LITTELLS LIVING AGE No, 528. 1 JULY, 1854. ST. CLOUD. FROM GEMS OF MOORE. To the pleasure-loving inhabitants of Paris, St. Cloud offers one of those delightful places of resort which, in the neighborhood of a great city, seems to transport the beholder hundreds of miles from the capital, and by rendering cheap and innocent pleasures easy of access, does more to ameliorate the condition of the lower orders than can well be imagined. From the noise and dust of manufactories, from the glare and oppres- sive atmosphere of the crowded work-room; and, also, hut too often, from the deficiences and discomforts of an ill-regulated house to the toiling artisan and ever-bending seamstress, how enchanting the transition to the shades and ver- dure of St. Cloud, whose beautiful Lauterne,~ modelled from the tower of Demosthenes at Atheas, finely placed on a lofty eminence, com- mands a noble prospect of the surrounding country; hete, seated beneath the magnificent old trees that wave over them with a thousand gentle influences, the smiling landscape at their feet, whose shining river, spanned by its superb bridges, reflects the palaces on its banks, and the gayly-dressed groups whose many-colored garments are seen amongst the groves, the spark- ling fountains, and shadowy walks in all direc- tions, life insensibly assumes a more cheering as- pect: its pains and penalties are either forgotten or borne more easily; and indulging in the harm- less luxury of some of those fantastic bevera ges for which the French are famous, or gayly tripping on the greensward to the enlivening sound of some popular air, a sense of pleasure and joy animates the whole being, and, pleasing and pleased, diffuses itself around in all those little graces and amenities which have made French politeness proverbial throughout the world. Gayly sounds the castanet, Beating time to bounding feet, When, after daylights golden set, Maid and youths by moonlight meet. Oh, then, how sweet to move Through all that maze of mirth, Led bylight from eyes we love Beyond all eyes on earth. Then, the joyous banquet spread O~i the cool and fra~rant ground, With heavens bright sparklers overhead, And still brighter sparkling round. Oh, then, how sweet to say Into some l6ved ones car, Thoughts reserved through many a day To be thus whisperd here. When the dance and feast are done, Arm in arm as home we stray, How sweet to see the dawning sun Oer her cheeks warm blushes play! Then, too, the farewell kiss The words, whose parting tone Lingers still hi dreams of bliss, That haunt young hearts alone. A lovely day In the lap of May Sat singing of Summer; not far away; And the words of her song Were caught by a throng Of bursting buds that hasted along. She told of Summer with mild blue eyes And hair like the gold of sunset skies, And floating robe of a thousand dies; Of her cheeks soft hue Where the blush shows through. And her forehead bathed in morning dew, Of her happy song so sweet and mild, Of her breath, as pure as the breath of a child, Over her lips all undefiled Of her languishing air at the evening hour, When shadows creep through grove and bower, An~dews weigh down the closing flower: Of her joyous shout in the early moi-n, Over the hills and woodlands borne, Answered by Echos dulcet horn: Of her slumbers deep in the hushed noontide, Laid in the shadows cool and wide, That far in the heart of the forest hide Of her active hands that strive to bring To fruition the work of her sister Spring Tilljust as her songs of completeness ring With stfilwart stride oer the laden fields Comes Autumn: a warrior blade he wields; Affrighted, sweet Summer her treasure yields. Then flushes her cheek--and her pulse grows slow, And into her eyes comes a look -of woe As she gathers her floating robes to. go: And with some fair flowers still in her hand, Companioned oer head by a songster band, She passes on to a southern land. Twas thus a day In the lap of May Sat singing of Summer not far away. And the words of her song Were caught by a throng Of bursting buds that hasted along. BALLAD OF LADY ALICE. A TRUE KNIGHT. BALLAD OF LADY ALICE. (FROM DAY AND fflGH~ BONG DY W. ALLINOHAM.] Now what doth Lady Alice so late on the turret stair, Without a lamp to light her, but the diamond in her hair: When every arching passage overflows with shal- low gloom, And dreams float through the castle, into every silent room l She trembles at her footsteps, although they fall so light; Through the turret loopholes she sees the wild midni~,ht; Broken vapors streaming across the stormy sky Down the empty corridors the blast doth moan and cry. She steals along a gallery; she pauses by a door; And fast her tears are dropping down upon the oaken floor And thrice she seems returningbut thrice she turns again Now heavy lies the cloud of sleep on that old fathers brain! Oh, well it were that never shouldst thou waken from thy sleep! For wherefore should they waken, who waken but to weep l No more, no more beside thy bed doth Pease a vigil keep, But Woe,a lion that awaits thy rousing for its leap. An afternoon of April, no sun appears on high, But a moist and yellow lustre fills the deepness of the sky: And through the castle-gateway, left empty and forlorn, Along the leafless avenue an honord bier is borne. They stop. The long line closes up like some gigantic worm: A shape is standing in the path, a wan and ghost- like form, Which gazes fixedly; nor moves, nor utters any sound; Then, like a statue built of snow, sinks down upon the ground. And though her clothes are ragged, and though her feet are hare, And though all wild and tangled falls her heavy silk-brown hair; Though from her eyes the brightness, from her cheeks the bloom is fled, They known their Lady Alice, the darling of the dead. With silence, in her own old room the fainting form they lay, Where all things stand unalterd since the night she fled away: But whohut who shall bring to life her father from the clay l But who shall give her back again her heart of a former day l A TRUE KNIGHT. TITO1ITGII he lived and died among us, Yet his name may be enrolled With the knights whose deeds of daring Ancient chronicles have told. Still a stripling, he encountered Poverty, and struggled long, Gathering force from every effort, Till he knew his arm was strong. Then his heart and life he offered To his radiant mistress, Truth: Never thought, or dream, or faltering, Marred the promise of his youth. And he rode forth to defend her, And her peerless worth proclaim; Challenging each recreant doubter Who aspersed her spotless name. First upon his path stood Ignorance, Hideous in his brutal might, Hard the blows and long the battle Ere the monster took to flight. Then, with light and fearless spirit, Prejudice he dared to brave, Hunting baek the lying craven To her black sulphureous cave. Followed by his servile minions, That old Giant Custom rose, Yet he too at last was conquered By the good Knights weighty blows. Then he turned, and flushed with victory, Struck upon the brazen shield Cf the worlds great king, Opinion, And defied him to the field. Once again he ~ose a conqueror, And though wounded in the fight, With a dying smile of triumph Saw that Truth had gained her right. On his failing ear re-echoing Came the shouting round her throne; Little cared he that no future With her name would link his own. Spent with many a hard-fought battle, Slowly ebbed his life away, And the crowd that flocked to greet her Trampled on him where he lay. Gathering all his strength, he saw her Crowned, and reigning in her pride: Looked his last upon her beauty, Raised his eyes to God, and died. Household Words. 2 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. From Chamberss Repository. CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. SCAJiCELY had the roar of the cannon ceased after the great day of Leipsic, or the shouts of victory died away which had every- where throughout Germany greeted the tri- umphal procession of the great hero of the Thirty Years War, when there reached Stockholm, borne as it were on the wings of the wind, the news of another glorious victory at Liitzcn, filling up the measure of the nation- al joy and exultation. The people shouted on, regardless of certain muffled sounds of woe which kept slowly approaching ever nearer and nearer, till at length every voice was still, and every ear could hear that the great Gus- tavus Adolphusthe Lion of the Norththe mightiest of all the champions of the Protes- tant causethe victor of~many a hard-fought field, had met at Liitzen a heros death. So sudden was the revulsion, so deep the general depression, that it seemed for a time as if Sweden herself was about to pass away with her great monarch. She was hurled at once from the very summit of her greatness. In the person of Gustavus she had been the lead- er of a great work, which was still far from its completion. The Protestants, never fismous for unanimity, and displaying in this war fully the usual amount of petty jealousy and mistrust, had been kept together by him who could both think and do, who united strength of will and strength of arm; and wherever they might now turn for a leader, it could not be to Sweden, who must henceforth, as the nation theu feared, be of small account in the Prot- estant League, the total rupture of which seemed not improbable. The war had now lasted for twenty-three years; the resources of Sweden were misera- bly exhausted; in many parts of the kingdom loud discontents prevailed, rendering new ex- actions dangerous; the heir to the throne was a child, a girl of six years; the widowed queen, Maria Eleonora of Brandenburg, was a beauty with a weak mind; on one side Denmark, spurred by former jealousies, looked threat- eningly on: the king of Poland, on the other, like another Sigismund, was on the eve of re- viving the slumbering claim to the ancient inheritance of his house; while in Sweden itself a considerable party clamored for a re- public. In this crisis, the promptitude and energy of the men to whom Gus vus had confided the government on his departure the famous Chancellor Oxenstiern being the chiefsaved the kingdom. They hastened to acknowledge and do homage to his daughter, and to proclaim her everywhere as queen. Christina, queen of S~den, so celebrated for her talents and eccentricities, was born at Stockholm on the 18th of December, 1626. Two children had already been carried to the grave, and when the hopes of the parents were a third time revived, they were flattered and fretted with all manner of prognostications. The child was to be a princethat was cer- tain, the astrologers declared, by every sign, including mysterious dreams that had visited the parents. his birth, ho ever, was to be fatal either to the king, the queen, or himself; but if he outlived the first twenty-four hours, he would rise to great celebrity: for at the birth, as at that of Gustavus, appeared the rare combination of the Sun, Venus, Mercury, and Mars. When the moment arrived, and the child was ushered into the world, its head covered with hair as with a helniet, and having a strong and harsh voice, the general hope was thought fulfilled, and the news flew even to Gus vus that a prince was born. When his sister, trembling to undeceive him, ap- proached with the infant, he mildly said: I am content, dear sister, and pray God may preserve her to me: ordered Te Deusn to be sung, and all the usual rejoicings as for a prince, and also smilingly remarked: She will be clever, for she has tricked us all. Thus was every prophecy falsified. According to Christinas own account, her life and health in her infancy were exposed to continual danger by wicked attempts as- cribed to the agency of the king of Poland such as a large beam falling close to her cradle, intended to crush the sniall occupant; but for verification of all these injuries she had noth- ing to show but a rather high shoulder, which she contrived to conceal by skilful dress and gait. These attempts, of which she could know nothing, and which would have frightened no one less than herselg are chiefly the usual stories of idle gossipping attendants. Constant war demanded the presence of Gustavus, but during the short intervals spent at home, he showed a tender interest in his daughter. On her recovery from an apparently hopeless illness at the age of two, he ordered public thanksgivings in all the churches. When, in 1630, he departed, never to return, he arrang- ed, as if prophetically, all his affairs, seemed sunk in thought, and took so tender a leave of his daughter, that she who scarcely ever shed tears, is said to have wept for three days; while, on the contrary, the news of his death affected her littlenatural enough, and show- ing the usual feeling of children towards the present and the absent. Two letters of Chris- tina have been preserved, written to her absent father, one of which runs thus: Most gra- cious and well-beloved father, because I have not the happiness of being with your majesty, I send you my humble counterfeit. I beg your majesty will with it think of me, and soon come again to me: send me, meanwhile, something pretty. I will always be pious, and diligently 3 4 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. learn to pray. Praise God, Jam healthy. God a heart-shaped medal. Although her husband give us always good tidings of your niajesty, had, with good reason, shown no confidence and I will always remain your majestys obe- in her judgment, he had loved her with an dient daughter, CHRISTINA. The other is extreme tenderness. The melancholy uni- nearly in the same words, both showing that formity of this life in nowise either dulled or Gustavus had made religion an important ele- chilled the huoyant mind of Christina, who ment in his daughters education. Of the says herself; that her impatience of it caused brilliant deeds which shed a halo over her in- her to spend much of her time in study which fant days, Christina says exultingly: I was she might otherwise have flittered away. horn among palms and laurels; I slept under From her eighth to her tenth year she studied cover of their shadows; my first slumber was six hours in the morning and six in the eve- nourished by trophies; victory and fortune ning, excepting on Saturday and Sunday seemed to sport with me. By the fatal vic- an amount of application neither natural nor tory of Liitzen, the palm and the laurel were wholesome, and greatly to be attributed to its exchanged for a darker shadow; the child- being her recreation. Like all weak people, queen must sleep under the cypress, and wake the queen-mother had strong prejudices, and to the weight of a diadem. one was that she would not permit her daugh- Early in 1633abotit two months after the ter to drink water: and Christina recounts, death of Gustavusthe States were assembled, that having a strong repugnance to beer and and when the proposal was made to acknowl- wine, she often suffered from excessive thirst; edge his daughter as their queen, a country and having been detected one day stealing the deputy demanded: Who is she! We have rose-water from her mothers toilet, she was never seen her; upon which Christina being severely punished, but became a water-drinker led into the assembly, the same deputy cx- for life. With an early dislike to everything claimed: It is she! The very nose, and unmeaning and absurd, she abhorred, as a eyes, and brow of Gustavus Adolphusl She relic of barbarism, the fools and dwarfs that shall be our queen! Murmurs were turned swarmed around the queen-mother. Every- into applauses: she was seated on the throne, thin~, with Christina must have or subserve a and comported herself; it is alleged, with all purpose. Even as a child, nothing alarmed the di~nity of a queen. A regency of five or surprised her. When only two years old, was agreed on, the president being Chancellor Gustavus having her with him in one of his Oxenstiern, the celebrated minister: two journeys, on entering the fortress of Calmar others of his name and family were also in- the governor hesitated to fire the salute, lest eluded in the regency. By the testament of the noise should terrify the child. Gustavus Gustavus, the queen-mother was excluded exclaimed: Fire! She is a soldiers daugh- from all share in her daughters education, ter, and must learn to bear it! Far from which was to be thoroughly masculine; and being startled, she laughed and clapped her he confided her to the care of his sister Cath- hands, which so pleased her father that he erine, the wife of the Prince Palatine, which thereupon conceived the unfortunate idea, created much jealousy, as it was feared they little forseeing the effect, of giving her so might attempt to marry the queen to their masculine an education, that she forgot her son. The queen-mother, who had been with sex, and was even heard to regret that she had her husband at the seat of war, returned with never headed an army, or seen blood flow in his body to Sweden; and when Christina, at mortal strife. In her extreme youth she liked the head of her court, went forth in great to play the queen. When only seven she was pomp to meet the mournful procession, her called on to receive the Muscovite ambassa- features the precise image of her fathers, her dors, but was warned by her ministers not to mother caught her in her arms, bedewed her be afraid or laugh at their uncouth appearance with tears, half smothered her with embraces, and long beards. Why should I be afraid? and kept her with her in entire seclusion for said she; what have I to do with their beards? two years, during which she never quitted the Have you not also long beards? and yet I am body of her husband. At the end of that not afraid of you! At the audience she period it was interred, though her desire was comported herself with so much queenly pro- never to part with it during her life. Her priety as to excite the admiring astonishment chamber had been hung with black, and even of the strange visitants. the windows darkened: day and night wax It was only from compassion for the poor torches shed their mourning liFht~ she lived widowed queen that Christina had been so as in a grave, and seemed a very priestess of long permitted to remain under her care. At death. Her husbands heart, incased in a jew- nine, she was placed, according to the instruc- elled casket, was suspended to her bed: every tions left by Gustavus, under that of his sis- day she wept over it; and aft& rwards, to per- ter Catherine, of Axel Bauerdescrihed as a petuate her sorrow, instituted the order of the courtierand of John Mathias, a man both Golden Heart, the decoration of which was of parts and virtues, whom Christina never CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. 5 ceased to regard with respect ani affection, deportment towards them; while instructed in though she severely tried his equanimity, as the laws and customs of othcr lands, she was well as that of all who approached her, so to prefer and reverence those of Sweden; a great were her impatience, arrogance, and certain number of young ladies of rank were obstinacy. Before she attained the age of to be educated with her; she was to be denied fourteen she had thrown off all control, and not only pernicious books, but all trifling and resented the slightest opposition to her many merely amusing works; to be brought up caprices; and had not her taste led her to strictly in the Lutheran faith, and in early nmch and constant study, which her rare study of the Scriptures, as the basis of all quickness rendered easy, she might have grown knowledge and virtue. Nothing more easy up as ignorant as she was arrogant. So un- than to draw up a plan: but even had Cath- wearied was she in her studies that she erine and Mathias been endowed with a rare fatigued all her instructors. She says herself: mixture of saintly patience and Spartan firm- The men and women who taught and waited ness, what could they effect with a pupil who, on me I fatigued furiously; they were quite in at fourteen, harangued her senate and dictated despair; I gave them rest neither night nor to her ministers? About this time died the day: and when my women wished to per- Princess Catherine, on which Christina wrote suade me against such a manner of life, I rid- a letter of sympathy to the Prince Palatine, iculed them, and said: If you are sleepy, go and said, She hoped not with words only, to rest, I can do without you. She was an but in deeds, to requite to the children all the excellent classical scholar; at fourteen she love and. fealty shown to her by their mother. could read Thucydides in the original, and There were nominal successors to this lady was a great admirer of the ancient heroes and who might possibly, had she lived, attained an poets, especially of Homer and Alexander the influence over Christina, which it is certain no Great. Besides lessons in the classics, history, one else ever did. The queen-mother, seeing and philosophy, she acquired as an amuse- that any ascendency for her was more hope- meat, and without any assistance, German, less than ever, and highly offended, fled secret- Italian, Spanish, and French. She was also ly to Denmark, to the great alarm of Christina learned in mathematI~ and in astronomy. and the regency, the two countries being more Mathias, a great theologian and pious man, sundered than before in political relations. constantly instructed her in religion, teaching She had never liked Sweden or the Swedes, her from Luthers Catechisiu, and laying before and now was heard to declare that she would her a collection of moral maxims from the best r~ther live on bread and water in strange writers. Of feminine accomplishments, danc- lands, than feast on royal fare in Sweden. lug ~ the only one she applied to. In her At sixteen, Christina began to preside in autobiographyLa Vie de la Reine Citris~iee, the senate; gave her opinion with promptitude .thite ])CP elle-inftne, et dedi~e a Dieu, a curious and propriety, and seemed from this time to fragment of a few pages, written in French inspire a hope that experience would cool with characteristic force, hut no elegance down her strange effervescences, and issue in from which we have already quoted, she says: a long and auspicious reign. During her I had early an antipathy to all that women minority, by the vigor and sagacity of Oxens- do and say. Surrounded almost entirely by tiern, the war was carried on with high credit, men, she neglected the graces and virtues of if not always with success, Sweden giving such her sex. She was insensible to cold and heat; generals as Torstenson and Wrangel to com- took long walks with long strides; rode and mand the allied armies against the famous hunted, managed a horse and used a gun to Wallenstien, Piccolomini and Tilly. The Em- adniiration. She says: Although I loved peror Ferdinand would fain have made peace the chase, I was not cruel, and never killed an on condition that Christina would give her animal without a true feeling of compassion. hand to his son, believing to flatter her with She was quick to discern and despise the flat- the prospect of becoming empress of Germany; tery always offered even to infant monarchs. but to this and all other proposals of mar- She says: Men flatter princes even in their riane, so much desired by her senate, and cradles, aiid fear their memory as well as their which now thickened upon her, she either power: they handle them timidly as they do turned a deaf ear or made them subject of young lions who can only scratch now, but amusement. Gustavus had destined as her may hereafter tear and devour. An excel- husband the young elector of Brandenburg; lent code of instructions was drawn up by the Oxensti~rn, it ~as said, was ambitious enough regency for the guidance of those who had the to wish to marry her to his favorite son; two more direct managenient of the queen. She sons of the king of Denmark, Don John of was to understand that the duties of prince Austria, Philip IV. of Spain, Ladislaus, king and subject were reciprocal; she was to love of Poland~ and John Casimir, his successor, and esteem her people, and be affable in her all entered the lists; but to canvass their pre CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. tensions and jealousies were idleto all she had the same answer: she would remain inde- pendent hoth as a woman and a queen. At eighteen, she was declared of age, ac- cording to the laws of Sweden, and was the only considerable sovereign in Europe who thcn maintained the royal dignity in person. The emperor had become imbecile; Spain was governed by Olivarez in the name of Philip; Louis XIV. was still a minor; and Cromwell was king of England, but without the name. All eyes were fixed on Christina with wonder- in~ interest, which ripened into admiration when the wise and vigorous acts of her open- ing reign became known. She made salutary and profitable regulations as to commerce, tixes, and the coinage; she brought skilful shipwrights from Holland, and greatly added to her fleet; she richly endowed the university of Abo in Finland, which she had founded in her minority, and established a library, which, in a few years, amounted to 10,000 volumes; she added to the revenues and privileges of the university of Upsal, and founded at Stock- holm an academy of literature. Only a few generations had passed away since, by the prowess of Gustavus Vasa, Swe- den, then an obscure corner of Europe, had been delivered from the usurpation of the Danes. The great Gustavus, hy his military exl)loits and general political influence, had raised it to a high degree of glory and impor- tance, which, in the minority of Christina, even when the prestige of a hero s name was gone, had been honorably maintained. Such was the inheritance to which she hrou~ht a vi- gorous mind, youth, health, talents, a sublime idea of her high destiny, and a salutary feel- ing of the tremendous responsibility it involved. True, she was proud, passionate, and capri- cious; hut she was also frank, generous, and apparently honest in her intentions. Litera- ture was as yet to her an amusement, not a mania. Understa.ndinc most lan she, spoke of the modern guages, and wrote fluently in La- tin, German, Italian, and French, the last be- ing that used at court. She was her own prime minister; received and read all the des- patches, (lictated, and afterwards corrected the replies. For many months she did not sleep more than three to five hours in the twenty- four ; and was once, as she herself tells us, seized with a sickness almost unto death, through fhtigue a ad application to business. Foreign ministers marvelled at, and her own peoplc admiicd her nuwearied attention to s te affairs, and the unbounded influence and resolution, before which aged and experienced statesmen bowed. She was more despotic than any Swedish monarch had been since the time of Eric XIV.; but then she was an easy, frank, generally good-humored despot. In person, Christina is described as under the middle size, but well formed, except the slight deformity in her shoulder; her features rather large in proportion to her figure; her countenance mobile and vivacious, unless when she purposely controlled it; her eyes a bril- liant hazel, quick and penetrating; her nose aquiline; her mouth wide, and not agreeable in repose; her smile, however, bright and pleasing, and her teeth fine. Of her profuse light-brown hair, she took little care, only combing it once a week, sometimes only once a fortnight. In dress, she was extremely neg- ligent, never allowing herself more than a quarter of an hour for her morning toilet; and she wore, except on state occasions, a snit of plain gray stuff, made short for convenience in walking and ridino a black scarf round her neck, and rarely any ornament. She ge- nerally wore a mans fur cap, or tied her locks with a knot of ribbon; later in life she used a wig. She was temperate, even abstemious in eating; cared not what she ate ; and was never heard to remark on any dish at table. Much as she liked to play the queen, and as- sume a haughty expression, daunting with a look those who approached her, in ordinary conversation she was so familiar, that no one would have taken her for a woman of rank, far less for a sovereign princess. Openly pro- fessing contempt for her own sex, she scarcely condescended to notice, far less converse with any of her women, with the exception of one of her maids of honor, the Countess Ebba Sparre, whom she always called La belle comtesse. She was young, beautiful, amiable and unobtrusive, but did not attempt to exer- cise the slightest influence over her royal mis- tress, who never ceased to treat her with re- spect, and even with kindness. Christina, too clever not to appreciate the transcendent talents of Oxenstiernmore than equal to those of Richehien whom he surpassed in wisdom and integrityand too politic openly to quarrel with him, yet showed him and his party little favor, and was mean enough to sow dissension among her ministers, that she might hold the reins more tightly in her own grasp. Not content with distinguish- ing by her favor Count Brah6, grand-justiciary of Sweden, and Count de ha Gardie, her grand chamberlain, whom she loaded with ho- nors, and opposing these to the Oxenstierns, she put herself at the head of what might be called the French party; gave much of her confidence to M. Chanut, the French minis- ter: and finally offended them all by raising to a seat in the senate, and intrusting with the most secret negotiations, Adler Salvius, a man of the most plebeian origin. When the sena- tors murmured at receiving him among them, Christina said angrily: When good advice and wise counsel are wanted, who looks for sixteen quarters? What is requisite in all 6 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. employments of state is not nobility, but capa- city. An excellent sentiment, but, like other excellent sentiments, standing much in need of discrimination in the application. On one occasionthe concluding of peace with Den- mark in 1645, a step rendered necessary for the safety of Swedenthe queen was so satis- fied with the highly advantageous terms pro- cured by Oxenstiern, that she presented him with a large estate, created him a count, and pronounced his eulogium in the senate after the manner of the ancients. We thus see what a large umeasure of justice and generosity was mingled in the other qualities of a char- acter which presented, indeed, a strange tissue of contradictions. Her name is also honora- bly associated with the Peace of Westphalia, concluded in 1649, after a lengthened con- gress, the most celebrated in modern Europe, until that of Vienna. A woman, with her fatal advice and her allowable ambition, had been the principal cause of the Thirty Years War; a young queen of twenty-three, from her barren little kingdom in the north, now stretched forth her sceptre, and commanded peace. Another remarkable woman, the land- gravine of Ilesse, shared with Christina in the glory of this peace, part of which has been claimed by the French historians for Anne of Austria, who was nothing but an agent in the hands of her ministers. In this congress, Christina was represented by John Oxen- stiern, son of the chancellor, and Adler Sal- vius; and her correspondence with them shows a rare mixture of cunning, sagacity, imnpa- tience and resolution. Salvins acted as a sort of curb and spy on Oxenstiern, whom she sus- pected of sharing his father s views, that the continuance of the war was almost certain to add to the possessions as well as to the glory of Sweden. What Oxenstiern had gained by making peace before, he now more than lost by his desire for continued war. All the eminent services of the family were forgotten, they were treated with caprice and ingratitude, and the great statesman suffered the usual penalty for having served his sovereign too well. Christina loved war and glory, often expressed her desire to lead her own armies, and devot- edly admired Cond6, who was her great hero. It is impossible, therefore, not to admire the strong sense, which, in the face of all these predilections, induced her, a young, wilful, pow- erful and unscrupulous woman, - to insist on putting an end to a long and vexatious war. From contemporary writersStierinaun, Arckenholtz, Puffendorf, and others, including our own ambassador Whitelockewe learn something of the internal condition of Swe- den at this period. The progress in cultiva- tion of the arts and sciences, introduced or encouraged by Gustavus, some of which were still in a state of medimeval darkness, had not 7 extended to the daily life, manners, and habi- tations of the people. They were simple, mo- ral and upright then as they are now; for travellers in Sweden testify that overreaching and incivility are unknown, and that you may with perfect safety leave your baggage on the highway. Whitelocke recounts, that once when travelling in Sweden, a casket of gold he was carrying with him burst open, and the contents were scattered on the highway. When every one brought to him what he had gather- ed, the exact sum was found to be restored. The people, however, were so ill elothed, that even the deputies appeared at the Diets in torn clothing: Among the middle and higher ranks, luxury was unknown. The houses of the most distinguished persons were unsightly, the rooms whitewashed and without decora- tion, the furniture tasteless and uniform; at meals, a kind of canopy was placed over the table, in case the spiders webs should fall into the fbod. Riding was usual, rarely were equi- pages used. The strangest old usages still prevailed in dress; and there is a grave and lengthened correspondence extant between the Prince Palatine and his mother, as to whe- ther he should have an everyday snit made, or begin to make use of one of his Sunday suits. In 1644 lace was prohibited. In the time of Gustavus Adolphus, there was more luxury in food than formerly; still it consisted chiefly of large joints of meat; rarely were cakes or pastry to be seen at the royal table; amid the same djshes of meat were often served up the second day. The use of silver was almost un- known; at the marriage of Gustavus Adolphus, the company were served from tin vessels, because the king had none other service- able. His mother bargained for her own wine, and when a merchant presented his bill, would beg for delay. Festivals and family meetings, haptisn~s, betrothals, and weddings were destitute of all elegance; and such ex- cesses prevailed in eating, and especially in drinking, that in 1664 an order was issued pro- hibiting such celebrations. At the marriaoe of Gustavus Adolphus, 177 awms of. Rhine-wine were drunk, and 144 tons of bcer, besides other wines and spirits. Profane swearing was quite usual, even in high ranks, and among otherwise moral peoplepervading evemi the most ordinary conversation ; Chris- tina herself being the most noted offender. Scuffles were of every day occurrence, even among the court attendants, who used to throw glasses in each others faces. The nobility were often Inost remarkable for a rudeness in life and umanners, to which the long-continued war could not fail to contribute. After the proclamation of peace, which was celebrated by Christina with public rejoicings, the States-general began again to press her on the subject ~f giving a king to Sweden, CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. and :-ow proposed her cousin Charles Augus- tus, the connection of which they had formerly been so jealous. In 1647, he had been ap- pointed general-in-chief of the Swedish forces in Germanv he was brave and accomplished; he had been her playfellow in childhood, when she was wont in sport to call him her little husband; he was the only suitor for whom she had a personal regard; she always treated him with favor and distinction, but had never uttered a word on which he could build any hope as a lover. When she was twenty-one, he ventured gently to remind her of her child- ish preference and promise; but she insisted that all should be forgotten tlfat had passed between them, adding, however, that when she was twenty-five, she would declare her final resolution, and if she did not then marry him, she would not marry at all, and would take steps to secure his accession to the crown; to which he replied with much gallantry, that on any other terms than as her husband, he would reject the offered crown. She gaily rallied him on his romantic ideas; and when he would have gone on to protest, she stopped him, and said haughtily, that if he should die before the period named, it was sufficient honor for him that he had been thought worthy to aspire to the hand of so great a queen. So saying, she dismissed him. Puflendorf gives all this from a memorandum left by Charles himself; and Mathias and Count de la Gardie were present during the interview. Charles acted through- out with the most consummate d~xterity, which probably would have succeeded with any other woman ; but besides that Christina, unlike our Queen Elizabeth, never conde- scended to contemptible and absurd coquetry, she believed, probably with good reason, that. the princes affections were more pure and di- rect towards the throne than to her who sat on it; for when Constable Torstenson said to her, that the prince would never marry any one unless accepted by her majesty, she re- marked sarcastically: Yes, the crown is a pretty girl. When Mathias ventured to hint that the constitution of the kingdom obliged her to marry, he had to suffer a great outburst of wrath. Who upon earth, she exclaimed shall oblige me to do so, if I do it not of my own fi-cewill? Then admitting that the good of her kingdom was a powerful motive to which she might one day yield, but would not be bound, she added: Nor heaven, nor earth shall force my will! Mathias remarked that all Europe had for years regarded the prince as her destined husband. She replied: What care I? When people are tired of talkine about me and my affairs, they will find some other subject of conversation. When pressed on another occasion on the score of giving an heir to the crown, she replied: It is just as likely I would be the mother of a Nero as an Augustus a likelihood which her enemies echoed, only substituting the next de- gree of comparison. At length the crown, by the constitution of Sweden, not being strictly elective, but the succession subject to the ap- proval of the States, Christina having artfully eluded all expression of her intentions, sud- denly declared Charlesto be crown-prince of Sweden: the act was agreed to by the Diet, and signed in March 1650, the aged Oxen- stiern weeping and protesting as he signed for either his sagacity foresaw, or there had already, it is nlleged, reached him rumors of the hucens intended final step of abdication. The snme year, the coronation of Christina was celebrated with prodigious pomp, the he- ralds proclaiming her, ~iccording to the fashion of the country, king of Sweden. Crowned with laurel, and sparkling with jewels, she paraded the streets seated in a car, drawn by four white horses, after the manner described by Plutarch; her treasurer marching before and scattering medals among the people. She was received at the entrance to the palace by the queen-mother, who had now returned to Swe- den. But ~vhat most delighted the pe ople was a trimaphal car, which entered the arena dur- ing the sports, and moved along the whole length on hidden springs ; also an artificial mountain, forty feet high, representing Par- nassus, which glided, self-impelled, before the astoni~h C(l multitude, having a company of musicians seated on its summit, habited as Apollo and the Muses, filling the air with sounds of harmony. As a memorial of the event, a lofty pyramid was erected with an in- scription on it, drawing largely on the credu- lity of the people, informing them in classical parlance, that it was erected by the three Amazonian queens in honor of Christina.. For the last two years, Christina had devoted her- self to literature and science, to the neglect of the duties of government, which will ac- count for the nature of the displays and the flatteries of her learning, which were pro- nounced in almost every language, at her coro- nation. She was now in correspondence with most of the learned men in Europe, and at- tracted to her court men of science, real or pretended philosophers, whose interest and practice it was to flatter her vanity of her new acquirements, causing her court to exhibit that mixture of scholastic pedantry and elabo- rate trifling so well ridiculed by Mohibre in his Femmes Savantes. The celebrated Grotius had been honored by Gustavus Adolphus, and was afterwards, in the minority of Christina,, her ambassador to France. She treated him with great distinction, and when against her entreaties, he resigned his office, owing to fail- ing health, she presented him with 12,000 crowns; and on his deatll, wrote a feeling let- ter to his mother, purchased his valuable 8 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. 9 library and manuscripts, and presented them her of great part of her euriosities and sple~ to the university of Upsal. Since his death, did library. having little real taste, and no Salmasius, the antagonist of Miltona man experience in art, she had been cheated to an whose learning, Johnson says, exceeded all incredible extent in medals, pictures, and hope of human aftainment, which he render- sculptures. A story runs that at the instiga- ed vain by failing to apply itand Vossius, tion of an antiquarian pedant, she offered the celebrated theologian and antiquary, were 30,000 forms for a bronze medal of Otho; chiefly distinguished by Christina, and are con- and sbe actually cut down some really valna- sidered to have exercised an evil influence on ble Italian pictures to fit the panels of one of her, unsettling her religious opinions, and en- her galleries. gaging herin vain metaphysical disputes. Both For intrepidity and presence of mind, when being inca of bad lives, their moral influence was sudden danger assailed, she was remarkable. worse than the intellectual. Descartes, too, who Two instances in proof of this are recorded. bad often boasted that he valued his liberty more Three years before her coronation, whea at- than the smiles of the most powerful monarch, tending divine service one day in the palace was won by the flatteries of Christina to visit her church, at the close of the sermon, when all capital, where he died in four monthsa bea- had knelt down to prayer, a man pressed con to all vain boasters to ponder the words, through the crowd, and entered the gallery let him who thinketh he standeth take heed where the queen sat, unobserved by all but lest he fall. lie had stipulated to be freed Count Brahe, who called to the guards; which from court ceremonial, but the queen required the queen hearing, she arose, and with the his attendance in her library every morning utmost composure, touched the chief guards- at five. This exertion and the coldness of man, who was still on his knees. lie sprang the climate threw him into a consumption. up and seized the man by the hair, when he The single consolation he enjoyedthat of was within two steps of Christina. Tile had quietly conversing with and looking on the one knife in his sleeve, ready to strike, and beauty of the Princess Palatine, the daughter another in his pocket; and turned out to be a of Elizabeth of Bohemiawas denied 1dm; teacher in the Gymnasium, who had of late and so haughtily resented by the queen, that shown symptoms of unsoundness of mind. the issue of his fatal malady was thereby has- The queen protected him from the popular tened. On the most unworthy of her literary rage, and desired him to be placed nader pro- favorites, who embroiled her court with their per restraint. On another occasion, when on disputes, she lavished immense sunis, in re- her way to visit her fleet in the harbor, and ward of their flattery, which degraded litera- passing along a plank from hdr barge to the ture in the eyes of her simple, rough Swedes. vessel, Admiral Flemming, on whose mrm she To gratify her whims, she would make grave leaned, slipped and fell into the water, drag and profound scholars play with her. at battle- ging his royal mistress after him by cli. ging door and shuttlecock; and once made two fa- to her dress. When extricated with difficulty mous Greek scholars perform a Greek dance by her equerry, she called out to them to save for her amusement. What most deeply offend- the admiral, who had sunk; and when he was ed her people, however, was the partiality she afteiwaids loudly blamed for endangering her showed for a French physician called Bourde- life, she excused him, on the plea of the strong lot, an ignorant, insolent quack, whose powers instinct of self-preservation; and added laugh- of pleasing consisted in singing little airs, and ingly: You should rather praise than blame playing on the guitar, being knowing in the him, for he had certainly been drowned had cuisine and in all sorts of perfumes. llavin~ he acted otherwise. She changed her dress, persuaded her that study would injure he~ and dined in public as if nothing had hap~ health, she threw aside her books, and insult- pened. She was also the first to dkcover a fire ed the very men she had invited to her court. which broke out in her own palace, and which He ridiculed or slandered all who possessed lasted from six at night till three in the morn- her confidence, and was the cause of the dis- ing, consuming her suite of drawing-rooms, grace of De Ia Gardie. Her mother remon- among other damage. She remained amidst strated in vain, till at length the murmurs of the tumult, and nearly choked with smoke, till her people could no longer be silenced, and papers and valuables were as far as possible she dismissed this creature, loaded with pre- saved. seats; but no sooner was he gone, than she Since the Count de la Gardie had fallen ridiculed him in turn; and threw from her his into disfavor, the Oxenstierns had regained first letter, saying: Fy, it smells of rhu- their former influence, and Bourdelot had been barb ! and began now to call him her agrhe- succeeded by the Spanish ambassador Pimnen- able ignorant. During his influence, which telhi, a man as elegant and polished as the lasted little more than a year, the rest of her other was low and coarse. Being of insinuat- former so-called learned favorites amused and ing manners and matchless political skill, the revenged themselves by unmercifully pillaging Spanish interests suppkiated those of France; CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. and he is said to have fixed the wavering mind of the queen in favor of Roman Catho- licism. At this period, all her duies seem to have become irksome to her. She who had formerly outwearied all by her devotion to business, could now scarcely be got to sign ne- cessary State-papers. She would turn away from her secretary, and say to Prince Charles: Will you never deliver me from these peo- ple? Ce soot pour moi le dieble? During her short reign the country had gained much in taste, and many luxuries had been introduced and improvements effected. Several of the towns had been increased, and palaces had arisen in place of hovels; great additions had been made to the royal palace, which was formerly of the most simple de- scription, and the apartments provided with costly furniture; services of silver were not only used in the palace, where tin had former- ly sufficed at the wedding-feast of Gustavus, but Oxenstiern gave a banquet to Whitelocke, at which flourished a whole service of silver. While advances in taste and luxury told of outwarj improvement, the queen had suffered abuses to creep into the administration, and all her affairs were entangled; her revenues were exhausted, and the crown-lands alienated by her profusion. Remonstrance was met by impatience; she was at once jealous of her authority, and weary of the restraints it im- posed. She would plunge into a round of amusements, invent masques and ballets, in which she performed a principal part. Once sue performed the part of Amarantha, in a pastoral, and then instituted the order of the Amarantha, which she bestowed on persons of both sexes in her court and on some of the foreign ambassadors. When not excited by such pastimes, she was moody and fretfulshe sighed for the independence of a private sta- tion; in southern climes she might dream out an existence such as her beloved classic poets knew how to invest with every charm; and having found that, to enact for a night, the written drama only brought satiety after it, she resolved to treat the world to a real dra- inn, which would not only dazzle and confound the present, but all future generations. When, in 1654, Christina first declared her intention of abdicating, it seemed so unlikely a step for a young woman of twenty-eight, fond of power and glory, her people were fain to regard it as a whima sort of threat to excite wonder, but which she would never put in execution. When she persisted in her dec- laration, the whole senate, with Oxenstiern at their head, remonstrated, but in vain. Prince Charles added his entreaties in a seemingly earnest and honest manner. All doubt was at an end when, in an assemblage of the States at Upsal, on the 21st of May, in an eloquent speech, in whieh she vaunted her own virtues and services to her people, she tendered her resignation, commending her successor to their loyalty and affection. The president of the senate, in the name of the nobles, the arch- bishop of Upsal, in that of the clergy, and the chief burgher, in the name of the citizens, sev- erally made speeches of remonstrance. There then followed a scene which is thus described in Whitelockes Journal: In the last place stepped forth the marshal of the boors, a plain country fellow, in his clouted shoon, and all other habits answerable, as all the rest of the company were accoutred; this boor, without any congees or ceremonies at all, spoke to her majesty, and his address was after this phrase: 0 Lord God, madam, what do you mean to do? It humbles us to hear you speak of for- saking those who love you as well as we do; can you be better than you are? You are queen of all these countries, and if you leave this large kingdom, where will you get such another? If you should do itas I hope you wont for all thisboth you and we shall have cause, when it is to~ late, to be sorry for it; therefore, my fellows and I pray you to think better ont, and keep your crown on your head, then you will keep your own honor and our peace; but if you lay it down, in my con- science, you will endanger all. Continue in your gears, ~ood madam, and be the fore-horse as long as you live, and we will help you the best we can to bear your burden. Your father was an honest gentleman and a good king, and very shining in the world, and we obeyed him and loved him as long as he lived, and you are his child, and have governed us very well, and we love you with all our hearts; and the prince is an honest gentleman, and when the time comes, we shall be ready to do our duties to him as we do to you. But as long as you live we are unwilling to part with you; and, therefore, I pray, madam, do not part with us. When the boor had ended his speech, lie wad- dled up to the queen without any ceremony, took her by the hand and shaked it heartily, and kissed it two or three times; then, turn- ing his back to her, he pulled out of his pocket a foul handkerchief and wiped the tears from his eyes; and, in the same posture as lie came up, he returned back to his place again.