of uninterrupted snow ; the hivelong even the natives occasionally suffer dreadful day, the weary night, snow, only snow, now and even fatal injuries by such accidents as the falling perpendicularly in broad and massive present. But the case was different as concerned flakes, now driven by the freezing blast in slant the strangers, whose power to resist the cold lug sheets which sought each nook and cranny they were unacquainted with. In this extrem- for a resting-place. In scenes of stirring excite ity, recourse was had to thy powers, dread meat there is much to blind one to possible con- Shamanism! and whatever people may think of tingencies, or at least they are congenial to the it, I freely confess, that although by no means a spirit, but this our miserable condition, desolate man of we k nerves, the manner of conducting and monotonous, called for all the quicksilver in the ceremony, notwithstanding the simplicity of ones veins. its details, struck me with a sensation of awe, and first opened my eyes to the real danger we A partial clearance towards noon stimulated were in. Quitting their sled,,e with slow and to new efforts, but the sledges broke down or measured step, the pair removed to a distance turned over. from us, where Yaneenga prostrated herself in the snow, her hands upraised above her buried The snowthll decreased slightly towards even- face ; the man turning first to the west, then to ing, and this trifling improvement favored an the north and south, omitting I know not why, illusion, whose dissipation was a cruel disap perhaps accidentally the fourth point, bowed pointment to us in our jaded and dispirited state. himself to each repeatedly; like Yaneengas, his We were, unconsciously, again approaching the hands and arms were upraised above his head sea, and suddenly hailed with transports of and he gave forth a succession of cries, which delight what we took to be a collection of ya still sound in my ears as I write of them long, rangas. Strange to say, the dogs manifested wailing shouts, loud, unearthly and despairing, equally joyous symptoms of recognition, and each exhausting the lungs in their emission, like needed little persuasionto make them quickeu a thunder-roll at first, and sinking by degrees to their speed towards the so welcome objects. a melancholy faintness. In all my life I never Alas, we might have spared our glad hurrabs heard any sounds to equal these for horrible the fancied yarangas were but the bare, abrupt impressiveness ; the death-wail of the Irish, the faces of the sea-cliffs, and, as we neared them, shout of the Red Indian, both of which I have seemed to grin derisively at our bitter delu heard in force, fall far short of Mooldooyahs sions. appel to his fates. They presently returned to So great a fall of snow had rendered travelling their sledge, where I joined them, and found exceedingly difficult, particularly with such Yaneenga weeping profusely, but quietly, while heavily-laden sledges ; the dogs could scarcely her husband sat in moody silence, and replied flounder along, and we were constantly obliged only briefly to my questions. Ere long I re- to liftone or the other runner from its deep fur gained my own sledge, and reclined against it row. These continued efforts were, in our ex- until morning, but sleep came tardily, and then hausted plight, painfully laborious; and the emily in broken, fitful portions, entire helplessness of Mr. Moore, who still suf- fered from his complaint,.added greatly to our Glimmering daylight brought no relief, the fatigue. snow still falling in enormous flakes, and they We stopped ~t last, from sheer inability to only made a little progress along shore, the proceed, in the mouth of a small inlet, bordered view being circumscribed to a few yards ex- by steep banks, and passed a night of misery tent. At night the wind rose and the tem- and suspense, far worse than any of the preced- perature fell considerably, so they were glad ing. The wind, sweeping remorselessly through to dig holes in the snow and to lay therein in the gorge, covetad us with snow-drift, and a crouching position. Thus a little, very little, sought to freeze the very marrow in our bones, miserable slumber was obtained, although the temperature having again fallen consider- two days weariness courted repose. Mr. ably. Moore was unfortunately at the same time That night is impr~ted indelibly upon my attacked with violent diarrheea. memory; never do I recall its tardily-passing moments without shuddering at the thought of This was a miserable night; darkness sur- what might have been our state next morning. rounded us without relief, for we had neither That we were not all frozen to death will ever be THE CUNNING THRUSH.NEW BOOK. a matter of wonder to me, for our under gar- ments had been completely saturated with melted snow, and our outer dresses were rigid as boards. The morning of the 14th presented little to justify more than a faint bope of relief. A heavy mist hung around, obscuring tbe scene as much as ever ; and although we journeyed on, it was in a circle, for we crossed our old track. Between nine and ten, however, the mist cleared off, and gxve us a considerable view, by which fortunate chance both Martin and Mooldooyah recognized a headland afar, and then knew that we were in Oon~-wy-sac Coy-ee-mak, or Oongwysac harbor, and consequently could reach the village of Oongwysac ere ni0ht. We directly took bear- ings, in case the weather should again thicken, but it cleared as the day wore on ; and using all the very moderate despatch we could exert, Oongwysac was reached after a laborious travel of ten hours. We arrived at the yarangas in a condition of complete exhaustion ; and here our first cry was for water. For water ! with snow in such profusion around! Even so, good friends. Thirst was one of our greatest suffer- ings, which eating snow only increased, from its inflammatory effect. Our poor dogs were almost famished. The okonch of the natives is invaluable as a protection against snow. It is made of the intestines of whales and other marine ani- mals, slit open and sewn very neatly together on a double edge. This species of shirt is, when good, quite impervious to water, and exceedingly light, weighing only a few ounces. It is manifest what a boon such a protection must be in snow, particularly heavy drift, the fine particles of which will penetrate into the smallest crevice, and so completely fill the hair of this dress that its weight becomes un- bearable. We have limited ourselves in this notice to the Tuski and their tents, as the more novel subject; but Mr. Hoopers work contains also a very interesting narrative of a boat expedi- tion along the Arctic shores of North Ameri- ca; of interviews with Esquimaux by no means of so pleasant a character as those with the Tuski; of an ascent up the Macken- zie and Peel Rivers, and of winterings at the forts of the Hudson Bay Company; which narrative is further enlivened by sundry tales of starvation in those desolate regions of a truly appalling character, comprehending as they do notices of an old Indian who devoured eleven or thirteen persons, among whom (charity begins at home) were his parents, one wife, and the children of two; and an- other rather worked-up story of an European who perished from a surfeit over the liver of his friend in distress. These painful episodes of Arctic wintering are further diversified by accounts of cowardly fights between the In- dians and the Esquimaux. Both narratives are illustrated by a map, in which Mr. Iloopor carries out Wrangehls land to Wol lastons a totally improbable view of the case nnd by several prettily-tinted litho- graphs, which give a good idea of the tents of the Tuski, of their interiors, and of the people themselves; as nlso by a very animated picture of the winter-quarters of the Plover in the same regions, and a characteristic view of Cape Bathurst, with Esquimaux, tents, and boats, and of the ice pressing down on that most remote and inhospitable shore. THE CUNNING Tsiuusn. There is much more intellect in birds than people suppose. An in- stance of that occurred the other day at a slate quarry, belonging to a friend from whom we have the narrative. A thrush, not aware of the expansive properties of gunpowder, thought proper to build her nest on the ridge of the quarry, in the very centre of which they were constantly blasting the rock. At first she was very much discomposed by the fragments flying in all directions, but still she would not quit her chosen locality. She soon observed that a bell rung whenever a train was about to be fired, and that, at the notice, the workmen retired to safe positions. In a few days, when she heard the bell, she quitted her exposed situation, and flew down to where the workmen sheltered themselves dropping close to their feet. There she would remain until the explosion had taken place, and then return to her nest. The workmen observed this narrated it to their employers, and it was also told to visitors who came to view the quarry. The visitors naturally expressed a wish to wit- ness so curious a specimen of intellect ; but, as the rock could not always be blasted when vis- itors came, the bell was rung instead, and for a few times answered the same purpose. The thrush flew down close to where they stood, but she perceived that she was trifled with, and it interfered with the process of incubation ; the consequence was that afterwards, when the bell was rung, she would peep over the ledge to as- certain if the workmen did retreat, and if they did not, she would remain where she was. Sir W. Jardine. The Old House by the River. By the Author of The Owl Creek Letters. American forest adventures with game or in search of it, some sketches of Red and Pale-face hunters, with a few tales of social life, form the substance of this book. The manner is a far-off. imitation of Washington Irving, without his humor, his polish, or his breadth. The writer of these papers wants the difficult art of giving. interest to minute circumstances, and obtrudes his own personal likes and dislikes too much. upon the reader. These deficiencies rather over- lay the interest and its better subjects;. but this being put aside, we doubt whether he~ is. equal to his higher themes such as the bear- hunt, the remorseful death of a hunter who had sought refuge in the woods from memories of the past, and the last hours of an old Indian chief whose recollections went back to the memory ot his tribes independence. Spectator. 179 TIIC HISTORY OF THE CHINESE INSURRECTION. Fr3m the Times, 25th Aug. THE HISTORY OF TIlE CHINESE INSUR REOTIONA~ WE have learnt from the last published ac- counts of the Chinese insurrection, that the rebels are masters of Nankin, and that the eyes of the victors are already straining north- wards in the direction of the chief imperial city. Our next intelligence from the Celestial Empire may proclaim the downfall of Pekin the final overthrow of the Mantchoo dynasty, and the complete triumph of the insurgent leaders. No moment, therefore, would seem more fitting than the present to convey to the reader some notion, however faint, of the rise and progress of the astounding movement which, within these few mouths, has come upon the civilized world with the suddenness and vehemence of a fierce convulsion of nature. We know that Nankin has been seized by the revolutionary armies of the Chinese Empire but of the successive steps by which this famous and luxurious city has been reached by the invading hosts we have yet to receive a detailed account. We have perused the singular documents issued by the heads of the rebel force, in which the language of our own evam~gelical schools is borrowed to grace the most palpable Pagan superstition; but of the methods by which the strange and unexpected alliance has been formed we continue still in the profoundest ignorance. No available information is sufficient, it is true, to dispel altogether the mists in which the great Chinese rebellion is for the time enveloped, and to enable us to comprehend exactly the objects and aims of the universal movement as well as the character and motives of the men in whose hands the direction of the whole under- takiug would seem to rest; but something at least by the aid of existing records may be done, during the present breathing time, to make our readers acquainted with the origin and advance of the singular drama, the fourth exciting act of which has been unexpectedly played out while they have been in utter ig- norance of the action of the