~ Christina was equally unmoved by homely as by studied eloquence. On the 6th of June following she appeared in the ball of assembly for the last time as a sovereign. Clad in the royal mantle of blue velvet and ermine, em- broidered all over with little gold crowns, the sceptre in her hand, and the crown on her head, she mounted her high silver throne, and having read the act of renunciation, she re- leased her subjects from their oath of allegi- ance, and made a sign to Count Brali6 to advance and remove the crown from her head. On his hesitating to do so she took it off her- 10 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. self, and presented it to her successor, who received it kneeling, never wore it in her presence, and caused a medal to be struck representing this scene, with the inscription, I hold it from God and from Christina. WThen she threw aside the royal mantle it was seized and torn in pieces by the multitude, each being anxious to obtain a portion as a relic. With this strange outburst ended the popu- larity of the queen. The people at once be- gan to discover in her abdication an abandon- ment of her duties; in her love of foreigners and foreign countries a want of patriotism. Seeing the immense property she was carrying out of the kingdom in jewels, gold and silver, mid other articles of value to the amount of some millions of crowns, their indignation was so great that serious tboughts were entertained of arresting her, and forcing her either to re- side in the kingdom, or to give up the pension assigned to her, and the rich treasures she was carrying oW Rumors of this intention having reached her, she changed her route in great alarm; refused the escort of armed vessels de- signed by Charles to convey her from the shores of Sweden, and set out so secretly that her departure resembled a flight, her princi- pal attendants, even, not knowing whither they were going. She scarcely breathed free- ly till she reached the frontiers, when she threw off all restraint, dismissed her women, retaining i~ her service only fbur gentlemen, two of whom were Count Dohna, her cham- berlain, and Count Steinberg, her equerry, and a few inferior servants. ~he travelled on horseback, under a feigned name, and quitted her kingdom with childish delight, gloryin~ in a freedom she was certain to find more irk- some than the restraints from which she had escaped; for, from the grave defects in her character and education, she was still less fitted for private life than for wielding a scep- tre. She had shown no feeling on her depar- ture, and no one regretted her. From Ebba Sparre, now the wife of Count Jacob do la Gardie, and whom she seems to have loved as well as site could love, she parted without a tear; as also from her mother, who was, we are told, sick with grief, mortification and incessant weeping. Old Chancellor Oxens- tiern feigned illness, shut himself up, and would not assist at any of the ceremonies at- tending the abdication or coronation. Christina, on her way to the Netherlands, took the route of Hamburg, where she resided some days in the house of her banker, a rich Jew. The first considerable stay she made was in Antwerp, where she met the unfortu- nate Elizabeth, ex-qucen of Bohemia, who thus writes of her: I saw the queen of Swe- den at the play; she is extravagant in her fashion and apparel, but she has a good, well- favored face, and a mild countenance. This from the sister of Charles, who, besides other reasons, could not be expected to judge favor- ably of the devoted admirer of Cromwell. Here, also, she met with her favorite hero Cond6, of which interview Elizabeth writes: The meeting betwixt the queen of Sweden and the Prince of Cond6 was to neither of their content, for he desired to be received as she received the archduke (Leopold, stadt- holder of the Netherlands), which she refused, saying she had done too much in that and would do so no more; yet he came to see her brusquement & limprovist, and did nothing but railler her in his talk, which put her so out as she said almost not one word. This was the morning: after dinner she sent to kiiow if he would see the play at night; he said he would obey her, but desired to know whether he should come known or as unknown; for if he came as Prince of Condui, he looked to have a chaise-a-bras as the archduke had. She said he had better come unknown; so he came; and she stood all the play raillant with Monsieur Quito, the princes favorite. The next day the prince went to Brussels, neither of them well satisfied with the other. When the queen herself repaired to Brussels, she was received in great state by the archduke, although she seems to have been very distaste- ful to him, for Elizabeth says: I believe the archduke wishes her at Antwerp, for she per- secutes him very close with her company, and you know he is a very modest man. He seems to have lodged her for a time, for the queen of Bohemia, in her letters to Secretary Nicholas, from which we have quotedto be seen in Evelyns Correspondencethus con- cludes: As for the archduke, he may thank God to be rid of the queen of Sweden, who is lodged at the Count of Egmonts house in Brussels, where she stays all the winter. The day after her formal entrance into Brussels, on Christmas-eve, 1654, she made a private recantation of the Lutheran faith, and pro- fessed herself a convert to the Romish Church, in the presence of the archduke, the Spanish ambassador, the Count Montecucuhi, and a few others. She afterwards heard mass, and re- ceived the communion. This act, though pri- vate, was celebrated publicly by balls, mas- querades, and hunting-parties. Cardinal Maz- aria sent a company of comedians from Paris, whose performances in French and Italian operas and plays greatly delighted Christina rather a rare and novel way for a priest to do honor to such a solemnity, but more than solemn enough to match with the levity and impiety of her who is said, after receiving ab- solution from a Dominican father, to have uttered the words: If there is a God, I shall be well caught. In a letter to Ebba Sparre, written at this time, she describes her occu 11 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. pations as consisting in eating and sleeping well, studying a little, conversing, laughing, and witnessing French, Italian, and Spanish comedies. She then makes a strange per- version of the language of Solomon, adding: Every one ought to live content, eating, drinking, and singing ~~hen the archduke inquired what. confessor or chaplain she had brought in her train, she carelessly replied that in travelling from Sweden she had got rid of all useless lumber. The Jesuits, several of whom had come to Stockholm after the peace of Westpbalia, and during the last two years were said to have conversed much with her, and fixed to their faith the mind that had been set a-wandering by Bourdelot and Salmasius, wishing to believe in her sincerity, were will- ing now to ke a saint of this illustrious pros- elyte, if she would have been dishonest enough to permit of it. One of them in preaching before her said: Your majesty shall hereafter be placed among the saints. With a sarcastic smile, she said: I should like better to be placed among the sages! This anecdote is curious as showing that~, although she delighted in the delat of playing a part before mankind, she had no taste for others assisting her in it, which we would call a strange mixture of hon- esty and dishonesty, were it not that even while acting she made no secret that it was all a trick, by which she was neither tricking mankind nor herself. Indeed, her conduct at this time, and for two years before her abdi- eation, shows such mad levity and gratuitous recklessness, with such sudden changes of hu- mor, spirits, and purpose, as, coming from a woman of undoubted talent, that we cannot but feel forced to the conclusion that her in- tellect had become disordered. The festivities at Brussels were scarcely end- ed when news arrived of the death of the widow cf the great Gustavus, and also that of the celebrated Oxenstiern, both, it is said, of a broken heart, in consequence of the queens eonduct; but we are disposed to receive most of such statements with reservation, seeing how much the human heart can endure with- out breaking, often destined to die many living deaths, and yet still to live on. The queen- dowager had been, it is said, cut to the heart by the indifference with which her daughter had parted from her, and refusin~ all comfort, fell into a languishing distemper and expired. Some of the laudatory lives of Christina re- count that she was much ected on hearing of her mothers death. Oxenstiern is said to bave died with the name of Christina on his lips, saying: Tell her she will repent of what she has done; a message she received with a smile. She had repaid his services with in- gratitude, had often vexatiously opposed to bim men without talents and without charac- ter but she was the daughter of the great Gustavus, the embodiment of the nations glory, a glory she had now so tarnished! When news of the queens conversion arrived in Stockholm, the first burst of the national indignation was vented on her old preceptor Mathias, who was accused of not having guard- ed the queens mind against error. The ac- cusation was unju~, but men are never just at such times; vain was every attempt at defence he was disgraced and deprived of his bishop- ric. Had it not been for the king to whom she wrote, appealing to his gratitude, the sen- ate would have withdrawn the revenues grant- ed her. She had by this time lavished all her ready money on players, parasites, and priests, and it was iiow time to quit Brussels and proceed to Rome, agreeably to the m6st pressing invitation~ from the pope to take up her abode in that city. In her suite, amount- ing to nearly two hundred persons, were now two ladies of honor, merely ornament~mh, how- ever, for she never made use of their services, nor even noticed them. The men were chiefly Spaniards and Austrians, and there were only four Swedes of quality, two Jesuits, and a Dominican. At Augsburg she is said to have shed tears when shown the table at which her father dined after the victory which completed the conquest of Bavaria. At Innspriick, in presence of a number of the German iiobility and some of the imperial archdukes, she made a grand public reminciation of the Protestant faith, and was received with great pomp and solemnity into the bosom of the Catholic church followed, as at Brussels, by banquets, balls, and comedies, and a general magnificence so dazzling that she was constantly exclaiming, in childish glee: 0 che belle! eke belle I On the evening of the day in which she made her solemn profession in the cathedral, she was present at a comedy arranged expressly for her, which drew from her the remark: Tis but fair that you should treat me to a comedy after I have treated you to a farce I After a stay of eight days at Inuspreck, she proceeded on her journey, and began to be received with greater honors the nearer she approached the Eternal City. On the 19th of December, 1635, at seven in the evemung, she entered Rome incognito, by the light ot many torches, and with an escort of Swiss guards. She was conducted by two cardinals into the presence of his holiiiess, and after three low obeisanees, she kissed his foot, and then his hand, after which she was seated in a chair of red velvet and gold. They then held a long and animated conversation together, and she was conducted to splendid apartments prepared for her in the Vatican, the library of which she visited next day; and after a fi2w days spent in private fehicitations, concerts, and visits e~vchanged with the pope, when. all things were in readiness, she made a grand 12 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. public entrance into Rome, seated on a white horse presented to her by the pope, elad like an Amazon, having a cardinal on each side, and surrounded by all the principal nobility and clergy. Amidst discharges of artillery and to sound of trumpet, as if she had been a victorious empress. she traversed the streets and entered St. Peters, which had been adorn- ed with her arms and emblazoned with her deeds, where she was received by the pope, who testified his joy at her conversion adding, that in heaven there would be still greater re- joicing. The Roman ladies seem to have been somewhat scandalized at her masculine attitude and attire but on being told she had fought against the king of Denmark, they thought her Amazonian appearance quite suit- able. After a second round of festivities, she took up her abode in the Palazzo Farnese, and spent many months in inspecting the an- tiquities of Rome, becoming acquainted with the lcarned men, and visiting the various acadcmies. One day, when loudly admiring a statue of Truth by the sculptor Fernini, one of the cardinals said to her: God be praised that your majesty loves the truth, which is often distasteful to persons of your rank. I do not doubt it, replied she; but all truths are not made of marble. Her letters to Ebba Sparre about this time exhibit a marked change of tone, indicating that in the midst of daily concerts, masquer- ades, and plays, she was beginning to feel that all was vanity, and to sigh, as the roughest and least loving and lovable of mankind will sometime sigh, for quiet sympathy. She writes: Am I still as dear to you as I form- erly was? or have I deceived myself in fan- cying I was dearer to you than any one else? Oh! if it be so, do not undeceive me, but leave me in the happy delusion, that I am be- loved by the most amiable being in the world. Poor Christina! We know not what was the reply, but the fact seems to be that Ebba Sparre had never either loved or professed to love her, and had found her departure a re- lief. Christina soon began to be viewed with suspicion at Rome, caused by her levity of manner and freedom of language, also the contempt she showed for the nobles and for women even of the highest rank. She em- broiled herself with the pope by openly join- ing the Spanish party; a dangerous sickness also seizing her, she made use of this as an excuse for quitting Rome, and when the time of the malaria was approaching, she set out on a visit to Paris, in August, 1656, havin~ been invited thither by the French court. So low was she both in purse and credit, her pension from Sweden being as unpunctually as it was grudgingly paid, she was obliged to pawn her jewels to defray the necessary expenses of the journey. The Duke do Guise was sent to receive her, and her route seemed a trium- phal procession, the honors due to a crowned head being accorded her. In the amusing Memoirs of Mademoiselle do Montpensier, we have the followlag account of Christina, now in her thirtieth year: I had heard so much of her bizarreries that I was afraid lest I should have laughed in her face, but though she as- tonished me beyond measure, it was not so as to provoke a smile. She was of a small, slight figure, a little deformed, with li~ht eyes, an aquiline nose, a large mouth, fine teeth, and a very expressive countenance. Her dress was a short gray petticoat, laced with gold and silver, a flame-colored doublet, also laced with gold; a lace cravat, and a black hat, with a plume of feathers. She astonished this lady by throwing her leou over the arm of her chair, swearing and ~iaughing loud, and even putting men out of countenance by her eccen- tric and audacious talk, in the midst of which she would have strange fits of absence, re- coverin5, as if from a dream. She made a public entrance into Paris, preceded by a body of one thousand cavalry, mounted, in male attire, on a superb white charger, with pistols at her saddle-bow, the Duke de Guise riding by her side. The people, who lpoked on her Amazonian appearance with wonder and admiration, rent the air with their shouts. She was conducted to Notre Dame, where Te Deum was performed, and thence to the Lon- vre, where she was splendidly lodged and en- tertained. This was the last time regal honors were publicly awarded her. At Chiantilly she was met by Cardinal Mazarin, and here she gave an instance of her great penetration by addressing Louis XIV., then only nineteen, who had mingled with the crowd, and been presented to her un(ier a feigned name, as mon fr& e, but with no other designation of his quality. He was then timid in female so- ciety, but she exercised her powers of fascina- tion, and they conversed with mutual pleasure. The court was then at Compeigne, and at her first interview with Anne of Austria, she is described as wearing a black wig~ much disor- dered by the wind, and all awry on her head her complexion was coarse and sun-burned; she had no gloves, and her hands were so dirty that the original color could not be discerned; she wore a shirt and vest, and the same short gray petticoat, and held a riding-whip in her hand. The budding Grand Monarque actu- ally took one of those dirty hands in his, and led her to table; and whatever may have been the amazement of the court at such a strange visitant, not only was there no expression of it, but all honors were paid, and the general opinion agreed with that of Madame Motto- ville, that after the first half hour she could not help eonsiderin~ Christina with interest, and even with admiration. On witnessing 13 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. the French and Italian comedy, she laughed immoderately, loudly expressed her pleasure or disapprobation, so as to attract every won- dering eye, and would sometimes retire to the back of the box and fall into a profound rev- erie, from which even the queen could not rouse hcr. Madame de Motteville says: She often sang in company as well as dreamed, was unequal in mood and free ia talk as well on religion as on other subjects calling for modesty in her sex; she swore, never remain- ed long in the same place, and in presence of the king, queen, and court, put up her legs on the seats. In spite of her strange appear- ance and stranger habits, she always sustained her dignity, could not be approached familiar- ly, and seemed everywhere mistress. She left Paris in November, all her triumphs now at an end, i~ a hired carriage with but few attendants, her costs through France defrayed by the king. An absurd report ran that she had wished to captivate Louis, but it never gained general credence. On her return to Rome she felt so much the absence of all demonstration, and the evident indifference towards her, that, sighing for the gaities of France, she found pretextsamongst others, that of witnessing a ballet in which Louis him- self was to dancefor repeating her visit, and arrived at Fontainebleau, ia October, 1657, vainly expecting a renewal of the former honors, and not yet alive to the truth that she was no lonacr a novelty, or how largely her eccentricities and conversion had contributed to the general wonder and admiration. She now appeared in an old worn-out vehicle, an old yellow petticoat, an old red jacket, and a dirty hood, and was attended by Chevalier Santinelli, called the captain of her guards, and the Marquis Monaldesehi, her chamber- lain. She took up her quarters in the palace of Fontainebleau, and there committed that strange and mysterious deed of horror at which the whole of Europe stood aghast. Monaldeschi, her chamberlain, an Italian of good family, had long stood high in Chris- tinas fisvor, and had been intrusted by her with the most important affairs, of what nature has never been explained, or her reasons for beginning to doubt his fidelity. She now watched his every motion, opened his letters, discovered his treachery, of which, when she hinted to him that some one was playing false, he accused another. She then said to him: What does such a traitor deserve? The marquis replied: Death on the spot, and I am willing either to inflict or endure it, for it is only an act of justice. Good! said she; and remember your words, for I promise you I will not pardon him. She then sent for the prior of the con- vent of the holy Trinity, P~mre le Bel, and telling him that she demanded from him the secrecy of his order, put into his hands a sealed packet, which he was to return to her at the time and place she should require. Mean- time, the suspicions of Monaldesehi were awakened by the non-arrival of his letters; he hegan to wear a coat-of-mail, and seemed to contemplate flight. Four days after she had spoken to the prior, on the 10th of November, she summoned Monaldesehi into her presence. He came, pale and trembling; hut, at first, she spoke on indifferent subjects. Soon, how- ever, the prior entered, as she had appointed, and by another door, Santinelli with two arm- ed men, and the doors were instantly secured. She then asked the prior for the packet, and held it up to Monaldesehi, asking him, in a loud and angry tone, if he knew it. At first, he denied it, and maintained it was her own writing. She then brought forth the origin- als. After some vain subterfuges, he threw himself at her feet, and begged for forgive- ness, confessing that he had pronounced his own death sentence. The armed men now drew their swords; Monaldesehi continued his abject entreaties that the queen would listen to his justification. The scene had lasted more than an hour, when Christina, with the utmost calmness, said to the prior: ~ go, an dleave this man in your hands; prepare him for death. They then both threw themselves at her feet, and begged that his punishment might he banishment for life. She replied, it was hetter to die than live without honor, and re- newed her reproaches for his treachery. She then departed with the words: God show mercy to you as I have shown justice. While the men stood over him with drawn swords, Santinelhi, moved to pity, went out to inter- cede for the wretched man. The prior also again supplicated the queen with tears, and by the wounds of the Saviour, to have mercy, but in vain. Some writers say that Monal- desehi, still unable to believe that the queen would carry out her purpose, refused to con- fess himself till she, ridiculing his cowardice, coolly said: Give him a stab to show him I am in earnest! and that he received two wounds hefore confessing, but the story is too atrocious for belief. Others say he defended himself to the last with the strength of despair. It is time to draw a veil over this scene of horror. The body was interred, by desire of the queen, in the convent of the Trinity, and she gave two hundred francs for masses for his soul. On hearing of this signal violation of all law, justice, and humanity, the king, not feel- ing himself entitled to demand a justification which Christina, in virtue of her divine right as queen, did not condescend to offer, request- ed that she would not appear in Paris for some time. She remained in seclusion for two months at Fontainebleau, and was then invited 14 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. to celebrate the carnival in Paris, but she was so ill received that she saw it meet to make a speedy departure. On her return to Rome, there was still a display of respect to eover the general distrust; but from this moment there was no more liberty for her there, for the pope appointed as comptrbller of her household Cardinal Azzolini, a subtle Italian, who was to be a spy on all her actions, and so completely overreached her, that false as he was, he retained her confidence to the end. On state occasions, to avoid being celipsed by the Italian nobles, she would pledge her jew- els and plate, to prevent whieh, and make her still more subject, the pope gave her a yearly allowanee of twelve thousand crowns, which, however, scarcely lessened the labor of Azzo- lini in settling their continual disputes. In 1660, died Charles Gustavus, king of Sweden, in the flower of his age, and midst dreams of warlike glory, leaving as sole heir an infant son in waning health. Christina in- stantly set out for Sweden, leaving her affiuirs in the hands of Azzolini. Her pretext was to demand the more punctual payment of her revenue; but there can be no doubt her real object was the resumption, if possible, of the crown. At Hamburg she met with the cele- brated Algernon Sydney, who thus writes in the Sydney Papers: She is thought to have great designs, of which every one judges ac- cording to their humor. Some think she will pretend to the crown; others, that she will be contented with the regency, and there doth not want those that say that she is employed from Rome to sow dissensions in Sweden. I have conversed a great deal with her, and do not believe a word of all this. Another sig- nal proof, coming from such a manif proof were yet awantingof her immense power of pleasing and of dissimulating. He adds, however: Though all the principal persons of the senate owe their fortunes to her, no man can undertake that she may not pass the rest of her life in some castle in Sweden. Great, indeed, were the excitement, fear, and jealousy, when her approach became known. No sooner had she passed the frontiers than every step was watched; she was forced to send back to hamburg all her foreign attend- ants, including her confessor, and to hear mass in the chapel of the French Embassy. The payment of her pension she was obliged to receive as a favor, after signing a second re- nunciation of the crown, and she was required either to renounce the Romish faith or quit the kingdom. Parival says that with tears and clasped hands she sued for her rights, as she termed them. One day when the clergy were remonstrating with her on her change of religion, and her attempt to have mass said in the royal palace, the old archbishop of Up- sal enlarged on the intrigues of the pope, and how he would wish to destroy them all both body and soul, she replied: I know hini bet- ter; he would not give four thalers for all your souls. After seven months stay she was con- strained to depart, with what inward mortifi- cation and bitter repentance maybe conceived, and spent a whole year in Hamburg, in the laboratory of the alchemist and the pursuit of the philosophers-stone. In 1662 she returned to Rome, and enjoyed the triumph of seeing the pope humbled by France; but, unable to remain at rest, she again left that city in 1666, and proceeded to Hamburg, whence she sent a memorial to the Swedish Diet, desiring per- mission to reside in the kingdom as a private individual. When she received the answer she had advanced as far as Norkoping; but, on seeing the nature of the document, in which there was an implied accusation of treason, severe allusions to the murder of Monaldesehi, an affected belief that she was a tool in the hands of the pope, a decree against her residing in any of the Swedish dominions but Pomerania, or approaching the court of the young kin~, concludin~, with a cutting re- mark on the tendency of the family of Vasa to grow cruel and tyrannical as they grow old, she instantly left the place and returned to Hamburg. Her old favorite, La Gardie, is said to have l~een among the most hitter against her, and to have boasted that on her former visit he had made her tremble. At hamburg she gave a grand banquet, followed hy a lyri- cal ballet, founded on the ,Jerusalern Delicered, in which she took the part of Armida. A gleam of good fortune now came to cheer her. News arrived of the death of tIme pope, and the election of her friend Clement IX., which she celebrated by a grand fdte, illuminated her palace, and exhihited a transparency of the Romish Church trampling heresy under her feet, which so exasperated the good Prot- estant citizens that they broke her lamps and windows, and nearly pulled down her palace, herself escaping with difficulty. She took all in perfect good humor, and sent two thousand crowns to the sufferers in the affray. In 1667 the elective throne of Poland had become vacant, and as Christina was among the most cager competitors for it, her hopes were now raised to a high pitch, owing to the important aid she expected to receive from Rome, whither she returned in November, 1668, when the affair was still pending. San- guine and active, she was indulging in old visions of despotic rule, and of leading in person a Polish army, when Clement IX. died, to the no less regret of the Romans than of Christina, for with him died her h4opes of the crown of Poland. She intrigued in vain to raise her friend Conti to the papal chair, the successful candidate being an old man of eighty, who loved ease, and had no other passion than 15 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. avarice. Christina now resumed her studious habits, and spent the next few years in cob lecting works of art, making experiments in chemistry, corresponding with learned men and societies, and sometimes interfering in the political intrigues of the continent. Seeing she had given up all thoughts of returning to Sweden, her revenues were more regularly paid, and she was thus enabled to maintain some state, her retinue amounting to nearly four hundred persons. She may almost be called the founder of tIle celebrated Academy of the Arcadia, which took its rise from the meetings in her palace. She fostered the genius of astronomers and poets and if the latter sung her praises rather too warmly, it is a fault we are inclined to reckon among the virtues, just as we include ingratitude among the unpardonable sins. She raised the poet Filienja from the depths of poverty, loaded him with benefits, and educated his family and when be became one of the first lyric poets of Italy, we admire him all the more that lie employed his genius in immortalizing his ihunificent patroness. We next find Christina embroiled with a new 1)01)0. The foreign ambassadors and their suites had, from ancient times, enjoyed certain privileges, which bad gradually extended so far beyond their residences that 1the ends of justice were frustrated, there being no less than two-thirds of the city in which criminals could not be arrested. The pope resolved no longer to suffer this abuse and after long ne- gotiations, the different powers gave way, the privileges to be henceforth confined to their residences and the persons of their suites. One day, however, criminal, who had been seized by the sbirri, escaped and took shelter in a stable attached to the queens palace. It was locked, but he clung to the chain with the strength of despair, though they put a cord round his neck and he was on the eve of stran- gulation. The noise of the affray reached the ears of Christina, who was in her chapel and she instantly ordered Landini, now captain of her guards, to rescue the man, and cut down the officers of justice if they resisted her will. The sbirri sunk on their knees and resigned their victim, who was led in triumph by the populace, who kept shoutino: Viva leRegiusa. The pope complained of the insult offered to his authority the queen, of that to her digni- ty and the violation of her precincts. The pope desired his treasurer to write demanding that Landini andbhis companions should be de- livered up to justice to which Christina re- plied in a letter, become famous for its pith and brevit~: To dishonor yourself and your master, is then termed justice in your tribunal? Ii pity and despise you now, but shall pity you more when you become cardinal. Take my word, that those whom you have condemned to death, shall live, if it please God, some time longer and if they should die by any other hand than His, they shall not fall alone. It was not till after her death, that the ~iope suc- ceeded in abolishing these abuses. He had met his match. In everything she foiled him, abetted as she was by the French ambassador. She went about with her suite armed. When one of the cardinals reminded her it was the pope she was defying, she replied: What if he be a pope? I will make him know that I am a queen. One warm day, when she had paraded the streets with her armed servants, the two offenders especially conspicuous he sent her some fine fruit from his garden on Monte Cavallo, with a polite message. She thanked him, but added: Do not let the pope imagine that he can lull me to sleep with his feigned courtesies ! At length, deter- mined to carry his point, he excommunicated the French ambassador and withdrew Chris- tinas pension, to which she only said : Tell him that I have accepted his benefits as a pen- ance inflicted on me by the hand of God, and I thank him for having removed from me such a subject of shame and humiliation. A traveller who saw her at this period, when she was about sixty, thus describes her: She had discarded the doublet the black wig, the laced cravat with its knot of scarlet ribbons and her attire, though scarcely more becoming to her sex, was more suitable to her age. She was usually habited in a coat or vest of black satin, reaching almost to the knees, and buttoned down the front under this, a very short petticoat. Her own light-brown hair, once so beautiful and luxuriant, was cut short, and combed up so as to s ad on end, without covering or ornament. She was very short, fat, and round her voice, features, and complexion completely masculine, and in no respect agreeable. Tier eyes, however, re- tained their brilliance, and her tongue be- witched as oddly as her eyes. Of her own appearance and feelinos old age, she irrites to as to the approach of a French lady: I am not grown handsomer since you saw me far from it and I ama still as ill satisfied with may own person as ever. I envy not those who possess fortune, dommnions, treasures, but would fain raise myself above all mortals by wisdom and virtue and that is what makes me discontented. Au reste I am in good health, which will last as long as it pleases God. I have an extreme aversion to grow old, and hardly know how I shall get used to the idea. If I had had my choice between old age and death, I think I should have chosen the latter without hesitation. But since we are not consulted on this point, I shall resign my- self to live on with as much pleasure as I can. 16 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. Death, which I see approaching step by step, does not alarm me. I await it without a wish and without a fear. Bishop Burnet visited Rome in 1687, and she seems to have been very facetious with the hustling, learned prelate: she told him she had now become one of the antiquities of Rome. She said to him: Providence had need have a special care of this Holy See of ours for since I have lived here, I have seen four popes, and (with an oath) all fools and blockbeads. Christina was a great patroness of music, and even in Sweden had some of the best Italian musicians in her service and the first theatre for operas in Rome was erected in 1671, partly under her auspices. Dr. Burney says: The year 1680 is rendered memorable to musicians by the opera of L Onesta dAsnore. This early production of Scarlatti was performed in the palace of the queen of Swe- den. This elegant and original composer, the founder of the Neapolitan School of music, and the precursor of Handel and Purcell, always remembered her with the most lively gratitude. She had a perfect passion for medals, and once contemplated giving a history of her life in a series of these, the designs by herself. Nearly one hundred were indeed engraved, the last of which has her head on one side, a bird of paradise on the other, soaring far above land, sea, and clouds, with an Italian inscription thus translated: I was born, have lived, and will die free. When sittin~ to Dahl, the Swedish painter, she asked him what he in- tended to put in her hand. A fan, please your majesty. A fan! she exclaimed, starting up with a tremendous oath, a fan ! A lion, man! a lion is fitter for the queen of Sweden ! One day, when she was laughing and talking during mass, the pope, as a gentle rebuke, sent her his own rosary. Her reply was a vulgar Italian expression, signifying that she had not become a Catholic to tell her beads. It appears that. in her last days, wearied of her standing dispute with the pope, she had entered into negotiations with the view of erecting for herself an independent principal- ity in Germany but the hand of death ar- rested her, and a malignant fever (with which, from her naturally strong constitution, she struggled hard twice recovering after she had been given over) at length carried her off, on the 19th of April, 1689, aged sixty-three years and four months. In her last moments, she sent to solicit pardon of the pope for her offences against himself and he, apparently as forgiving as she was humble, sent her a plenary absolution for all her sins. Azzolini drew up a will, by which, with the exception of a few legacies, he was made sole heir to her property, amounting to about 500,000 of our money. Her medals and antiques, the finest in ])XXVIIL LIVING AGE. VOL. VI. 2 the world, were purchased by the Odescalehi family her books and manuscripts, by a fu- ture pope, and they are now to be seen in the library of the Vatican. The pope had offered her 60,000 Roman crowns for the pictures hung in her presence-chamber. Pictures once belonging to her, now adorn the walls of Stafford House, the Bridgewater Gallery, and the National Gallery. The funeral was celebrated with great pomp in the church of St. Peter, the pope officiating, all the cardinals and chief nobility assisting at the ceremony. She had desired that her only epitaph should be these words: Vixit Ghristina anni LXIII. (Christina lived sixty-three years) but there is said to be a long Latin inscription on the cenotaph iii St. Peters, erected to her memory by Cardinal Albani. Cardinal Azzolini died three months after Christina, and thus derived no personal advantage from his vast inherit- ance. Christina left behind her several works in manuscript, some of which were lost, and a great collection of letters. Arckenholtz pub- lished her Reflections on the L~/~ and Oharac- ter of Alexander the Great. She left some maxims, after the manner of Rochefoucauld, a few of which we give: Fools are more to be feared than the wicked. Whatever is false is ridiculous. There is a species of pleasure in suffering from the ingratitude of others, which is re- served for great minds alone. We should never speak of ourselves either good or evil. There is a star above us which unites souls of the first order, though worlds and ages sep- arate them. To suffer for having acted well, is itself a species of recompense. Life becomes useless and insipid, when we have no longer either friends or enemies. We grow old more through indolence than through age. The Sahique law, which excludes women from the throne, is a just and a wise law. Cruelty is the result of baseness and cow- ardice. This life is like an inn, in which the soul spends a few moments on its journey. To speak truth, and to do good, is to re- semble, in some sort, the Deity we worship. The fragment of her autobiography, a late thought, which she did not live to complete is solemnly dedicatod to the Author of her be- g, as having been, by His grace, the most favored of all His creatures. She thanks him for having made subservient to his glory and to her happiness, the vigor of her mind, the possession of health, fortune, royal birth, greatness, and all that could result from an as- semblage of noble and admirable qualities. To have made her absolute sovereign over the 17 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. bravest and most glorious nation of the earth, was, she says, assuredly the least of her obli- gations to him, since, after having bestowed upon her all these blessings, he had called her to the glory of making the most perfect sacri- fice of all her fortune, her greatness, and her splendor for his sake, and greatly restoring what he had so graciously lent her. She then gives a list of her faults, which she says she had the power to dissemble, but did not take pains to correct. I was distrustful, suspicious, ambitious, to an excess. I was choleric and hasty, proud and impatient, scornful and sar- castic. She says she had many other faults, which she passes over in silence, only with this complacent remark, because there is nothing perfect in this world. Christina prided herself much on her pro- phetic powers, and on her vast penetration; on that acute spirit of calculation as to the springs of human action, and to which she gave the name of terrestrial astrology. It was one of her maxims: Terrestrial astrology is better than celestial. In a letter to Olive- kraus, she says: Without being an astrolo- ger, I predicted everything that has happened to the king of England; and the affair of the persecution of the iluguenots of France, has been the last fatal blow to this poor prince, who, too much of a biuot and too little of a politician, has brought about his own ruin by allowing himself to be governed by the cursed race of Jesuits and monks, who always spoil everything they meddle with. She saw in Cromwell another Gustavus Vasa, and loved to compare him with her great ancestor; and ridiculed the pomposity and laborious trifiin~ of Louis XIV, at a time when he was eithe~ feared or lauded and deified by the whole of Europe; and Cromwell, on the other hand, scorned and vilified, denied even the posses- si~1 of talent necessary for the maintenance of his usurpation. Then at the time of the revo- cation of the Edict of Nantes, when the sage and grave Chancellor Le Tellier exultingly left the presence of his master, after receiving his signature to the fatal deed, and before the ink was dry, devoutly pronounced the.Nunc dimiuis; when the easy, pleasant, and humane Madame de Sdveign~ was writing to her frigid, ungrateful daughter, in hirrh delight at the news, saying how fine athingit was, compared to which no king had ever done or ever could or would do aught so memorable; when the highest masters were profaning their sacred divine-lent talent one drawing pictures of hideous forms flying at sight of the chalice, another representing the writings of Huss and Calvin, with an enormous bat covering them over Christina could proudly say: I re- monstrated against all this ; and her admira- ble letters to Louis himself; and to the Cheva- lier Tenon, are still extant, to attest the clear- ness, the policy, and the humanity of her views. When misery and wretchedness fol- lowed when many districts of France were neariy depopulated when, in one silk-mill, the number of workers was reduced from 700 to 70, and other manufactories in nearly the same proportion while, scared and terrified at the appalling effects of their own work, the very men who had shouted and exulted, and led the van in the dire work of persecution, were many of them sheltering the wretched Protestants, and assisting them to escape from the fair land of their birth, carrying industry and prosperity to many a barren spot, now to blossom and triumph over desolate France again Christina could lift her voice and say: I foretold all this. We are glad to giv.e this testimony to her moderation and her presci- ence, saddened however by the re~ret that those qualities did not extend to, or rather, begin with, her own conduct and the regula- tion of her own afihirs. Wonder, however, we do not, seeing that the wisdom even of the wisest of men is too often exercised exclusive of themselves so rare is the combination of coolness and insight, the faculty, or the willing- ness to use it, of seeing as clearly with the eyes of others as with their own. Passion, preju- dice, or what we think to be our own interest, first settles the matter; then comes the mock- trial at which the judgment performs no higher part than that of a suborned witness. A fresh, untutored, even unsound mind, nay, a child, may thus pronounce a better sentence for us than we can for ourselves. Now, Christina we hold to have been of decidedly unsound mind; not of that description of unsoundness which freed her from responsibility, but which, leav- ing her still among the unconfined, ren- dered her dangerous both to herself and oth- ers. In her very soberest moments, her char- acter abounded in the most unexampled con- tradictions; and when her passions were ex- cited, she made a total wreck of reason and humanity. She saw into every inconsistency, and yet was inconsistent to the last degree. She left a maxim against egotism, and was the greatest egotist of her day. She was honest and open to a fault, reckless of appearances and in giving of offence; her frankness start- ling and abashing man kind, her audacity caus- ing them to tremble; and yet from the mean- est and most paltry motives, and to serve the most petty ends, she would pursue for weeks and months, a steady, sure, and skilfully-laid train of dissembling, in which she, the most impatient of human beings, exhibited all the patience we are wont to ascribe to those who have attained an entire mastery over their passions. She could show the greatest mag- nanimity, could forgive the offender and raise the fallen; with untiring benevolence she could foster genius, and minister to the neces 18 CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN. sities of the poor; and yet she was cruel and revengeful, standing like a vulture over its prey, and quite as impervious to pity. She could receive Jesuits at her court, and sent to Spain for others still more famous for skill in controversy; hold long and deep converse with them, affect to be convinced by their ar- guments, and profess to be guided by their principles; then act out the whole trick of her conversion, in which she neither deceived her- self nor the world: and afterwards, when boasting of her insight and the fulfilment of her prophecies, she could unceremoniously set them aside as a cursed race who spojl every- thing they meddle with. Not that her in- sight had not its bounds. We say nothing of her being duped by an impudent, ignorant quack like Bourdelot, for that was only for a time; but to the very last, the false and subtle Azzolini ruled her by a system of such match- less duplicity, the very perfection of the art, bowing, and crinoing, and ensnaring, ruling her absolutely, wh~le she ima~ined she ruled, that she contsnued to regard him as one of the first of men, and spoke of him as greater than Oxenstiern, who, with open front and honest heart, had spoken the truth to her, who had borne with all her in~ratitude, and wept bit- ter tears when he put his hand to that deed which placed it beyond his power to serve her lowrer. There is a curious old book, published some two centuries ago, called The history of the Sacred and Royal Majesty of Christina Ales- sandra, Queen of Swedland, with the Reasons of her late Con version to the Roman (atho- liqee Religion; as also a Relation of the sever- al Entertainments given her by divers Princes in he? Journey to Rome, with he? magnificent Reception into that Gitywritten, evidently, by a devout Catholic, desirous of doing all honor to so illustrious a convert. There is much amusing prolixity in describing her great devoutness, and the wearisome ceremo- nies it was necessary to go through on the way. We are told, that when she got beyond the Swedish boundaries, she was taken with a plurisy, or stitch in the breast, which forced her to stay eight daies; that when she heard at Brussels of the death of her mother, she quickly retired to a house without Bruxells, called Tervoren, and remained there three weeks, to divert her afflictions, returning thence afterwards to the city, where all did condole with her majestie; she likewise put on mourning in her mind, depriving it of all recreation and passetime; that at Cullen (Co- logne), where she was welcomed by all the canon on the walls, there, also, the