preceding three. Before the curtain rises for the last tableau, we shall surely do well to refer to our books for a narrative of the scenes that went before. The outbreak of the revolution took place at a remarkable period of the history of the ~Chinese Empire. The war with England had brought the Chinese people face to face with external civilization as they had never met it before ; and the treaty which followed the success of British arms, by throwing open additional ports to commercial enterprise placed the natives still more largely and di- rectly under the influence of foreign example. ~ LInsurreetion en Chine; depuis son engine jusqa ~m la prise de Nankin. Par MM. Callery et Yvan. Paris, 1853. The present emperor, Ilien Foung, being then nineteen years of age, ascended the throne in 1850, when that treaty was already in force, and when it was at his option either to avail him- self of the undoubted advantages of the new relations that had been formed with Europeans or to attempt a retrograde policy in the teeth of the concessions that had been extorted at the cannons mouth from his predecessor and sire. The youth did not take lonu to decide upon his course of action. The reflecting and experienced counsellors of the empire, who advised extended relations with the new-coma- ers, a liberal policy abroad, and a progressive policy at home, were dismissed froa court with disgrace, while their successors were deliberately chosen from the most violent and declared enemies of the European nations. Scarcely was the decision of the young em- peror made public before open attempts were made by the reactionary party to destroy whatever beneficial influence had been exer- cised upon the Chinese character by contact with the stranger. Fortunately, as we all must think, sonic influences had prevailed ~during the short period of toleration and enlighten- ment, which were not altogether susceptible of eradication. China, as well as France and other western nations, has had for years her secret societies, which, established, in the first instance, with no graver and more menacing object than that which in all countries governs the proceedings of masonic and similar institutions, have long occupied themselves with designs for the sub- version of the Mantchoo dynasty. The victo- ries obtained by the Enulish enabled these conquerors without much loss of time to add a religious to the political element which already agitated the clubs. Missionaries are not slow to push an advantage ,and Protestant missionaries are by no means the least ener- getic of their kind. To the other secret soci- eties already set on foot in China when Ihien Foung ascended the throne was added, after the ratification of peace, that of time Chinese Union,~a Christian community founded by Gutzlaff, an enterprising missionary, born in Germany, of supposed Chinese extraction, and a useful civil officer of the British government. While Then Foung was still briefly meditating whether he would return to the old tory regime or give an impetus to the new and sen- sible ideas that had started up in China during the latter days of his deceased father, disciple after disciple of Confucius was exchanging the service of Buddha for the Anglo-Stxon Prdt- estaut faith, proclaimed by British mission- aries and promulgated far and wide by their first proselytes. Too much attention cannot be given to the fact which we have just stated, for it serves to throw instant light upon what has hitherto seemed the most obscure and inc~ 180 THE HISTORY OF THE CHINESE INSURRECTION. plicable portion of the Chinese revolts. We in Europe have been amazed and startled to find thousands of these rebellious pagans marching, as with one accord, under a banner upon which the name of Christ is inscribed, and circulating eagerly, as they proceed on their onward march, the sacred command- ments of the 01(1 Testament and the divine doctrines of the New. One moments reflec- tion, however, is sufficient to put away the wonder. Given secret societies intent upon the destruction of a political system, earnest mis- sionaries as eager to gain believers to their creed, and free intercourse between hoth, and the youn0est philosopher shall sum up in a moment the result. The result, in fact, has been precisely as we see. The Chinese haters of the Mintchoo race are cloaking their politi- cal passions under the garb of obedience to divine commandment, and the cloak sits awkwardly and jotesc~uely enough upon the backs of the strange wearers. It is impossible to peruse, as we have done, the various documents bearing upon this ex- traordinary outbreak, without being forcibly struck by the systematic and well-contrived plans that froni first to last have directed the revolutionary movement. Whoever may be answerable for the general disturbance, the head that devised and settled the scheme of operations evidently helon6s to no ordi- nary man. Every step has denoted skill, forethought, vigor, and intelligence. Even before a blow was struck or a revolutionary cry heard the people were led to expect great changes at this particular time, as the exact fulfilment of decrees bun since published by time Chinese prophets and the first alarms that reached the imperial ears were made to proceed from the quarter best calculated to in- spire fear and dread. If the reader will turn to the map of China, he will find that the prov- ince of Kouang-si is situated at the south- western extremity of the empire. Kouang-si is under the rule of a governor-general, and forms a portion of the viceroyalty of the two L(ouangs the second Konang being Konang- tong, which joins Konang-si on the east, and has for its capital the well known city of Canton. Kouaug-si is a country of mountains bristlin~ with bare crests, and shorn on their summits and declivities of every species of vegetation. But its scenery is, nevertheless, very picturesque. The inaccessible inoun- tains themselves seem shaped according to a wild caprice of the human imagination, in order to represent gigantic forms of every kind of animal ; and the rivers, which precipitate themselves into abysses, above which are thrown impossible bridges, appear, according to the description of travellers, to belong rather to a laud of genii than to an ordina- rily inhabited country. The soil, however, is as sterile as the scenery is romantic. Calti vation is scanty and the people are indigent. I3ut though poor, they have the nature of hardy mountaineers, and are sober, intrepid, capable of long endurance, and animated with a proud spirit of independence. After ages of occup ion the Tartars have failed to bring to submission the most remote mountainous dis- tricts of Konang-si. It was amon these dis- tant hills that the great conspiracy was hatched, and nothing could have shown the wis- dom of the conspirators more clearly than their choice of a starting place. The very misery of the inhabitants was an element of strength, and an army of adventurers could nowhere recruit itself so easily as among a population living on the verge of want. Moreover, the mountain country afforded the very best possible battlefields to those who had yet their way to make by stratagem, by surprises, and mainly by defensive operations a0ainst the more numerous and organized troops if such a term as the last may be applied at all to the Chinese army of the Celestial Emperor. But there remained a more cogent reason still why any grand and comprehensive attempt against the existing dynasty of China should take its origin in the natural fastuesses of Kouang-si. In the more distant of these mountains dwell the race of the Miao-tze, a community of whom the majority of our readers probably never heayd until the name appeared in the accounts that have reache4 us of the rebellion, but to whose adherence to the revolutionary cause in tIme first instance must certainly be attril~uted much of the suc- cess that has attended its progress. The Miao-tzes are the aborigines of a chain of mountains which take their rise in the north of Kouang-tong, and extend into the central provinces of the empire. They are a retiring race, and fix their abodes away from the haunts of men, their most numerous colonies never exceeding two thousand individuals. Their houses are built upon piles, like thuse of the Malays, and they shelter under their roof the domestic animals which they rear. They are husbaudmen and warriors, fearless, and capable of any amount of fatigue. The Tartars laave never conquered them. They have preserved the ancient national costume; have never shaved their heads; have always repelled the authority of the mandarins and refused to adopt customs imposed by the Mantehoos. Their independence is a recognized fact, and in the maps of the country their districts are left blank in order to show that they have not yet. been brought under sub- mission to the emperor. The Miao-tzes are the horror of the civilize& Chinese, who call them wolf-men. It is a.. firm belief in Pekin that they wear tails, and. that when a Miao-tze is born the sole of the childs foot is cauterized in order to hardemi it and to render the owner incapable of fati0ue~. 181 THE HISTORY OF THE CHINESE iNSURRECTION. To have planted the revolutionary standard away from these hardy mountaineers would have been to throw away an incalculable ad- vantage ready made to the insurgents hands. They did not throw it away. On the con- trary, they availed themselves to the full of the terror inspired by the very name of Miao- tze, proclaimed an alliance with the supposed savages, and induced the latter to take up arms for the recovery of lost rights. It was in August, 1850, that the Pekin journals first announced the breaking out of predatory war- fare in Kouang-si. During the earliest months of 1850 the rebels performed divers insignificant military movements until they approached the fron- tiers of Kouang-tong. Here they possessed themselves of one or two important towns and slew three high-class mandarins. The vice- roy of the two Kouangs, a functionary of the name of Siu, and whose prudence amounted to downright cowardice, as the enemy ap- proached expressed a pious desire to with- draw from his viceroyalty in order to pros- trate himself before the tomb of the defunct emperor. But he was ordered to keep to his post. In his extremity he despatched troops against the rebels, but the troops were beaten and utterly destroyed. In fact, destruction was inevitable whenever they took the field. The tactics were invariably of one description. The insurgents, as often as the imperial troops advanced, pretended to take flight, and, as often as the rebels pretended to take flight, the imperial troops pursued until they were caught in ambuscade, and there pitilessly massacred. Experience went for nothing. The fi~int was made a hundred times, and a hundred times wholesale slaughter followed. Siu, stunned by the unaccountable success of the insurgents, hurried off to Pekin to sound the note of alarm. While he was rushing to the capital new victories were obtained by the guerillas. These continued to invite the imperial soldiers to destruction, and the soldiers were too good disciplinarians to diso- hey. The rebels now entered Kouang-tong. A new mandarin was sent from Pekin to reduce the audacious insurgents no less a personage than the illustrious Lin, whose glory it had formerly been to give occasion to the war with the English by his wanton de- struction of their 20,000 chests of opium. Lin addressed himself forthwith to the rebel chiefs, and they answered the great manda- rin in a proclamation, which constituted their first political act. The manifesto would have done credit to the most enlightened rebels of any Christian country; it was plain and to the point. The Mantehoos, said the document, Who for two centuries have hereditarily occu- pied the throne of China, were originally a small .eolony of foreigners. With the help of an army accustomed to warfare they made themselves masters of our treasures, of our lands, and of the government of our country a circumstance which proclaims emphatically enough that, in order to usurp an empire, it is only necessary to be sufficiently strong for the purpose. There is really no sensible difference whatever between us who lay under contribution the villages that we seize, and the functionaries who, seat from Pekin, forestall the impost. That which is fair to take is fair to hold. Why do you, then, with- out any show of reason, send troops against us? Your proceedings seem most unjust. What have the Mantehoos, who are