magis- trates gave her the accustomed present of twenty-five great bottles of wine, which the queen caused to be given to the Carmelite discalceat nuns, together with other ahnes, the effects of her generous piety; in another place, the magistrates presented the queen with fish, wine, and oatspresents usually made to all princes and great persons by the imperial cities of Germany. We are told how Holstenius, and Father Malines, the Jes- uit, were despatched by the pope to meet the queen at Innspriick, and the letter of His Holiness is faithfully given: To Our most dear daughter in Christ, Christina, the illus- trious Queen of Swedland; and, concluding, given at Rome at St. Manes the greater, under the seal of the Fisher, etc. And then how the queen very reverently received it, and with a modest blush, showed evident signs of the joy in her heart. Then follows an account of the public profession made by Christina in this city, at which the queen was cloathed in a gown of black silk, very plain, and without any ornament but a crosse of five faire and rich diamonds at her breast; and how Father Standacter, a Jesuit preach- er, made a sermon in Dutch, so elegant, learn- ed, and so fit for that action, that it ravisht the affections and applauses of all ; and how the Te Deum was accompanied by the roar- ing of above fifty pieces of artillery, many mortar pieces, and an infinite number of mus- kets, as likewise with the ringing of the bells. At the church of St. Dominique, in Bologna, she beheld the five books of Moses, written in Hebrew, in thin leather, by the prophet Esdras, and read some of the words. At Ancona she saw the tip of the iron of the lance which opened the side of the Lord Jesus; the right foot of St. Anne, the mother of the most glorious Virgin Mary; and the queen kneeled before them, and kissed them with great devotion. At Loretto, this devo- tion reached its height. As soon as she dis- covered the top of the holy house, she alighted out of her litter, and kneeling with very great devotion, kissed often the ground, then re- turned into her litter, going on to the bending of the mountain, when afterwards she alight~ again, and walked to the church. Here she completed her renunciation of all the pomps and vanities of the world by laying down at the feet of the holy image her crown and her royal scepter, empailed with jewels of great value. ~Ve are not here to account for the discrep- ancies of authors. We think we have fairly represented the character and career of Chris- tina. She has been charged with gross im- morality, we are inclined to think, without reason. It is easy to imagine how such a charge should arise; difficult, indeed, to see how she could escape it. Her strange reck- lessness and waywardnessher unwomanly ways, manners, and languageall she did, and all she left undone, formed one of those unac- countable medleys to which the vulgar must 19 20 BUNYAN. add a climax, in their uneasy, restless dislike to everything that is mysterious. her deser- tion of her people when they were still will- ing to have her rule over them, even after she had begun to he negligent of their interests her open contempt for her own sex, and the sums she lavished on unworthy objects, would naturally sharpen the imaginations of many to recount wonderful stories after her depar- ture, which had no previous existence or foun- dation. Many zealous Protestants, also, must have been too seriously offended by her change of faith, to deal out even-handed jus- tice to her. But when, on the other hand, we find Catholic authors, in their natural ex- ultation over a distinguished convert, not only concealing the worst of her eccentricities, and clipping her down into the shape of an ordi- nary mor 1, but proceeding thereafter to dress her up in the garb of a saint, we are entitled to demur. She will ever remain a striking example of the worse than uselessness of great talents, high station, and splendid opportuni- ties, without that sobriety of mind, that stead- iness of walk, that appropriation and appli- cation, and ~vell-measured use of great gifts, which can alone render those available. From the Examiner. The Encyclopcedia Bs-itannica, or Dictionary of Arts, Sciences and General Literature. Eighth Edition. With extensive Improve- ments and Additions; and numerous En- gravings. Vols. IV. Edinburgh: Adam and Charles Black. THE republication of this standard work goes on in a manner worthy of the reputation which began with its first appearance about eighty years ago. Then, much knowledge of which it now treats was in its infancy, and three quarto volumes were euough to hold its sum- mary of literature, art, and science. With every edition since, the work has been made to keep pace with the world, and as men are in these days not satisfied with meagre heads of information that would have perfectly satis- fied the curiosity of their forefathers, the result is~ that of this eighth edition of the En- cyclop~dia five thick quartos have been issued, and we are still only finishing the letter B. Let us look simply at the volume last issued. There, under the head of Botany, we find the treatise by Professor Balfour to be a complete work by itselg in which none of the latest ad- vances in that science seem to be left unre- corded. Britain, again, furnishes the topic for a very important detailed history of the Unit- ed Kingdoms of England and Scotland. And yet even such articles as thesebooks of themselvesform but a comparatively small proportion of the volume to which they be- long. The smaller articles seem all to have been revised with care, and are remarkable for their fulness and general accuracy. Many new heads have been introduced, or old papers replaced with better from the ablest hands. Among these. we have been most struck with a delightful short biography of Bunyan, which in a few pages presents that quaint old worthy to us as a breathin~ figure, in a sketch admir- able for its picturesque and thoughtful treat- ment, and for those master touches which bring out the true expression of the man. The strength, humor, grace of style, liberality of tone, keenness of perception, and thorough relish for the subject manifest in the writing of this little memoir, indicate plainly enough the owner of the signature T. B. M. by whom the Encyclopmedia has been in this ease en- riched. Mr. Macaulay represents to us vividly and in few words, the boy, John Bunyan, born tinker, with a powerful imagination and keen sensibility excited by religious terrors, grow- ing up to a tormented youth. Of the depra- vity and profligacy commonly attributed to him, on his own testimony, as characteristic of his tinker days, so far as such words have a real meaning in our own ears, he is here proved guiltless. His four chief sins were dancing, ringing the bells of the parish church, plying at the tip-cat, and reading the history of Sir Bevis of Southampton. Another sin indeed is named which appears somewhat more real to us, but his habit of swearing was cured by one reproof. A Rector of the school of Laud, Mr. Macaulay observes, would have held such a young man up to the whole parish as a model. But Bunyans notions of good and evil had been learned in a very dif- ferent school and he was made miserable by the conflict between his tastes and his scru- ples. At seventeen Bunyan enlisted in the par- liamentary army, and served during the cam- paign of 1645. Then it was that his imagina- tion became stored with those impressions of the pomp and circumstance of war, which fur- nished afterwards so many of his illustrations, and supplied him with his Greatheart, his Cap- tain Boanerges, and his Captain Credence. The campaigning over, he went home and married. And then his fancy again became the prey of the religious excitement and fana- ticism prevalent, and his terrors, temptations, and seliaceusatioas bordered on insanity. BUNYAN. As he grew older, reason strengthened, and a spirit of sound sense got vigor enough to subdue, or nearly to subdue, the wildness of these fantasies. lie joined a Baptist So- ciety at Bedford, and after a time began to preach; yet we are told it was long before he ceased to be tormented by an impulse which urged him to utter words of horrible impiety in the pulpit. With the Restoration there came persecu- tion of dissenters, and Bunyans well-known imprisonment in Bedford jail lasted, with some intervals, during twelve years. He was told that if lie would give up preaching he should be set free; but not even his strong do- mestic affections tempted this brave fellow from the path that seemed to him the path of duty. He had several small children, and among them a blind daughter, whom he loved with peculiar tenderness. He could not, he said, bear even to let the wind blow on her; and now she must suffer cold and hunger; she must beg; she must be beaten; yet~ he added, I must, I must do it. That he studied during this imprisonment the Bible and the Book of Martyrs, and that he there began to write, all the world knows. In his first writings he had not found his whole power, but at last he began the Pilgrims Progress, a work of which Mr. Macaulay thus strikingly relates both the history and char- acter. Before lie left his prison he had begun the book which has made his name immortal. The history of that book is remarkable. The author was, as he tells us, writing a treatise, in which he had occasion to speak of the stages of the Christian progress. I-Ic compared that progress, as many others had compared it, to a pilgrimage~ Sooii his quick wit discovered innumerable points of similarity which had escaped his predecessors. Images came crowding on his mind fhster than he could put them into words, quagmires and pits, steep hills, dark and horrible olens soft vales, sunny pastures, a gloomy castle of which the court yard was strewn with the skulls and bones of murdered prisoners, a town all hustle and splendor, like London on the Lord Mayors day, and the narrow path, straight as a rtmle could make it, running on up bill and down hill, through city and through wilderness, to the Black River and the Shining Gate. lie had found out, as most people would have said, by accident, as he would doubtless have said, by the guidance of Providence, where his powers lay. He had no suspicion, indeed, that he was producing a mas- terpiece. lie could not guess ~vhat place his allegory would occupy in English literature, for of English literature he knew nothing. Those who SUPPOSe him to have studied the Fairy Queen niight easily be confuted, if this were the proper place for a detailed examination of the passages in which tIme two allegories have been thought to resemble each other. TIme only work of fiction, in all probability, with which he could 21 compare his Pilgrim, was his old favorite, the legend of Sir Bevis of Southampton. He would have thought it a sin to borrow any time from the serious business of his life, from his exposi- tions, his controversies, and his lace tags, for the purpose of amusing himself with what he con- sidered merely as a trifle. It was only, he as- sures us, at spare moments that he returned to the House Beautiful, the Delectable Mountains, and the Enchanted Ground. lie had no assist- ance. Nobody but himself saw a line till the whole was complete. He then consulted his pious friends. Some were plea~ed; others were much scandalized. It was a vain story, a mere romance about giants, and lions, and ~ obli us, and warriors, sometimes fighting with monsters, and sometimes regaled by fair ladies in stately palaces. The loose atheistical wits at Wills might write such stuff to divert the painted Jez- ebels of the court, but did it become a minister of the gospel to copy the evil fashions of the world There had been a time when the cant of such fools would have made Bunyan misera- ble. But that time was passed, and his mind was now in a firm and healthy state. He saw that in employing fiction to make truth clear and goodness attractive, he was only following the example which every Chrjstian ought to propose to himself, and he determined to print. The Piigriinas Proqress stole silently into the world. Not a sin~le copy of the first edition is known to be in existence. The year of publi- cation has not been ascertained. It is probable that, during some months the little volume cir- culated only among poor and obscure sectaries. But soon the irresistible charm of a book which ~ ratified the imagination of the reader with all the action and scenery of a fairy tale, which ex- ercised his ingenuity by setting him to discover a multitude of curious analogies, which interest- ed his feelings for human beings, frail like him- self; and struggling with temptations from within and from without, which every moment drew a smile from him by some stroke of quaint yet simple pleasantry, and nevertheless left on his mind a sentiment of reverence for God, and of sympathy for man, began to produce its effect. In puritanical circles, from which plays and nov- els were strictly excluded, that effect was such as no work of genius, though it were superior to the Iliad, to Don Quixote, or to Othello, can ever produce on a mind accustomed to indulge in literary luxury. In 1678 came forth a second edition with additions, and then the demand be- came immense. In time four following years the 1)00k was reprinted six times. The eighth edi- tion, which contains the last improvements made by the author. was published in 1682, tIme ninth in 1684, tIme tenth in 1685. Time help of the en- giaver had early been called in, and tens of thousands of children looked with terror and delight on execrable copperplates which repre- sented Christian thrusting his sword into Apol- lyon, or writhing in the grasp of Giamit Despair. In Scotland, and in some of the colonies, the Pilgrim was even more popular than in his na- tive country. Bunyan has told us, with very pardonable vanity, that jn New England his dream was the daily subject of the conversation 22 of thousands, and was thought worthy to appear in the most superb binding. I-Ic had numerous admirers in Holland and among the Huguenots of France. With the pleasures, however, he ex- perienced some of the pains of eminence. Knav- ish booksellers put forth volumes of trash under his name, and envious scribblers maintained it to he impossible that the poor ignorant tinker should really be the author of the hook which was called his. He took the best way to confound both those who counterfeited him and those who slandered him. He continued to work the Gold-field which he had discovered, and to draw from it new treasures, not indeed with quite such ease and in quite such abundance as when the precious soil was still virgin, hut yet with success which left all competition far behind. In 1684 appeared the second part of the Pilqrims Proqress. It was soon followed by the holy JVor, which, if the Pilqrims Proqress did not exist, would be the best allegory that ever was written. * * * * * * * The fame of Bunyan during his life, and dur- ing the century which followed his death, was indeed great, but was almost entirely confined to religious families of the middle and lower classes. Very seldom was he during that time LAST DAYS OF ALEXANDER AND FIRST OF NICHOLAS. mentioned with respect by any writer of great literary eminence. Young coupled his prose with the poetry of the wretched DUrfey. In the Spiritual Quixote the adventures of Christian are ranked with those of Jack the Giant Killer and John Hickathrift. Cowper ventures to praise the great allegorist, but did not venture to name him. It is a significant circumstance that, till a recent period, all the numerous editions of the Pi~qriias Proqress were evidently me. ut fbr the cottage and the servants ball. The paper, the printing, the plates, were all of the meanest description. In general, when the educated minority and the common people differ about the merit of a book, the opinion of the educated minority finally prevails. The Pilgrims Pro- gress is perhaps the only book about which, after the lapse of a hundred years, the educated minor- ity has come over to the opinion of the common people. Bunyans subsequent career we need not follow here. We have said enough to direct attention to IMr. Macaulays brilliant little sketch, and to suggest the spirit in which the Encyclopiedia must be conducted which has been able to provide for its pages matter of such sterling quality. From The Spectator. LAST DAYS OF ALEXANDER ANJ) FIRST DAYS OF NICHOLAS. LN 1824, Dr. Lee joined the establishment of Count now Prince Woronzow, who has lately withtlrawn from the government of Georgia. He resided for two years in the Counts family as physician both at Odessa and St. Petersburg. Part of his sojourn was rendered memoi-able by the death of Alexan- der, and the outbreak of the conspiracy whose object was to dethrone the house of Romanoff and revolutionize Russia; part in a less de- gree by the treaty which was extorted frem Turkey in 1826, by proceedings like those of Mensehikoff lately, but by which war was postponed till 1828. From his position, Dr. Lee had access to the highest society. In ge- neral conversation, his character as an Eng- lishman inspired a confidence which it would appear was not considered prudent between Russians. Of his observations durin~ his re- sidence Dr. Lee kept a journal, from which this volume is chiefly exti-acted, the extracts being united by connecting passages, and oc- casionally accompanied by illustrative foot- notes. The topics of the book are various. There are accounts of the beauties of the Crimea, ~ The Last Days of Alexander, and the First Days of Nicholas, (Emperors of Bussia). By Rob- ert Lee, M.D., FILS. Published by Bentley. and of its malaria, which induces severe and (if neglected) fatal fevers and congestions, of which indeed Alexander died; sketches of the peasantry, the country and its productions, in passing; visits to public institutions, chiefly hospitals, with remarks on Russian practice and practitioners thirty years ago. The pre- dominant features of the book are its indica- tions of Russian government, Russian Society, and the Russian masses, as they were in 1824- 1826. In this point of view Dr. Lees little book is the most truthful and picturesque we remember to have read. his position and his residence of course gave him much better op- portunities of acquiring knowledge than a common tourist; and he seems to have gone to the country without pi-econceived notions, certainly without any such opinions one way or another as of late years most men would have gone with. Opinions Dr. Lee expresses, but they are forced upon him by what he con- tinually sees and hears. The incidents, in- deed hardly incidents, are of so sihcht a char- acter, but so terribly significant of the inse- cure and suspicious nature of Russian society, that they speak more forcibly than greater matters. This was one of his earliest expe- riences. Society at Odessa seemed as free and unre- strained as in London and there was nothing appareiit to a stranger from which it could at this time be suspected that a conspiracy existed to destroy the Emperor Alexander and subvert LAST DAYS OF ALEXANDER AND FIRST OF NICHOLAS. the government of the country. At a public ball, howcvcr, a circumstance occurred to me one ni~ht, which arrestcd my attention, and excitcd a suspicion that the aff~irs of the country wcre not in so quiet a state as the surface indicated. After conversin~ for a time with Count de Witt, Prince Serge Volhousky whispered in my ear, Take care what you say: he is the Empe- rors spy: which afterwards was actually proved to he the ease. We shall meet the Prince Valhonsky again. To continue the subject of espionage, Dr. Lees private journal was the matter of a friendly hint from the late Russian Ambassador in England. During the time we remained at Taganro~, I resided in the same apartments with Baron Brunnow, and was on very friendly terms with him. One day he related to me the following anecdote, in his most playful manner. An Eng- lish nobleman and the celebrated M. de Montes- quien once met at Venice, and were comparing the English and French nations. M. Montes- qnieu maintained that the French were mdch more intelli~ent and acute than the En~lish. The Englishman did not contradict him, al- though lie did not give his assent entirely, being prevented by politeness from contradicting him. Every ni~ht M. de Montesquieu committed to paper what had passed during the day. On the following morning after this conversation an Italian entered the apartments of the Marquis, and said, You keep a journal of what you ob- serve, and it is disliked extremely by the Govern- ment. I advise you to burn your journal imme- diately, otherwise you will run the risk of being thrown into prison. He immediately cast his journal into the fire, and it was consumed. The same evening, the English nobleman waited upon him, and M. de Montesquien i-elated the circum- stance, and expressed himself very uneasy at the thou~ht of being snbjected to imprisonment. The En~lishman observed, Now you see the difference between the English and French: had this happened to an Englishman, he would have considered the probability of this, or at least have endeavored to avoid it; he would cer- tainly not have thrown his journal into the fire as y~n have done. I sent the Italian to see how you would act on this occasion, for the purpose of showing you the difference between the two nations. In spite of this kind and delicate hint, my journal or diary was continued, and it has not yet been cast into the fire and consumed. What a state of things! And be it remem- bered, too, that these anecdotes belong to the rigime of Alexander ; though the Em- peror was lying dead at Taganrog when the Baron spoke. The apprehension about the character of Nicholas at his accession was very great among those who knew him best. After reaching St. Petersburg, Dr. Lee chronicles There is no doubt, if I may credit what. has been stated to me, that his Ma- jesty is one of the most false characters that exists, and that he has a very nnforgiving dis- position. Recent events, if not Isis whole career have shown that Dr. Lees informant had judged Nicholas rightly. It is the write s opin- ion that Russia has very greatly retrograded in every point under the rule of Nicholas. Alex- ander was weak and vain; his highest liberality was of an autocratic cast, and in the latter years of his reign this liberality had greatly dimin- ished. The assassination of Kotzehue, the conspiracies of German students and Italian Carbonari, as well as the revolt in Greece, had disposed him to acts of repression. Still he was tolerant in religion to the last, a friend to a sort of education, a firm supporter of the Bible Society and the distribution of Bibles in Russia, both of which Nicholas soon pot a stop to. Alexanders personal character was mild, and he was very considerate to those about him. Dr. Lee saw but little of him, and that only on his tour through the Soothes-n pro- vinces, which death intercepted at Tagatiro~. Here is the first interview. The unusual and condescending familiarity with strangers seems to recall Napoleons Greek of t~e Lower Empire. He arrived at Voursouff about four oclock in the afternoon, accompanied by General Diehitch, Sir James Wylie, and a few attendants. When he dismounted from his horse in front of the house at Yoursouff, Count Worouzow, his aides- dc-camp, secretaries, and myself; were standing in a line to receive him. Though apparently active, and in the prime and vigor of life, the Emperor stooped a little in walking, and seemed rather inclined to corpa- lency. He was dr.essed in a blue military sur- tout, with epaulettes, and had nothing to distin- guish him from any genera-I officer. He shook Count Woronzo~v by the hand, and afterwards warmly saluted him, first on one cheek aiid then on the other. He afterwards shook hands with us all; and then inquired of me particularly about the health of the Counts children at Biala Cerkiew, whom I had seen not long before. He then inquired if I had visited the South coast of the Crimea during tbe autumn; and if so, how I was pleased with it. Looking up to the mona tains above Yoursouff, and then to the calm sea, upon which the sun was shining, his Majesty ex- claimed, ~ Was there ever such magnificent scenery! I replied, that the coast of Italy, be- tween Genoa and Nice, presented the only scene- ry I had ever witnessed that could be compared to it; a part of Italy which his Majesty stated he had never visited. The clemency of Nicholas towards the con- spirators was considered great in Russia: only two hundred were banished to Siberia, besides a few of the most guilty were condemned to death. From the nature of the trials and their secrecy, the guilt oi~ innocence of many 23 24 LAST DAYS OF ALEXANDER AND FIRST OF NICHOLAS. of the banished is very problematical; their the slaves themselves being disarmed. Later sentence autocratic at all events, and the exile writers as Hill, and Oliphant, have indicated as bad as death. This is the fate of Prince that the safety of the lords, when the slave has Volhonsky, perhaps aggravated by personal an opportunity, is often doubtful, their igno enmity. rance rendering the vengeance more horrible in its form. It is probable, too, that frequent Prince Serge Voihousky, who had married outbreaks take place in particular districts another daughter of General Rajewsky, the sis- everything unpalatable in Russia being sup- ter of Madame Orloff, and not less distinguished and known only to Government or ~ pressed, for her virtues and accomplishments, in a cw those on the spot, unless some foreigner hap- months after had his sword hroken over his head was stripped of his rank and honor, reduced ~ pens to hear of it. This question of serfdom the condition of a common slave, and banished and several other matters characteristic of into the wilds of Siberia, where he has remained, Russia into which Dr. Lees volume would if living, ever since. I had been introduced the enable us to enter, we shall not touch upon; previous winter, to Prince Volhonsky, at Biala but his conclusion, written with deliberation Cerkiew, the residence of the Countess Branicka, after nearly thirty years further observation, the mother of the Countess Worouzow, and at has been added to his first impressions of Ni- Odessa had professionally attended his family cholas. and become well acquainted with him. He was a most affectionate father and devoted husband: but I knew at the time that he was not in favor It does not nppear from the reports of those with the Emperor Alexander and had incurred who have visited Russia since the year 1826, that by some frivolous act the deadly hatred of any attempt has been made to improve the Count Araktcheieff. I had before this been in- wretched condition of the slaves throughout the formed that the following lau~hablc circumstance, Russian empire, nor to correct the abuses which which had taken place four years before, during then prevailed in every department of the Gov- a visit of the Emperor to the military colonies, eminent. Since the suppression of the Bible of which Count Arakrcheieff was the founder, Society, which was carried into effect while I was the cause openly assigned for Prince Vol- was in St. Petersburg, knowledge at every en- honskys disgrace. trance has been excluded from the people. It is The following is the account of this affair eo- said that astronomy has been encouraged at Dor- pied verbatim from my journal. pat, and mineralogy at Moscow, by two kisse~ The military colonies please one at first si~ht, imprinted upon the cheeks of an eminent Eng. from the order and cleanliness, everywhere pre- lish geologist. vailiu,~ in them; but their population is said to The consumption of human life during the be wretched in the highest degree. When the reibn of the Emperor Nicholas has been enor- Emperor Alexander was here, some years ago, mous. He has carried on war with the Circas- he went round visiting every house; and on sians uninterruptedly for twenty-eight years, at every table he found a dinner prepared, one of an annual cost of 20,000 lives on the Russian the principal articles of which consisted of a side alone ; making a grand total of nearly young pig roasted. The Prioce Volhonsky ins- 600,000 Russians who have perished in attempt- pected there was some trick, and cut off the tail ing to subdue the independence of Circassia. of the pig and put it in his pocket. On entering In the two campaigns against Persia, as in the next house, the pi~ was presented, but with- the Hungarian campaign and the two Polish out the tail; upon which Prince Volboasky said campaigns of 1831-32, there are not sufficient to the Emperor, I think this is an old friend. data to enable me to form a correct estimate of The Emperor demanded his meaning; when he the Russian loss, which was, however, in the took out the tail from his pocket and applied it Persian and Polish wars enormous. to the part from which it had been removed. In the two campaigns against Turkey of 1828- The Emperor did not relish the jest, and it was 9, 300,000 fell; of whom, however, 50,000 pe. supposed this piece of pleasantry led to his dis- rished by the plague. grace. A more effectual, though bold and dan- The loss of the Russians in various ways since gerous method of exposin~ to the Emperor the the entry of the Danubian Principalities, is un. deceptions carried on throughout the military co- derstated at 30,000. bales nuder Count Araktcheieff could not have In these calculations, it should be borne in been adopted than that which Prince Volhonskv mind that no estimate is attempted to be made had recourse to on this occasion. From that of the sacrifice of human life on the side of time Count Araktcheieff became his bitter cue- those who fought for their liberties against the aggressions of Russia. If this calculation were attempted, it is probable that the result would Dr. Lee does not use the word serfs, but the prove that neither Julius Cusar nor Alexander~ less polite term of slaves. These he describes nor even Tamerlane has been a greater scourge as being almost everywhere in the most to the human race than the present Emperor Ni- wretched condition, ready to rise against their ebolas. masters at every opportunity, and only kept down by soldiers quartered in strong positions, So much for the pet of the Peace people! THREE GRACES OF CHRISTIAN SCIENCE. THREE GRACES OF CHRISTIAN SCIENCE. HAS any one of our readers ever seen a mind locked up in a case, the key of which cannot be found ? Such is the condition of a human being without senses. But are there such beings it may be asked. There has been at least one, of which this dreadful conception is nearly a faithful account. There is a girl in Switzerland born blind and deaf, and almost entirely without the senses of smell and taste, and originally, even that of touch. Such at least was her state when first examined by the benevolent persons who wished to improve her condition. Her parents, who were poor, concluded she was an idiot and, while suffi- ciently attached to her to desire not to expose her to observation, and the trouble of being meddled with, left her to nature, as they said which, in her case, meant everything that was dreadful and disgusting. At nine years old, when the family were at their meal, she stood near, and a piece of bread bein,~ put into her hand, she ate it; and when, instead of bread, a piece of iron was given her, she put it into her mouth, tried to chew it, and after a time let it drop out. When left alone she lay huddled up, with her fists upon her eyes, and the thumbs closing her ears. It was not easy to make her walk, and she clung to the person next her, utter- ing shrill cries. Her skin was nearly insensible. On lookin,, further into the case, however, the physician was of opinion that sight might possi- bly be obtained, sooner or later, by operation for cataract. It appeared also that she was not to- tally deaf. Sharp sounds, close at hand, evident- ly gave her great pain, but none were heard at the distance of a few feet. Her hearing had originally been somewhat better than this, and she had even shown some disposition to speak, which, however, seemed to be lost in total deaf- ness (practically speaking) at two years old or under. The parents let her go at last to an asy- lum, though shedding many tears at the parting. In three months she took walks. By bathing, fresh air, and exercise, her skin had become near- ly as sensitive as other peoples so here was one sense obtained, to proceed upon. For a time this was rather a grief than a satisfaction to everybody, for she was continually hurting self; even knocking her head against the bedstead in the night, and utterin~ the most lamentable cries. The strangest thing she did was dealing with her food like a ruminating animal. She bolted it first, and then, in ten minutes, stretched her neck forward, brought up what she had swal- lowed. and chewed it for an hour. It took a month to cure her of this. It was done by watching the moment, and compelling her to throw her head and body back, and open her mouth. Once conquered, the. stran~e propensity never re-appeared. When the circulation and di0estion were brought into a healthy state, her sleep became quiet. She left off knocking her head against the beadstead and screaming in the ni,,ht. The poor child was now brought into a state of bodily ease. Still, however, her nervous From Household Words, condition w~ts such as to make the sure,eon de- cline operating on the eyes. She showed terror ort whatever was required of her, y of satisfaction were made only in connection with eatingnot on account of the taste, for she was insensible to that, but after a meal, when the satisfaction of her hunger was felt. It must have been a happy moment to her guardians when she first laughed. It was in answer to caresses. She soon learned to shake hands, and she hugged the friend who so greeted her, and laughed. But it was still doubtful whether she knew one person from another even her own particular nurse from a stranger. It was a whole year before she could be taught to feed herself with a spoon, though before that time her voice bad become more human, several notes of the scale having, as it were, dropped in between the primary sounds she made when ad- mitted. Her ability to feed herself was accom- panied by other improvements, even of the de- ficient senses themselves, and especially of hear- ing. She soon followed a voice calling to her at several feet distance. This was her state seven years ago; and, if such progress as this were made in one year, we may hope that now, at the age of nineteen (if she still live), her case may have passed from being that of a human being without senses, to that of one being born to them vem-y late, and having them in an imperfect con- ditiou at last. The earliest case of supposed extreme defi- ciency of the senses which was fully and prop- erly recorded was that of which Dugald Stewart was the historian, that of James Mitchell, the son of a Scotch clergyman. The boy was born 1795, totally deaf, but far from totally blind, lie was fond of the light, though lie could not dis- tinguish objects; and his custom was to shut him- self up in a dark stable, and stand for hours with his eye close to any hole or chink which let in a ray of sunshine, lie bit pieces of glass into a proper shape, and held them between his eye and the sunshine, and got a candle all to himself in a dark corner of a room. Moreover, his senses of smell and taste were uncommonly acute, and he obtained a great amount and variety of knowl- edge by means of them. The vast conception of communication between people and things at a distance was conveyed to him at once by smell (if not even by such light as he was sensible her- of), aiid there is nothing so difficult to convey to those who have not his comparative advantages. He knew his family and friends some way off by his sense of smell, could tell ~vhether they came home with wet feet or dry; and, no doubt, whether they hind been gathering sweet herbs in the garden, or dressing the horse in the stable- yard. Yet this boy, who had only one sense ab- solutely deficient, and was cared for and tended with the utmost assiduity by educated people, and visited by philosophers, remained unspeaka- bly ignorant and undeveloped in comparison with several persons who, instead of being totally deficient in only one sense, are possessed of only one. lie used his small means very actively for amusement, but no one seems to have thought of using them for his educati~n. It was a period when metaphysics were flourishing more than 25 THREE GRACES OF CHRISTIAN SCIENCE. science, and especially in his neighborhood, and poor James Mitchell, accordingly, ncver learned to read or write, or to speak any lan~uage at all. lie taught those about him a limited lan uab e by si~ns, but they taught him none. When we read the philosophers account of him, of the guardian sisters language of taps on the head, or hand (which then appeared very clever), and of his utterance being only uncouth beflowings and boisterous laughter, we think of the three far happier cases of Edward, Laura, and Oliver, half a century later, and bless the science that has brought out so much of the statue from its quarryso much of living mind from its appar- ently impervious tomb. The night when Edward Meystres guardian, hearin~ his uncouth voice went to his room, and found him with folded hands, saving aloud, I am thinking of GodI am thinking of God his first spontaneous prayer must have been the sweetest in which ever the lover of his kind laid his head on his pillow. This case of Meystre is the first of three to which our title applies. here the total absence of each sense was not from birth. Ed~vard, of whom we are speakin~, had a deaf-and-dumb brother but heard very svell himself as an infant, and be- gan to say papa and mama, when the small pox deprived him of his bearing, utterly and ab- solutely, at the age of eleven months. There was fear for his eyes at the same time, but they escaped, and he saw perfectly well till the age of eightan immense advantage in regard to his future development. It was a cruel accident that deprived him of sight, and we pity the ~-- petrator of the carelessness perhaps more than the sufferer. A boy of eleven, Edwards cousin playing with his fathers loaded ann, aimed it at the door of the room, and, at the precise moment when Edward was comifig in, discharged the piece, lodging the shot in the poor childs face and eyes. The sufferer rent his mothers heart by clingin~ to her for long afterwards, saying, in his language of signs, that it was always night. He wanted to have his cousin killed, and his mother, stran~ely enough, pacified him by telling him the boy was dead and buried, lie wanted to be certain, and she took him to a new-made grave, lie stamped upon it with his feeble little foot; and such was his moral education! Hap- pily, he was taken under a wiser care, and the time arrived, and before very long, when he loved and consoled his poor cousin, and was always glad to meet himwhile informing other people who visited him that he had had two eyes, and now had none, adding, turning pale as he made the signs, that it was very pleasant to be able to see. At this time his employment was handling and cutting wood in his fathers shophis father being a carpenter. When his father left busi- ness, the lad cut wood for the neighbors. It was sad that the one sense which was now to be re- lied on should be impaired by his hands being hardened and roughened in this way; and, though he was taken into the excellent Blind Asylum at Lausaune (maintained by one benefi- cent English gentleman), at the age of eighteen, his fingers never acquired the delicacy of touch of the other pupils. There is no evidence that his senses of smell and taste were turned to par- ticular account in his education; but they were not deficient, and James Mitchells case seems to show that much might have been done by means of them. In his education, there were some marked stages, which it is highly i~terestina and inipor- tant to know of. flis enterprising and benevo- lent teacher, M. Ilirzel, taught him words by means of raised print beginning, of course, with nouns. He was made to touch a file, and the word file (in French); and the word was given him now in larger and now in smaller letters, that he might find out that it was the shape of the letters, and not the size, that was important. The next word given was sew, and a saw a thing he was familiar with was put into his hand. Then came the discovery during the fourth lesson. His face lighted up. He had found it out! He showed everybody that the one word meant a saw, and tIme other a~ file and it was some days before he recovered his composure. lie now went to his lessons with pleasure, and began to want to know the printed names of things, and to like to pick out from the case the letters composing those he knew. It was a joke of his to put together the letters at random, and ask what they meant. Such were his early lessons. His favorite amusement was at the turning-lathe, where he became so expert that he quizzed the new pupils (all blind) for any ir- regularity in their work plaiting straw, or whatever it might be. The indefatigable teacher actually thought he would try to teach him to speak. To sl)eak! A person totally deaf and blind! How could it be set about l It was accomplished, with infinite trouble, in which the teacher was sustained by the hope of success, and the pupil by the only in- ducement found strona enough the promise of cigars a luxury which, we trust, no one will think of grud~ing to a creature so bereaved. By feeling the teachers breath, his chest, his throat, his lips, and by having his own mouth put into the proper form for the vowels, by prisms and rings of different sizes, the art of articulation was learned; and it brought on the next great event in Edwards experience. Being taught the easy name (Arimi) of one of the blind h)upils, he found that that boy always came to him when he called the name. lie found that he could com- municate with people at a distance by means of speech, and now knew what speech was for. No doubt Arni was wanted very often indeed, till more names were learned; and probably Arni was glad when the others had their tnrn to be called. This happened soon, for Edward now spoke a good deal, uttering aloud, of his own ac- cord, the words he learned to read. He went on pretty easily through The mason makes the wall, The baker makes the bread, and so forth, and to know that the word wall may mean walls in general; and it was not very difficult to teach him Today, Yesterday, and To- morrow. By that time, the third gm-eat event was at hand. The weather, from being very cold, had become mild, and Edwards tutor took him out to feel the buds, lenycs, and blossoms of plants, and made him observe the warmuth of the sun- 26 THREE GRACES OF CHRISTIAN SCIENCE. shine, and that there was no snow, and gave him the name Spring, and then taught him: Leaves come out in spring. He caught a glimpse of the use of the abstract term, and in great agi- tation turned the phrase to: In spring, leaves come out. He looked brighter than ever when he said, with his fingers, that: One word means many things, and he actually capered with joy. It was curious to watch his apprehension of another abstraction. He told a falsehood once, said he had had no wine, when the housekeeper had given him a glass, pleading that she ought to have been questioned and blamed, as she gave him the wine. Great pains were taken to impress him with the meaning and consciousness of the lie; but it was uncertain with what effect. A few days after, the pupils told him at bed time that there was snow. In the morning, he went out to ascertain for himself, being fond of verifying statements. The snow was melted; whereupon he cried out very loud: Lie! no snow. Thus it was clear enough that he knew his fault, and the name of it. The fourth great event was the clear forma- tion of the religious ideas that were presented to him; and this kind of teaching began as soon as the affair of the lie showed hi,n to be capable of moral training. It is probable that his recollec- tions of light, and all the beauties that it reveals, determined his first superstition. While strongly disposed to fetishism in general venerating the wind, for instance, because it was not tired after blowing strongly for several days, his particu- lar disposition was to worship the sun. The first religious sentiment that he expressed was that it does not do to shake ones fist at the sun. He was deeply impressed, when told by his companions that the Maker of the sun was like a man, only so wise and powerful as men cannot imagine. As a necessary consequence of this way of teach- ing him, he was uneasy about what mi~ht be- come of everything when God was asleep. To remedy this, his teacher took him quietly round the house when the inmates were asleep, and made him softly touch their heads, and told him (by the fin,,er-speech) that they were now as if they wore dead, being unable to think whereas God was always thinking. He now, of course, took up the idea that the dead could dream; but he became deeply impressed with the dignity of heing able to think. When he wanted to play with the pupils whom he found at prayers, and then to know why they joined their hands, he was told that they prayed, and that praying was thinking of God. It was after this that his teacher heard that stran~e and heart-moving sound from the dark bed-side, the loud un- couth voice, saying over and over: I am think- ing of God! One consequence of his new no- tion of the di~nity of thought was his feeling about the deaths of persons of different ages. He felt the corpse of a child of two years old, and asked a woman in the room if she cried for its death ; but, without waiting for an answer, he added that that was not possible, for the child was too young to be able to think much, or therefore to be worth crying for. These results are surely wonderful for a period of eighteen months. This desolate creature could, in that time, speak, read, think, and inquire; he was a subject of moral discipline, and was capa- ble of an energetic industry. His work at the turning-lathe was excellent, and he had employ- ments enough to fill up his time innocently and cheerfully. A cheering thought and image to all who had heard of him, what must he have been to his guardian, the patient M. Hirzel! His family were proud of him, even to the deaf and dumb brother, and he lost none of his attach- ment to them.