strangers, the right to levy taxes from eighteen provinces, and to appoint officers to oppress the people, and are we Chinese to be prevented from taking any money whatever? Universal sovereignty belongs to no individual to the exclusion of everybody else, and no one has ever yet heard of a dynasty boasting an issue of a hundred generations of emperors. The right of governing is possession. We doubt very much whether any subse- quent proclamation of the rebel force, how- ever much it may be seasoned with the pious formulas borrowed from the missionaries, re- veals a clearer notion of the intentions of the insurgents and of the motives by which they are urged to action than the above singularly logical and explicit declaration. We shall be grateful to hail the advent of a new broth- erhood of Christians among the hundreds of millions that people the Celestial Empire. Should Christianity, in its benignant and purer forms, arise from the massacres of the Chinese revolution, it will not be the first time in the history of civilization that the highest pur- poses of Providence have been wrou0ht out of the basest and most selfish schemes and in- ventions of man. But, let us not attempt to take away from the simplicity of the pellucid document we have just read by attributing its composition to a mind fresh from inspiration or very deeply impressed with the sublime doctrines of revealed religion. That which is fair to take is fair to hold. The right of overning is possession. These are sen- sible enough doctrines in their way, and might on occasion even sit naturally on the lips of English bishops; but they form no part of the proclamation of a pagan race, roused to rebellion by religious passion and suddenly awakened to the truth of Christianity. The proclamation came out at the close of 1850, and constituted the last offensive act of the insurgents for that year. The year 1851 opened with a declaration of war to the death. In China the scabbard is thrown aside forever when once the scissors are drawn forth. In other words, it is suffi- cient for a Chinaman to divest himself of his caudal appendage in order to commit the very highest form of high treason. When the Tartars became masters of China, they made it imperative upon the beaten people to shave 182 THE HISTORY OF THE ChINESE INSURRECTION. 183 the head and to wear a tail. In 1851, when the troops whom they attack, and the the rebels announced their resolution to re- officials who dispute their progress. The store the ancient dynasty of Ming, they made lives and worldly goods of the people they it incumbent upon their adherents to cut off approach receive unwonted respect; and the the hated extremity, and to exchange the foreigner himself, who has hitherto been chang and Tartar tunic for the open robe honored with nothing but abuse from con- worn by their ancestors before the Mantchoo stituted authority, is safe from insult when invasion. It was a last and desperate ap- he meets the insurgents. peal to the patriotism of the people, and it We have now to deal with an important required almost superhuman courage to re- incident in the rebellion ~vhich requires more spond to it. But the courage was there. light than any we yet possess to make it alto- Hundreds of tails strewed the earth, and the gether free from doubt, and to allow us to re- alarm and horror at Pekin were intense. ceive it implicitly as an integral portion of our Li-sing-iuen, a new imperial commis- singular history. About this time, say MM. sioner, was forthwith despatched to Kouang- Callery and Yvan (the authors of the volume si in the place of poor Lin, who did not hold which forms the subject of this notice) that up his head after the appearance of the insur- is to say, towards the middle of 1851 there gent proclamation, and died shortly after its appeared upon the stage a competitor for the publication, worn out, it is said, by the weight imperial throne put forth by the rebel troops. and responsibility of office. Warfare went Supreme honors were paid to a Chinese by the on, but the insurgents acted with discretion, revolutionary party, who committed the hem- not moving or attempting an expedition ex- ous and unpardonable offence of decking their cept when certain of victory. At this early hero in the imperial canary-colored robe. Con- period of the contest, the moderation and trary to Tartar usages (proceed our historians) self-denial which have so singularly charac- they published the portrait of their sovereign, terized the acts of the insurgents, and which and circulated it by thousands throughout the argue so munch for the admirable discipline Chinese provinces. A copy of this portrait is maintained by their chiefs, were already ex- placed at the beginning of L1nsurrection en hibited in striking contrast to the oppressive Chine, and MM. Gallery and Yvan congratu- proceedings of the imperial forces. One in- late themselves upon their good fortune in stance will speak for many. In March, 1851, being able to offer to the European public a the small town of Lo-Ngan was taken by the faithful representation of the head-dress and rebels after a sharp resistance. The victors restored costume of the ancient tinies of Ming. laid the city under contribution, and, having. According to these writers, pretender Tien- seized the contractor of the pawning establish- te had been purposely kept in the background muent, fixed his ransom at 1,000 taels (about during a whole twelvemonth, his partisans 320/.). The merchant paid his price, and having .contented themselves with originating was set at liberty. The following day the a report that a descendant of Ming was acta- imperial troops, having driven the rebels out, ally in existence. At this period of the move- re~ntered the town, and came upon the in- ment, however, they publicly proclaimed the habitants for a fresh contribution. The luck- fact, although the sublime personage himself less contractor ~vas laid hold of again, and could not even yet be presented freely to the this time was forced to pay a ransom of populace. - It was essential that the new em- 3,000 tuels. Disgusted with his treatment, peror should continue in his mysterious re- and enraged at the conduct of those from tirement and show himself only at rare inter- whioni he had a right