*, - Even greater progress has been made in the development of the American girl, Laura Bridg- man, whose case is happily so well known as not to need to be here detailed at length. In her case, too the sense of touch was the only resource at first ; and in her case, too, there was the ad- vantage (how great we cannot know) of her hav- ing enjoyed sight and hearing till she was two years old. At the age of eight, Dr. howe, who was to her what M. Hirzel was to Edw. Meystre, took her under his charge in the Blind Asylum, at Boston, Massachusetts, and taught her as much as Edward was taught, except that actual speech was not attempted. Poor child! When informed that the sounds she made were too loud and frequent, she asked: Why, then, has God given me so much voice l The pathetic, uncon- scious hint was taken, and she was then permit- ted, for a certain time every day, to exercise her lungs freely, making as much noise as she pleased, in a room where she could disturb no- body. When alone and watched without her knowing it, she soliloquizes in the finger-speech and, what appears still more strange, she uses it in her dreams. The governess who visits her bedside, can tell, by watching the motions of the hand, what she is dreaming about. She writes freely now, and her mind communicates very largely with others. Her diary, which she writes in a clear free hand, without the guidance of lines, tells how her days pass, among books and work, books in raised print, and neat sewing or knit- ting of her own, and lessons in geography, his- tory, and algebra, among other things; and about her walks, her visitors, the letters she re- ceives and writes, and the news from all parts of the world that her friends report to her. She is regular in all her doings, neat in her dress, al- ways busy in one way or another, exceedingly inquiring and intelligent, and remarkably merry. Her turn has come, even hers, for benefiting a fellow-being. Oliver, a boy in her own plight, was brought to the institution as she had been, and she assists materially in his education, and must be an inestimable companion to him. ~ This youth is an old acquaintance of mine, and I presented him with the cigars he smoked (he has a great delight in smoking) for some months, when I lived at Lausanne. For a Ion, tune after I left that place, he always associated my name with a cigar. Being there last October, after an absence of five or six years, I went to see my old friend. M. Hirzel could not then, by any means, induce him to associate me in the right manner with a ci- gar, though Edward was painfully anxious to un- derstand. I left some money for him, to be ex in b pended the old way; and I believe he has ~radu- ally smoked me back into his remembrance. C. D. 27 28 THE WHITE LADY OF BRANDENBURG. There was once seen, we believe in France, an like wild beasts, and fought so desperately that awful and heart-breaking spectacle, when, for there was great difficulty in parting them. The purposes of philosophical observation, the in- two classes spoke of each other afterwards with mates of a blind-school and a deaf-and-dumb bitter hatred. How different is now the scene, asylum were brought together. At first, they when the merely blind pupils help and serve tried to communicate the deaf and dumb be- Laura and Edward, and are beloved by them ing permitted to feel the lips and throats of the and when Laura, with flushed cheeks and tremb- blind; but a dreadful scene ensued. Their ling fingers, labors to convey some of her know- stron,, and scarcely disciplined passions became ledge and her intellectual pleasures to Oliver, furiously excited by the difficulty of communica- and sticceeds, and he is happy in consequence l tion, which each supposed to be the fault of the How are times changed since the helpless were other, and they sprang at each others throats cast out to perish! From Chamberss Journal. THE WHITE LADY OF BRANDENBURG. l)ustns~ the eighteenth century the house of Brandenburg, like nearly all the other royal houses of Germany, experienced numerous vicis- situdes; hut worst of all, was constantly divided a~ alust itself, and agitated hy domestic tragedies which may be said to have shed a gloom on its fortunes forever. From time immemorial the superstitions belief had prevailed in the family that, ns a prelude to each successive catastrophe, a female spectre, habited in dazzling white, ap- peni-ed in some dreary place, and at some gloomy hour, to the principal sufferer. With this tra- dition every one of the princes and princesses was familiar. They re~arded it as part of their destiny, and looked forward to the advent of the apparition almost as a matter of course. The young Prince Frederic, and his eldest sis- ter Wilhelmina, entertained a strong mutual affection, which induced them to communicate their thoughts freely to each other. This, under other circumstances, would have been a source of happiness to them. But in the palace of Berlin happiness was a thing not to be thought of, for their father, Frederic-William, appeared to ex its ert all his pQwer and in,,,enuity to render presence impossible. Every day he loaded his wife and children with imprecations, threat- ened them with imprisonment and death spat in the delicate dishes after he himself had been served, that they might not eat of them; at- temp ted occasionally to commit suicide, and then took refuge in brutal drunkenness, which only rendered him still more furious and dangerous. Frederic, afterwards, by the adulation of man- kind, called the Great, was naturally driven by such paternal indulgences to seek for consola- tion in friendship. It may easily be supposed that he was not led by his experience to put his trust in princes. He looked for an intimate among the middle ranks of society, and the per- son he selected to be his Pylades was a youn,. officer rejoicing in the euphonious name of Kat. But we must not suffer ourselves to be deceived by sounds. However unpoetical may have been his family designation, he was in himself a per- son of noble soul, equal to the duties of any sit- uation, brave, romantic, generous. ready at all times to sacrifice himself for the good of others. The choice of such a friend was honorable to Frederics judgment, and had fate permitted their attachment to become as lasting as it was strong and enthusiastic, the reputation of the philoso- pher of Sans Souci might have escaped many of those stains which now lower and deform it. 4s the Pi-ussian monarch, through unaccount- able caprice, or the desire to wound as much as possible the feelings of his children, occasionally forbade the prince and princess to see each other, Kat was often. at such times, intrusted with mes- sages from the brother to the sister. Misfortune almost invariably disposes people to think kindly of those who sympathize with them, no matter what may be their rank or station. Wilbelmina beheld in Kat only her brothers friend; and as, besides being handsome, he was gentle and win- ning in his manners, it is not very surprising that, seeing few other men. and none that showed any deference for her, she should have experi- enced a secret preference for this young officer. Sometimes, when circumstances permitted, they all three met together in friendly enjoyment. - Fearing to be free with others, they on such oc- casions made up for their general reserve by in- dulging in the most unbounded confidence, pass- ing in review the whole court, from the king and queen to the meanest gentleman in waiting. It soon became evident to Frederic that Kat loved his sister, who, without the slightest re- gard to royal conventionalities, returned the feeling. An ordinary prince would have sesented this, but he was not an ordinary prince, and, therefore, regarded not merely with approbation, but with delight, the mutual attachment of the individuals lie loved best in the world. The in- telligence came to him with disgust that plans, meanwhile, were in agitation at court for dispos- ing, in the common way, both of his sisters hand and his own. Contemplating mairiage fiom an extremely unfortunate l)oint of view that is, in connection with his own father and motherit can scarcely be a matter of surprise that it should have inspired him with disgust. His French studies, also, and the practice of Germany, where nearly all princes contract what they call left-handed alliances, tended to produce the same effect. When Isis father, therefore, set on foot any scheme for bartering away himself or his sister, in exchange for political influence, he exerted his utmost ingenuity in thwarting him. Kat, likewise, it may well he believed, made the best use of his power over the mind of Wil- helmina to deter her from entering into an en- gagement which would have been fatal to Isis happiness. These facts the Prussian king could not exactly know, though his suspicions were WHITE LADY OF BRANDENBURG. awakened. He had recourse, therefore, to his system of espionage. Courtiers of both sexes were instructed to keep watch over the move- ments and communications of the trio, who, be- ing young and ardent, were not much upon their guard; and, at length, the conviction became rooted in his mind that their singular friendship obstructed the development of his policy. Wilhelmina had very few thoughts or feelings which she did not frankly communicate to her brother, but she had some, and among these was the strong love she felt for his young friend. He could not, indeed, fail to know that some attach- ment existed between them, but she shrank from confessing the extent of it, and often arranged, clandestinely, interviews with her lover. One mornin,,, wheu she had just promised to meet Kat at dusk in the long elm-walk at the extrem- ity of the royal gardens, her father sent for her into his apartments. He was suffering from gout, and sat in a great arm-chair, against which two heavy crutches, by the assistance of which he walked at times, leaned ominously. The queen stood trembling at his side, afraid to speak, but casting deprecating and imploring looks at her daughter. Wilbelmina shuddered and turned pale. I see, exclaimed the king, that you are sinking under the weight of a guilty conscience. You know you are deceiving me, in conjunction with your mother and brother. Wilhelmina thought of her assignation with Kat. I say, you are deceiving me, or at least attempting to do so. But there are more eyes upon you than you imagine. You should remember the old saying: That walls have ears; and that when children enter into plots, to bring trouble and dis,race upon their parents, it behooves them to display more prudence than you and your rebel- lious brother exhibit. But I have discovered all your schemes, and know how to punish you. The poor princess almost dropped to the floor. Her father she saw, was in a paroxysm of anger, almost approaching to madness. He turned now and then fierce and threatenin,,, glances towards the queen, who looked aside to conceal her tears, and was only restrained by terror from throwin,, herself into her daughters arms. He bade Wilhelmina draw near, but she was over- whelmed with fear, and could not prevail on her- self to approach him. He then attempted to rise in order to seize her, as he had often done, by the hair of her head, but a sharp twinge of the gout supervenin,,, he fell back in the chair writhin,, with a,,ony; in the midst of which he seized one of the crutches, and hurling it with all his might at his daughter, would certainly have brought her days to a sudden conclusion, hut that, bending down her head, she suffered the missile to fly unimpeded towards the window, through which it made its way with a crash into the court below. This was the signal for flight; and both queen and princess ran shrieking into their own rooms, followed as far as they could hear by the most frightful imprecations and anathemas. As ill-luck would have it, Frederic soon after came to pay his respects to his father, whom he found entirely alone, all his ministers, courtiers, and even servants contriving not to hear his vo- ciferations. If we had not the most unimpeach- able testimony for the scene that followed, we should reard it as an extravagant fiction. When the prince entered, his father, fixing upon him a demoniacal look, accused him of entertaining some monstrous designs, which had never enter- ed the poor young mans s ima,,ination, even in his dreams. He, therefore, repelled respectfully the charges made against him. This was too much. Anger, amounting to absolute rage, over- came the sense of pain. The king sprang from his chair, and seizing his son by the throat, dragged him with all his force towards the win- dow, where, with the strong cords of the blinds, he attempted to strangle him. He was a large, powerful man; the son, weak and delicate~ and the parricide was nearly accomplished before any of the courtiers would venture in to preserve their master from the commission of a crime which would have cast a blight over his whole life. Frederic, however, was nearly black in the face when disentangled from the cords and borne fainting out of the apartment. An unintermitted system of persecution was now pursued by Frederic-William against his queen and his two eldest children, whose lives were thus rendered nothing but one tissue of gloom and wretchedness. His majestys mat- rimonial schemes, however, suffered no inter- ruption. As if he had been the best of fathers he exerted himself vigorously to obtain a wife for his son, and a husband for his daughter, which he persuaded himself was all that could be de- sired to render them perfectly happy. his own ,experience of wedlock had doubtless led him as well as his queen to this conclusion! But their children remained steadfast in their unbelief and looked upon the marriage-ring with little less horror than a compact with the Evil One. This was more especially the case with Frederic, who, in an unlucky hour, came at length to the de- termination to put an end to his own misery by flying into France. This resolution he commu- nicated to Wilbelmina, with the strictest injunc- tions to keep the secret from her mother, who, throu,,h a mistaken sense of duty, would proba- bly have betrayed his design. All the necessary preparations were undertaken by Kat, who, in the devotion of his fi-iendship, braved, with his eyes open, the danger that impended over him. The slightest accident might shipwreck their project, and he knew the old king too well not to foresee that he would take a terrible revenge. It boots not now to inquire into the means by which they raised the necessary funds for defray- ing the expenses of their journey, how they pro- cured passports, and succeeded in lulling to sleep the suspicions of the monarch and his coui-tiers. Kat contrived, an hour or two before his depar- ture, to obtain an interview with the Princess Wilbelmina, who received him in her own apart- ment, though tremblin,, all the while with anxi- ety and terror. Every footstep that moved through the corridor, every voice in the court- yard below, every whisper of the wind through crevice or cranny, represented to her in fancy the approach of her terrible father. In fact, be- fore the young officer cOuld make his escape from 29 WHITE LADY OF BRANDENBURG. her room, the queen came rushing in to say that she was inquired for. Kat hid himself behind a screen, and when the mother and danubter had departed, stepped forth into the corridor, de- scended a narrow staircase with which he was familiar, and hurrying along the streets of Berlin, joined the young prince in a small grove beyond the walls, where, without companions or attend. ants, Frederic awaited his coming with two horses. These they mounted, and, making the best of their way towards the frontier, indulged in the flattering hope that in a few days they should be beyond the reach of Frederic-Williams pursuit or vengeance. The Prussians, even then, had been drilled in- to tameness and submission; otherwise, as seve- ral gentlemen whom they encountered on the roa~l knew the young prince perfectly well, they might have offered him an asylum, or aided him in effecting his escape. The utmost they did was to allow him and his companion to pass on without obstruction. This they were enabled to do during two days; but the great trial they knew would he on the third, when they should have to pass, of necessity, through a fortified town on the banks of a river which they could not traverse by swimming. It was with sinking spirits and the most gloomy forebodings that they approached the gates and beheld the walls and turrets, rising like sepulchral edifices, in the even- ing air. Frederic from time to time clasped the handle of his sword, and once inquired of his companion whether, in case of discovery, it would not ho the most advisable course to imi- tate the ancient Roman, and put an end to their embarrassments by suicide. At the moment, he would have thought even this preferable to being drag,,ed back to Berlin and delivered as a priso- ner into the hands of his father. As they drew near the gates, they instinctively slackened their pace, and all the philosophy of which they were masters could not prevent them from regarding each other with an expression of extreme alarm. But no choice was left but to demand admittance or to turn hack. Of course, they resolved on the former; and to their surprise, the sentinels at the gate suffered them to pass without the slibhtest inquiry. Overjoyed at this piece of good fortune, they resolved to make the best use of it, and pushed on to the further gate, leading over a long bridge into the open country. No one stop- ped them in the streets, or appeared in any way to regard them. They therefore entered the corps- de-garde, through which lay the approach to the gate, with reviving confidence, but in an instant were surrounded by a body of soldiers, who, be- fore they could even think of resistance, had dis- armed and made them prisoners. Frederic, al- most frantic with excitement and disappoint- ment, demanded of the officer who regulated these proceedings, by whose authority he was thus arrested. By your fathers, prince, replied the major. An hour ago, you might have travelled the frontier unmolested; but a courier has just ar- rived from Berlin, commanding me, on pain of death, to detain your royal highness and your companion. Having myself served in the royal guards, I was well acquainted with your person, as well as with that of M. Kat, who was, for some years, my companion in arms. To this, Frederic made no reply, but re- quested to be conducted to the dungeon as- signed for him. lie was perfectly right; it was in- deed a dungeon; hut at first Rat was allowed to be his companion. Prussian despotism, however, did not disdain to have recourse to those arts and contrivances which the princes of the house of Hapsburg have since practised with so much skill and cred~ against state-prisoners. By means of a small cell constructed in the thick- ness of the wall communicating through a nar- row aperture with the dungeon, the conversation of Frederic and his companion was overheard, and carefully entered in notes, which were im- mediately transmitted to the king. Considering their position and their disappointment, it was no matter of wonder that they expressed them- selves intemperately. Frederic did not spare his father, and Rat, nnxiilndful of the reverence which Germany inculcates for crowned heads, in- dulged likewise in very strong language. When their first hurst of indignation was over, they appeared to derive hope even from despair, and resolved to devote all their resources of mind and body to deliver themselves from the power of a sovereign whom they now designated as a cruel, crafty, merciless despot. With the Princess Wilbelmina, matters were, meanwhile, little hetter than with them. She was under no necessity of feignin~ illness ; for, having lost at the same time hoth her beloved hrother and her lover, her agitation, fear, and grief threw her into a fever, during which she fell more than once into a dangerous delirium we say dangerous, because, under its influence, her tongue lost its guidance, and syllabled perpetu- ally the names of Rat and Fi-ederic. In one of the intervals between one of these paroxysms, when, as it appeared to her, she was wide awake, the White Lady of Brandenburg, with a very dignified air and attitude, approached her bed- side. The candles had burnt low, her only at- tendant was fast asleep, the wind roared fiercely in the chimney, and the hootings of the screech- owl from a neighboring turret mingled terribly with the night-blasts. She attempted to address the spectre, which leaned compassionately over her; but no words passed between them. In a few seconds, the White Lady turned away her face, and appeared with one hand to be shroud- ing her eyes from some appalling spectacle, while the other was pressed closely against her bosom. Wilbelmina, in agony and trembling, watched its movements with intense earnestness. Presently, the tapers threw up a bright glare, then sank, flickered for a moment, and the chamber was wrapped in total darkness. Sleep then came to her relief; and when, late on the follnwing morn- ing, she again opened her eyes, the rain was beating against the casements, and her beloved friend and governess, almost in the very attitude of the White Lady, leaning over her, and wiping the perspiration from her hrow. In the course of the day, her unhappy mother, bending beneath the weight of her affliction, came by stealth into her chamber, and throwing her- self into afauteuil, hid her face in the bed-clothes, 30 WHITE LADY OF BRANDENBURG. and sobbed long and bitterly. With her habitual imprudence, she disclosed to Wilbelmina the fate of Frederic and his companion, and by so doing brought on a fresh attack of fever, which nearly put a period to her daughters life. When she saw the mischief she had caused, her regret and sorrow knew no bounds. Under the force of ma- ternal instincts, the natural weakness of her character disappeared, and, setting her tyrannical husband at defiance with the courage of a hero- ine, she remained day and night by her daugh- ters bedside, regardless of his menaces, and for the time making light of death and life. To describe the state of mind into which the king was thrown by his sons act of disobedience, would exceed the powers of language. It can- not be doubted that for the time at least he was mad. Encouraged by his flagitious minister, Grumeon, he resolved upon the exhibition of an awful tragedy, which should inspire all Christen- dom with horror. Nothing less than the blood of his son would appease his paternal resentment; and openly, in the face of day, he published his determination, and made preparations for his execution. It is believed that the Austrian am- bassador, Seckendorf; a man of the most profli- gate principles, likewise favored secretly this in- famous desi,~n, though all the soverei,ns of Ger- many, as well as the king of England, exerted their utmost influence to deter the Prussian mon- arch from the perpetration of the crime he medi- tated. The greater their exertions, however, the more obstinate he became, as he appeared to re- gard it in the light of a victory over all the pow- ers of Europe to put his only son to death, that he might establish universally the conviction, that he could do in Berlin whatever he thought proper, in spite of Germany and the world. Into the political negotiations connected with this affair, our limits will not permit us to enter. We return, therefore, to the prince and his com- panion, who, having been removed to the fortress at which they were made prisoners, were thrown into sepaiate dungeons in a small obscure city in the heart of Prussia. It seemed to be the object of the father to subdue the courage and constan- cy of his son, as well as in other respects to de- grade his character, since all manner of devices were made use of to induce him to betray his friend; but to the honor of Frederic be it said, all the snares laid for him were unavailing. He persisted in his original declaration, that the plan of flight was his own, and that Kat only consented to accompany him at his earnest desire and en- treaty, and after having exhausted all his efforts in the endeavor to divert him from his purpose. In this way he hoped to concentrate his fathers vengeance upon himself, and save the life of his friend. Had Frederic always acted thus, no prince whose name is recorded in modern history would have better deserved to command the ad- miration of mankind. Kat, on his part, surpassed, if possible, the prince himself in disinterestedness and heroism. He persisted uniformly in affirm- ing that Frederic was innocent that neither of them, indeed. had intended serious disobedience to the royal commands hut that, in a moment of youthful frivolity, he had persuaded the young prince to accompany him on a secret visit to the French capital, where they meditated only a short stay, after which it was their intention to return to Berlin, even before their absence should be discovered. Everything in Prussia was then conducted through military agency, chiefly because meii connected with the martial profession were sup- posed to be less accessible than others to the weaknesses of friendship or affection. The hope of promotion, moreover, was expected to quiet any scruples which might arise in the mind re- specting the humanity or ~justice of any transac- tion. Accordingly, an officer was sent to Fred- eric, who, having first examined Kat, came into the princes apartment with mock humility, but with real insolence, to interrogate him respecting his views past and present to utter the most atrocious accusations ao~ainst his friend, and to extort from him, if possible, a confession of some yebellioas project, which would appear, at least, to justify his father in taking away his life. Through this ordeal, Frederic passed with great intrepidity and success. He repelled, with scorn and indi,,nation, the calumnies attempted to be fastened on Kat, and maintained unflinch- ingly that the error of that gallant young officer arose solely throu,,h mistaken friendship and affection for him. The spy, who had evidently been drilled at court, now adroitly threw out certain hints respecting the feelings of Wilbel- mina, which so incensed Frederic, th*t he instinct- ively moved his hand towards where his sword had used to be, and would unquestionably have run his interrogator through had the trusty wea- pon been still within his reach. Recollecting himself suddenly, he turned a look of intense scorn upon the military inquisitor, and said: If my father forgets himself, you would feel it to be your duty, were you a gentleman, to spare the honor of his daughter. The Princess Wilbelmi- na stands far beyond the reach of vulgar suspicion and calumny. She is my sister, sir; and the time may yet come when it will be in my power to chastise all those persons who dare to cast as- persions upon her. For myself, you are welcome to heap on me every insult suggested by low and base natures. As a son and a prince, I shall submit, because it is my fathers will. But let the vicissitudes which constantly take place in the affairs of this world sn~gest to you the pru- dence of remaining within the limit I prescribe to you; for, be assured, I have a memory which will treasure up whatever may be now submitted to it, whether for good or eviL The officer professed, and no doubt with truth, his willingness to be convinced by this reasoning. He also protested that he was acting stsictly un- der orders, and said he would faithfully represent to his majesty the respectful and obedient state of mind in which he found the prince. Imme- diately afterwards he took his leave, and during the remainder of the day Frederic was not dis- turbed by the entrance of a single individual even his food was forgotten to be brought to him, so that he became the victim of physical as well as mental depression. Not a footstep was heard in the neighboring chambers, no sound of a sentinel in the court, and as he looked forth through the iron bars, he could behold nothing 31 WEARYFOOT COMMON. but a few withered leaves blown hither and thither by the wind. The sun shone faintly on the dusky walls, and a faintness came over him as the sense of absolute silence and stillness fell upon his heart. He had no hooks from which he might have sought some relief; his chamber was bare, containing nothing save an iron bedstead and a wooden seat, on which from time to time he thrcw himself in despair. The hours wore away, the shades of evening came on, and by degrees thickened into absolute darkness, and yet no attendant appeared either to bring him light or a morsel of bread. Bein~ of a feeble constitution, this 1on~ abstinence affected him so much that in the course of the night he fainted on his bed, and remained plunged in a sort of stupor till morning. When he came to himself; his mind was in a state of indescribable depression; stillness and silence continued to prevail throughout the for- tress, where nothing but himself seemed to be endowed with life. Lon~ he lay motionless on his hard pallet; but his feelings ~rowing more and more painful every mpment, he sprang on his feet and al)proached the window. Did his eyes deceive him, or was he plunged in some horrible dream Concentrating all his soul in the sense of sight, he looked forth into the court with frantic terror. Darkness pervaded earth and air; yet through the gloom he could discern one object 1t too distinctly: it was the body of his gallant and intrepid friend dangling from a low gallows, which had been erected during the night, exactly opposite his window! He fell senseless on the floor, where he was found some hours ~fter~vards by a common soldier, who, it is said, without orders, had sou~ ht the apartment out of ~ure compassion. For some time he supposed the prince to be dead; at length, how. ever, he revived, though not to the same life he had lived before. The whole economy of his thoughts and the constitution of his mind were chanaed. He uttered no lamentations or threats, but one fixed purpose seemed to have taken possession of his soul life and death appeared to have become indifferent to him. He refused to utter one single syllable when an officer entered to interrogate him, and the food which they at length bethought them of offering to him, he mo- tioned away with a wave of the hand. Like his sister, he found relief in sickness, and the death with which his father had threatened him ap- peamed for many days to be comin~ of its own accord. In due time Frederic recovered, and in the course of years he became king of Prussia. He then remembered the murderers of Kat. The chief murderer was, he knew, beyond his reach; and so, when he came to make inquiries, were the others, for, hearing in mind that he possessed a memory, they had vanished from the kingdom of Prussia, and sought refuge in other parts of Germany. Wilbelmina, whom, to the latest hour of his life, he loved tenderly, never forgot her attachment for Rat, and in the midst of war and political excitement, and the cravings of literary and philosophical ambition, Frederic often de- voted whole hours to conversation with her. They then recalled the happy days they spent together with this only friend, whose memory they both cherished to the last. If it was lints ambition, therefore, to be loved, he succeeded, since he left in the minds of the two individuals he valued most, the deepest possible remembrance of his unexampled affection and fidelity. CHAPTER xi. provincial collector of Excise! Could it be that he measit to su~gest the preposterous idea ANOTHER OFFER OF MARRIACE. himself that he imagined such a consummation LovE! What an absurd idea! fit enough, to be actufdly one of the possibilities of life 3 perhaps, to inspire the dreams of a young painter Was it the object of his high-wrought sentiments, or warm the style of a young author rid of his noble generosity, of his grand aspirations enough for the prize of hucolical singers or con- to make it appear that it would be a descent tending grisettes, but of no account in the great from his moral elevation if he thought of her 3 game of life, where rank and power, fortunes and Was this the mark of his tireless industry, of his coronets, are the counters. She in love ? how sacrifice of self; of his brave devotion 3 And supremely ridiculous! Even if the object of her did he even fancy, that while listenin~ to his passion were a duke, would, for instance, that kindlin~ words, and following the flashes of his strawbenv-lcaf she once coveted have come all pen, she felt the poetical contour of his head, the but within her grasp, if the weakness had been thick but feathery brown hair he shook from his in the way to prevent her from playing her hand proud brow, the soft deep light of his calm eyes, with address 3 But the young man had talked the stern horizontal line of his lips, contrasting of love sis if it had the power to level rank, to with their more than womanly sweetness of bring down the proud to the humble, the lofty form, as aids to the fascination 3 Insolent young to the lowly. What if she loved an inferior in man! station 3 What if she loved him even that Claudia, havin~, thus amused her imagination, promising unknown, whose pencil etherealized as ladies will sometimes do, dismissed the dream fat vulcaritM, and whose anonymous pen she had with contempt. She grew a full inch taller; heard described as combining the elegance of she inflated her exquisite chest; and Iserlustrous Addison, the simplicity of Goldsmith, and the eyes lightened over her still features, as if they energy of Junius 3 Why, she might hope, in wanted no extraneous aid, but were able of process of time, by exercising due influence over themselves her father she, Claudia Falcontower to sub- side into the wife of a government clerk, or a To make a sunshifie in the shady place. 32 WEARYFOOT COMMON. But Robert still continued to work, to reason, to control, and Claudia to look, to suggest, to list- en, to submit. They were indeed a curious pair so like in their nature, so unlike in their char- acter. They resembled a couple of parallel lines projected side by side, yet their meeting a ma- thematical impossibility. It may be conjectured that novelty had a great deal to do with Claud- ias apparent humility. To her, it was a new sensation to feel and acknowledge superiority, for even her fathers supremacy had not lasted beyond her early girlhood; and in later years, arm- ed as she was with the prestige of rank, beauty, and talent, the whole world seemed to bow be- fore her, either in the superstition or the hypo- crisy of conventional life. Perhaps the new feel- in~ was a chance stumble upon natural feelin Perhaps it is womans position oa the earth, as the Oriental apothegm asserts, to look up to somebody; and Claudia was obeying, after a fashion, the destiny of her sex without knowing it. However this may be, she never for a mo- ment confounded the social with the intellectual man: it was very well for Robert to shake his ambrosial curls in the studyin the street, or the drawin& room. he might as well have shaken a scratch-wi~. In these Pines, our adventurer was not invited, as formerly, to any of the public hospitalities of the family. lie often breakfasted, lunched, dined, with the father and daughter; he came, in fact, to be treated, in many respects, like an inmate of the house, but he was not presented in com- p any, nor did he receive a single introduction. This sometimes struck him as a curious circum- stance, lie wondered whether they did not give parties like other people in theit- st tion, and he wondered, more than all, whether Claudia did not join abroad in the gaieties of the London sea- son. But the house told no tales; it was never out of its way, that house; and Claudia, in the domesticity of her habits, resembl~ a spirit, which, it is well known, always haunts a parti- cular locality, such as a ruin, a church, or a clo- set, is never seca anywhere else, and is unchange- ably the same in aspect and appearance. This being the case, it may be supposed that he was a,,~aeeably surprised one day while wan- dering through the rooms of the Royal Aca- demy, to encounter her. S~ie w~s with a lady and gentleman an elderly couple, and the grou~ had just been joined by another gentle- man, when Robert went up frankly to Miss Fal- contower, and was as frankly received. That other gentleman appeared to be snore than sur- prised he was obviously struck with astonish- metrt, and a nervous flush rose into his face as he saw the young lady actually put her hand Into that of the waif of Wearyfoot Common. You are just come in time, Mr. Oakltwsds, said Claudia, to tell us what you think of that lovely portrait. It absolutely edmes up to my ideal of female beauty. The critic looked at it for half a minute without replying. What is your opinion, Mr. Seacole? said the young lady in~atieutly. It is exquisite admirable! It is a thing to haunt the dreams both of day and night. I never saw a face but one to equal it. - And now 3 It is a flue picture, said Robert; but I would that either the face or the gown were out of it. The one is ideal and antique; the other is from the workroom of a fashionable milliner. It is, in fact, a classical statue painted, to which not Phi- dias himself could reconcile me. Do von not think the face beautiful 3 As beautiful as that of a Greek goddess; but with the satin gown trimmed with lace, we want a woman. A woman is compounded of soul and sense: wantin~ either, she is an imperfect being. In this face, the connection with the earth is wanting. There is in it no memory, no regret, no love, no hope, no joy; nothing but the passionless, the divine repose, which can be fitly expressed only in marble. Did it never strike you that the greatest charm of a woman is her imperfection 3 is the strn~gle of a brave but fragile creature with the destiny that enthrals her 3 When the struggle is over, our sympathy ends, for she is no longer a woman, but a disem- bodied idea. You are right, said Claudia, that is a paint- ed marble ! But I fear it is late what is the hour 3 You forget that I have no watch, replied Robert, quietly. Claudia colored a rare plie- nomenon with her; and when Adolphus pulled hastily out, by its rich gold chain, a costly re- peater, she flashed a look of contempt at the vulgar meanness. Seacole did not observe this, for his eye was at the moment on the dial-plate; but seeing that she was about to go, he stepped forward with the intention of offering his escort to the cai-ria~e. Claudia, however, by a look, and a scarcely perceptible movement which never failed in their effect, made him pause; and, then takin~ Roberts arm, she bowed good-morning, and moved away. Adolphus stared after them with a look that would have stabbed if it had been. able; but astonishment was as well in, rked in his expres- sion as rage. Was this the Plsilippi to which he had been dared by the vagrant of Wearyfoot Common 3 He pondered over the text till he was almost mad; and he now saw clearly what he had only half suspected before, that it was to the same sinister influence he had owed his ig- nominious rejection by Sara. But the battle is not yet fought, thought lie, grinding his teeth. Miss Faleontower is in a very ditrerent position from Miss Semple: she may patronize him as one of the clever people, but - for anything more, the absurdity of the idea is too monstrous. H~, however, there is no doubt, will be burned to deaths in the blaze of her eyes, and Sara will be punished for her insolence to me in the pun- ishment of the audacious be~gars falsehood to herself. Comforting himself with this picture, more vivid than any that hung on the walls, and perhaps more ingenious in the composition, he strode throw,,h the now crowded rooms, and hastened to relate what he had seen to his ad- viser Fancourt. When Claudia reached home, she found a messenger from Mrs. Seacole in the hall, with a note for her that required ~n answer; and being too much fatigued to write, she desired the man DXXYIII. LIVING AWl. VOL. VI. 3 33 WEARYFOOT COMMON. to be sent up to the drawing-room, where she would give him a verbal message. On reading the note, however, she saw that although only on one of the ordinary subjects that enga~,e the attention of ladies, it would be proper for her to reply in writing, more especially as she had found Mrs. Seacole a very agreeable acquaint- ance. The Mercury was therefore left for some time alone, just within the doors of the drawing- room. He was a tall, angular man, of a grave and meditative aspect; and when the door shut be- hind him, he drew himself up as stiff as a foot- mans cane, and as dignified-looking, and stood examining the details of the scene, with obvious discrimination, turning his eyes slowly in all di- rections, but without moving his head. His at- tention was at length specially arrested by a particular object on a table before him, and he continued to gaze on it with an expression of profound meditation. When his reflections, so far, were properly digested, he moved to one side, slowly and noiselessly, to contemplate, from another point of view, what had attracted him. Even the object itself seemed to sympathize with the interest he betrayed; for the eyes it was a small portrait followed him step by step, and kept steadily fixed on him, while lie remain- ed plunged in a new abyss of thought. When he got out of this, he moved in the same way to the opposite side, followed by the unwinkin eyes, and meditated again. He then glided round to the back, and directing his gaze to the canvas, studied it with an absorbed scrutiny that might huve ascertained the number of threads. Finally he came round again to the front, put his eyes close to the picture, touched the plump nose with his finger, apparently to make sure that it was a thing of reality, and then resuming his place near the door, remained lost in an un- fathomable reverie. From this he was roused, after a timu, by the ladys maid, who came in, put a note into his hand, opened the door for him, and when he had gone out mechanically, shut it briskly after him. Stepping solemnly down the marble stair, and along the tessellated hall, where the fat porter was asleep in his chair of state, he found the door ajar, and went out. A well-powdered foot- man, in livery, without his hat, was taking the air on the steps, and to him the retiring Mer- cuiy addressed himself. May I take the liberty, sir, said he, of re- questing to know whether there is a parlor in this neighborhood I mean respectable where the lower classes is not admitted. I am parti- cular on the point, I am. So am I, sir, replied the functionary. I dont use none that aint tip-top. There is the Chequers, not far round yonder corner; I call that a respectable parlor, and I know what par- lors ~ And the beer I own I like it good when it is beer. Just so with me. Indeed, I generally take beer, when it aint a go of brandy. I was drove to this. When I lived along with Lord Skemp in Belgravia, it was all sherry and water with me for two year, till I found out that the sherry was Cape Madeera the whole time. There was treatment for a gentleman, wasnt it? But the beer at the Chequers I can undertake to say is slap-up. Sir, I am obliged to you; and I admire your sentiments. Allow me to say that my name is Mr. Poringer. And mine is Mr. Slopper: proud of the honor. Have a drain at my expense, Mr. Slopper? I am obleeged, Mr. Poringer; hut I am just going out to take an airing with our Miss. Some ni~,,ht well mect at the Chequers. And so we will, and some night soon; for I have not been able to find no parlor in London that aint infested with the lower classes. But, my dear sir, talking of parlors, while I was in your drawing-room just now, I saw a portrait as like a lady of my acquaintance as if she had sat to be taken off: and how that can be, or how her picture comes to be there, I cant make out. Its on a table not far fi-om the door. Oh, I remember thats a good thing a very good thing. I join my governor in opinion there, although I dont generally in matters of good. Would you believe it he prefers ~ old, fusty, cracked picture to one new out of the shop! Do you know the ladys name? No, I dont; but she is a fine woman, to my taste, although, no doubt, a little passy. The gentleman who took her off is Mr. Onklands. The gentleman! Yes, he is a gentleman, and no mistake, al- though I never saw the color of his money. If you want to ask him about the lady, his address is in Jermyn Street, at Driftwoods, an indivi- dual who does pictures to sell. Is he a gentlemau, too? He a gentleman! Why, I have drunk with him! No, no, he is no gentleman. But I hear the carriage coming round I have the hon- or Excuse my glove; and Mr. Poringer, hav- ing shaken hands with his new friend, raised his hat not to the individual man, but to Flunk- eydom represented in his person and went on his way. Mr. Poringer found no difficulty in obtaining Mrs. Margerys address from the artist; but Drift wood was more chary in his communications re- specting Robert. He believed, in fact, th4 our adventurer was still busy with the cabinet-mak- ing, and he considered that to he too mechanical an employment to be openly boasted of. The mysterious hints of Mrs. Margery had taken ef- fect, and he really supposed this queer fellow, as he called him, to be, in a worldly sense of the word, nobler than his fortune. Robert had been warned against making public the nature of his present employment, and, independently of the warning, he had no wish to do so. He was no richer than before, and he did not feel at all so much self-satisfaction. It seemed to him that his work, although fit enough for an ama- teur, was no legitimate trade; and the small sti- pend he accepted, although put on a footing the most soothing to his feelings, fretted him a good deal. Still, matters appeared to go on swim- 34 WEARYFOOT COMMON. mingly. The accounts he received, from time to time, of the effect of his productions, were very flattering; he obviously became every day of more and more importance to Sir Vivian, who, in his assistance to the government, was now committed to a certain tone and talent; and the allusions of his patron to the future re- ward of his labors were distinct and unmistak- able. That afternoon, while Mrs. Margery and her assistant were sipping their five oclock tea, a visitor made his appearance, and the whilom Wearyfoot cook, on seeing a remembrancer of the Common, started up and received Mr. Po- finger with a warmth of welcome which made that gentleman shrink. It is true, he admired Mrs. Margery; lie considered that she was a wo- man well to do and it was his intention that very evening, if everything turned out to his lik- ing, to make actual proposals. But he was not to be hurried for nobody; time enough for that sort of thing: he must see his way beforehand from one end to the other; and, accordingly, he made himself somewhat stiff and awful, yet, in a condescending way upon the whole, put away his glossy cane in a corner, smoothed the crown of his hat, and laid it upon the top of a chest of drawers to be out of the dust; and lifting his speckless coat-tails from under him, sat down at the table with his customary gravity and thought- fulness. Mrs. Margery had hastily shovelled some new material into the tea-pot, and substi- tuted the loaf-sugar basin for the soft; and a bell being heard opportunely in the street, the girl, at a signal from her mistress, had vanished, and was beaM at the door screaming to the muffin- man: everything betokened a comfortable tea and an amicable chat, and the guest smoothed his meditative brow, and even executed the wiry, angular smile which was his customary manifes- tation of jolliness. Try the tea if it is sweet enough, said Mrs. Margery; and heres some thin bread and but- ter till the muffins are warmed; but oh Mr. Poringer, the milk is nothing like our milk at Wearyfoot I Though it aint chalk and water, thank goodness, but milked in your own jugs from a real cow, all skin and bones, poor thing, and looks so pitiful while she stands at the doors of the houses, as if she felt it was unnatural, and was ashamed of it. And what are you doing now, Mr. P. l I thought you was at the Hall. The Halls in town for the season, Mrs. Mar- gery, including me and the ladys-maid; nothing is left but the women, and other inferiors.~ And what of Mr. Seacole and our young miss l I have had a long letter from Molly, but not one word of it in ten can anybody make out, and that word is in the Unknown Tongue - My governor is off with Miss Sara, and good reason why, for her fortune turns out to be a mere nothing. He is a-going to be married to the daughter of a baronet and niece of a lord- a great match she is, but not not :-- not quite so sharp, as it were, as some other ladies is: she never calls me by my name, and I sometimes think she dont know it! By the way, whats come of whats his name P Who ~ Why that that Boy him as found me on the Common, and wouldnt be lost in the Gravel Pits, and was sent away at last to forage for his- self. Mrs. Margery was highly indignant at this description of her fovorite, and gave Mr. Poringer roundly to understand that he did not know who he was a-talking of. Mr. Oaklands was an author and an artist, hand-in-glove with baronets, lords, and ladies without number, and at this moment anxiously inquired after by a family of the first distinction as her cousin Driftwood informed her a sure sign that the denouenient was a-coming out. We may add by way of parenthesis, that Mr. Driftwood might have further informed her, if he had been in a communicative mood, that he had answered Sir Vivians questions in a tone of mystery befitting his own ianorance of the subject, and the vague but grand impressions he had received from the hints of Mrs. Margery herself. Mr. Poringer listened to what he heard with profound attention, and equally profound unbeliet He was a sensi- ble man was Mr. Porin,, ci-, and had never changed his opinion that Robert was actually the son of a woman of the name of Sall, and would have been a vagrant at this day supposing him to have escaped transportation so long if he him- self (Mr. Poringer) had not unfortunately inter- fered with the designs of Providence, not know- ing what he was about in the mist. After tea, he sank into a fit of abstraction that made Mrs. Margery, hospitable as she was, wish he would go away, and let her mind her business. But by and by, turning to her with a solemnity that made her feel, as she afterwards said herselg took all of a heap, he intimated that he had a communication for her private ear; whereupon she desired Doshy to retire to the wash-house be- hind, and rinse out them laces, and not have done till she was called. The young woman s name, we may remark for the benefit of provin- cials, was Theodosia, but most of Doshys friends would have thought that a nickname. Mrs. Margery, said Mr. Poringer, when they were alone, you have here a comfortable business l Yes, pretty tolerable. In the clear-starching line l Yes, and the getting up: ladies waited on by horse and cart. The good-will cost you a heap of money l Yes, a round penny. How much P Just as much as it came to, Mr. Poringer. I ask for information. But the business has increased, for I am told the horse and cart is new: it is, therefore, worth more, and would sell at a profit. Am I right P No doubt you are, Mr. P., but if you want to buy it, it is not to be had, for I aint tired of it, I assure you. But I am! said Mr. Poringer suddenly, with one of his wiry angular smiles and Ill tell you why, Mrs. Margery. You see, I am all for the public line. I am cut out for that, I am. Many a friend has said to me, says be, Mr. P., you are made for the bar; and, in short, I am determined to have a bar of my own kept by 35 36 WEARYFOOT COMMON. Mr. Joshua Poringer. in large gold letters, you I young women, there s more talking and chaffing know, with the mister left out. I than business. And as for the furniture, we d I am sure I wish you well in it, Mr. P., said have an estimate, and see what your means would Mrs. Mar~cry, kindly; and if you settle in this say to it. Mine is equal to the stock, for I have nei~hhorhood, so far as our heer goes, and a made my calculations already, and penny for half-pint of gin now and then for my cousin penny is fair play. Not to mentiou the interest Driftwood that gets the house, or the figure of a man I am There is more than that you can do, said for a parlor where the lower classes is not ad- Mr. Poringer, waiving h~ hand impatiently; mitted, or the respectability of the name, in the my money and my interest would get the house lar,,est sized bold letter that is made Mr. and stock it. and all I would expect from you is JoThua Poringer, with the mister left out. Mr. the fnrniture to the same amount. Poringers eloquence, however, was thrown away. My goodness, Mr. P.! If my business was And a good deal of it: for he could hardly be sold to-morrow, it would not do more than that, persuaded that Mrs. Margery could intend Se- and what I have over against accidents would riously and definitively to decline so eligible an not be worth your while, even if I could part offer. When the truth broke upon him at last., with it which I cant. he was as wroth as a grave, meditative man Mrs. Margery, said Mr Poringer, edging his could be, and said so much in a quiet way chair nearer hers, you dont take me up! You to the disparagement of Mrs. Margerys person are fit for better things than clear-starching, you and business, that that lady, with great dignity, are; you are fit to he a lady a landlady! turned to her work again, and called to her maid Oh, what nonsense, said Mrs. Margery, to have done rincing them laces just to show laughing heartily I think I see me! Mr. Poringer that his absence would be more You are indeed, said Mr. Poringer earnestly welcome than his company. Whereupon Mr. you are, upon my sacred honor! That is, Poringer got up, and with as much sobriety of with a silk gown, tidily put on tidily, mind me; demeanor as he was accustomed to exhibit when your hair dressed and oiled; a clean cap clean, conscious of being drunk, walked steadily and I say on the hack of your head; and a hunch noiselessly to the drawers, took down his hat, of scarlet ribbons in front of the ears. Carefully brushed it with his arm, dm-e~v on his gloves made up in this way, you may depend upon it leisurely, moved his shoulders to settle his coat, you would look as well almost as well as the took up his polished cane, and turned for the landlady of the Chequers! Dont think I am last time to Mrs. Margery. drove to this: I cottld do better. But I have Will you please to tell me, ma~am,~~ said he, took it into my head. I took it into my head at Whether it is to me or the business you the Lodge: I took it into my head as I was a- objectl walking on the Common in the mist, when that To both! replied Mrs. Margery, spitting Boy found me; and I said to myself, says I, on a smoothing-iron to see whether it was hot Mr. P., the Plough is nothing. You shall he a enough. landlord yourself one day in great gold letters, So much the better for me, rejoined Mr. with the mister left out and as you will want Poringer; for a woman that harbors vagrants, somebody to furnish the house, and manage the found on a common in the mist, and lifted, rags bar, and look to the kitchen, while you are doing and all, over a gentlemans threshold, by these business at the brewery and distillery, and sittihg two fingers and thumb, is not fit to be made a in the parlor and being affable to the company lady of ! and so saying, he walked majestically Mrs. Margery, who does not leave the house as away. Mrs. Margery smothered her indignation often as a lobster leaves its shell, Mrs. Margery lil~i a queen, till ske saw that he had passed the shall be the landlady! ~window; and then, laying down the iron, she You mean kindly, Mr. Poringer, said Mrs. p lumped into a chair, au4 had it all out in a M~srgery you mean kind~ in your o*a way, hearty cry. and I thank you. But nobody asked me to mar- On that same evening, the subject of Mr. Por- ry when I was a young, tidy woman. Nobody! ingers concluding remaiks was introduced lute theubli I feel I should have made a good wife a conversation of a very different kind. and oh, so good a mother ! no mother, I Ilas Mr. Oaklands, said Sir Yivian Falcon- am sure, would have doted so on her blessed tower to his daughter, as they sat alone after darlings! But the time has gone by; and when dinner, ever mentioned anything to you respect- I give Mr. Oaklands his bit nice supper to-night, ing h4s origin or family l and see that there is not a pin wrong in his hed- Never. room, I shall thank God for a greater bounty Has it not seemed odd to you that he makes than I deserve. a mystery of it So that. that Boy stays with you l He makes no mystery of itor of anything Only Mll he g~s to his own, said Mrs. Mar- else. He stat d at first, in your own presence, gery who had not meant to be so communica- that he was of no family, which means distinctly tive. enough that hewas of humble parentage. Since Well, yot see, a~ to your being too old to then, he has not mentioned the subject, simply, marry, that s all stuff. I have known many older as it appears to me, because he has nothing in- than you a deal older. You are a comely teresting to say about it; and it was no business woman yet, Mrs. Margery; aud if you were not, of mine to question him on a matter that could what is that to you if I look over it l You not concern his connection with us. would be jast the thing at the bar, where, with It will concern us, however1 at the close of WEARYFOOT COMMON. the connection, which cannot now be distantat least, the connection cannot go on long on the same footing. His family position must, in a great measure, determine what is to be done f~r him; what in one station of life would be only an adequate remuneration, in another would be extravagant and absurd. That is so far true; but Mr. Oaklands is one of those men who make their own position, if they have only a vantage-ground, however slight- ly elevated, to start from. What you give him is not of so much consequence as you imagine: at least, it will affect only the time he may take to rise in the world, not the rise itself, which, after that first step is gained, will he inevitable. But your question, I see, has some further mean- ing? Why, yes I have been asking the fool Driftwood about him, and his answers have surprised and puzzled me a good deal. You, who do not believe in romance, will smile to hear that there is a mystery in Mr. Oaklands birth, and that he is expected to turn out some great personage!~ Claudia made no reply. Her eyes were fixed upon the table before her. There was no perceptible movement of her chest. She did not seem even to breathe. Her whole figure conveyed the idea of statue-like rigidity. Cold as usual, Claudia! said the baronet laughing. Even this extraordinary announce- ment has no effect upon von. But, after all, Driftwood is such a fool that there is no compre- hending him; and, in the present ease, it is ob- vious he does not comprehend himself. All he knows is, that there is a mystery, and that sur- mmses are afloat that Oaklands is not what he seems, or what he has been taught to believe himself to he. Claudia was still mute, still mo- tionless, still statuesque. Have you heard me? asked her father: is the matter not worthy of a remark? It is romance, replied Claudia, coldly quite out of my way, you know. Shall I break a walnut for you? CHAPTER XII. AN IMPORTANT PROJECT. TuE Albany, everybody knows, is a monastery in Piccadilly, the cloisters of which are inhabited by forlorn single men, who, for some reason or other, have forsworn the sex and the woild Here are bachelors who have been cso~sed in love, husbands who have been crossed in inatri- monv, and a state-porter watching tie iron antes at either end of the alley of cells Mr Fin court s was a very respectable lie nsita fitted up with everything that cOuld rcon ite the so cluse to the absence of the world h bad lo~t ot forsaken. The pretty little dinner be sPued with his kinsman. Seacole, was exqnisite foi ~ucb a refectory and the claret that followed would proh)al)ly have stood triumphantly a comparison with the lsest wine grown for their o~wi use by the holy brethren of the olden time. Adohphus felt it somewhat difficult to explain to his friend the reason why he had found the scene at the Exhibition so painful to his feelings, and in fact lie did not very well understand it 37 himself. Here was a fellow, however, who from his very boyhood had continually rivalled him in some way or other, and always successfully. He, Seaco4e, after having contemptuously dared him to the arena of the world, now fell in with him again, and instead of finding him the va- grant he was born, or in the mechanical employ- meat to which the ambition of a vagrants son might be supposed to roint, he was encountered by him once more on terms of equalityonce more he saw him bar his path like a spectre. After hearing all Adoiphus had to say on the subject, Fancourt mused for a moment. Why, said he, this Oaklands must be a fine fellow, and in a dozen or a score of years, if he gets on well in the world, his birth, instead of being looked upon as a stigma; will be con- sidered rather as something enhancing his merit. rill a man does get on, however, such a thing stands in his way; it is a difficulty to be sur- mounted, and his rivals or enemies take advan- tage of it to keep him down as long as they can. Never fancy, Dohphyfor that is a vulgar tra- ditionthat this young fellow is to be despised beceuse he is a born vagrant; in point of fact be is to be despised only because he has not yet distinguished himself in money-making, or war, or law, or letters, or art. Without some such consummation he is nothing, at least, in the sta- tion in which you now find him. There his gen- tlemanly manners and handsome person promote him to be merely an agreeable dangler, or one of the clever people, as they are called, who are stuck in to give piquancy to the dull parties of idealess fashion. Only fancy Claudia Falcon- tower Thinking seriously of this genius, without a coin in his pocket, without a bay-leaf on his brow! The timing is absurdmore than absurd; why, if you betrayed such a suspicion to her, she would strike you dead at her feet with one flash of her magnificent eyes. But still, although there is no possibility of her regarding him as anything more than a lay-figure, his feelings of hostilityfor which I have no doubt you have given abundant causemay dama~e you. It is your game; therefore, to detach his hold as well a~ you can from the familyto put a stop to that personal familiarity between them which might give him opportunity for damaging whis- pers in thie ear of your Eve. Could not this be done by a macre touch of. Ithmuriels spear, by which is fi~ured Truth? Would the haughty Claudia continue to make a companion of one whom she knew to he a va- grant, poor and unrenowned? Hum! I dont knosv. There is a certain convenience in a man standing alone in the world, with no circle round him to prevent his gettimig into other circles, nobody to hang upon the skirts of his good fortune when he is rising. There is an evil report, you know, about the ori- gin of this Oaklands, which if trueor believed to be truewould be far more damaging than the fact of his beinb really the foundling of Wearyfoot Common. As time natural son of a half-pay captain and a menial servant, and sur- roumided, doubtless, by countless relations in the same degree. all watching ea~erly for a peep of his head rising above the crowd our friend, it WEARYFOOT COMMON. strikes me, would have little chance of retaining the patrona~e of the Falcontowers. You are right, Fancourt !I see my game, and I will play it out. I hardly remember the particulars, beyond this, that the parentage you refer to was acknowledged by Oaklands himself when a boy, and in my mothers presence. Por- inger, however, knows all about it, and for some reason or other, he hates the fellow still worse than I do. How is it that you, who play your cards so well, and know the value of the honors, have never married l Simply because I am not the inheritor of a landed estate like you. I have money enough to do without a wifes fortune, and not money enough to desire an heirrank enough to require no matrimonial quarterin ~s, and not rank enough to make it necessary to fortify it by marriage sense enough to know that I am well off, and not sense enough to wish to be better off. But consult your fellow, thats my advice to you. I admire Porin~er prodi~iously; it is only circum- stances that have made him footmannature must have intended him for a man of fashion. Leaving Adolphus to the prosecution of his plans for detaching Robert from the intimacy of the Falcontowersplans he would have delighted in pnrsuin~ even if his own personal interest had not been at stakewe must now look in at Simple Lodge, just to prevent the inmates from slipping out of the readers memory. The diffi- cultv in this case is to relate a history that has no incidents. Saras was the life of a flower which grows without being seen to grow, which waxes in beauty spontaneously and unconscious- ly, and the aroma of which comes forth ~weeter and richer every day without exhibiting any ex- ternal token of change. Let it be said, however, that the song which burst forth from her heart in the garden carried with it, as an oblation to the heavens, every remains of girlish immaturity. From that moment she was a thinking, feeling, comprehending woman, and even her attentions to her uncle and aunt, without losing a jot of their fondness, acquired a character of judgment which rendered them a thousand times more val- uable. Sara, in fine, no longer passed through life, A dancing shape, an image gay, but a pilgrim of the earth, burdened with its cares, supported by its hopes, and even when its sorrows were heaviest, buoyed up with a gener- ous confidence, which is the heaven of this world, and when sublimed into religious faith, the herald of the world to come. It may be supposed that her intercommunica- tions with Robert received some modifications as they went on. At first they would be almost suspended by a feeling of bashful consciousness, but gradually, when she became accustomed to her new feelings, the natural ingenuousness of her character would prevail. Robert, although possessing, as she had said herself, the soul of a gentleman, was poor, low in conventional rank, and, 0 how lonely in the world! This was much. This went a great way in thawing her reserve, for it gave an air of generosity to her advances towards confidence. We admit, how- ever, that here we are thrown in a reat measure upon conjecture, for in spite of our manifold ex- perience, we remain to this hour in profound ig- norance of the female heart. For this reason we confine ourselves in a great measure, as the reader must have seen, to external phenomena, and for this reason we will at present dogmatize no further than to say that in circumstances of difficulty of any kind whatever, the advance al- ways comes from the woman. And why Be- cause she is naturally more ingenuous, naturally more courageous, except as regards physical bravery, and naturally more generous than the man. If advance is objected to, substitute any other expression you pleaseanything giv- ing the idea of a look, a tone, a word, a touch, which, occurring at the proper time, shivers the ice of conventionality, as if by magic, into a thousand pieces. That some such process as this took place, however gradually, between her and Robert, is certain. Theirs, it is true, was not a love cor- respondence, for it could not have been so with- out being a clandestine one; but in their public letters there were words and allusions, tremulous fears, half-hinted hopes, precious to the hearts of both, and at least enigmas to the captain and Elizabeth. The speculations of these worthy souls concerning such passages were listened to by Sara with her head bent down over the paper, and her cheeks flushed half with bashful con- sciousness, and halfwe must own itwith an awful inclination to laugh. But there were, like- wise, it must be said, in her letters, although only occasionally, and always occurring at the graver turns of Roberts fortunes, brief private post- scripts. These, however, betrayed no other feel- ing than that of anxious friendship, and contain- ed no words but those of encouragement, conso- lation, or adviceadvice such as a lofty-minded and loving woman may offer to a man, her superior in genius and experience, but struggling in the toils of the world. On a particular occasion, when Robert had written in a strain of much depression, one of these postscripts~ insinuated itself unconscious- ly to the writer into the body of her reply; and when the letter was read aloud, as usual,,to the captain and Elizabeth, it excited a good deal of speculation. It ran thus: I do not see why you should fancy yourself hanging loose upon the world as one without a profession, while you are supporting yourself by your pen. Thoughts, although immaterial themselves, are the rulers of matter; there is not an idea thrown off by an author which has not an effect of some kind up- on the niinds, and, therefore, upon the actions of those who read. Every book finds a fit audience, however fe~van audience so constituted as to realize the impression it is calculated to convey. A single leaf torn out, and drifting on the wind to the roadsid@, may contain something to sink into the heart or fasten upon the imagination of the curious passer-by, and fructify there either for good or evil. May it not be from some un- conscious apprehension of this fact that the Mo- hammedans pick up from the ground every scrap of paper they see, lest it contain the name of God Yes, Robert, thoughts are facts, and 38 WEARYFOOT COMMON. 39 he who deals in them is no dreaming hermit, ab- I think, in his printed letter, he called it poig- stracted from the business of life, but a sharer in nant afflictionwell give him hack as much of the scenessilent, it may be, and invisible in his it as Bob doesnt want, and speak comfortably person, yet exercising a palpable influence upon to the poor soul, and ask him down here to have the action. Go on, then, in good heart. Be as a run upou the Common. Hey, Elizabeth l proud of the work of your brain as you would Elizabeth gave her assent as calmly as if the he of the work of your hands; and when some matter in question was a forenoon walk, and glorious thought struggles into birth, think that then went on industriously with her knitting, as there are those who will receive it with a flush if thinking it was necessary to finish the piece, of the cheek and a catching of the breath, as lest she should be called upon to set out after something their souls have prophesied ofsome- dinner. thing they have panted for, even as the hart Sara was even more tranquil, for the idea came panteth after the water-brooks. Here Sara upon her with a paralyzing suddenness; but by stopped with a true flush and a true catching of and by a revulsion took place, and she was thrown the breath, for she had nearly been betrayed by into a nervous flutter, which made her take ref- her enthusiasm into reading what, in her woman- uge, as was her wont in moments of strong ly generosity, she had added: I judge from emotion of any kind, in the recesses of the gard- myself as an average specimen of humanity, for en. Here she walked and mused for some time, I can truly say that I never knew what noble- now indulging in a delicious dream, and now ness slept, useless and apathetic, in my own in- starting with a feeling of incredulity, the whole tellectnal nature, till it was kindled up by con- thing seeming a wild impossibility. She at tact with yours. length, however, became accustomed to the idea; Hold 1 cried the captain; read that again. and when gliding towards the house, she was This was not an unusual exclamation of his; overheardfor the kitchen window was open hut Sara complied falterin,,ly, for she felt that a crooning a low happy song, which, when the postscript had no business to be in the middle sound died away, Molly straightway took up like of a letter. an echo, as her thoughts floated across Weary- What do you think of that, Elizabeth ~ foot Common. It is the opinion of Sumphiuplunger, re- It was Saras wish to add a postscript to her plied the virgin, that thoughts are as substan- letter, informing Robert of their intention; but tial as any other existing things. We know that this the captain peremptorily overruled. The the invisible wind is substantial, because it knocks time, he said, was not yet fixed; and at any rate, down the chimney-pots, and a thou,,,ht must be he was strongly desirous of seeing how Bob so, too, because it hurries men alon~, in some would look when he saw them all on a sudden in particular course, more violently than the wind London. This idea took a strong hold of the itself- When the subject is better understood we veteran~ s imagination, and he was frequently shall probably be able to measure the potency seen to indulge in a little inward cachinnation as of thought like that of steam, by so many horse- it occurred to him. power, or even try it in scales like a ponderable The family were busy for some considerable substance, and affix its value by the poundweight. time in preparing for this important expedition; When this is the case, Sumphinplun~er himself the captain and Elizabeth occupied with abstract will be better appreciated, for men will be able speculations on the subject, and Sara and Molly to estimate more correctly the prodigious sub- with the work of the head and hands. The day, stantiality of his vapor, and the sublime ponder- always too short for Sara, now dwindled into the osity of his reflections. briefest imaginable span; and she would have Thats very true, Elizabeth, said the captain; grud,,ed the repose of the night if she had not thats very trueonly I doubt whether the sunk, the moment her head was laid upon the dealers in such substantial articles, even if these pillow, into a profound unconsciousness, from were as thick as mud, and as heavy as lead, which she awoke only when her eyelids were would make anything by them. They all live in touched by the first beams of the sun. She was Grub street, every mothers son of them, and the housekeeper, it has been saidand more than come out at night to lie on the bulkheads. that, for Molly required teaching both by pre- My dear uncle, expostulated Sara, there is cept and example. Sara had learned only some no Grub street now; it is changed to Milton knick-knackeries of cookery under the former street, and as for bulkheads, there is no such rdgime, and when Mrs. Margery abdicated, she thing to lie upon. was obliged to study the whole art in books that No! I am sorry for that. What are the she might teach and experimentalize in the poor fellows to do l They cant be walking the kitchen. The captain liked passing well a nice streets for ever and ever. Couldnt the govern- dinner, and the necessity for parting with the ment do somethin~ for them l I would subscribe mysterious cook had cost him many a secret a little myself if I thought it would be of any pang; but although a little gloomy and suspi- use. But Ill tell you what we must do, Sara: cious at first, he soon became wonderfully recon- we must go up to London ourselves and see after cued to the joint workmanship of his niece and poor Bob. You are of age now, and there must Molly, and at length declared frankly that any be lots of things, you know, to sign, seal, and difference he could detect was on the favorable deliver. As for my agent, the fine fellow is pay- side. Sara rivalled Mrs. Margery in other ac- ing a good dividend after all, and I must go to complishments, tooironing and clear-starch- town at any rate about that. But we must nt mo- - and Molly, who was a famous hand at the take it all from him after what he has suffered I suds, delighted in washin~day, since it gave her WEARYFOOT COMMON. Ye smile, I see ye, ye profane ones, all the while, Becas~se my homely phrase the truth would tell. You are the fools, not I still more of her young mistresss company than What is that you have gdt half under your usual. And did not Sara like it toojust apron l Never was there a pair of happier girls seen than 0 sir, its only a letter. when the one was plying her smoothing-iron, Why dont you give it, then l She handed and the other standing resolutely at the tuh, with it to Sara. the smoking froth flying wildly ahout her red This is for you, Molly, said her young mis- arms, and hoth every now and then suspending tress. Why do you give me your own letter, operations to fly out into the garden and lay and hefore you have even hroken the seal ~ down on the smooth green a score of white pieces 0 miss, do read it for me after dinner; pray, to grow still whiter in the sun. do. I wouldnt open it fer the worldthe last did you so much good! Sara hlushcd celestial rosy red at this imputation hut the captain hearing it was from Mrs. Margery, would permit no delay, ns it was sure to contain news of IRoh- ert; and Sara, nothing loath desired the cover to he put ag~ in upon the chicken, and read as fol- for the intellectual and accomplished Sara was lows : DEAR MOLLY This comes hoping refined, not vulgarized, hy these humhle lahors, you are well, heing the same myself, and to and hy the accompanying ~nshes of natural and thank you for your kind letter, addressed by womanly feeling welling from her heart, and, Miss Sara, which I received duly, hut heing writ- like ihe exhalations from the snowy linen on the ten by you, Molly, which I could not rend one green, rising a purifying oblation to the skies. word of it, good, had, or indifferent. So all the Sara was a capital gardener, too, in vegetables news of Wearyfoot I got was from Mr. Porin- as well as flowers; and heing the marketing ger, who came to make proposals of marriage, woman of the family. she knew and could name and drink tea with methink of that! He every human flower in the village, and was a wanted me to be a landlady, with red ribbons light-bringing visitor in every dwelling, from the over the ears; and he was so bitter when I told respectable bakery to the hut of the indigent him I would do no such foolishness, and called widow. Master Robert so many names, that as soon as I tell you what, Sara, said the captain one ever he was gone, I burst out a-crying. day, after having watched her through some of Master Robert gave up the cabinet-making her ordinary operations, ended by her sitting long ago, and goes out almost every morning down to dinner, officiating as chaplain, and tak- like the first gentleman in the land. My cousin ing up the knife and fork to dissect a chicken Driftwood says he is a unanimous writer, which I tell you what, Sara, you bring to my recol- means that doesnt put his name to it; but Mas- lection the nun of Torrajos as distinctly as if I ter Robert never says a word to nobody himself, had seen her only yesterday! which he is quite right to do. 0 Molly Jinks, rhe nun of Torrajos ~? repented Sara, puz- if it isnt coming out as fast as ever it can! I zled. think it is a family of Barrow knights he l)eiongs Yesa real nun. Its worth hearing. Eliza- to, or at least they are some of the kinsfolks, for beth. Elizabeth laid do~vn her knife and fork, they have been making all the inquiries about and turned upon her brother her light gray eyes him that people do ahout fondlings who have with the curiosity of a wax-figure. I was ac- strawberries upon their left side, and he goes quninted with that nun, proceeded the veteran; about with the ladies arm-in-arm, as close as I knew her very wall indeed, for I saw her sev- brother and sister. There is a lord, too, who is eral times, and ii am almost sure she noticed me another relation; and it was in one of their once. Well, you see, the convent was burned, houses that Mr. Poringer found me out, by means and the poor things routed out, and this nun was of a picture of me that Master Robert had lent waiting in a shed till a mule could be got for them to Put in their drawing-room. There is her. Now, if I had known Sara thenwell, also Mrs. Doubleback, a lady of the first fashion, well The nun, you see, was sitting on a bench, who would give her eyes to have him for one of with her hood hanging over her face, and her her daughters, and who has sent him an invita- hands crossed over her bosom; and there she tion to a grand ball. But he looks higher, I can wasno, she wasnt laying out the clothes on tell Mrs. 1)., for all her fashion; and good right the green; in point of fact there was no green. he has, for if there ever was a born gentleman But she wasno, she wasnt diggin~ in the gar- in this world, his name is Master Robert Oak- den, for there was no garden to dig in: that ac- lands. So no more at present, Molly Jinks, but counts for it. But she wasno, not exactly pat- be sure I will write again the moment it comes ting the little girls heads, and giving their to pass, and I am always your obedient friend, grandmothers sixpences, for there were no little MARGERY 0AI~LANns. girls, and no grandmothers; and the nun, poor young woman, hadnt sixpeace in the world; she This letter was the subject of much conversa- Was, in fact, doing nothing, nothing at all, and tion between the captain and his sister, although so Theres ~.olly, I declare! What do you the former could not very well comprehend, at want, Molly 3 What are you astonished about first, how a woman of the name of SaIl couli now 3 Its a hard case that I must always have have turned out to be a baronets lady. As nis to break off my story iii the middle ! mind, however, became accustomed to the idea, 0 sir, said Molly deprecatin~ly, I only he could not nndertake to affirm that the thing wanted to see if you wanted anything. was impossible, more especially when he recol 40 WEARYFOOT COMMON. 41 lected a circumstance that had occurred in his air of a superior addressing a dependant. If her own re~Iment. We do not feel ourselves called father had treated him in this way, the connec- upon, however, to lay the details of this circum- tion between them would at once have termi. stance before the reader, for it does not appear nated; and the caprice even of a young lady is clearly how the fact of the drummers wife re- not a little galling to the masculine, in circum- ferred to turning out to he the fifers sister, can stances of great inequality of rank and fortune. throw any very extraordinary light upon the Under such little annoyances, Robert was sup- point in question. As for Elizabeth, she was of ported only by the consciousness of his own real opinion with Sumphinplnnger, that in a state of independence, by his knowledge that, as a hand- being where the materials of the body are un- worker be could always command re~nunerative dergoing a constant process of chan~,e, it must employment; while his rehelli6us spirit was kept be a very difficult thing to establish any point of down by the prudential consideration, that lie had identityor, in fact, to tell who is who at all. no le~al hold upon Sir Vivian for the promised She hoped, however, that if any young man r6~vard of Us services. This reward was now no (hypothetically speaking) turned out unexpect- longer only alluded to in hints, hut described in edly to be a lord, he would never forget that express terms as one of those public appoint- there was nothing more than an empty title he- ments which, either through the employment of tween him an(l a vagrant, a deputy or otherwise, leave the holder a good Sari appeared to listen in silence to these deal the master of his time. The precise nature speculations, but in reality she was communing of the appointment was not stated, nor was the with her own unquiet heart. Whatever the amount of the salary; but a very moderate sum course might be, it was evident that Robert was would have satisfied both the ambition and pm- now in a position which deprived the proposed deuce of the aspirant, since he had determined1 expedition to London of every pretext of gener- now that he had fairly tried his strength, to trust, osity. It was one thing to visit him when he if necessary, to authorship for everything beyond was how in station and depressed in mind, and mere subsistence. Independently of such con- another thing to force a country girl upon his siderations, his submission to the caprices of society when that was courted by the noble and Claudia was influenced by the feelings it is natu- the fashionable. There seemed, at length, to be ral for a man to entertain for a young, beautiful, something even indelicate in the idea of this and accomplished woman; and on one occasion, journey, and a stran might have been her, observing her manner, when a more than usually haughty remark had curious to know what there was escaped from her lips, he fixed upon her a look in the prospects of her friend to account for so full of sadness, that even she was melted. such obvious discontent and depression. Forgive me, Mr. Onklands, said she ; I But Molly was curious about nothing of the have been hasty and thoughtless. There is so kind, for she saw at a glance what was the mat- much in what you call conventional life to dis- ter, and made up her mind on the instant that timrb the mind, that I sometimes wonder whether the whole male sex was a concrete mass of sel- it is worth the sacifice it costs Ybn woiider at fishness and deception. The baker paid hand- nothing; you are always serene, except when somely for this generalization; his loaf that day stirred by the inspirations of genius ; and even was thrown back to the culprit with indignation, at this nioment, instead of resenting what I have What is the matter, Molly l cm-ied be in said as an insult, you look upon rue with a pity alarm. that almost makes me weep for myself! Crusty !~ replied Molly, and she walked Come, it is only the incrustation, you kiiow, that back to the house like an empress at the Cu- is hard amid cold; there is warmth and softness bour~, with the crown upon her head, the sceptre within, after all. in her hand, her train boriie by two pages, and You may vex me a little sometimes, said her nose commercing with the skies. Robert, taking her proffered hand, but you can- not change my sentiments of gratitude for your generous notice, or my admiration of the thou- CHAPTER RHI. sand great and brilliant qualities of your mind. A scaPamiE. Time incrustation is even now yielding, Or you would not ackumowledge its existence. 0, Miss ROBERT was not a little cheered by Saras Falcontower, be yourself your own deliverer! views of the di~nity of the literary profession. Break it in pieces by the force of your own char- But his position was far from hem5 an agreeable aeter; dissolve it in the love of your own womans one, and from a cause which he could not at one heart; and dissipating the narrow couiventions time have anticipated. Miss Falcoutower, it of caste that serve as prison walls, give a grand turned ommt, was not to be relied on as a friend, and noble spirit to the nmiiverse! Will you do and for that reason it might be necessary to this will you try 1)o you puoumise l He doubt her as a patroness. There was now a ca- looked close into her eyes, with a gaze thut would price in her manner which he would at once have take no denial; Claudia flushed a she felt his attributed to bad temper had he not known how warm breath upon her cheek; but with an enthu- completely her temper was under the control of siasm akin to his own, she answered: her judgment. Sometimes she was gentle, sub- I will try I do promise! I-Ic raised sud- missive, confiding; and when he met her next, denly the fingers, that trembled semisibly in his, with the warmth and frankness of friendship, she to his lips, and kissed them fervently ; then, would look at him with haughty surprise, and di- ashamed of the boyish enthusiasm-n that had rect his attention to the work in hand with the prompted so unconventional an action, fell back WEARYFOOT COMMON. a step, and covered his face with his hands. When he saw again, he ~vas alone. Robert wonderod how Claudia would look when they met next. Ignorant as he was of con- ventional life, he knew very well that, on the im- pulse of the moment, he had taken what is called a liberty with a lady of rank; and although com- pletely aware that the judgment of ilds lady of rank would understand and excuse it, he was not so sure of her prejudices. There was much, as we have said, that he admired in Claudia, and much that he could even have loved although not without a little mingling of pity, in which, as the philosopher tells us, there is always some portion of contempt; but he knew that in her everything that was amiable, lovely, and of good report, was held in check by the feeling of caste; and he took his way to the house the next morn- ing with the air of a sentenced malefactor, con- scious of a legal offence without a moral crime. He prepared for what was to come by being stiff and haughty himself; and it may be that the preparation saved him. At any rate, Claudia wasa tone lower than usual, instead of higher. There was not a trace of consciousness on her marble face; but her manner was subdued with- out being cold: she looked like one who had bound herself over to good behavior. But still his labor ~vent on, and its success in- creased; and still he was honored with no invi- tation to partake of the public hospitalities of the family, he was offered no introductions, he re- ceived no open acknowledgment whatever; and the appointment was now seldom mentioned. and when it was, with a strange uncertainty and hesitation. Robert knew not what to think; and he at last waited only for a proper opportunity to bring Sir Vivian to an explanation, and if this was unsatisfactory, to betake himself anew to another course of life. One day, while walking along the street plunged in such reflections, he encountered his old landlady. It was near her own house, where lie had tenanted the three pair hack, and turning to walk a little way with her, he asked kindly af- ter her fortunes in the world. Just as you saw, said Mrs. Dobbs; it s always the same with us on the avera~e, although sometimes we be put about. But how is it with you, mister you look as glum as ever, and more thin and pale. I have no cause to be merry, replied Robert, although, like you, I do manage to keep afloat somehow. Ah, mister, if you would only take the widows advice! I had a son like you, as likely a young man as ever the li~,ht shone on ; but he was uppish ; he would not take to his trade like his father before him; he was all for the quality, and for being a gentleman and I lost a son, for my son lost himself. Do, mister, do take thought. Its no use growing thin, and pale, and downcast, when you have work to do in the world, and a strong arm to do it with. Its no use wearing fine clothes, without a shilling in the pockets to get you a meals victuals. All well enough for such as that Driftwood, as used to come to see you, with his mustaphoes under his nose, and his long greasy hair on his shoulders but you are a good young man, and a clever young man, if you would only take to some honest work that is fit for a man to do. Will you think of it, mister l I will, Mrs. Dobbs, said Robert ; it was what I was even now thinking of. And you wont take the widows bother amiss l On the contrary, I am sincerely grateful to you, my kind landlady ; and as Robert pressed her hand fervently, for they had now reached the house, some unbidden moisture was sent into his eyes by the motherliness of the good woman s manner. He was turning away with a more des- olate feeling than usual, when he observed a gen- tleman looking earnestly at him from the din~y parlor window. He could not at once recall the features, but all on a sudden the luxurious table of Sir Vivian Falcontower rose upon his imagi- nation, and, in the fi,,ure before him, he saw the elated guest, whose then distinction, and expected good fortune seemed, as he sat at the table, to have thrown a glare of sunshine upon his coun- tenance. The recognition was mutual; and ac- cepting a silent invitation to go in, the two clever people found themselves once more in company. The scene had changed. A few cane-bottomed chai Vs hollowing to each other, as the Londoners say when they wish to convey an idea of distance between, and a small table in the middle of the scanty and faded carpet, were the chief furniture of the room ; and four engravings, one on each wall, of Nelsons battles, in all manner of gaudy colors, and in black frames, were its only orna- ments. The table, unlike that of Sir Vivian, was furnished only with the food of the mind, in the form of manuscript, and the implements were simply pen and ink. The tenant of the apart. ment was in the dress of a gentleman, though, like the gentleman himself rather the worse for the wear and tear of the world ; but he received our adventurer as politely as when they met in Miss Falcontowers drawin~room. I have asked you in, said he, after the usual introductory phrases, because I strongly sus- pect that you, too, are on the road to ruin. That can hardly be, replied Robert, for I have nothing to lose. Do you call hope nothing Do you call time nothingl Marvellous error! If they rob you of your time, they deprive you just of so much of your life; if they cast down your hopes, they take away the compensations that make life en durable. You work for the government l I work for myself; although, in doing so, it may chance that I serve the ends of hoverument. Precisely. That is what we all say and think. And you, of course, believe that govern- ment will take steps to secure permanently the aid of so efficient a pen. You have the good word of Sir Vivian Falcontower, and Lord Lux- ton, and a score of other lords and baronets, and you fancy your fortune made. If I had such magnificent interest, said Rob- ert, my hopes would perhaps be more reasonably founded than they are. Not a whit. If you had all the great per- sonages in the kingdom on your side it would be 42 WEARYFOOT COMMON. of no use, and for this obvious reason, that not one of them would think his own or his familys interest compromised by a refusal. When min- isters yield to influence, they do so for their own sakes, and they are not such fools as to sacrifice the patrona~e by which they, in a great measure, subsist as a government, when they know very well that in refusing it they neither cool a friend nor make an enemy. A misconception on this simple point is the cause of more tears, more ag- ony, more desperation, more untimely, and some- times bloody deaths, than any other delusion that besets humanity. That your hopes have been cast down, said Robert, I see only too clearly, but I live so solitary a life I have never heard the particu- lars. And they are not worth hearing now, for there is nothing uncommon in the story. Yet, since you do lead a solitary life, and must be all the more governed by illusions, it may do you good to hear it. My name is not unknown in literature, and it brought me acquainted with one of the master-spirits of our time. It was my privilege, to call as often as I chose in the morn- ing on Lord Birch, and among the subjects of our conversation, some years ado, was, of course, the great parliamentary question of the day. We took opposite sides; and one day, feeling, after I had returned to my lodgings, that I had not explained my views properly, I dashed them down upon paper, and although afraid of the bulk to which the argument grew, sent off the fatal document to his lordship. I need not tell you that I did not succeed in convincing the wit- orator-author-statesman-philosopher; but, with his usual kindness of heart, he at once despatch- ed my paper to Mr. George Knuckles, whose task it was to be to carry the ministerial measure into effect if it received the sanction of Parlia- ment. Mr. Knuckles sought my acquaintance prevailed upon me to fill out the arbument and publishand in an evil hour I became, I hardly know how, a candidate for one of the important offices under the sought-for Act. That was beginning well, remarked Robert, for his companion paused in some agitation. Excellently well. Now, I had abundance of what fools call interest, and showered in testi- monials without number. But I did not depend upon that. I worked morning, noon, and night, at indoctrinating the public. I fought the minis- terial battle with tongue and pen. I flooded the periodicals with the subject, and through them the people; and my works, owing to their pic- turesque illustrations, having the entree of the drawin -rooms, I forced my opinions upon the aristocracy. This went on for nearly two years. T~vo years 1 Yes. It was a hard battle; for many of the best heads in the kingdom disapproved of the measure in theory, and allowed themselves, slow- ly and unwillingly, to be convinced that, under the exigent circumstances of the case, it was necessary in practice. But you wonder how I carried on the war 3 I can hardly tell you. My hopes, however, increased as my affairs went to ruin. I had the highest recommendations from all quarters; I was in daily communication with the head-commissionerthe pivot on which the whole thing was to turnwho was devoted to my cause; and the only doubt that perplexed my mind was as to the possibility of my holding out till the bill passed. At length matters ap- peared to come to a pointI had neglected the eneral profession of literature by which I lived; I had disgusted the booksellers; my debts were fast accumulating; my occupation was gone. By some desperate effort I might still continue to hold onbut was it worth making 3 I re- solved to ask counsel. I wrote to Lord John Bedford, as one literary man writes to another, explaining to him the terrible predicament I was in, and entreating him to tell me simply whether he knew of anything likely to prevent my ob~ taming the appointment I sought. I was at first disheartened by his reply, which informed me that it was his rule never to make a promise be- fore the office was actually in existence, although I was one of those whose claims were deserving of consideration~ but Lord Birch was overjoy- ed, telling me it was everything that could be hoped for under the circumstances from a minis- ter; and the late Lord William B. Tinck, the glorious governor-general, to whom I sent it, wrote to me, that on considering the whole mat- ter, he could undertake to say, as one who had been himself the distributer of patronage, that it was already determined to give me the appoint- ment. Do you wonder, then, that I contrived to live 3 Do you wonder that at such tables as Sir Vivians I was the gayest of the gay 3 I wonder at nothing, but I am getting ner- vous. It will soon be over. The bill passed. Af- ter waiting for some time, I could master my unpatience no longer, and called on the commis- sioner at the very moment when they were in grand divan considering the details. After an agony of I know not how long, he came out and informed me, with an agitation whieh con- trolled minethat I was a lost and ruined man 1 As the disappointed place-hunter finished his narrative, great drops of sweat loaded his brow, but his lips were pale and dry. Robert stared at him for some time in silence, and then rose. I thank you, said be, for this narrative. It will be of useperhaps to more than myself. It accounts only too well for the changed condi- tion in which I see you; and at the moment a female voice, and the querulous tones of child- ren from the next room, showed that the condi- tion was either aggravated or lightened by com- panionship. Oh, you have seen nothing! I was obliged to sell, not only my furniture, but my books the very tools of my tradecarry my family to a mean cottage on the coast of France, and there work hard and live sparingly to avert the degra- dation of a prison. Why, man, I am now up againI am beginning the world anew, and with a large capital of experienee! Enough of blue-devils, then 1 cried Robert: come with me, and take a glass of brandy and water, or a bottle of wine for the nonce, and let us have a little conversation of a more cheerful kind before we part. His companion moved towards his hat, which lay upon a chair, but 43 44 WEARYFOOT COMMON. paused, and then returning to the table sat down upper rooms; and on this Occasion the back par, again deliberately. br had been borrowed from its tenant, and con- No, said he; I have not fallen low enough verted into a cloak-room. When Robert, an- for that kind of consolation. I thank you; you nounced in due form, entered the drawing-room, mean well; but I have lived, and I will die a he imagined for a moment that the family must gentleman! he in a higher circle than the one he had assign- Robert left the house, with the echoes of the ed to them. The company, already sufficiently ominous tale ringing in his ears; and as he passed numerous, were in full evening costume, and a the area be saw the old widow looking up through majority of the ladies were young, pretty, and the begrimiried window, and shaking her clench- showy-lookin~. This character, indeed, they pre- ed hand at him, as if she said, Remember! served throughout; and he was struck, as he had Then came back upon his soul, like spectres, the often been before, by the remarkable superiority whole details of his London life; and he asked iu appearance and manner of the fair sex of himself whether it was possible that Driftwood London in a particular station of life. The men could be ri,,ht in his assertion, that a man, in did not bear inspection so well. Their clothes, spite of himself gets into a circle from which indeed, were artistically madefor in our times there is no escape b At that moment, his con- it is a ludicrous superstition which believes in nection with the Falcontowers seemed a mad- fashionable tailorsbut the limbs they contain- ness or a crime; and he looked upon his submis- ed were not altogether at home in them. It is sion even to the caprices of Claudia as a coward- true, the tiresome uniformity which characterizes ice. But there should be an end of all this, he an aristocratical party was here wanting; but the was determined, before it came the length of variety, unluckily, was not in natural character, downri~,ht infatuation. Time was in reality life, but in affectation, which is only another term for and hope its sole compensation. On the very vulgarity. There was one gentleman, for in- next day he would have an interview with Sir stance, who had not come there for any particular Vivian, which would doubtless have the effect of reason; who had merely lounged in, he knew not detaching him from a pursuit which appeared to why and cared not wherefore. To l)e there was him now to he degradin~, as well as fantastic, just as good as to be anywhere else, provided The frame of mind in which he returned home people would let him alone. He sat at a table was not very well suited for the remaining busi- in a corner, immersed in the study of an old ness of the day. This business was of a very annual, and when dancing commenced, submit- unaccustomed kind, and one a little formidable ted himself every now and then to the vehement to our solitary adventurer. On the present even- entreaties of Mrs. Doubleback, and all the Miss ing was to come off a grand party at Mrs. Dou- Doublebacks, and came forth with the air of a blebacks, an invitation for which be had accept- martyr to do his duty. This gentleman was said ed some three weeks before. The length of the to be one of the clerks in a great tailoring esta- interval bespoke the magnificent nature of the blishment, and, it was whispered to Robert, was entertainment, and Mrs. Margery was actually more than suspected of being a contributor to a overwhelmed with the responsibility of getting magazine, the name of which he kept a profound up a shirt for the occasion. Robert, indeed, secret. was somewhat reassured by the fact, that the in- Another gentleman considered himself, and vitation had come to him through Mr. Drift- was considered by the company, to be a general wood, who was himself to be one of the party; lover. That was his rii~tier in the world. He but he hind an intuitive feeling that the thing couldnt help it. It came natural to him; and would be more trying to his sacoir faire than a wherever he went in the room, the genteel-look- dinner at so unpretending a house as Sir Vivian ing girl he addressed himself to would whisper Falcontowers. At any rate he was out of spirits, and giggle, and when he glided off to another, dissatisfied with himself and his position, and it would say in a stage aside behind her fan was whim anything but the genial humor befit- Hes such a flirt! This gentleman was a hin- ~ng the occasion he went throu~h the necessary endrapers assistant, and was thought to have a preparations. very tolerable chance of being promoted by and Mrs. Margery awaited his reapl)earance from by to be the shop-walker. Robert observed with the bedroom with great anxiety; but her comely some curiosity another gentleman, who did not face broke into smiles of triumph and delight miss a single quadrille the whole evening, but when lie at length came forth. She had fre- who never danced. He walked through the figure quently before seen him in evening costume; with a correctness that might have seemed the but on this occasion be had an added charm for result of instinct, hut with a lassitude that ap- her romantic imagination, the nature of which peared ready to drop, and was frequently heard she could not guess, although it was in all pro- to observe that this sort of thing was the great- babihity nothing more than the gloomy abstrac- est bore in the world, and that he really thought tion of his manner, giving, in her eye, a touch he should be Obliged to decline every invitation of the heroic to the portrait. Indeed, if she ever during the rest of the season. Mr. Driftwood had a misgiving about him at all, it was owing was in excellent contrast to this gentleman. lie to a certain good-humored simplicity of charac- danced with as much earnestness as if he was ter, for which she could find no prototype in the painting a sign; not with any nice acquaintance whole Minerva press. with the fi~nre, it is true, but sometimes making Mrs. I)oubleback resided on the first floor of a happy guesses. and always thankful to he set respectable house, where she had likewise some right, and go back to the proper lady, and pous- accommodation for her numerous family in the sette it with her over again conscientiously. WEARYFOOT COMMON. 