to expect better things, vals to his devoted adherents. Throughout the contractor, a popular man in the town, the narative Tien-te occasionally appears, and harangued the people in the public places: we never look upon the sacred representative the people became excited by the words, and of majesty but to admire with awe. He is de- swore, one and all, that from henceforward scribed as possessing a rare political sagacity, there should he an end to the Tartar domuin- an incontestable superiority of mind, and, ion. Then and there the populace cut off above all, that active and energetic spirit so their tails and threw away the cliang. They peculiar to men reared in the shade of secret next placed themselves in communication associations. When Tien-te, on one occasion, with the rebels, for whom they opened the receives envoys from the Governor of Kouang- gates of Lo-Ngan during the night; and of si, his language is dignified, his air serene, all the imperial troops not one escaped to his demeanor affable and kind. The account tell the tale. We cannot be surprised to of this interview was published officially, we learn that, at every step, the people made are told, by the Chinese government, and a common cause with armed men, whose de- translation of the procls-verbal is given under meanor has studiously been that of friendly the hands of MM. Callery and Yvan. In one deliverers, avoiding all wnnecessary persecu- chapter of the history we learn that the in- tion. The Celestials are indiscriminate in surgent provinces circulate money stamped their slaughter. The rebels xvar only against with the namne of the pretender, an act which TIlE hiSTORY OF THE ChiNESE INSURRECTION. renders engaged in it liable to the punish- meat of death. In another we are informed that on a certain day of a certain month Tien- te and his court established themselves in the city of Hiuggan, north of Konang-si, and that from this place the sagacious chief, still maintaining his lofty reserve, directed the different movements of his army, while he Limself carefully avoided taking any personal part in the actions. So closely is the cause of the insur~ents bound up with the safety of Tien-te, and so impressed is that distinguished persona~e with the fact, that we are informed he never exposes himself to danger. After every engagement, the Kings, his future vas- sals, despatch their officers to him, and from them the descendant and representative of the Minus receives a faithful account of the momentous events that have taken place. The account given of iiente is so detailed that it is difficult to believe it an invention of the writers, unless, indeed, we are to suppose the rest of the volume a fable; and a~ainst this conclusion the book itself furnishes satis- fi~ctory internal evidence, even if the charac- ters of the authors themselves were not suf- ficiently respectable to protect them from such a charge. Dr. Yvan acted formerly as physi- cian to the French Embassy in China, and M. Callery, the author of a Chinese dictionary and of other Chinese works, was interpreter to the embassy at the same time, having previously lived in China as a missionary. Both are well known and respected in France. It is n(it easy to account such men capable of inventing this episode of Tien-te, or likely to be alto~ether misled upon the subject; but since perusing their work, we have been star- tled to find it deliberately stated, and upon good authority, in the North China Herald of May 28th last, that the existence of any such person or title as Tien-te was distinctly ignored by the Northern Prince, the highest chief seen, who said it was a phrase of out- side people; and nothing was heard of the reestablishment of the Ming dynasty. In our own impression of Au~ust 9th we pub- lished a description of Sir G. Bonhams mis- sion to Nankin, forwarded to us from the spot by an eye-witness, and in that report the writer, who had come in contact with the rebels, distinctly states, that it was said for some time that a descendant of the Ming dynasty (the last Chinese one) was at the head of the movement; but, on our asking them if this were so, they said not, and seemed indifferent to the influence which they would lose by the denial, for the idea was not without its weight among the Chinese. With these two statements before us, we are l)ound to hesitate befom~ accepting the inter- esting history of Tien-te as authentic, or re- garding him as the keystone of the mighty movement that has all but wrested dominion from the enfeebled hands of its present posses- sors. One solution of the contradictory ac- counts remains, and it may help the readers judgment in the matter, as it has certainly influenced our own. We have seen above that Tien-te is de- scribed as receiving at Iling-gan, in solemn state, from the Kings his future vassals, whatever accounts they have to render of the pro0ress of the revolution and of their own successes in the field. These Kings consti- tute a very important part of the revolution- ary dramnatis persona. Whether Tien-te be or be not the head of the movement, it is now apparent that, should the revolution prove triumphant, China will in all probability be, like North America, cut up into States, and, unlike North America, be divided among the successful generals of the revolution whether in federal union or not has yet to be seen. The generals or Kings upon whom the im- mediate conduct of the ~var has devolved, and who are destined to share in the spoil in the event of its being won are named in MM. Callery and Yvaus volume, and their various characters given. They are five in number. The first is already familiar to the readers of the intelligence brought by the two last mails, and would appear, from all accounts, to be at least the visible head of the revolutionary forces, lie calls himself Ilonn,,-sieon-tsiuen, but he is also styled Tai-ping-wang, or the Great King Pacificator. lie is described as a tall, sunburnt man, of an eager and reso- lute aspect. He is about forty years of age, and his hair and beard are already gray. lIe is said to he eminently courageous. Although his accent betrays a provincial origin, nobody is aware of his real name, and the district in which he was born is unknown. The reader of the last most interesting despatches from the seat of war cannot have forgotten the lofty and blasphemous pretensions put forth by this Great Pacificator, whose unbounded ambition is revealed in his daring assumption of divimiity, and whose self-indulgence is suf- ficiently indicated in the nature of the suite by which he is attended, and in the terrible decrees he has issued auainst all who dare even to glance at the inhabitants of his harem. It is in the name of Tai-ping-wang that the war is now carried on. lie is the Celestial King, our Royal Master. lie is some- thing more. Lie is the younger brother of Jesus, and in l8~7 was taken up to Heaven, where he was fustrueted by his heavenly Father from whom he received books and doctrines in all celestial matters. His celestial mother and the heavenly sister his wife are described in the published pamphlets of the revolutionary army, and the work com- mitted by God to his hands is given in detail. 184 TIlE hISTORY OF THE CHINESE INSURRECTION. Sober Christians will do well to hush their notes of triumph in the presence of the auda- cious Tai-ping-wan0. Hian~-tsiou-tsing, or Toung-wang, which signifies King of the East, is about thirty- five years of age; he is small, slender, and marked with the small-pox, his upper lip brist- ling with a thinly sprinkled mustache. lIe speaks with extreme fluency, is easily accessi- ble, but the place of his birth is equally amyste- rv to his followers. All that is known of him is that he is married to the elder sister of the Great Kin Pacificator. Sico-teha-kouci, or Si-wang, the King of the West, is the Achilles of this constella- tion of royalty. In every en~agement he exposes himself fearlessly, fighting always in front and directing the troops with a precision denoting some military attainment. He is a graceful figure, and his countenance beams with intelligence; his complexion has a strong yellow tinge, and his lengthened face has nothing of the Mongol type except the spread of the nostrils and the slant of the eyes. lie has no mustaches. The King of the West, one of the most hi~hly-gifted of these brothers in arias, is only thirty years of age, and, ne- cording to report, has also married a sister of the Great Kin0 Pacificator. Foung-hien-san, or Nan-wang, lung of the South, is a scholar of the province of Canton. lie has passed public examinations and graduated. lie is thirty-two years old, and a favorite of his fellow-students, who ascribe to him superior talents. lie, too, wears no mustache, and his features have still a juvenile look. In the midst of his ac- tive soldiers life he finds time for retirement and for the pursuit of his literary studies. Wci-tching, or Pc-wang, the King of the North, is the Ajax of the insurrectionary array. He is exceedingly tall, has the dingy hue of a Malay, and his dark mustache is hardly to be distinguished from his deep brown skin, lie is only twenty-five years old, and is a native of Konang-si. His physi- cal power and singular intrepidity have gained for him a prominent position in the insurrec- tion. It was with this northern prince that Mr. Interpreter Meadows to whom the English public are indebted for the singular records that have been already communicated in these columns had a striking interview at Nankin on the 27th of April last. From the conversation that took place on that occa- 8i0fl it is evident that Pe-wang has been with the missionaries, but his views, like those of the rest of his associates, are distorted and confused. He was eager to learn from his visitor if the English knew the Ten Com- mandments, and when Mr. Meadows immedi- ately repeated the first, he Md his hands on the interpreters shoulders in a friendly man- ner, and exclaimed, The same as ourselves, the same as ourselves ! He recurred again and again, ~vrites Mr. Meadows, with an appearance of much gratitude, to the circum- stance that he and his companions in arms had enjoyed the special aid and protection of God, without which they could never have been able to do what they had done against superior numbers and resources; and, allud- ing to our declaration of neutrality and non- resistance to the Mantehoos, said, with a quiet air of thorough conviction, It would be wrong for you to help them; and, what is more, it would be of no use. Our heavenly Father helps us, and no one can fight with him. Whatever satisfhction we derive from all this information becomes sensibly di- minished when we hear, also from Mr. Mead- ows, that the Northern King is of the fixed opinion that Tai-ping-xvang is The True Lord, and that the True Lord is Lord of the Whole World, as well as of China; that he is The Second Son of God, and all people in the whole world must obey and follow him. Under these five kings the entire insurgent forces act in concert, and by them the war has been carried on from its breaking out until the present moment. Now, it is just possible that either Tien-te is wholly a fiction, invented by the kings for the sake of mystery, and for the influence which always attaches to a hidden power, and now discarded as having served its purpose, or that he is really a true Ming, and is dead, or no longer re- quired to help the ambition of the subordinate leaders. Upon either supposition we may account for the discrepancy between the cii- cumnstantial narrative of the French authori- ties and the news brought home by the last despatches; and one of the two conjectures will no doubt be found to contain some expla- nation of the difficulty. The account briefly given of the matter by Mr. Meado~vs, in a letter to Consul Alcock, dated the 26th of March, 1853, would hardly seem to be based upon correct information. The person, says Mr. Meadows, of whom we heard as claiming-the imperial throne under the title of Tien-te, died some time back. his surname was Choo, that of the Mings, the last Chinese dynasty, of whom he declared himself a de- scendant. Ilis son, a youth of two or three and twenty, is now the acknowledged head of the insurrectionary movement, claiming the throne under the title of Tai-ping. Tien-te was certainly not old enough in fssi to leave a son of twenty-three two years afterwards, and we find it nowhere hinted that the off- spring of the I~retender is the redoubtable and celestial King Pacificator himself. Let it