45 The ladies exhibited more uniformitymore case, is it unnatural to conjecture that her proud conventionalism. They were all to a certain heart would grieve, and her bright eyes weep extent genteel, as it is called, and yet their abso- over the crossness of fortune 3 lute unconsciousness of the eccentricity of the Upon my word, said Robert, you must gentlemen gave a stran~e effect to their gentili- permit inc to say that the mention in this way ty. They wcre interested in the flirt; they look- of such a name even in jest ed with womanly sympathy upon the hermit- Oh, I know, I know! You cannot hear of quadriller; they considered the walking-dancer a such a thing.; you are too much of a gentleman; very ele~ant person; and th~y were delighted I understand all that: but you are a naughty even with the gaucheries of Mr. Driftwood, which man, notwitstandin~. Dont I know of another they set down as practical witticisms. They gave lady who has travelled scores of milcs from the Robert the idea that if detached from the circum- country to see you 3 and instead of hastening to stances by which they were trammelled, and sud- thank her for her condescension, dont I see you denly transferred to a higher rank of life, they here flirting away at Mrs. Doublebacks, and say- would pass very well as lay-figures of society. ing fine thingsif they were hut true even to But while thus occupied in observing others, poor me, who have nothing different from other he became gradually conscious that he was him- girls, hut a heart that laughs at rank and rich- self the observed d all observers. The numer- es 3 and the young lady sighed again. ous introductions with which lie was honored Your country lady, said Robert, is a bad called forth the sweetest smiles aiid most grace- gness~, but I must entreat ful bends from the ladies, and the most awful What! have you no recollection of Weary- bows from the gentlemen. A score or two of foot Common 3 Robert almost leaped where eyes were constantly upon him, and he could he stood. observe that he was the subject of numerous fe- What do you mean 3 said he. What do sninine whispers. The hostess was unremitting you know of Wearyfoot Common 3 in her attentions, and was always directin~ his Just what I have said. Miss Seinple is in observation, on some pretext or other, to her townand you are here! The youhig lady at eldest daughter. When he danced, the rest only the moment accepted an invitation to daiice, and moved sufficiently to heat timeall were ocen- taking the gentlemans arm, walked away, leav- pied in studvin~ his motions; and his partners ing Robert in a flutter of surprise, delight, and for the time being seemed at the summit of hu- mortification. Ris speculations had nothing man ambition. One of these youn~ ladies was more to do now with Miss Falcontower; and a little franker, not to say more forward than even if it had been otherwise, he could never the rest; and after the quadrille, she defeated have conjectured the meaninu of the distinctioi~ with great skill the stratagems of Mrs. Double- with which he was treated by his partner and back to dissolve the temporary connection, the company: not knowing that he had been She wants you to dance with her daughter, represented by Driftwood as the newly discover- said she; and I am sure if you wish it, I would ed but still unrecognized scion of a noble house, not stand in your way for the world. But it is and the object of deep interest to Miss Falcon- such a treat to me to converse with a sensible tower and the whole of her distinguished family. manto indulge in the feeling of sympathy! But Sara! she in town! And why not 3 She You have no idea how romantic I am. I despise had now come of age, and there was nothing everything low and conventional; and would he extraordinary in the visit of the heiress to the proud. even if I were a queen, to descend to the place where her fortune was investednothing station of the meanest of my subjects, if he had but her suffcring him to remain in ignorance of awakened an interest in my affections. Do you her intention. He now recollected that he had not feel in this way 3 Can you conceive that there noticed an air of constraint in her last comninu- is any real inequality between heart and heart 3 nication. Ilad that any connection with the Robert, who was not an adept at small talk, mystery 3and a jealous pang wrung his heart lost hirnsclf for a moment in thinking to what as he reflected on his own desperate cireusustan- this could he fipropos, but at 1 ngth came out ces. But this was only momentary; and he with some gallant observation about her heart walked up to his late partner as 5he stood iu being able, lie was sure, to enimoble the one it one of the intervals of the quadrill~. condescended to select for sympathy. The On reflection, said he, I perceive that you yonn~ lady sighed, and murmured something must be correct with regard to Miss Semples about his being as romantic as herself; but she being in town. Pray do me the favor to tell me added archly and suddenly: where she is to be found 3 Do you find this the case with Miss Falcon- Walk home ~vith mc to-night, replied the tower 3 Shocked and alarmed, lie looked at young lady, and I will take you to the very her with consternation hut she added with a house. It was late before he could persuade pretty laughs: her to go; but when they did set forth, her home Ohs, dont you fancy that I mean anything was so near, that she had scarcely time for cx- snore thian a joke! A grand lady like Miss Fal- planation before they had arrived. The family contower is, of course, out of the question; but of the Lodge had in fact taken up their abode supposing she did chance to fall in with a hand- there Ma havin~ a larger house than they some and amiable young man of genius, but of required, and lettirm~ a part of it for the sake of low ranknot that I suppose she did, or could, company. Sara had despatched a letter by the ~r that there can by possibility be such a young post that afternoon to Robert, and the young man in the whole worldyet supposing this lady had read the addres~. 46 MR. SARGENTS READER. Observing a light still in the parlor-window, support. At length the young lady reappeared, Robert would at once have gone in; but this his shutting the parlor-door after her. She opened conductress would not permit. She would in- the street-door. sist upon announcing him herself; and throwing She is the only one up, ~vas the report; it off her cloak, adjusting her drapery, and tossing is too late to receive visitors; the family will be her ringlets into order, with a slight tap at the glad to see you in the morning. Good-night, door, which was answered in Saras voice, she you naughty man! bounded into the room. Robert turned away from the door mechanic- Roberts heart beat wildly for a time; then it ally, and wandered homeward through the mist hardly beat at all; then he grew faintthe great of Wear foot Common. strong manand leaned against the wall for~ y MR. SARGENTS READER. sometimes exceedingly effective; but a declam- atory tone in ordinary reading is always offensive, The First-class Standard Reader for Public and though unfortunately by no means unfrequent. Private Schools; containing z summary of rules Mr. Sargent has brought together the extracts in for pronunciation and elocution; numerous exer- the present volume with the same skill and sue- cises for reading and recitation; a new system of cess as in his Speaker, and though, for the obvi- references to rules and definitions; and a copious ous reason to which we have referred, he has not explanatory index. By ErRs SARGENT, author made a book so brilliant and ponderous with the of The Standard Speaker. Boston: Phil- gems of expression as that was, he has made one lips, Sampson & Co. in all respects equally valuable and calculated When we are going on an excursion that for a still wider circulation. promises some broken hours for a book, we throw A vast deal of labor has been bestowed upon into our valise our well-worn copy of the Stand- the preparation of this volume. The brief in- ard Speaker, as the most portable cyclopmdia of troductory chapters condense in a clear and sim- the finest things ever uttered in poetry or do- ple style the best rules which illustrate the prin- quence. It is the best common-place hook of ciples of articulation, pronunciation and inflec- tion- and the explanatory index leaves no excuse literature that ever fell under our eye; and with it in our possession we are never at a loss for the to the reader for passing over any word or para- means of whiling away the tedious intervals of graph without understanding it. On these parts travel, or stopping the gaps that interpose be- of the book the most scrupulous and conscien- our meal times when we exchange tious care has been bestowed, and they add very tween us and much to its value. We take pleasure in com car or steamboat for a strange hotel. It is an invaluable travelling companion, and our grati- mending The Standard Reader, therefore, to tude to Mr. Sargent for the pleasure he has giv- teachers and learners. It is full of novelty arid entertainment, and yet shows that as much labor en us by his first book in this branch of literature - has induced us to give more attention than we and scholarship, and good taste, and literary re- nerhaps might have done otherwise to the volume source can be exhibited in the suitable prepara- u tion of an educational manual as in much more efore us. We have read it from the title-page ambitious and pretending volumes.National In- to the conclusion, a qualification for reviewing telligencer so unusual that we think it not out of the way ______________________________ to make special mention of it. From the first page to the last we have diligently conned this PRESTIGE or SrRcTAcLEs.I descended to volume to satisfy ourself if there were anything the Kulbait river, on my route back to Dorjiling, in it in any respect exceptionable for the purpo- visiting my very hospitable tippling friend, the ses for which it is designed. In this examination we have been struck with Kajee of Lingcham, on the way down. He hum- blv begged me to get him a pair of spectacles, the perfect taste and judgment manifested f& r no other object than to look wise, as he had throughout. There is not a line in it to which a the eyes of a hawk. He told me that mine drew moralist of any sect of religion can make objec- down universal respect in Sikkim, and that I had tion. There is nothing of a local or sectional been drawn with them on in the temple at Chang- spirit in it; the work is adapted for use wherever achellin and that a pair would not only won- the English language is spoken. There is great deffully~become him, but afford him the most -vai-iety in the contents, which combine very fre- pleasing recollections of myself. Happily, I had quently the interest of story and anecdote with the means of gratifying him, and have since been literary merit of high order. The selections are told that he wears them on state occasions. generally from the most distinguished writers of England and this country, interspersed with Hookers flimalayan Journals. translations from the French and German, many of the latter from the pen of the editor, and INFANT AMBITION. Toute lambition des constituting a valuable portion of the volume. enfans est de devenir hommes. Ils ne voient The editor, however, has uniformly kept in view dans les hommes que la supirioriti~ de leurs the distinction between a reader and a speakes-; forces; et ils no peuvent savoir combien les and the selections have been made with great pr~juge~s et les passions rendent si souvent les judgment with reference to this important dis- hommes plus faibleset plus malbeureux que des tinction. A colloquial passage in a speech is enfans.Eloge de Pascal. 47 NEUTRAL RIGHTS. From the Spectator of 6 May. NEUTRAL RIGHTS. ALL Englishmen and Americans who love their country, must be watching with anxiety the opening of a naval war which might revive in their full force questions that have slept during many years of peace. Popular passions are easily stirred on either side of the Atlantic, and unprincipled or reckless men are never wanting to inflame them. It is therefore gratifying to observe that our own Government, acting in concert with that of France, is fully alive to the gravity of the crisis, and is taking well-weighed steps to meet it; and we confidently appeal to all true friends of freedom and civilization of Anglo-Saxon race to combine their efforts to secure the triumph of sense and reason over the national jealousies of former times, that so a contest provoked by Absolutism may not embroil the countries where Liberty has her chosen seat. We cannot forget that in England there is still a party, never very far from power, which has shown, in many instances, that it is equal in obstinacy and not superior in intelligence to the Ministers who, to the loss of England and the exas- peration of America, framed and executed the Orders in Council of the last war. We had begun to hope that the folly of our former rulers was at length expiated, and that the hatred of England which their acts had inspired in America was almost extinct. True is it that the evil that men do lives after them, and the curse of our fathers sin may yet embitter the intercourse of us the sons. Let the value of our boasted progress in intelligence and humanity be now proved; and let the points of maritime law and practice which the last treaty of peace left open be now quietly adjusted, to the honour and satisfaction of both nations. The friendly arrangement of these ques- tions will be much assisted by the great growth of the naval power of America since they were last mooted. A state which desires to preserve the just and necessary rights of war to its own navy will be equally ready to concede the same claims to others. Another favourable circumstance is the re- verence felt by the Americans for law, and the great eminence and authority of its ex- positors among theni. Indeed, the utmost measure of belligerent rights contended for by England might be safely rested upon the writings of the jurists of America. Thus Chancellor Kent tells us, that during the late war the Government of the United States admitted, as the settled doctrine of international law, the English rule that enemys property was liable to seizure on board of neutral ships. But then he goes on to say, that it is now declared on the part of his Government that this rule of public law has no foundation in natural right, and that the usage rests entirely on force. The principle that free ships make free goods, asserted by the Armed Neutrality in 1780, at a time when England was too hard pressed to resist the innovation, has been alternately insisted upon and violated by most of the European powers, according as their interest as neutrals or belligerents may have dictated at the time. The United States, though submitting to the exercise of the ancient law, urged constantly its modi- fication, and have repeatedly used their influence with the younger members of the Transatlantic family of republics to procure their adoption of a more liberal and enlarged principle. The interest of France has usually pointed the same way, and it might there- fore be anticipated that she would recognize the new principle without reluctance. Our own Government has now wisely acceded to the same view; and the effect of the Order in Council on the 15th ultimo is, that this country waves the right of seizing enemys property laden on board a neutral vessel, unless it be contraband of war. A contro- versy of seventy years is thus happily and we trust finally determined. It is worthy of remark, that certain ancient treaties be- tween France and Turkey admit the prin- ciple that free ships make free goods; and this is not the only instance where the latter power has shown a liberality worthy of the imitation of Christian nations. It may be objected, that by virtue of this principle the trade of Russia will go on under the neutral flag without hinderance or loss; and that the effect of war will be no otherwise felt by her people than in a slight enhancement of the cost of carriage of her produce. But the prudent course for Eng- land to adopt will be to narrow and clearly define belligerent rights so as to obviate all complaint, and, within the undisputed limits, strictly and vigorously to enforce them. For a full and sufficient exposition of the laws of blockade, we may again refer to the great jurists of America. Their writings will show that it is still within our power to an- nihilate the trade of Russia; only we must employ more ships and take more trouble than under the old system. Each Russian port must be effectually blockaded ;not a paper blockade by declaration of the Queen in Council, but an actual blockade by the presence of a force rendering it dangerous to enter. It fortunately happens that the coast- line of Russia is short compared with her vast territory; and it appears that our Ad- miralty are fitting out a great numbei~ of frigates and smaller vessels, so that Napiei~ 48 NEUTRAL RIGHTS. may not have to complain of that deficiency soldiers of Napoleon made the winter cam- which so often crippled the operations of paign of Eylau clothed in English greatcoats Nelson. The combined navies of France and boots. To allow war to be needlessly and England ought to be adequate to main- prolonged by hesitating to interfere with tam a strict blockake of every place in the commerce within lawful limits, would be dominions of the Russian Emperor where a worse than foolish: let Government carry ship can load or discharge a cargo. If nen- on the contest in all respects with vigour, tral vessels be tempted by the high profits and still commerce may be very safely left of the trade to brave its risk, it is competent to take care of itself. We shall see it flourish, for them to (10 50. They have a clear right and yet need not charge our Ministers .with to enter a blockaded Russian port, if they treachery nor our Admirals with sloth. can; and we have an equally undoubted When there is business to be done, men and right to cal)ture them in the attempt. Per- means will commonly be found to do it; haps some of the fast-sailing clippers, of and, in spite of the valour and vigilance of whose performances we hear so much, may our cruisers, it will still be true that be willing to try their luck. If they get in and ou~ again, it will be very much to the credit of the builder and captain; and if they thil, we are quite sure that the decisions of their native courts in other cases will silence all complaints. It would b~ easy to excite dissatisfaction at home at this partial surrender of the rights enforced in former wars. Some per- sons will be disposed to resist the measure as an imputaLion upon the cherished memory of Percival and Eldon; and there is always the temptation to seek popularity by empty vaunting about Nelson and Copenhagen. We would observe, however, that there is likely to be ample scope for asserting the prowess of our navy in actual conflict with an enemy whose position and character com- bine to provide plenty of the same sort of work as Nelsons hardest battle. It is not wise to risk very munch for the maintenance of forms, if their disregard does not involve the yielding of any really important right. Jn the last war, we endeav~nred to prevent the produce of the French colonies from being conveyed to the mother-country in nentrm~ ships. Admitting that we had the right fo prohibit the direct carriage, still, if the ship touched at an American harbour, and unladed and paid (1ut~ there, she might resume her voyage under no liability to seizure. In this way our precautions were easily evaded. The law, of nations is open to all; and the refined distinctions which our lawyers have contributed to spin upon it may be taken advantage o,f equally by every neutral trader. What is directly pro- hibited may in many cases be effected indi- rectly with a little more time and trouble and outlay. This truth is already partly seen by merchants, and will soon come to be better understood by the light of experience. We exhort traders to remember for their comfort, that, in the fullest fury of pro- hibitory Orders in Council and Decrees, the, Aurum per medios ire satellites amat. We are only now entering upon a state f war, and no one can foresee what course the strife may take, or how far powers at present neutral may be drawn into it. But we must expect that, on many occasions, all the good sense and forbearance of both countries will be required to prevent dis- putes between England and the United States. The prospect of large profits will be a strong inducement to infringe the clearest rights of war, and the loss and violence in- evitably sustained by those whose attempts are baffled cannot fail to supply a mighty lever to any demagogue who desires to move the mob. The only fair and safe mode of looking at these questions, is for Americans to suppose themselves at war and England neutral, and to insist upon nothing for their own traders which they would not be pre- pared to concede to ours. On our side, in dealing with neutral ships and property, the utmost care and delicacy must be shown by our cruisers, and all accidents and mistakes fully and promptly corrected or compensated. It is not the least evil of war that the loss and suffering thereby caused cannot be con- fined to the states engaged in it. The clear duty of belliberents is to render their opera- tions as little injurious as possible to neutrals~ but it is vain to expect that neutrals can entirely escape. On the other hand, if the neutral states sustain some loss, it has also the opportunity of fairly and securely making great gains,, and that without entering upon branches of trade that would have been un- lawful in time of peace, but Preserving a strict impartiality. By upright purposes, and honest and kindly dealing, we may hope to avert from ourselves and our children the great crime and calamitj of a war with the United States.

LITTELLS LIVING AGE No. 529, 8 JULY, 1854. AMIENS CATHEDRAL. FROM THE AMERICAF IN EUROPE. AMIENS has a noble cathedral, which holds have the peculiarity of giving forth a tone when one of the first places amongst the Gothic struc- touched or struck; one, called le pelier sonore, tures of France. It was erected in 1220, and, by startles by the intensity of its prolonged and a peculiarity in the stone, the flight of the 126 grave harmony, as though it were the string of delicate shafts that support au immense vault, some enormous harp. or the eccentricity of the builders, these shafts THE TWO ANGELS. IIY PROFEsSOR LONGFELLOW. Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, Passed oer the village as the morning broke; The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke. Their attitude and aspect were the same, Alike their features and their robes of white; But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame, And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. I saw them pause on their celestial way; Then said I, with deep fear and doubt op. pressed: ~ Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray The place where thy beloved are at rest! And he, who wore the crown of asphodels, Descending, at my door began to knock, And my soul sank within me, as in wells The waters sink before an earthquakes shock. I recognized the nameless agony, The terror and the tremor and the pain, That oft before had filled and haunted me, And now returned with threefold strength again. The door I opened to my heavenly guest, And listened, for I thought I heard Gods voice And knowing whatsoeer He sent was best, Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. Then with a smile, that filled the house with light, My errand is not Death, but Life, he said And crc I answered, passing out of sight On his celestial embassy he sped. T was at thy door, 0 friend! and not at mine, The angel with the amaranthine wreath, Pausing descended, and with voice divine, Whispered a word that had a sound like Death. Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, DXXVIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. vi. 4 A shadow on those features fair and thin; And softly, from that hushed and darkened roomy Two angels issued, where but one went in. All is of God! If He but wave his hand The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, Till with a smile of light on sea and land, Lo! He looks back from the departing cloud. Angels of Life and Death alike are his; Without his leave they pass no threshold oer; Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, Against his messengers to shut the door l Bentleys Miscellany. UNDER MY WINDOW. UNDER my window, nuder my window, All in the Midsummer weather, Three little girls, with fluttering curls, Flit to and fro together Theres Bell, with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud, with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate, with the scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, Leaning stealthily over, Merry and clear, the voice I hear, Of each glad-hearted rover. Ah! sly little Kate, she steals my roses, And Maud and Bell twine wreaths and posies, As busy as bees in clover. Under my window, under my window, In the blue Midsummer weather, Stealing slow, on a hushed tip-toe, I catch them all together Bell, with her bonnet of satin sheen, And Maud, with her mantle of silver-green, And Kate, with the scarlet feather. Under my window, under my window, And off, through the orchard closes; While Maud, she flouts, and Bell, she pouts, They scamper and drop their posies; But dear little Kate takes nanght amiss, And leaps in my arms with a loving kiss, And I give her all my roses. Atkeneum. T. WESTWOOD. MISCELLANEOUS. LECTURES ON THE GREAT NOVELISTS. AN interesting course of lectures by Mr. Cow- den Clarke, at the London Institution, on four of the Great European Novelists, was brought to a close on Monday. The authors selected were Boccaclo, Cervantes, Lesage, and Richard- son; hut it is to the last of the four that our notice must be confined. Richardson, said the lectnrer, leaves nothing to the imagination. Every detail of every inci- dent is given: but this detail is always relevant. There is no digression, no episode even. The plots are at once simple and intricate. The elaborate indices appended to Clarissa and Grandison show the gravity with which Rich- ardson regarded his productions. He wrote in perfect good faith; he never trifles with his sub- ject; his matter seems real and momentous to himself, and becomes so to his reader. Of the latter fact, indeed, the lecturer gave proof posi- tive by the earnest conviction with which he dis- cussed and sympathized with the fortunes of Olarissa. Of the character of Lovelace he de- livered an elaborate pr(~cis; as also of Grandi- son, that hero of the malice prepense of good- ness of Miss Byron, whose mind, like the minds of more than one of the heroines, is al- ways in full dress of Clementina and of Cla- rissa. The knowled~,e of women displayed by Richardson is most subtile. His finished por- traiture reaches the subordinate no less than the principal characters. His morality is very high : he inculcates the great truth that men must look into themselves for the paramount arbitration of their fateon their own goodness or depravity for their happiness or wretchedness. In this respect he is the extreme opposite of Le- sage. Richardsons wit and his pathos were then touched on; the former less convincingly than the latter. He is an author who never appears in his books, and yet he is incarnate in them. These you may admire deeply, or dislike alto- gether: you cannot read them with indifference. Lamb and Hazlitt were two of his greatest ad- mirers; and very deIi~htful it was, said Mr. Clarke, with the freshness of personal knowledge, to bear them talk of him. The question suggests itself, how far Richard- son, an author whom the novel-readers of the day may think comparatively oldfashioned, and who is more talked of than read, may be suit- able as the theme of a lecture to a mixed audi- ence. Boccacio is a breat name, and the root of tbe tree of modern fiction: Cervantes and Lesa,,e are thoroughly popular: Richardson is distinguished rather than cherished. Mr. Clarke retained the attention of his audience through- out. lie roused it into lively and even eaber interest, where, as in the pictures he drew of Lovelace ai~d Grandison, his own graphic touch- es presented a strikin figure, and his power in describing what his author had described dei~on- strated the admirable truth of that, or stood by its own strength: hut, where lively delineation gave place to critical statement, as it necessarily did towards the end, the hearers cooled in pro- portion to their coolness to Richardson himself. The function of a critical lecture, however, is not merely to find an audience of the same opi. nion as the speaker, but to incite them to become soSpectator. A HIsToItY OF ENGLAND, IN RHYME, FROM TIlE CONQUEST TO THE REsTORATIONFrom which rejected burlesque or unperformed opera have heen drawn the materials for this work its author does not explain to us :his song having no symphony or preface. It is meant, we pre- siime, principally to be jingledafter the fashion of coral and hellsin the ears of the hope of England, from three years and downwards, and there is not a page at which we could open the book without coming upon some chord or modulation, so much in the style of Goosey Gander as to take us back into Babyland, where the kings are made of elecampane and the queens of gingerbread. Listen, by way of specimen, to some of the rhymes devoted to our royal Blue- beard. King Henry had, As it appears, With Cathrine livd For ei~hteen years. St A Qucen she was Of modest mind, Whose temper was Most sweet and kind. The King, howeer, At court had seen A beauty, namd Anna Boleyn, And had for her Such fancy taen, On Catbrine lied Not look again. But Anna he Would have for wife Howeer it might Occasion strife. While thoughts like these Torment his brain, Their utterance He cant restrain. Ah, Kate, of you I dont complain; But that sweet girl I must obtain. My wish, indeed, I must fulfil, For wed that girl I must and will. Atheneum. CURIOUS TENDER. If any young clergy- man, somewhat agreeable in person, and who has a small fortune independent, can be well recommended as to strictness of morals and good temper, firmly attached to the present happy establishment, and is willing to engage in the matrimonial estate with an agreeable young lady in ~vhose power it is immediately to bestow a living of nearly 100 per annum, in a very plea- sant situation, with a good prospect of prefer mentany person whom this may suit may leave a line at the bar of the Union Coffee House in the Strand, directed to Z. Z., within three days of this advertisement. The utmost secrecy and honor may be depended uponLondon Chronicle, March, 1758. FLY-TAKERS OF CAUse COLONYA large wisp of straw is dipped in milk and hung by a string to the beams of the roof; when this is covered with flies they come with a lame bag slowly un- der the straw, and getting it in to a certain depth, shake it so that the flies are shaken to the bottom of the bag. In this manner they sometimes take as many as a bushel of flies a day.Lichtenstein. ToPsY TURVYI have always understood this to be a corruption of Topside tother way. .A~tes and Queries. 50 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. From Chamberss Repository. CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. WE find in the records of the remotest an- tiquity, slavery mentioned as an established system as quite a common usage. Abraham had 318 servants born in his own house; and thousands of children have wept when they heard how Joseph was sold by his un- natural brethren. That it is an institution adapted to a rude state of society only, is satisfactorily proved by its complete extinction in almost all the more highly civilized and re- fined .communities of the earth; and also by its origin being clearly traceable to the lowest conditions of savage life. Women, being the weaker, were undoubtedly the first slaves. The uncivilized man of the present day fol- lows the chase or sallies forth upon the ~var- path, all labor and drudgery falling to the lot of his female partner. The mere savage hunter of antiquity compelled, by scarcity of game and other circumstances, to tame and rear cattle for their flesh and skins, re- quired more assistance than his wife could afford, and, consequently, the life of t.he enemy, vanquished in war, was spared on condition of being the conquerors slave. The wife then became an overlooker, and woman was raised the first step in the social scale. Agri- culture, requiring more labor still, was next discovered and practised; slaves became ar- ticles of value and merchandise; and the victorious warrior, instead of slaying his pris- oners, sacrificing them to hideous heathen deities, or eating them, as he had formerly done, found it more advantageous to adopt the less cruel alternative of sellino them. Thus we see that the horrible sy~em of slavery, the offspring of brute force and bar- barism, was, nevertheless, a forward step in the worlds march to civilization. So, as toil and suffering is the ordeal which mankind in- dividually and nationally must pass through before their highest state of progress can be achieved, we may confidently cheer ourselves with the hope, that the last remnant of slavery still existin~ in Christian lands, and now writhing in its death-pangs, will be the means of raising a degraded race to their proper position among the people of the earth. The ancient Greeks, puffed with the pride of their superficial refinement, deemed all the rest of the world barbarians, and only fit to be their slaves. The haughty republican Roman, selfish and intolerant, demanding sin- limited and aggressive privileges for himself as a citizen, was a brutal master to his bonds- man. Under the Empire, the number of slaves increased so much by wealth and con- quest, that the poorer class of freemen were glad to secure a subsistence by working on the estates of the great landowners, to which they 51 and their families became bound under tho name of adscrspti; and thus arose that miti- gated system of slavery known as serfdom, which prevailed during the middle ages, and which, in some of the northern parts of Europe, is not yet abolished. War and con- quest, however, were always the great sources of slavery. England, overrun by Romans, Saxons, Norwegians, and Normans, was long a country of slaves and slave-dealers. To the circumstance of English captives being exposed for sale in the market of Rome, we are in- debted for the first gleam of the light of Gos- pel truth. The Anglo-Saxons held a great slave-mart at Bristol, where they sold large numbers of slaves to the Irish traders. Wols- ton, Bishop of Worcester, who died in 1095, went year after year to Bristol and preached against the odious traffic; and his zeal was crowned with success, for many of the leading merchants discontinued it. In the canons of a council held at London in 1102, it is writ- ten : Let no one from henceforth presume to carry on that wicked traffic, by which inca in England have hitherto been sold like brute beasts. Still, however, to a very late period prisoners taken in war were considered to be the property of their captors: the rich were held to ransom, and the poor condemned to slavery. Another prolific source of slavery was reli- gious differenceit being long understood that any person who had the power, had also the right to enslave any other person professing a dif- ferent faith. The Laws of Oleron, the man- time code of the middle ages, described infidels who did not receive the Christian faith, as dogs to be attacked, despoiled, and enslaved by all true believers. The Venetians long carried on a prosperous trade in Selavonian infidel slaves from the shores of the Adriatic, and they honestly, as the word was then understood, bought and paid for them. But it was reserved for chivalryChristian chiival- ry per excellenceto commence that hideous system of piracy and slavery, which so long stained with blood and tears the blue waters of the Mediterranean. The ecclesiastical order of Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalemoriginally instituted for the purpose of sheltering and relieving sick pilgrims to the Holy Templeassumed in course of time a military character and organization, becoming a rich and powerful body of monastic warriors. When the Chris- tian powers were driven from Palestine, the Knights Hospitallers took possession of Rhodes, and a few other smaller islands in the group so well known in ancient history as the Spo- rades. Shut up in these islands, yet bound by. their vows to wage perpetual War against all infidels, the knights became a considerable naval power, and pursued a continual system of piracy upon their Mohammedan neighbors. 52 All their prisoners were unconditionally doomed to life~long slavery. Manacled to the oars, they rowed the galleys of their knightly captors, who impiously used to boast, that they cared not how the winds of heaven blew, as they carried their own winds in the sinews of their slaves. Four times did the plundered Ottomans unsuccessfully en- deavor to expel the priestly pirates from their stronghold. At last Solyman the Magnificent beleaguered Rhodes with an immense fleet and army, and summoned the knights to surrender in the followinc~ words : The constant robberies with which you molest our faithful subjects, oblige us to require you to deliver up to us the island and fortress of Rhodes. The summons was treated with scorn.; a series of sanguinary battles ensued; and ultimately, after performing prodigies of valor, the order was almost annihilated, and their feeble rem- nant expelled from Rhodes. After some years wandering in various parts of Europe, they received the island of Malta from Charles V. Recruiting their numbers, they established themselves on that almost impregnable rock, and pursued their former system of piracy with greater vigor than ever. Al Makbari, an Arabic.writer, speaks of Malta in language similar to that which, no doubt, our ancestors have used respecting Algiers. He terms it, that accursed island, from the neighborhood of which whoever escapes may well say that he has deserved favor; that dreaded spot which throws its deadly shades on the pleasant waters; that den of iniquity; that place of ambush, which is like a net to ensnare all Moslems who sail the sea. Barbary is the general and somewhat vague denomination adopted by Europeans to des- ignate that part of the northern coast of Africa which, bounded on the south by the desert of Sahara, is comprised between the frontiers of Egypt on the Mediterranean, and C,ape Nun, the western spur of the lofty Atlas range, on the Atlantic. Imperfectly known even at the present day, in ancient legend it was peculiarly the land of mystery and fable. It was there the Grecian poets, giving their airy nothings a local habitation and a name, placed the site of the delightful gardens of the Hesperides, whose trees bore apples of the purest gold; there dwelt the terrible Gorgon, whose snaky tresses turned all living things into stone; there the invincible Her- cules wrestled and overthrew mighty Antinus; there the weary Atlas supported the ponder- ous arch of heaven on his stalwart shoulders. Almost as mythical and mysterious is the little we know of the Phamnicians, the greatest maritime people of antiquity, who planted their most powerful colony, the proud city of Carthage, on these furtile shores of Northern Africa. Of the Carthaginians, we can glean CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. a little from the Greek and Roman historians. We know that in turn becoming the rulers of the seas, they explored and founded colonies and trading-dep6ts in what were at that time the most distant regions; extending their com- mercial relations from the tropical banks of the Niger to the frost-bound beach of the Bal- tic. A powerful people ere Rome was built, they long enjoyed their supremacy; at last, the thirst of territorial conquest brought the two great nations into rivalry, and the rich temples of Carthage fell a prey to the legions of Scipio. For a short period after the de- struction of Carthage, the energetic subtlety of Jugurtha prevented the conquerors from extending their dominion; but in a few years, the whole coast, as far as the waves of the Atlantic, became a Roman province. It re- mained so till about the year 428 of the Christian era, in the reign of the Emperor Honorius, when Genseric, king cf the Van- dals, crossed over to Africa, conquered the Roman territory, and founded a dynasty which reigned for about 100 years. The Greek emperor Justinian then sent Behisarius to re- conquer the country; he defeated the Vandals, made their king prisoner, and added Northern Africa to the G reek Empire. History presents us with a series of con- quering races, following each other as the waves upon the sea-beach, each washing away the impression made upon the sand by its forerunner, and each leaving a fresh impres- sion to be washed out by its successor. The irruption of the Saracens followed hard upon the conquering footsteps of Belisarius. Swarm after swarm of the Arabs came up out of Egypt, till Northern Africa was under the rule of the caliphs, excepting a small part of the sea-coast held by the Spanish Goths. They at last were driven out by Musa, about the year 710; and then Tank, Musas lieutenant, crossing the narrow straits, carried the war into Europe, defeated Rodenick, the last Gothic king, and laid the foundation of Arab dominion in Spain. The ruthless spirit of religious fanaticism which inspired the follow- ers of Mohammed, destroyed everything it could not change. Romans, Vandals, Greeks, Goths, their laws, literature, and reli~ions, all have disappeared in Northern Africa; the recollection of the most powerful of them is only preserved in the word Romia term of reproach to the Christians of all nations. Of their more material works, the learned an- tiquary still finds some traces of Roman edi- fices, and the remains of a sewer are supposed to indicate the site of Carthage. The warlike enthusiasm of the Saracens was better adapted for making conquests than for preserving them. The great distance from the seat of empire, the revolutions caused by rival houses contending for the caliphate, the ambitious CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. projects of the viceroys inclining them to league with native chiefs, led to a dis- solution of the Arabian power in Northern Africa. Consequently, when the dawn of modern history begins to throw a clearer light upon the scene, we find the territory divided into A numbcr of petty sovereignties. The Saracens in Africa intermixing with the barbarous native tribes, never reached the high position in the arts of peace and civiliza- tion attained by their brethren, the conquer- ors of Spain. The devastating instinct of Islamism seems to have yieldcd to a more be- nign influence, as soon as it entered Europe. When Spain was thoroughly subdued, the natives were permitted, with but few restric- tions, the full enjoyment of their own laws and religion; and the Arabs, enjoying almost peaceable possession for nearly three centuries after the conquest, devoted their fiery energies to the acquisition of knowledge. Enriched by a fertile soil and prosperous commerce, they blended the acquirements and refinements of intellectual culture with Arabian luxury and magnificence; the palaces of their princes were radiant with splendor, their colleaes famous for learning their libraries overflowing with books, their agricultural and manufac- turing processes conducted with scientific accuracy, when all the rest of Europe was buried in midnight barbarism. To those hal- cyon days of comparative peace succeeded four centuries of bitter conflict between the invaders and the invaded, exhibiting one of the grandest romances of military history on record. It was long doubtful on which side the honors of victory would descend. At last, the ardor and audacity of the Mussulman succumbed to the patriotic courage of the Christian, and the reluctant Moor was com- pelled to abandon the lovely region he had rendered classical by the exercise of his pecu- liar taste and genius. Immediately after the fall of Granada, in 1492, about 100,000 Spanish Moors passed over into Africa with their unfortunate king Bobadil. Some ruined and deserted cities on the sea-coast, the remains of Carthaginian and Roman power and enterprizo, were allotted to the exiles ; for, though of the same religion, and almost of the same race and language as the people they sought refuge they were strangers a amongst, yet rican Moors in strange land; the Af- termed tliem Tigarins (Andaln- sians); they dwelt and intermarried together, and were long known to Europeans, in the lingua franca of the Mediterranean, by the ap- pellation of Moriscos. At the period of this forced migration, the Barbary Moors knew nothing of navigation ; what little commerce they had was carried on by the ships of Cadiz, Genoa, and Ragusa. But the Moriscos, confined to the sea-coast, and debarred from agriculture, had no sooner rendered the ancient ruins hab- itable, than they turned their attention to na- val affairs. Building row-boats, carrying from fourteen to twenty-six oars, they boldly put to sea, and incited by feelings of the deadliest en- mity, revenged themselves on the hated Span- iard, at the same time that they plundered for a livelihood. CrossiAg the narrow channel which separates the two continents, and lying off out of sight of the Spanish coast during the day, they landed at night not as strangers, but on the shores of their native land, wYiere every bay and creek, every path and pass, every village and homestead, were as well known to them as to the Christian Spaniard. In the morning, mangled bodies and burning houses testified that the Moriscos had been there ; while all portable plunder, every cap- tured Christian not too old or too young to be a slave, was in the row-boat speeding swiftly to the African coast. The harassed Spaniards kept watch and ward, winter anl summer, from sunrise to sunset, and sometimes suc- ceeded in cutting off small parties of the pi- ratical invaders; yet such was the audacity of the Moriscos, and so well were their incur- sions planned, that frequently they plundered villages miles in the interior. Then ensued the hasty flight and hot pursuit; the freeboot- ers retreating to the boats, driving before them, at the lances point, unfortunate captives, laden with the plunder of their own dwellings; the pursuers, horse and foot, following into the very water, and firing on the retiring row- boats till their long oars swept them out of gunshot. The Barbary Moors soon joined the Moriscos in those exciting and profitable ad- ventures; and thus originated the atrocious practice, which being subsequently recognized in treaties made by the various European powers, became, according to the laws of na- tions, a legally organized system of Christian slavery. In 1509, Ferdinand the Catholic, anxious to stop the Morisco depredations on the Spanish coast, sent a considerable force, under the cele- brated Cardinal Ximines, to invade Barbary. During this expedition, the Spaniards released 300 captives, and took possession of Oran and a few other unhuportant places on the coast. One of those was a small island, about a mile from the main, lyiug exactly opposite the town since known as Algiers, but previously so little recognized by history, that it is not certain when it received the name. In all probability, it acquired the high-sounding appellation of Al Gliezire (The Invincible) at a subsequent period. Carefully fortif~ing this insulated rock, the Spaniards, by the superiority of their artil- lery, held possession of it for several years, as a sort of outpost, and a curb upon the piratical tendencies of the native powers. One of these exfraordinary adventurers, 53 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. who, rising from nothing, carve out kingdoms for themselves witlk the edge of their sabres, and gleaming at intervals on an astonished world, vanish into utter darkness, like comets in their erratic orbits, appeared at this time, and changed the destinies of the greater part of Northern Africa. The son of a poor Greek potter, in the island of Mitylene, worked with his father till a younger brother was able to take his place in assisting to support the fam- ily then, going on hoard a Turkish war-ves- sel, he signified his desire to become a Mussul- man, and enter the service. His ofkr was acce1)ted; he received the Turkish name of Aroudje his previous appellation is un- known and in a short time his fierce intre- pidity and nautical skill raised him to the command of a vessel beloiiging to the sultan. Intruste(1 with a considerable sum of money, to pay the Turkish garrisons in the Morea, he sail- ed from Constantinople, and having passed the Dardanelles, he mustered his crew, and de- clared his intentions of renouncing allegiance to the Poite. He told them that, if they would sta.nd by him, he would lead t1~em to the west- ern waters of t.he Mediterranean, where prizes of all nations might he captured in abundance, where there were no knights of Rhodes to con- teiid against, and where they would be com- pletely out of the power of the sultan. A project so much in unison with the predilec- tions of the rude crew was received with en- thusiastic aeclamations of assent. Aroudje then steered for his native island of Mitylene, where he landed, anti gave a large sum of money to his mother and sisters; and being joined by his brother, who, becoming a Mohammedan, assumed the name of Ilayraddin, he weighed anchor, and turned his prow to the westward. Arriving off the island of Elba, lie fell in with two portly argosies under papal colors. Piracy in these western seas having previously been carric(l on in the Morisco row-boats only, the Christians were not alarmed, but believing Aicudje to be an honest trader, permitted him to run alongside, as he seemed to wish to coin- municate seine information. They were quickly undeceived. Boarding the neai-est one, he im- mediately took possession of her, and then dressinf his men in the clothes of the captured crew, he bore down upon her unsuspecting consort. She was captured also, with scarcely a blow: and Aroudje found himself in posses- sion of two ships, each much larger than his own, with cargoes of great value, and some hundreds of prisoners. The fame of this hold action resounded from the southern shores of Europe to the opposite coast of Africa. Such captives as were ransomed, when describing the apl)earance of Aroudje, did not fail to re- count the & rocious aspectof his huge red beard, so imusual an appendage to a native of the south, and thus lie obtained the name of Bar- barossa (Redbeard), so long the terror of the Mediterranean. Taking his prizes to Tunis, one of the small states that had once been part of the great Saracen empire in Barbary, Aroudje was well received by the king, who allowed him to use the island and fort of Go- leta as a naval dep6t, on condition of paying a certain percentage on all prizes. Adding daily to his wealth and fleet, the daring sea-rover had no lack of followers: Turkish and Moorish adventurers eagerly enrolled themselves under his fortunate banner. The precarious position of the petty Bar- bary States, threatened by the Berbers and Bedouins of the interior on the land-side, and menaced hy the Spaniards on the sea-hoard, was highly favorable to the ambitious aspira- tions of the potters son. The district of Jijil being attacked by famine, he seized the corn- ships of Sicily, and distributed the grain fi-ecly and without price among the starving inhiabi- tants, who gratefully proclaimed hini their king; and in a few years his army equalled in niag- nitude his still increasing fleet. The fort built by the Spaniards on the island off Algiers was a great annoyance to Eutemi, the Moorish king of that little state. Unwisely, he applied to Barbarossa for aid to evict the Spaniard, and eagerly was the request granted. With 5.000 men, the pirate chief marched to Algiers, where the people hailed him ~is a deliverer ; Eutemi was murdered, and Aroudje proclaimed king. The throne thus usurped by audacity, he estab-. hished by policy: profusely liberal to his friends, ferociously cruel to his enemies, he was loved and dreaded by all his subjects. his reign, however, was short, being defeated and killed in battle by the Spaniards, only two years af- ter he ascended the throne. In such estima- tion was this victory held, that the head, shirt of mail, and gold-embroidered vest of the slain warrior were carried on a lance, in triumphant procession, through the princil)al cities of Spain, and then deposited as sacred trophies in the church of St. Jerome at Cordova. Hayrad- din, who is styled by the old historians Barba- rossa II., succeeded his brother, but, feeling his position insecuro, he tendem-ed the sovereignty of Al~iers to the Grand Scignior, on condition of being appointed viceroy and receiving a contingent of troops. Sultan Sehiin, gladly acce})ting the offer, sent a firman creatinr Hayraddin pacha, and a force of 2,000 janiza- 1-ics. From that period, the Ottoman supi-em- acy over the Moorish and Morisco inhabitants of Algiers was firmly established. Piracy upon all Christian nations was still vigorously carried on from Tunis and other ports of Bai-bary ; but the harbor of Algiers being commanded by the island-fort in posses- sion of the Spaniai-ds, was deprived of that neflirious source of wealth. This island was long the Castle Datigerous of the Spanish 54 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. 55 service; nor was it till 1530 that, betrayed by Italy, Portugal, and Genoa, furnished their a discontented soldier, it fell into the hands of bravest veterans and best appointed ships; the Hayraddin. Don Martin, the Spanish gov-1 Knights of St. John supplied a few vessels, ernor, who had long and nobly defended the small, yet formidable from the well-known isol4ted rock, was brought a wounded captive valor of the chevaliers who served in them; before the truculent pacha. I respect you, the pope contributed his blessing; and the im- said Ilayraddin, as a brave man and a good mense armament, inspired with all the enthu- soldier. Whatever favor you may ask of me siasm of the Crusades, but directed to a more I will grant, on condition that you will accede rational and legitimate oh rendezvoused to whatever I may request. at Cagliari a convenient harbor in Sardinia. Agreed, replied Don Martin. Cut off Ilayraddin, aware of the object and destina- the head of the base Spaniard who betrayed tion of this vast armament, energetically pre- his countrymen. pared to give it a suitable reception. Night The wretch was immediately brought in, and day the miserable Christian slaves, rivet- and decapitated on the spot. tin~ their own fetters, were employed in erect- Now, rejoined Hayraddin, my request is, ing new, and stren~ thening old fbrtifications; that you become a Mussulman, and take com- and as a last resource, in case of defeat, the mand of my army. shrewd pacha sent eighteen sail of his best Never ! exclaimed the chivalrous Don ships to Bona. In July, 1537, the emperors Martin; and immediately, at a signal from the fleet was descried from the towers of Tunis enraged pacha, a dozen yataghans leaped from and Ilayraddin made the last dispositions for their sheaths, and the faithful Christian was defence by placing his treasure, seAglio, and cut to pieces on the floor of the presence- slaves in the citadel, under a strong guard, chamber. with the intention of retreating thither if the The island, so long a source of danger and city and port were taken. annoyance to the Algerines, was now made Charles, after landing his troops, commenced their safest defence, Hayraddin conceiving the a simultaneous attack by land and sea. Hay- bold idea of uniting it to the mainland by a raddin, with much inferior force, yet greater mole and breakwater. This really great un- advantage of position, conducted the defence dertaking, which still evinces the engineering with skill and determination. But in the heat and mechanical skill of its promoters, was the of the conflict, the Christian slaves, distracted work of thousands of wretched Christian slaves, with suspense, and excited to phrenzy by the who labored at it incessantly for three years thunder of the cannonade, burst their bonds, before it was completed. Thus the Algerines overpowered their guards, and turned the guns obtained a commodious harbor for their ship- ofthe citadel upon theirMoslem masters. hay- ping, secure aaainst all storms, and at that raddin, then seeing that the day was irrecove- time impregnabie to all enemies. rably lost, fled with the remnant of his army to In 1532, the people of Tunis rebelling, de- the ships at Bona. Charles reinstated the de- posed their king, and invited the willing Hay- Vosed king of Tunis as his vassal, and on con- raddin to become their ruler. With this in- dition that for the future, all Christians brought crease of power, his boldness increased also. as captives to Tunis should be liberated with- Out of his many daring exploits at this period, out ransom. With 20,000 Christians released we need mention only one IIearin~ that Ju- from slavery by the power of his arms the han Gonzago, the wife of Vespasian Colonna, noblest trophy conqueror ever bore Charles Count of Fondi, was the most beautiful woman returned in triumph to Europe. Not only did in Europe, Hayraddin made a descent in the he restore these unfortunate captives to liberty, night on the town of Fondi; scaling the walls, but he furnished all of them with suitable am the fierce Moslems plundered the town and parel and the means of returning to their re- carried off numbers of the inhabitants into spective countries. Such munificence spread slavery. Fortunately, the countess escaped to the fame of Charles over all the world; for the fields in her night-dress, and thus evaded though it entailed on him immense expense, the clutches of the pirate, who, to revenge his he had personally gained nothing by the con- disappointment, ravaged the whole Neapolitan quest of Tunis: disinterestedly he had fought coast before he returned to Tunis. for the honor of the Christian name, for Chris- The eyes of all Europe were now turned tian security and welfare. Yet we regret to imploringly to the only power considered Ca- have to add one fact, highly characteristic of pable of contending with this monstrous the age: when Charles left Africa, lie also car~ scourge of Christendom. The emperor ned off 10,000 Moliammedans to be slaves for Charles V. eagerly responded to the appeal, life, chained to the oars in the galleys of Spain, and summoiied forth the united strength of his Italy, and Malta. vast dominions to equip the most powerful We must now return to Hayraddin, the armada that had ever ploughed the waves of second Barbarossa, wh~in we left in full retreat the Mediterranean: the Low Countries, Spain, to Bona, where he had sagaciously sent his CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. ships to be out of harms way at Tunis. As soon as he arrived at Bona, he embarked his men and put to sea. Let us go to the Levant, said his officers, and beg assistance from the sultan. To the Levant, did you say? exclaimed the incensed pirate. Am I a man to show my back? Must I fly for refuge to Constan- tinople? Depend upon it, I am far more likely to attack the emperors dominions in Flanders. Cease your prating; follow me and obey orders. Steering forMinorca, he soon ap- peared off the well fortified harborof Port Ma- hon. The incautiousMinorcans, believing the pi- rates utterly exterminated, and that the gallant fleet entering their harbor was returning from the conquest of Tunis, ran to the port to greet and welcome the supposed victors. Not a gun was loaded, not a battery manned, when Hay- raddin, swooping like an eagle on its prey, sacked the town, carried off an immense booty in money and military stores, and with 6,000 captive Minorcans, returned in triumph to Al- ~iers. This was his last exploit that falls with- in our province to relate. Earnesly solicited by the sultan, he relinquished the pachalic to take supreme command of the Ottoman fleet. After a life spent in stratagem and war, he died at an advanced age; and still along the Christian shores of the Mediterranean, moth- ers frighten their unruly children with the name of Barbarossa. Hassan Aga, a Sardinian renegade, was next appointed to the vice-royalty. A corsair from his youth, he was well fitted fbr the ofllce,and during his rule the piratical depredations in- creased in number and audacity. The continu- ous line of watch-towers that engirdle the southern coast of Spain, and have so pictur- esque an effect at the present day, were built as a defence against Hassans cruisers. Once more all Europe turned to the emperor Charles for relief and protection. Pope Paul III. wrote a letter, imploring him to reduce Algiers, which, since the conquest of Tunis, has been the common receptacle of all the freebooters, and to exterminate that lawless race, the im- placable enemies of the Christian faith. Moved by such entreaties, and thirsting for glory, Charles equipped a fleet equal in mag- nitude to that with which he had conquered Tunis. A navy of 500 ships, an army of 27,000 picked men, and 150 Knights of Malta, with noblemen and gentlemen volunteers of all na- tions, many of them English, sailed on this great expedition. To oppose such a powerful force, ilassan had only 800 Turks and 5,000 Moors and Moriscos. On arriving at Algiers, Charles summoned the pacha to surrender, but received a most contemptuous reply. The troops were immediately disembarked, though with great difficulty, owing to stormy weather; and the increasing gale cutting off communica tion with the fleet, before sufficient stores and camp equipage could be landed, Charles and his army were left with scanty provision, and exposed to torrents of rain. A night passed in this miserable condition. The next day, the tempest increased. The next night, the troops, exhausted by want of food and expo- sure to the elements, were unable to lie down, the ground being knee-deep in mud. Hassan was too vigilant a warrior not to take advan- tage of this state of affairs. Before daybreak, on the second morning, with a strong body of horse and foot, he sallied out upon the Chris- tian camp. Weak from hunger and want of rest, benumbed by exposure to the cold and rain, their powder wet and their matches ex- tinguished, the advanced division of Charless army were easily defeated by Hassans fresh and vigorous troops. The main body advanced to the rescue; and, after a sharp contest, Has- sans small detachment was repulsed and driven back into the city. The Knights of Malta, among whom a chivalrous emulation existed with respect to which of them would first stick his dagger in the gate of Algiers, rashly following the retreating Hassan, led the army up to the city, where they were mowed down in hundreds by the fire from the walls. Retreating in confusion from this fhlse position, they were again charged by Hassans impetu- ous cavalry; and the Knights of Malta, to save the whole army from destruction, drew up in a body to cover the rear. Conspicuous by their scarlet upper garments, embroidered with a white cross, they served for a short time as a rallying-point; but it was not till Charles, armed with sword and buckler, joined his troops, and stiniulated them to fresh exertions by fighting in their ranks, that the Algerines were compelled to return to their strongholds. In this des p crate conflict, the Knights of Malta were near all killed. Only one of them, Ponce de Salignac, the standard-bearer, had reached and stuck his dagger in the gate; but, pierced with innumerable wounds, he did not live to enjoy the honor of the foolhardy feat. Another night of tempest and privation fol- lowed this discouraging battle; hundreds of the debilitated troops were blown down by the vio- lence of the wind, and smothered in the mud. When the day broke, Charles saw 200 of his war-ships and transports, containing 8,000 men~ driven on shore, and such of their crews as were not swallowed up by the waves, led off into captivity by the exulting enemy. The rest of the fleet sought shelter under a head- land four miles off, and thither Charles fol- lowed them; but his fainiihed troops, continu- ally harassed by the enemy, were two days in retreating that short distance. With great dif- ficulty Charles, and a small remnant of his once powerful army, reached. the ships, and made sail from the inhospitable coast. So 66 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. 57 many captives were taken, and such was their ing-grounds. In 1631, the town of Baltimore, enfeebled condition, that numbers were sold in Ireland, was plundered by Morat Rais, a by the captors for an onion each. Do you re- Flemish renegade, and 237 men, women, and member the day when your countryman was sold children, even to the babe in the cradle, for an onion ? was for years afterwards a favor- carried off into captivity. Aware of the strong ite taunt of the Algerine to the Spaniard. En- family affections of the Irish, we can well be- riched with slaves, valuable military and naval lieve Pierre Dan, a Redemptionist monk, who stores, treasure, horses, costly trappings all saw those poor creatures in Algiers. lie says: brought to their own doors the pride of the It was one of the most pitiable of sights to Algerines knew no bounds; and they sneer- see them exposed for sale. There was not a ingly said that Charles brought them this im- Christian in Algiers who did not shed tears at mense plunder to save them the trouble of go- the lamentations of these captives in the slave- ing to fetch it. Hassan generously refused to market, when husband and wife, mother and take any part of the spoil, saying that the hon- child, were separated.* Is it not indignant- or of defeating the most powerful of Christian ly adds the worthy father, making the Al- princes, was quite sufficient for his share. mighty a bankrupt, to sell His most precious property in this cruel manner? About the After this great victory, the Al~erines con- fident of the impregnability of their city, turn- same time, two corsairs, guided by a Danish ed their attention to increasing their power renegade, proceeded as far as Iceland, where on sea. The vessels hitherto used for warlike they captured no less than 800 persons, a few purposes in the Mediterranean were galleys, of whom were ransomed several years after- principally propelled by oars rowed by slaves; wards by Christian IV., king of DenThark. and in quickness of manmnvre and capability The existence of such an organized system of being propelled during a calm, were some- of piracy may well excite our wonder at the what analogous to the steam-boat of the pre- present day; but the truth is, that since the sent day, and had a decided advantage over time of the Vikings, to the latter part of the the less easily managed sailing vessels. Not last century, the high seas were never clear constructed to mount heavy ordnance, the of pirates belonging to one nation or another. system of naval tactics adopted in the galleys Besides, the commercial jealousies and almost was to close with the enemy, whenever eligi- continual wars of the European nations, pre- ble, and then the battle was fought with small- vented them from uniting to crush the Bar- armsarrows, and even stones, being used asl bary rovers. The English and Dutch main- weapons of attack and defence. The Alge- tamed an extensive commerce with the Alge- rines, however, laboring in their vocation, as rines, supplying them with gunpowder, arms, Falstaff would have said, captured many large and naval stores; and found it more profitable ships of Northern Europe, built for long voy- to pay their customers a heavy tribute for a ages and to contend with stormy seas. Equip- sort of half-peace, than to be at open war with ping these with cannon, they were enabled to them. De Witt, the famous Dutch admiral destroy the galleys before the latter could and statesman, in his Interest of Holland, thus close with them; and thus introducing a new views the question. Although, he says, system of naval warfare, they gained a coin- our ships should be well guarded by con- plete ascendancy in the waters of the Mcdi- voys against the Barbary pirates, yet it would terranean. Nor did they long confine their by no means be proper to free the seas from depredations to that sea. In 1574, an Alge- those freebootersbecause we should thereby rine fleet surprised the tunny fishery of the be put on the same footing as the French, Duke of Medina, near Cadiz, and captured Spanish, and Italians; wherefore it is best to 200 slaves; but one of the piratical vessels leave that thorn in the sides of those nations. running ashore~ a large number were retaken An English statesman, in an official paper by their countrymen. In 1585, Morat, a cele- written in 1671, amongst other objections to brated corsair, landed at night on Lancelote, the surrender of Tangier, urges the advan- one of the Canary Islands, and carried off a tage of making it an open port for the Barbary large booty, with 300 prisoners; among whom pirates to sell their prizes and refit at, in the were the wife, mother, and daughter of the same manner as they were permitted to do in Spanish governor. Standing out to sea the the French ports. It is an actual fact that, in next morning, until out of gun-range, the the seventeenth century, when England and pirate hove-to, and shewing a flag of truce, France were at peace, Algerine cruisers fre- treated for the ransom of his captives; and quently landed their English captives at Bor- afterwards, eluding by seamanship and cnn- deaux whence they were marched in hand- fling a Spanish fleet waiting to intercept him cuffs to Marseihie, and there reshipped in at the month of the Straits, exultingly return- Other vessels, and taken to Algiers. This ed to Algiers. In the following century, push- ing their piracies still further, the English ~ At a later period, the Algerines did not sepa- Channel became one of their regular cruis- rate slave-families. CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY.~ proceeding was to avoid the risk of recapture in the Straits of Gibraltar, and also to allow the pirates to remain out longer on their cruise, unencumbered with prisoners. Nu- merous instances of the complicity of Euro- p an powers with this nefarious system might he adduced. Sir Cloudesley Shovel, in 1703, protected a Barbary pirate from receiving a well-merited chastisement from a Dutch squa- dron but that need not surprise the reader, for at the same time the gallant admiral had power under the Great Seal to visit Algiers, Tui~is, and Tripoli, make the usual presents, and if he could prevail with them to make war against France, and that some act of hostility was thereupon committed, he was to give such further presents as he should think proper.~~ The political system of the Algerines re- quires a few words. The authority of the Porte was soon shaken off, and then the jani- zarics, or soldiers, forming a kind of aristocra- tic democracy, chose a governor from their own number, under the familiar title of Dey (Uncle); and ruled the native Moors as an inferior and conquered race. Neither Moor nor Morisco was permitted to have any voice in the government, or to hold any office under it; the wealthiest native, if he met a janizary in the street, had to give way to let the proud soldier pass. The janizaries were all either Turks or renegades (slaves who had turned Mohammedans): so strictly was this rule car- ried out, that the son of a janizary by a Moor- ish woman was not allowed the privileges of his father, though the offspring of a janizary and a Christian slave was recognized as one of the dominant race. The janizaries were in number about 12,000; their ranks were annually recruited by renegades and adven- turons Turks from the Levant; they served by sea as well as by land, and were employed in controlling the tributary native chiefs of the interior, and sailing in the piratical cruis- ers. Piracy being long the basis of this system, the whole foreign policy of the Algerines con- sisted in claiming the right of maintaining constant war with all Christian nations that did not conciliate them by tribute and trea- ties. When a European consul arrived at Algiers, he always carried a large present to the dey, and as the latter would, in a short time, quarrel with and send away the consul, in expectation of receiving the usual present with his successor, it was found more conve- vient to make an occasional present, than in- cur the trouble and risk of a continual change of consuls. In course of time, these occasion- al presents became a tribute of 17,000 dollars, regularly paid every two years. The miseries of Algerine bondage have long been proverbial over all the Christian world, yet they appear lidit when calmly ex- amined and contrasted with other systems of slavery. Most travellers in Mohammedan countries have remarked the general kindness with which slaves are treated. General Ea- ton, consul of the United States at Tunis in 1799, writes thus : Truth and justice de- mand from me the confession, that the Christ- ian slaves among the barbarians of Africa are treated with more humanity than the African slaves among the Christians of civilized Ainer- ica. John Wesley, when addressing those connected with the negro slave-trade, said: You have carried them into the vilest slave- ry, never to end but with lifesuch slavery as is not found with the Turks at Algiers. In fact, the creed of Islam, not recognizing perpetual and unconditional bondage, gave the slave a right of redemption by purchase, according to a precept of the Koran. This right of redemption was daily claimed and acknowledged in Barbary; and though it was only the richer class that could immediately benefit by it, yet it was a great alleviation to the general hardship of the system; and num- bers of the poorer captives, by exercise of their various trades and professions, realized money, and were in a short time able to re- deem themselves. Again, no prejudice of race existed in the mind of the master against his unhappy bondsman. The meanest Christian slave, on becoming a Mohammedan, was free, and enrolled as a janizary, having superior privileges even to the native Moor or Moris- co, and he and his descendants were elicible to the highest offices in the state. Ladies, when captured, were invariably treated with respect, and, till ransomed, lodged in a build- ing set apart for the purpose, under the charge of a high officer, similar to our mayor. The most perfect toleration was extended to the exercise of the Christian religion; the four great festivals of the Roman ChurchChrist- mas, Easter, and the nativities of St. John and the Virginwere recognized as holidays for the slaves. We read of a large slavehold- er purchasing a priest expressly for the spirit- ual comfort of his bondsmen; and of other masters who regularly, once a week, marched their slaves off to confession. The Algerines were shrewd enough to prefer a religious slave to his less conscientious fellows. Christian- ity, they used to say, was better for a man than no religion at all. Nor were they zeal- ous to make adult converts. A bad Chris- tian, they said, can never make a good Mussulman. It was only slaves of known good character and conduct who were received into the Moslem community. Children, how- ever, were brought up Mohammedans, adopt- ed in families, and became the heirs of their adopters. Captured ecelesiastics were treated 58 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. 59 with respect, never set to work, but allowed tor paid one dollar to the Father Administra- to join the religious houses established in Al- tor, which, if the patient recovered, was re- giers. turned to the master, hut if he died, was kept One of the greatest alleviations to the mise- to defray his funeral expenses. For a long ries of the captives was the hospital founded period, there was no place of interment allot- for their benefit, by that noble order of monks, ted to the captives; their dead bodies were the Trinitarian Brothers of Redemption. This thrown outside the city walls, to be devoured order was instituted in 1188, during the pon- by the hordes of street-dogs which infest the tificate of Innocent III. Its founder, Jean towns of Mohammedan countries. At length, Matha, was a native of Provence, and, accord- by the noble self-denial of a private indivi- ing to the old chronicles, a saint from his birth; dual, whose name, we regret to say, we are for when a baby at the breast, he voluntarily unable to trace, a slaves burial-ground was abstained every fast-day! Having entered obtained. A Capuchin-friar, the friend and the priesthood, on performing his first mass, confessor of Don John of Austria, natural son an extraordinary vision was witnessed by the of the Emperor Charles V., was taken cap- congregation. An angelic being, clothed in tive. Knowing the esteem in which he was white raiment, appeared above the altar, with held by the prince, an immense sum was de- an imploring expression of countenance, and manded for his ransom. The money was im- arms crossed; his hands were placed on the mediately forwarded; but instead of purchas- heads of two fettered slaves, as if he wished to ing his freedom, the disinterested philanthro- redeem them. The fame of this miracle soon pist bought a piece of ground for a burial- spread to Rome. Journeying thither, Matha place for Christian slaves, and, devoting him- said mass before the pope; and the wonderful self to solace the spiritual and temporal. wants apparition beinr repeated, Innocent granted of his unhappy co-rehigionists, uncomplaining- the requisite concessions for instituting the ly passed the rest of his life in exile and cap- order of Redemptionists, whose sole object tivity. was to collect alms, and apply them to the re- A few years after the founding of this lief and redemption of Christian slaves. With House of the Spanish Hospital, as it was term- whatever degree of suspicion such conventual ed, another Christian religious establishment, legends may be regarded, it is gratifying to the House of the French Mission, was planted find that the order was truly a blessed chari- in Algiers. A certain Duchess dEguillon, at ty, and that our own countrymen were among the suggestion of the celebrated philanthropist the earliest and most zealous of its members. Vincent de Paul, who had himself been an Within a year from its institution, Brother Algerine captive, commenced this good work Johu of Scotland, a professor at Oxford, and by an endowment of 4000 livres per annum. Brother William of England, a priest in Lon- These two religious houses were exempted don, departed on the first voyage of redemp- from all duties or taxes, and muss was per- tion, and after many dangers and hardships, formed in theni daily with all the pomp and returned from the East with 1286 ransomed spleiidor of the Romish Church. There was slaves. It was not, however, till 1551 that also a chapel in each of the six bagnesthe the order was enabled to form a regular esta- prisons where the slaves were confined at night blishment at Algiers. In that year, Brother in which service was performed on Sundays Sebastian purchased a large building, and and holidays. The Greek Church had also a converted it into an hospital for sick and dis- chapel and small establishment in one of the abled slaves. As neither work nor ransom bagnes. Brother Comelin, of the order of Re- could be got out of a dead slave, the masters demption, tells us, in his Voyage, that they soon perceived the benefit of the hospital, celebrated Christmas in the Spanish ilospi- and they levied a tax on all Christian vessels tal with the same liberty and as solemnly as frequenting the port to aid in sustaining it. in Christendom. Midnight mass was chanted Among so many captives, there were always to the sound of trumpets, drums, flutes, and plenty of experienced medical men to per- hautboys; so that in the stillness of nieht the thini the re(luisite duties; and no inconsider- infidels heard the worship of the true God over able revenue tp the funds of the institution all their accursed city, from ten at night till was derived by dispensing medicines and ad- two iii the morning. Such was Mohammedan vice to the Moslems. A Father Administra- toleration in Algiers, at the period, too, we tor an(1 two , ~h and pahmny days brothers of the order constantly should recollect of the hict resided in Algiers to manage the affairs of the of the Inquisition. We may easily conceive hospital, which from time to time was extend- what would have been the fate of the infidels ed and improved, till it became one of the if they, by any chance, had invaded the mid- [argest and finest buildings in the city. The night silence of Rome or Madrid with the owners of slaves who received the benefit of sounds of their worship. The only exceptions this charity, contributed nothing towards it, to the general good treatment and respect be- but on each slave being admitted, his proprie- stowed upon Christian ~cclesiastics in Algiers 60 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. was, when inspired by a furious zeal for mar- nued them at intervals until she came to an- tyrdom, they openly insulted the Mohamme- chor. Summoned by these signals of success, dan religion; or when the populace were ex- the inhabitants would flock in numbers to the cited by forced conversions and other intoler- port, there to learn the value of the prize, the ant cruelties practised upon Mussulman slaves circumstances of its capture, and to congratu- in Europe. We shall briefly mention two in- late the pirates. Morgan, a quaint old writer, stances of such occurrences. many years attached to the British consulate, One Pedro, a brother of Redemption, had says : These are the times when Algiers travelled to Mexico and Peru, and collected very visibly puts on a quite new countenance, in those rich countries a vast amount of trea- and it may well be compared to a great bee- sure for the order. He then went to Algiers, hive. All is hurry, every one busy, and a where he employed half the money in ran- cheerful aspect succeeds a strange gloom and soming captives, and the other half in repair- discontent, like what is to be seen everywhere ing and increasing the usefulness of the hospi- else, when the complaint of dullness of trade, tal, where he resided, constantly attending scarcity of business, and stagnation of cash and consoling the sick slaves. At last, thirst- reigns universal; and which is constantly to ing for martyrdom, he one day rushed into a be seen in Al~iers during every interval be- mosque, and, with crucifix in hand, cursed tween the taking of good prizes. The dey and reviled the false Prophet Mohammed. In received the eighth part of the value of all all Mohammedan countries, the penalty of this prizes, for the service of the government, and offence is death. But so much were the piety had the privilege of selecting his share of the and good works of Pedro respected by the captives, who were brought from~ the vessel to Algerine government, that they anxiously en- the courtyard of his palace, where the Euro- deavored to avoid inflicting the punishment pean consuls attended to claim any of their of their law. Earnestly they so~cited him, countrymen who might be considered free in with~ promise of free pardon, to acknowledge accordance with the terms of jrevious treaties. that he was intoxicated or deranged when he In many instances, however, ittle respect was committed the rash act, but in vain. Pedro paid by the strong-handed captors to such do- was burned; and one of his leg-bones was long cuments. The following reply of one of the carefully preserved as a holy relic in the deys to a remonstrance of the English consul, Spanish Hospital. contains the general answer given on such oc In 1612, a young Mohammedan lady, fif- casions : The Al,,erines being born pirates, teen years of age, named Fatima, daughter of and not able to subsist by any other means, it Mehemet Aga, a man of high rank in Algiers, is the Christians business to be always on when on her way to Constantinople to be their guard, even in time of peace; for if we married, was captured by a Christian cruiser, were to observe punctilios with all those na- carried into Corsica, and a very large sum of tions who purchase peace and liberty from us, money demanded for her ransom. The dis- we might set fire to our shipping, and beconie tressed father speedily sent the nioney by two degraded to be camel-drivers. When the relatives, who were furnished with safe-con- newly-made captives were mustered in the duct passes by the brothers of Redemption. deys court-yard, their names, ages, countries, On their arrival in Corsica, they were in-. and professions, were minutely taken down fbrmed that the young lady had become a by a hojia, or government secretary, appoint- Christian, was christened Maria Eugenia, and ed for the purpose; and then the dey pro- married to a Corsican gentleman; and that the ceeded to make his selection of every eighth money brought for her ransom must be ap- person, and of course took care to choose such propriated as her dowry. The relatives were as, from their appearance and description, permitted to see Maria; she declared her name were likely to pay a smart ransom, or those was still Fatima; and that her baptism and acquainted with the more useful professions marriage were forced upon her. The return and the mechanical arts. After the dey had of the relatives without either the lady or the taken his share, the remainder of the prison- money caused great excitement in Algiers. ers, being the property of their captors, were By way of retaliation, the brothers of Re- taken to the bestian, or slave-market, and ap- demption were loaded with chains, and thrown praised, a certain value being set upon each into prison, and compelled to pay Mehemet individual. From the slave-market the an- Aga a sum equal to that which he had sent fortunates were then led back to the court- for his daughters ransom. In a short time, yard, and there sold by public auctioii; and however, they were released, and permitted whatever price was obtained higher than the to resume their customary duties. valuation of the slave-market, became the per- When returning from a successful cruise, quisite of the dey. as soon as an Algerine corsair arrived within The government, or, in other words, the sight of the harbor, her crew commenced fir- dey, was the largest slaveholder in Algiers ing guns of rejoicing and triumph, and conti- All the slaves belonging to the government CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN ]3ARBARY. 61 were termed deylic slaves, and distinguished permitted to leave Algiers in debt, money was by a small ring of iron fastened round the freely lent at moderate interest to those whose wrist or ancle; and excepting those who were circumstances entitled them to hope for ransom. employed in the palace, or hired out as domes- Money, also, was readilyobtained through the tic servants, were locked up every night in Jews, by drawing bills of exchange on the van- six large buildings called bagnes. Rude beds ous mercantile cities of Europe. Many slaves, were provided in the bagnes, and each deylic however, by working at trades and other means, slave received three small loaves of bread per were enabled to pay the tax for immunity from day, and occasionally some coarse cloth for public labor, and support themselves comforta- clothing. All the carpenters, blacksmiths, bly in the bagnes. Ofthislatterclass were tailors, masons, ropemakers, and others among the shoemakers, toy-makers for the Moorish chil- deylic slaves who worked at trades connected dren, letter-writers, and bthers; and, strange witl~ house and ship building, received a third to say, a good many managed to live well by part of what they earned, when hired out to theft alone. In each bagne were five or six private persons, and even the same sum was licensed wine-shops, kept by slaves. fhis was paid to them when employed on government the most profitable business open to a captive works. Besides, both at the laying down of a wine-shop keeper frequently making the the keel and launch of a new ship, a handsome price of his ransom in one year; but, prefer- gratuity was given to all the slave-mechanics ring wealth to liberty, these persons generally employed upon her. Indeed, all the work remained slaves until they were able to retire connected with ship-building was performed with considerable fortunes. As there was con- by Christian slaves. stantly free ingress and egress to arid from The janizaries never condescended to do all the bagnes during the day, the wine-shops any kind of work; the native Moors were too were always crowded with people of all na- lazy and too ignorant; and the Moniscos be- tions; and though nominally for the use of the ing forbidden, by the jealous policy of the slaves, yet the renegades, who had not forgot- dominant Turkish race, to practise the arts ten their relish for ~vine, drank freely therein; they brought with them from Spain, sank, and even many of the turbaned Turks, after the first generation, to a level with forgetting the law of their prophet, copiously the native Moor. Shipwnights were conse- indulged in the forbidden beverage. The Mos- quently well treated, many of them earning 1cm however was, like Cassio, choleric in his better wages than they could in their own drink, and frequently, brandishing his weapon countries. Numbers were thus enabled to and threatening the lives of all about him, purchase their freedom; but many more, se- would refuse to pay his shot. As no Christian duced by the sensual debaucheries so preva- dare strike a Mussulman, an ingenious device lent wherever slavery is recognized, preferred was resorted to on such occasions a stout remaining in Algiers as slaves or rene~ades, slave, regularly employed for the purpose, to returning as freemen to their native ands. would, at a signal from the landlord, adroitly Deyhic slaves, when hired out as sailors, re- drop a short ladder over the reeling brawlers ceived one-third of their hire, and one-third head; by this means, without striking a blow, of a freemans share in the prize-money. In- he was speedily brought to the grouud~ where variably at the hour of prayer, termed Al he secured till his senses were restored by Aasar, all work was stopped for the day, and sleep; and then, if found to have no money, the remaining three hours between that time the laiidlord was entitled to retain his arms and sunset were allowed to the slaves for their until the reckoning was paid. own use; on Friday, the Mohammedan Sab- The largest private slaveholder in Algiers bath, they were never set to work; and be- was one Alli Pich~llln, Captain Pacha or High sides the Christian holidays already mentioned, Admiral of the fleet, who flourished about the they had a weeks rest during the season of middle of the seventeenth century, and holds Ramadam. Such of the deylic slaves as were a conspicuous position in the Algerine history employed at the more laborious work of draw- of the period. He generally possessed from ing and carrying timber, stone, and other 800 to 900 slaves, whom he kept in a bagne heavy articles, were divided into gangs, and of his own. Emanuel dAranda, a Flemish taken out to work only on alternate days. gentleman, who was for some time Pichellins Many slaves never did an hours work dur- slave, gives a curious account of bagne-hife as ing their captivity; for, by the payment of a he witnessed it. The bagne resembled a long monthly sum, equivalent to about three shil- narrow street, with high gates at each end, lings of our money, any one might be exempt- which were shut every evening after the slaves ed from labor; and even those who could were mustered at sunset, and opened at sun- afford to fee their overseers only with a smaller rise every morning. Though the deyhic slaves sum, were put to the lightest description of each received three loaves of bread per day toil. Slaves, when in treaty for ransom, were for their sustenance, Pichellin never gave any never required to work; and as no person was food whatever to his slaves unless they were 62 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. employed at severe labor; for he said that a ran his vessel close in towards the land, and man was unworthy the name of slave, if he having ordered the small heat to he lowered, could not earn or steal, between Al Aasar and called the slave, and pointing to the beach Al Magrib (the three hours before sunset a- said There is your native country ; you lowed to the slaves) sufficient to support him have served me faithfully for seventeen years; for the rest of the day. We may observe here, I now give you your freedom. The Portu- that a Moor, Morisco, or Jew, if detected in guese, falling on his knees, kissed the hem of theft, was punished by the loss of his right hand, his late masters robe, and was profuse in his and by being opprobriously paraded. throu~h thanks but Pichellin stopped him, coolly say- the streets, mounted upon an ass. At the same ing: Do not thank me, but God, who put it time, neither Moor nor Jew dare even accuse into my heart to restore you to liberty. a janizary of so disgraceful a crime. Slaves, While the boat was being prepared to land him, however, might steal from Moor or Jew, with the Portuguese, apparently overpowered with open impunity; for even if caught in the act, feelings of joy, descended into the cabin, as if neither dare strike a slave ; and if complaint to conceal his emotions, but in reality to steal was made to the dey, he would merely order Pichellins most valuable jewels and other the restitution of the stolen goods, refusing to portable property, which he quickly concealed inflict punishment on the following grounds: round his person. As soon as the boat was That as the Koran did not condemn a man ready, Pichellin ordered him to be set ashore, who stole to satisfy his hunger, and as a slave and not long after discovered his loss when the was not a free agent, but compelled to depend wily Portuguese was far out of his reach. upon his master for food, he could not legally Pichellin had some rough virtues: he prided be punished for theft. Under such circum- himself on being a man of his word. A Geno- stances, we may readily believe that the bagnes, ese, who had made a fortune by trade at Cadiz, and especially that of Pichellin, were complete was returning to his native country with his dens of thieves. Every evening, as soon as only child, a girl nine years of age, when his the gates were closed, the plunder of the day vessel was taken on the coast of Spain by Pi- was brought forth and sold by auction; the chellins cruiser. Not being far from land, the sale being conducted, to the great amusement crew of the Christian vessel escaped to the shore, of the slaves, with all the Tui~kish gravity and the terrified Genoese going with them, leaving formalities of the slave-market. Articles not his daughter in the hands of the pirates. Imme- thus disposed of, were left in the hands of one diately when he saw that his child was a cap- of the captives, who made it his business, for a tive, he waded into the water, and waved his small commission, to negotiate between the hat as a signal to the Algerines, who, thinking loser and the thief, and accept ransom for the he might be a Moslem captive about to escape, stolen property. An Italian in Pichellins sent -a boat for him. On reaching the cruiser, hague, named Fontimana, was so expert and Pichellin, seeing a Christian, exclaimed: confident a thief, that without possessing the What madman are you that voluntarily sur- smallest fraction of money in the morning, he renders himself a slave ? That girl is my would invite a party of friends to sup with him daughter, said the Genoese; I could not in the evening, trustin to his success in thiev- leave her. If you will set us to ransom, I will lug throughout the day to prQvide the materi- pay it; if not, the satisfaction of having done als for the feast. Of course no satisfaction was my duty will enable me to support the hard- obtained when the sufferers complained to ships of slavery. Pichellin appeared struck, Pichellin. The Christians, he would say, and after musing a mom cut said: I will take are all pilfering rascals. I cannot help it. fifteen hundred dollars for the ransom of you You must be more careful for the future. and your daughter. I will pay it, replied Have you yet to learn that all my slaves wear the Genoese. Hold, master ! exclaimed hooks at the ends of their fingers? Indeed, one of Pichellins slaves; I know that man he seems to have reco~nized~the slaves right well: he was one of the richest merchants in of theft so fully, that he was not angry when Cadiz, and can afibrd to pay ten times that he himself became the victim. On one occa- amount for ransom. Silence, dog! said sion, Fontimana stole and sold the anchor of the old pirate; I have said it: my word is his masters galley. How dare you sell my my word. Pichellin was further so aecommo- anchor, you Chiistian dog? said Pichellin. dating as to take the merchants bill for the I thought, replied the thief, that the galley money, and set him and his daughter ashore would sail better without the additional weight. at once. The master laughed at the impudent reply, Each slave who, from poverty, ignorance of and said no more on the subject. Another a trade, or want of cunning, was compelled to characteristic anecdote is recorded of Pichellin work in the gangs, always carried a bag and and a Portuguese slave, his confidential stew- a spoonthe bag to hold anything that he ard and chamberlain. One day, when cruising might chance to steal; the spoon, in case any off the coast of Portugal, the Capitan Pacha charitable person, as was frequently the case, CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. 