suffice to say that Tien-te, in one form or an- other, has unquestiomiably existed as a power. If he be now given up, it is because there is some good political ground for parting with 185 THE HISTORY OF THE CHINESE INSURRECTION. his company; and it is certain that so long as he lasted, his name, as the Frenchmert have it, was the expression of progress. By the middle of May, 1851, the revolution had assumed the shape of civil war. The risin~ was becoming general. Wherever the insurgents appeared, hundreds flocked to their standard by common consent, and the armed invaders seemed not more eager to conquer than th~ inhabitants of the towns they ap- proached were desirous to throw off the foreign Mantchoo yoke. Agitation at Pekin was manifest, and even the Chinese merchants at Canton shook their doomed tails in despair. These compared the insurrection of Kouang- si to the irruption of the Yellow Sea, and a figure of speech denoting more terrible and overwhelming calamity the Chinese imagina- tion has no power to utter. his Celestial Majesty took the usual step in such extremi- ties. lie despatched new commissioners to the seat of war. This time the prune minis- ter, Sai-chang-ha, was sent to Kouei-lin, the capital of Kouang-si, and, that he mi~ht have no excuse for failure, two experienced Mant- choos were ordered to bear him company. Canton was laid under contribution. An ha- mense sum passed from peaceful mercantile pockets into the purses of the mandarins, the city itself was placed in a stiite of defence, and troops were levied there for the purpose of disputing the advance of the insurgents. It was at this period that the first report of the introduction of a religious element into the political movement took all men by sur- prise. Up to this moment everybody had been ~iven to understand that a descendant of Ming, in the name and on behalf of his fellow-countrymen, had taken up arias against the Mantchoo usurpers, with the full deter- mination of carrying on a war of utter exter- inination; l~ut now it was for the first time loudly proclaimed that the hero labored no less in the interests of God than in those of sufferin~ humanity. From the language employed, it was clear that Christian mis- sionarics had already taken part in the broil; but whether French or English, Roman Catholic or Protestant, it was not so easy to determine. One astounding fact, at least, could not be denied the progress of the revolutionary army was marked by the over- throw of pagodas and the destruction of idols. This in itself was a feature too striking and unexpected not to create a profound im- pression on every mind. A vast stride had been made when tails ~vere flun~ to the winds, and rebellious hair sprouted forth at its own good pleasure. But what was the clipping of mortal tails to the breaking up of divine emblems? If there ~ad been a possibility of reconciliation before, there could be no hope of it now. We have seen in the most recent accounts from China that rebel hatred has not satisfied itself with even the wholesale anni- hilation of Tartar gods. This negative act has been succeeded by a plain affirmative declara- tion. The insurgents have not only ceased to be Buddhists, but they have become avowed believers in Christ. The belief is sadly mixed up with blasphemy and sacrilegious in- vention, but, palpable as the mixture is, it would be idle to blind ourselves to the fact that, should the rebels suffer eventual defeat, upon the heads of Christians of every kind will inevitably fall no small portion of celestial anger. Commerce has much to expect from the successful issue of the rebellion; but Christianity in China has everything now to dread from the victory of the imperial forces. When missionaries first stirred in the quar- rel, as they undoubtedly have, they compro- mised the religion they profess, and future toleration of their creed depends entirely upon the result of the present conflict. So - far is the western world deeply interested in the gigantic quarrel. If the patriots prove victorious, Christianity will, in all human probability, flourish in China, and, in course of time, must be divested of the too palpable adulterations of paganism; if they are beaten, a heavier hand will, for years to caine, rest upon missionaries and their faith than any they have hitherto felt. Before the year 1851 closed, singular tri- umphs had rewarded the exertions of the rebels. No doubt could be entertained of the fact, for even the Pekin Moniteur had ceased to register the number of the imperial victo- ries. So much, indeed, had been won by the insurgent chiefs that they could now affrd to publish charts, in which were marked the provinces they occupied and the cities they had seized. On the 29th of September one of the bloodiest encounters of the war took place in the district of Yun~,-gan. The insurgents remained masters of the field, and followed up their advantage by adding three important towns to their already numerous acquisitions. The magistrates of these towns were suam- moned to acknowledge the soverei0nty of Tien-te, and all who refused were either cruelly mutilated or killed on the spot. Many suff~red death rather than betray their alle- giance ; but the inhabitants themselves, according to the principle laid down by the rebel chiefs, were uninjured both in property and person. Sea, the Viceroy of the Two Kouangs, of whose admirable prudence men- tion has already been made, disgusted with the successes of the rebels, once more craved leave to withdraw to Canton, and invented a lie in order to accomplish his object. But he was not allowed to budge Other mandarins, and among them SaiJ~ihang-ha, the prime minister, were degraded some for having been suddenly taken ill upon the eve of an engagement, others for downri0ht disobedi 186 187 TIlE hISTORY OF TIlE CHINESE iNSURRECTION. ence. The Celestial Emperor, it should be known, seldom punishes his generals for anything but disobedience. lie bids them win a battle they dont, and for that crimi- nal act of non-compliance with orders they lose their buttons. The pro~ress of the insurgent army would seem to have been marked by one invariable course of procedure. They have attacked and made themselves masters of many cities and towns, but have abandoned their posses