63 should present him with a mess of pottage. tives favor. In fine, says DAranda, to Only those, however, worked in the gangs who whom we are indebted for the preceding pe- could not by any possibility avoid it; and culiarities of bagne-life, there can be no bet~- numberless were the schemes adopted by the ter university to teach men how to shift for slaves to raise money to support themselves a livelihood; for all the nations made some and secure their exemption from that descrip- shift to live save the English, who, it seems, tion of labor. Some, at the risk of the basti- are not so shiftful as others. IDnring the win- nado, smuggled brandya strictly forbidden ter I spent in the ha~ ne, more than twenty articleinto the bagnes, and sold it out in of that nation died from pure want. It is small quantities to such as wanted it. Scho- clear that the unfortunate captives here al- lars were well employed, by their less learned luded to must have been persons unfit for fellow-captives, to correspond with friends labor, and unable to procure ransom; and in Europe. Latin was the langna~e preferred thus, being of no service to their brutal mnas- for this correspondence, because it was unin- ter, were suffered to live or die as it might telligible to the masters; and the letters fre- happen. There can be no doubt that the quently contained allusions to property, family English and Dutch captives of the reformed affairs, and other circumstances, which, if churches, suffered more privations than any known, would raise the price of ransom. The others at that period, crc knowledge and in- great object of all the captives whose wealth tercourse had dulled the fiery edge of reli- entitled them to hopes of ransom, was to sim- gious bigotry. All the public charities for nlate poverty, concealing their real circum- slaves were founded by the Roman Church, stances or station in life as much as possible; and their bounties exclusively bestowed on and not unfrequently the Algerines deceived by its followers. No relief was ever given to a those professions, permitted persons of wealth heretic unless he became a convert; and it is and consequence to redeem themselves for a an exceedingly curious illustration of this re- trifling sum. On the other hand, persons in ligious hatred, that it was as rife and virulent much poorer circumstances were often detain- in the breasts of the renegades who had ed a long time in slavery, ill treated, and held adopted Mohammedanism, as it was amongst to a high ransom, on the bare suspicion of those who remained Christians. Another their being wealthy. The Jews, though not great disadvantage which the English captives permitted to possess slaves, had, through their must have labored under, was their ignorance commercial ramifications in Europe, means of of the language. The lingua fran qua spoken obtaining correct intelligence respecting the in Algiers was a compound of French, Span- property and affairs of many captives, which ish, and Italian, with a few Arabic words: they did not fail to profit by, receiving a per- consequently, any native of these countries centage on the increased ransom gained by could acquire it in a few days, while the un- their information. In a similar way some fortunate I3riton might be months before he artful old slaves, of various countries, lived could express his meaning or understahd what well by making friends with new captives, was said to him. treating them at the wine-shops, and, under The hardships of slavery were, in all truth, the pretext of advising them how to act, in- insufficient to extinguish the religious and na- ducing them to reveal their true circums nces, tional animnosities of the captives. Dreadful which the spy immediately communicated to conflicts frequently occurred between the par- his master. A grave Spanish cavalier made tisans of the eastern and western churches his living by settling quarrels among his coun- Spaniards and Italians uniting to batter ortho- trymen, and deciding all disputes respecting doxy into the heads of schismatic Greeks and rank, precedence, and the code of honor; a Russians. Nor were such disturbances quel- small fee being paid by each of the parties, led until a strong body of guards, armed with and his decision invariably respected. A ponderous cudgels, vi~orously attacking both French gentleman contrived to live, and dress parties, beat themn into peaceful simbmission. well, and give frequent dinner parties, by a Life was not unfrequently lost in these con- curious financial scheme he invented and prac- tests. A most serious one, km which several used. Knowing many of the French rena- hundred slaves took part on both shles, occur- gades, he borrowed money from themn for car- red during DArandas captivity. At the feast tam periods at moderate interest; and as of the Assumption, the altar of one of the one sumn fell due, he met it by a loan from a churches was decorated with the Portuguese new creditor. This system, at first sight, arms, with the motto God will exalt the would not appear to be profitable; but the humble, and bring down the lmauglity. The renegades being constantly employed in the Spaniards, conceiving this to be an insulting cruisers, as in a state of continual warfare, reflection on their national honor, tore down some of the creditors were either killed or the obnoxious decoration and tramupled it un- captured yearly, and having no heirs, the der their feet. The Portuguese immediately debts were thus cancelled in the French cap- retaliated, and a battle ensued between the CHRISTIAN SLAVERY ~N BARBARY. captives of the two nations, which lasted a con- siderable time, and cost several lives. The ringleaders were severely bastinadoed by their masters, who tauntingly told them to sell their lands and purchase their freedom, and then they might fight for the honor of their respec- tive countries as long and as much as they liked. It is pleasing, however, after read- ing of such scenes, to find that the slaves frequently got up theatrical performances. One of their favorite pieces was founded on the history of Belisarius. The niegotiations for ransom were either car- ried on through the Fathers of Redemption, the European consuls, or by the slaves them- selves. When i~ province of the order of Re- demption had raised a sufficiently large sum, the resident Father Administrator in Algiers procured a pass from the dey, permitting two fat hers to come from Europe to make the re- demption. The rule of the order was, that young women and children were to be released first; then adults belonging to the same na- tion as the ransomers; and after that, if the funds permitted, natives of other countries. But, in general, the fathers brought with them a list of the persons to be released, who had been recommended to their notice by political, ecclesiastical, or other interest. Slaves, who had earned and were willing to pay part of their ransom, found favor in the eyes of the fathers; and slaves with very long beards, or of singular emaciated appearance, were pur- chased with a view to future effect, in the grand processional displays made by the Re- demptionists on their return to Europe. From a published narrative of a voyage of Redemption made in 1720, we extract the fol- lowing amusing account of an interview be- tween two French Redemptionists and the dey. The fathers had redeemed their contemplated number of captives with the exception of ten belonging to the dey; but he, piqued that his slaves had not been purchased first, demanded so high a price for each, that they were unwil- lingly compelled to ransom only three a French gentleman, his son, and a surgeon. These slaves being brought in, we offered the price demanded ($3,000) for them. The dey said he would give us another into the bargain. This was a tall, well-made young Hollander, one of the deys household, who was also pres- ent. We remonstrated with the dey, that this fourth would not do for us, he being a Luther- an, and also not of our country. The deys of- ficers laughed, and said, he is a good Catholic. The dey said he neither knew nor cared about that; the man was a Christian, and that he should go along with the other three for 5,000 dollars. After a good deal of fencino and the de havincr reduced his demand by y We yet 500 dollars, the father continues held firm to have only the three we had offered 3,000 dollars for. All this is to no purpose, said the dey; I am going to send all four to you, and, willing or unwilling, you shall have them at the price I specified, nor shall you leave Algiers until you have, paid it. But we still held out, spite of all his threats, telling him that he was master in his own dominions, but that our money falling short, we could not purchase slaves at such a price. We then took leave of him, and that very day he sent us the three slaves we had cheapened, and let us know we should have the fourth on the day of our departure. The reader will not be sorry to learn that the fathers were ultimately compelled to purchase and take away with them the young Lu- tlieran Hollander. The primary object of the Redemptionists being to raise money for the ransom of captives, every advantage was taken to appeal success- fully to the sympathies of the Chrjstian world, and no method was more remunerative than the grand processions which they made with the liberated slaves on their return to Europe. Father Comelin gives us full particulars of these proceedings. The ransomed captives, dressed in red Moorish caps and white bor- nouses, and wearing chains (they never wore in Algiers), were met at the entrance of each town they passed through by all the clerical, civil, municipal, and military dignitaries of the place. Banners, wax candles, music, and angels covered with gold, silver, and precious stones, accompanied them in grand precession through the town; the chief men of the district carrying silver salvers, on which they collected money from the populace, to be applied to fu- ture redemptions. The first general ransom of British captives was made by money apportioned by parlia~ meat for the purpose, duringthe exciting events of the civil war. The first vessel despatched was unfortunately burned in the Bay of Gib- raltar, and the treasure lost. A fresh sum of money was again granted; and in 1646, Mr. Cason, the parliamentary agent, arrived at Al- giers. In his official dispatch to the Commit- tee of the Navy, now before us, he states that, counting renegades, there were then 750 Eng- lish captives in Algiers; and proceeds to say that they come to much more a-head than I expected; the reason is, there be many women and ehildren, which cost 50 per head, first penny, and might sell for 100. Besides, there are divers which were masters of ships, calkers, carpenters, sailmakers, coopers, and surgeons, and others who are highly esteemed. The agent succeeded in redeeming 244 Eng- lish, Scotch, and Irish captives at the average cost of 38 each. From the official record of their several names, places of birth, and prices, it appears that more money was paid for the females than the males. The three highest 64 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. 65 sums on the list are 75 paid for Mary Brus- While a treaty was in preparation, the jani- ter of Youghal; 65 for Alice hayes of Edin- zaries, indignant at the loss of their slaves, burgh; and 50 for Elizabeth Mancor of Dun- murdered the dey, elected another, and man- dee. The names of several natives of Balti- ning their forts, commenced firing upon the more (in all probability, some of those carried French. Duquesnes bombs being. all ex- off when that town was sacked fifteen years pended, he was obliged to sheer off and return before) are in this list of the redeemed. It will to France. In 1688, Marshal dEstr6es, with scarcely be believed, that strong opposition was a powerful fleet, arrived off Algiers. The made by the mercantile interest against mon- bombs told with terrible effect, and the dey ey being granted by parliament for the ran- soon sued for peace; but dEstr6es replied that som of those poor captives on the grounds, he came not to treat, but to punish. On this as the opposers petition expresses : That if occasion, 10,000 bombs were thrown into Al- the slaves be redeemed upon a public score, giers; the city was reduced to ruins, and the then seamen will render themselves to the humbled pirates compelled to sign a treaty mercy of the Algerines, and not fight in de- dictated by the conqueror. In a few years, fence of the goods and ships of the merchants. however, the demolished fortifications were re- A more curious instance of our ancestors wis- erected stronger than ever, and the incorrigi- dom in relation to this subject, occurred during ble Algerines busy at their old trade of pira- the profligate reignof the second Charles. A cy. large sum of money appropriated for the re- Algerine slavery at last came to an end. demption of captives having been lost somehow, At the close of the long European war in 1814, between the Navy Board and the Commis- the chivalrous Sir Sidney Smith pr~oposed a sioners of Excise, it was gravely proposed: union of all orders of knighthood for the aboli- That whatever loss or damage the English tion of white slavery. his plan was to form shall sus in from Algerines, shall be required an amphibious force, to be termed the Knights and made good to the losers, out of the es tes Liberators, which, without compromising any of the Jews here in England. Because such a flag, and without depending on the wars or the law may save a great expense of Christian political events of nations, should constantly ts-easure and blood! guard the Mediterranean, and take upon itself The first attempt to release English captives the iniportant office of watching, pursuing, by force from Algiers was made in 1621, after and capturing all pirates by sea and land. the project had been debated in the Privy Though Sir Sidneys project fell to the ground, Council for nearly four years. With the ex- yet it had the good effect of calling the atten- ception of rescuing about thirty slaves of van- tion of the British nation to the subject; and in ous nations, who swam off to the English ships, 1816, Lord Exmouth, with an Englishfleet, sail- this expedition turned out a complete fhilure. ed to Algiers, destroyed the deys shipping, 1ev- In 1662, another fleet was sent, a treaty was elled the fortifications, released altogether about made with the dey, and 150 captives ransomed 3,000 captives, and abolished for ever the atro- with money raised by the English clergy in cious system of Christian slavery. The subse- their several parishes. In 1664, 1672, 1682, quent history of Algiers is foreign to our sub- and 1686, other treaties were made with the ject; we may merely add, that in 1830 it be- Algerines: the frequent recurrence of those came, by right of conquest, a French colony. treaties shews the little attention paid to them Limited space compels us to say but little by the pirates. respecting the other piratical states of Barbary In 1682, Louis XIV. determined to stop the Tunis, Tripoli, and Morocco. They, how- Algerine aggressions on France; and at the ever, only dabbled in piratical slavery, not same time to try a new and terrible invention making it a systematized profession like the. in the art of war. Renau dElicaggary had just Algerines. When, about the middle of the laid before the French government a plan for seventeenth century, there were upwards of building ships of sufficient strength to bear the 30,000 Christian slaves in Algiers, there were recoil caused by firing bombs from mortars. not more than 7,000 in Tunis, 5,000 in Tripo- Louis, accordingly, sent Admiral Duquesne ii, and 1,500 in Morocco. In the latter part with a fleet and some of the new bomb-vessels of the sixteenth century, Tunis and Tripoli to destroy Algiers. The expedition was un- fell under the power of the Porte, and for successful, the bombs proving nearly as de- some time were ruled by Turkish viceroys; structive to the French as to their enemies. but in a few years the janizaries, as at Algiers, The next year Duquesne returned, and, taught elected their own rulers; and subsequently by experience, succeeded in firing all his the native race, overpowering the janizaries, bombs into the pirate city. The terrified dey gained the ascendancy over the Ottoman mas- capitulated, and surrendered 600 slaves to the ters. Since Blake humbled the pride of the fleet; but sixty~four of those unfortunate cap- Tunisians, in 1665, and Narbro burned the tives being discovered by the French officers Tripolitan fleet in 1676, neither of those states- to be Englishmen, were sent back to the dey I has inflicted much injury on British shipping. DXXIX. LIVING AGn. VOL. VI. 5 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. The treatment of slaves at Tunis and Tripo- li was considered to be even milder than at Al- oiers the Brothers of Redemption had estab- I~shments at both places. It was with Tripoli in 1796, that the United States, through their envoy, Joel Barlow, made the treaty which caused so much animadversion. In that treaty Mr. Barlow, to conciliate the Mohammedan powers, declared that the government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion. Notwith- standing so bold an assertion, the faithless Tn- politans declared war against the United States, in 1801; and after a contest highly creditable to the American navy, then in its infancy, peace was concluded between the two powers, and 200 captives released from slavery. Both Tunis and Tripoli quietly renounced the prac- tice of Christian slavery, when solicited to do so by Lord Exmouth in 1816. All the territories which formed part of the Roman Empire in Africa, subsequently fell under the sway of Constantinople, except Mo- rocco. Its fertile soil, almost within cannon- shot of Europe, on the very verge and hem of civilization, has ever attracted European cupidity, and the patriotic energy of its people has ever repelled Christian domination. Al-1 most all the semi-barbarous states of the world have fallen a prey to European ambition and enterprise not only dynasties but races have been extinguished, and yet Morocco is still as free from foreign influence as the surf of the Atlantic that thunders on its sands. At one period, indeed, almost subjugated, it was little more than a Portuguese province, when the Cherifs, a family of mendicant fanatics, claim- ing to be the lineal descendants of Mohammed, expelled the invaders, and founded the pres- ent dynasty. Spain, it is true, still holds two fortresses as penal settlements on the coast but no Spaniard can even look over an em- brasure on the land side, without being saluted by a long Moorish rifle. It is an actual fact, that the governors of those prison-forts receive intelligence of what passes in the interior of Morocco, from Madrid. As in other parts of Barbary, it was the Moriscos, after their expulsion from Spain, that founded the system of pimtical slavery in Morocco. Who has not read of the Sallee rovers in Robinson Crusoe, and our old bal- lads? Yet, compared with the. Algerine, theirs was, after all, a very petty kind of pi- racy. The harbor of Sallee, the principal port of Morocco, being only suitable for ves- sels drawing little water, the piracy was car- ried on in galleys and row-boats, and was for- inidable only to small unarmed vessels. In 1637, an English fleet, under Admiral Rain- borough, took Sallee, and released 290 British captives as many as would have cost 10,- 000. Soon after, the emperor of Morocco sent an ambassador to London, who, on his presentation to Charles I., went to court in procession, taking with him a number of libe- rated captives dressed in white, and many hawks and Barbary horses splendidly capa- risoned. Christian slaves in Morocco were invariably the property of the emperor, and were mostly employed in constructing build- ings of iepiaa composition somewhat resem- bling our concrete. In the latter part of the seventeenth century, during the reign of Mu- ley Ishmael, a cruel tyrant to his own subjects, and who had a mania for building, the cap- tives in Morocco were ill treated, and com- pelled to work hard. Yet even, then, one Thomas Phelps, who made his escape from Mequinez, tells us that the emperor came fre- quently amongst the slaves when at work, and would bolt out encouraging words to them, such as: May God send you all safe home to your own countries! and any captive was excused from work by the payment of a blan- quila sum equivalent to our 2d.per day. In 1685, the emperor had 800 Christian slaves, 260 of whom were English; many of those, however, were subsequently ransomed. After Muley Ishmaels death, the captives were much better treated. Captain Braithwaite, who accompanied Mr. Russell on a mission from the English government in 1727, thus describes the condition of the Christian cap- tives in Morocco: Most part of them, ho says, have expectations of getting back to their native country at one time or another. The emperor keeps most of them at work upon his buildines, but not to such hard labor as that our laborers go throu h. The Cartute, where they are lodged, is infinitely better than our prisons. In short, the captives have a much greater property in what they ~et than the Moors several of them being rich, and many have carried considerable sums out of the country. Several keep their mules, and some their servants, to the truth of which we are all witnesses. Morocco was the first of the Barbary States that gave up the practice of Christian slavery. In a treaty made with Spain in 1799, the emperor declared his de- sire that the name of slavery might be effliced from the memory of mankind. The adventures of corsairs and captives, be- ing ever of a singularly romantic character, have afforded many subjects to the writers of fiction. At one period, the French, Spanish, and I han novelists and dramatists borrowed all their plots from this prolific source. Only one, however, was ori~inal. Cervantes, hav- ing been for nearly six years an Algerine slave, drew captivity from the life; the other writers merely present us with copies of his graphic delineations. The tale of The Cap- tive, the novel of The Generous Lover, the dramas of L~fr in Algiers, and The Bagnes of 66 CHRISTIAN SLAVERY IN BARBARY. Alyiers,* are evidently not mere works of amusing fiction, but were written for a pur- posethat purpose being excite public opi- nion in the favor of unfortunate Christian slaves, and to arouse the nations of Christen- dom to efforts for their liberation. The above- mentioned works decidedly appertain to the literature of anti-slavery; and the renowned author of Don Quixote must be placed high on the roll of those whom our transatlantic breth- ren would term abolitionist writers. The great romance of slavery consists in the escape of the bondsman, whether it be effected by cunning or courage. The contest is so unequal, the chances of the game so much against the runaway, and the stake so high, that the more generous sentiments of human nature are compelled to feel an inte- rest in the event, and show a sympathy to the struggling captives weakness, even when pre- judice of race and legal enactments deny it to his cause. The working of the fugitive slave bill in the United States exemplifies this feclino in a remarkable degree. The old ro- manci~t~ and ballad-writers gene rally connect a love affair with the escapes of their imagin- ary captives from the peculiar customs and sccial relations of Mohammedans, such an oc- currence is highly improbable. In fact, after no little research, we must confess that we never met with an authenticated instance of the kind. A few real escapes are still worth mentioning, although the romantic element of a Moorish lady does not enter into the story. in 1714, a captive noticing the outlet of a sewer in the port, determined to go down the sewer of his baone at night, and discover if it were the same. ~inding it to be so, he commu- nicated the fact to several of his fellow-captives, and they anxiously waited for a chance of es- cape. In a short time their wishes were gra- tified by observing a small row-boat ready for sea, lying close to the mouth of the sewer. At dead of night a number of slaves descend- ed the sewer; but on reaching the harbor, were attacked by the street dogs. The noise aroused the guards, who, crying Christians! Christians! ran to the spot, and a fearful conflict ensued. About forty of the slaves, notwithstanding, boarded the row-boat, and throwing her crew into the water, attempted to push out of the harbor. At this eventful moment they were met by a series of unfore- seen obstaclesnamely, the hawsers of the vessels, which, according to the usual custom of mooring in Mediterranean ports, form- ed a net-work across the harbor. Dismayed, yet undaunted, the escaping captives, jump- ing into the water, swam and pushed the boat ~ El Cautivo, El Liberal Amante, El Trato de Ar- ue4 Los Banns del Arqei. before them, and when they reachcd a hawser, got on it, and, as sailors term it, rode it down by their weight, so as to push their light bark over. In a short time, the last hawser was passed; and a dark night and fair wind favor- ing the fugitives, the second morning after- wards saw them freemen on the island of Ma- jorca. The greatest confusion reigned in Al- giers during that night. At first, it was sup- posed that all the slaves had broken out of the bagnes. The dey, half-dressed, and rav- ing with anger, ran up and down the mole, at one moment inciting his men to the pursuit with the most extravagant promises; at ano- ther, reproving their dilatoriness with blows of his sabre. Foaming with rage, he cursed the guards and sneeringly uttered these pro- phetic words: I believe the dogs of Chris- tians will one day or other come and take us out of our houses. In Purchass Pilgrims we have a quaint ac- count of a gallant escape from slavery. In 1621, the Jacob of Bristol was taken by a Barbary cruiser; all the crew were removed to the pirate vessel with the exception of four lads, named Cook, Jones, Long, and Tuckey; and a guard of thirteen pirates, with an ofli- cer, put on board the Jacob, to carry her to Algiers. These four poor youths, says Purchas, being fallen into the hands of mer- ciless infidels, began to study and complot all the means they could for the obtaining of their freedom. On the fifth night after their capture, Tuckey being at the helm, the other three were ordered to take in the mainsail; the wind being fresl~, the Ahoerine officer went to assist when they took him by the hams, and turned him overboard; but by fortune he fell into the belly of the sail, where quickly catching hold of a rope, he being a very strong and vigorous man, had almost gotten into the ship again; which Cooke perceivin~, leaped speedily to the pump, and took off the pump brake or handle, aiid cast it to Long, hidding him knock him down, which he was not long in doing; hut lifting up the wooden weapon, be gave him such a palt on the pate as made his brains forsake the possession of his head, with which his body fell into the sea. For- tunately, owing to the noise made by the flap- ping sail, the scuffle was unheard by the other pirates, of whom four more were attacked and killed, and the rest secured under hatches. The brave lads succeeded in carrying the ship into a Spanish port, where they sold nine Turks for galley-slaves, for a good sum of money, and as I think, for a great deal more than they were worth! Honest Pur- chas thus concludes the narration: He that shall attribute such things as these to the arm of flesh and blood, is forgetful, ungrate- ful, and in a manner atheistical. 67 68 CONDITIONS OF PEACE. From the Examiner, 20 May. the continent up to the revolution of 1830, CONDITIONS OF PEACE. and has kept him the master of Germany ever THE Czar Alexander was the founder and since. He became a necessity. mainstay of the Holy Alliance. He was also The Holy Alliance advanced the scheme the great gainer by it. That institution was which Peter the Great devised for his succes- a contract between the Bourbons, Hapsburghs, sors in the Czarship more effectively than even Hohenzohlerns, and Romanoffs, to assist each his testament indicated. That was, that his other with troops against the apprehended successors should bend their unceasing efforts efforts of their respective subjects to obtain to foment constant divisions between the great any mitigation of the bad government which powers of the continent, and then, as occnsions it was the purpose of each to establish and offered, shouid league themselves first with one carry on in his own dominions. It was a mu- for extinguishing and absorbing a second, then tual assurance of one another against what with another to extinguish and absorb a third, they called revolution. The institution worked and by this process should finally throw the with apparent success for some time. Every- whole weight of Germany, Turkey, and Rus- where was established a system of government sia upon France and overwhelm it. But the for the profit of the ruling few, and the inter- Czar Alexander, keeping this policy in the ests and feelings of the many were every- back-ground for the moment, inveigled the where set at nought. The Neapolitan and German Powers and France into establishing, Spanish attempts at amelioration were succes- each in its own territory, a division between sively put down; the most distinguished Italians themselves and their own subjects, which ren- were exiled, despoiled of their property, im- dered them quite powerless to oppose his fa- prisoned, tortured, and put to death; and the ture proceedings. We see, by Pozzo di Borgos Czars success against Turkey in 1829 appear- extraordinary letter of the 28th November, ed to afford the opportunity for correcting the 1828, that Charles the Tenth suppifrted the only mistake which the leaders in the Con- Czars attack on Turkey in the conviction that gress of 1815 imagined they had made, in its success would enable him to overthrow the permitting a government having a constitu- French Chambers, and re-establish the ancient tional form to be established in France. Con- r~gime; that Austria was so paralyzed by her sequently, in 1830, Charles the Tenth proceed- system in Italy, Hungary, etc., that with all her ed to rectify this inconsistency. But he was vast army she would not dare active opposition overthrown so very suddenly, and at such a and that, therefore, the malice (that is the late period of the year, that the Czars inter- word used) of M. de Metternich might safely vention before the spring was an impossibility. be despised. In short, the inaccessibility of We learn, however, from the papers seized at the Russian system to overthrowfor the fre- Warsaw, that on the 10th of August, 1830, quent strangling of a Czar leaves the system the day on which he received the news from itself untouched, perhaps strengthens itand Paris, he gave orders for everything to be got the danger of internal overthrow to all the ready for a march southward in springbut other systems, made the Czar, in his position England recognizing the new order of things of a member of the Holy Alliance, the arbiter, in France without a moments hesitation, and indeed the lord of the other sovereigns. Re- this encouraging the Poles to strike for their member, said 1Iisti~us, of Miletus, to the independence in the ensuing September, the Jonian Princes assembled to decide upon the Holy Alliance failed at this critical moment in proposal of Miltiades to break down the bridge yielding the fruits expected from it. over the Danube, and, by consigning Darius The advantage which the Czar reaped from and his whole army to destruction, to ensure the institution of this alliance was altorether the independence of Jonia and Greece; re- different in Icind from that obtained by his co- member that we are only enabled to maintain partners in it. Its military guarantee was of our positions as Princes in our respective ter- the utmost value to the Hapsburghs, Hohen- ritories, against the universal aversion of our zollerns, and Bourbons, because their systems subjects, by the power of Persia, and that in of government were not founded on the in- overthrowing that we shall overthrow our- terests or feelings of their subjects, but involv- selves. The relative positions of the Czar ed the constant violation of them; while the and the Continental Princes under the Holy Russian system is adapted to the national Alliance is precisely similar to this. character and wants of the Russians, who, bar- We have thus indicated the political effects barous and oriental, neither desire nor have of the Congress of Vienna and the Holy Alhi- any idea of change in it. Thus, while the ance, in order to obtain a clearer view of whal~ Czars guarantee to the other members of the our object should be in the present war. We alliance was of great value to them, theirs was are spending blood and treasure to purchase of no value whatever to him, from his not be- peace and security for the future. Peace may ing in a condition to need it. This circum- now very easily be obtained, that is nominally. stance made him the real political master of I For the Czar counted on establishing division CONDITIONS OF PEACE. 69 between France and England; a~d had either formed of the power of Russia, nor would the England at first, or Louis Napoleon after- delusion ever have arisen but for the circurn wards, listened to his insidious proposals, he stance to which we have just poiuted atten- would certainly he now at Constantinople. But tion, and of which it was not an unnatural he still further miscalculated in believing a result. For the mass in every country saw French and English alliance unattainable, their rulers admitting b~ subserviency and Doubly disappointed, his reaching Constanti- flattery their own relative weakness, and look- nople is now hopeless; and his remaining in ing to Russia with hope and fear, as if she the Principalities, with a hostile fleet and army were absolutely strong. This arose from their capable of operating on his rear, impossible. being universally at variance with their sub- lie is becoming sensible of all this, and must jects, and thus sensible of their domestic wish to abridge the spectacle of his humiliating weakness, while the Czar alone, governing in impotence in the Baltic. He will do in the harmony with the feelings of the barbarians beginning, and at once, what he sees he must over whom he rules, was strong at home. The do in the end, and will lose no time in offering elements of her i-cal strength for aggressive terms. This is what we have always expected purposes might have been inferred by reflect- when once we should begin in earnest to test ing on her miserable difficulties in 1828 and the over-estimated power of Russia. 1829 against Turkey; by her positive defeats It is also what we dread. Being convinced in 1831 by the Poles, whom she only conquer- that the reduction of the power of Russia is ed by the actual military interference of the an indispensable condition of the development Prussian army on the left bank of the Yistu- of European civilization and happiness, we ha; and by what she is now laboring in vain to do dread any cessation of war that shall leave against the Turks. If the war continues a very her with the means of influencing either Ger- few months more, the nullity of Russian pow- many or France. She stands now before the er and the reality of its weakness will be fully bar of civilization the triumphant perpetrator established; and the Czar, disappointed in the of acts which must be reversed, before the division between France and England on which Germans, the French, and the English can he counted, finding Austria inclining against find any moral anchorage for a stable peace in him, seeing hii~self deprived of these artificial Europe. The successful extinction of one supports, and reduced to his own intrinsic re- great member of the European body, and the sources, will hasten by offering concessions to successful mutilation of another, are deeds that prevent that exposure of his real weakness will forever prevent any settlement of Euro- now so near at hand. The plausible ground pean affairs until they are annulh~d. Peace on which he will place himself is already in- until lately was only the child of exhaustion, dicated, and unfortunate predilections for a now it is becoming the moral want of human- quasi-return to the Settlement of 1815 will ity; but we can never possess that feeling of favor his attempt, and tend to defraud civili- confidence which is a pre-requisite for its zation and humanity of the prospects opening attainment, as lbng as we witness that brutal before them. But nothing now can be a and treacherous triumph of might over right settlement of Europe which is not bottomed which the present condition of Poland and on concession to the acknowledged wants and Finland offers to the bewildered belief in interests of mankind in the various territories Divine justice. There may be English states- in which Europe is divided. The partitioning men disposed eagerly to snap at the Czars out Europe among a score of regal families, offers, and there may be a cessation of war for and adjusting the shares allotted to each, never the moment; but in the present stage of the could, and never can be a settlement; and European mind nothing can be permanent but were it not the misfortune of mankind to eon- what is just, and a cessation of war before found ability with wisdom, they would have justice is satisfied will only lead to a coutinu- derided the arrangements of Vienna in the al and miserable struggle, which must termi- beginning, notwithsta~nding the men who com- nate a few years hence either in the triumph bined their powers to produce them. How- of Russian barbarism and the retrogradation ever able, the) were anythin~ but wise or long- of civilization throughout Europe, or in a re- sighted. newal of that war which we have now begun, While we write we see news alleged to be and which we shall have been unwise enough authentic, and which affords a remarkable fact not to bring to such a close as justice and p01- in confirmation of the view we take of the icy alike dictated. This it is full in our pow Holy Alliance. Austria has suddenly relaxed er (we speak of France and England con- her tryanny in Hungary an(l elsewhere. If junctively) now to compass. this be confirmed, we shall take for granted This, therefore, ought to be our object. No that she means to take l)ait with the llIies at peace until Russia, reduced to her natural last. Deciding to oppose the Czai, she loses limits, shall be lest without the power of influ his external guarantee, and & els inmnedi tely encing European affairs. We have shown and instinctively that she can provide a sub bow erroneous is the estimate which has been stitute in good government alone. THE LOCUS PENITENTIE FOR RUSSIA. From The Examiner, 27 May. THE LOCUS PENITENTIJE FOR RUSSIA. WHATEVER may be the effect of the Austro- Prussian Treaty of the 20th April, the terms of which are now made public, we do not think there can be any doubt of its intention, or of the object with which the new Protocol, signed last Tuesday at Vienna, has been framed to bring within the scope of one and the same instrument this Treaty of the Ger- man Powers and the Treaty of England and France. The gratifying spectacle is again exhibited to Europe, by tbese makers of Vienna Proto- cols, of so-called accord between the Four Powers in regard to the Eastern quarrel. France and England, at war with Russia, are thus to tell tbe world that though they have thought the resort to war necessary, they arc still on the best possible terms with Prussia and Austria who dont think it necessary at all. Austria and Prussia, at Peace with ev- erybody, are by this means to make their friendly offices available between Russia and the powers at war with R.ussia, on terms and conditions which they hope to reader agreea- ble to all parties. What is the first thing manifest in this Trea- ty of Berlin, for which it is understood that the diplomatic people have beer. active, and the armies inactive, for so long a time? Does it suggest any nearer approximation to an hon- est alliance with Eng znd aiid France? Is it, as we were led to believe, a compact only for such mutual protection as might leave liberty of action to each? No such thing. What is most prominent and manifest upon the face of it is, that we have no longer anything to hope from Austria to set off against the pusillanimi- ty of Prussia. It is an utter explosion of thc hopes entertained in that direction. We are surprised that any other construc- tion should be (Irawn froni it. 1t~ express tenor is that what Prussia (lees, Austria will do; that, whatever their differences in opinion may be, there is at least to be no difference in act; that one is not to think of making war without the other. Each country guarantees to the other its German and non-German do- miiiions. The Polish, Rhenish. and Italian provinces, are to be secure under this treaty. Any attack upon one is to be resente(l by the other party. Such is the agreement. Of course nobody dreams that Austria can go to war with Russia, or in any way provoke hos- tilities from the Czar, without exposing some of her provinces to invasion; and in that case Prussia stipulates to march to her help. But Prussia would make no such stipulation if it was not fully understood that Austria was not only not to rush into war without Prussian consent, but was not even to risk it by inde- pendent policy or isolated acts to which Prus- sia had not consented. The inference inevitable from such a treaty is. that neither Austria nor Prussia has the least idea of going to war with Russia. They both indeed coniplain of, they hoth condemn the occupation of the Danubian Principalities, and they both point with still greater dislike to any further a(hvance of Russian troops be- yond the Danube. But that Austria and Prussia would have committed themselves to even this declaration, if they had not first been perfectly certain that Russia did not wish to advance beyond the Danube, no one will believe. had Austria and Prussia signed such a treaty, and made known its contents, six or eight. months ago, Turkey and the X,Yes- tern Powers might have been obliged to them. But their affected adherence now is too obvi- ously a trick to 11011) Russia out of: Iser scrape. It is an attempt to paralyze the efforts of France and England to bring the quarrel to so decisive a conclusion that it shall never be able to break forth again. In a word, however apparently directed against Russia, however ~)leasantly foisted into a French and English Protocol, this treaty is really pointed oqoinSt France and England. It tells them plainly that the aim of the Ger- man Powers is solely and exchusively~ to get the Russians out of the Principalities, an(l in nowise either to pe~mit or take other guaran- tees against them. Let General Canrobert and Lord Raglan (Irive Paskiewitsch behind the Pruth, and thenceforward Austria and Prussia, no longer the negative antagonists of Russia, become its active allies. This, then, is what we have to guard against. The danger now is that the war should termi- nate, after the fashion of the diplomacy that preceded it, in a fesco. Such a result would recoil upon the Governments of tile West in a way to shake their strength) and credit far more than any loss of fleets or battles. They have now, however, timely warning. The Berlin treaty puts an end to all the fine hopes that were built upon the Emperor of Austrias su{hden levies of t~5000 men. To the conimand of those levies, it will be remem bered, it was made matter of much marvel that Schihick an(h another general, both noted for thicir attachment to Russia, should have been named. Of course, as things turn out they were the exact generals to take such a conimand. In precisely the same spirit of the Prussian war minister was lately dismissed. The whole thing is a mock (lefiance. Under llretente of a hostile summons to force the Czar from the Principalities, it is a trien(lly artifice to help him out of them. Even in arming these German Powers have no pur 70 PEACE AT WHAT PRICE. pose but to deceive. They have done nothing, from first to last, that has not been a sham and a pretence. But surely all confidence in them must come to an end, now that their position is clearly defined. They have come forward at last, but it is only to succor Russia in her distress, it is only to pretend to impose upon her a for- bearance which they very well know it to be now her policy and her necessity to adopt of her own accord. Let us hope tWist they may at last, also, be made to feel how fully France and England understand their pusillanimity and dishonesty. Greatly should we regret if any assent has already been given to Austrias proposal to occupy Montenegro and a portion of either Bosnia or Albania. We might just as well allow the King of Prussia to garrison Athens and hold it for the interests of his im- perial brother-in-law, the Czar. A well-timed official statement has just issued from Servia, fully cxhibitin~ the duplicity of Austria, and expressing a fixed resolve to resist any occu- pation by the troops of that power. From the Examiner, 27 May. PEACE AT WHAT PRICE. TILE Times informed us the other day that a single mistaken resolution of Sir Robert Peals on railroads had cost the country at least a hundred millions, and what is worse, that it has l~ft the thing still to be done which he shrunk from doing. We do not think this an exaggerated view of the true state of the case. We, however, blame the public far more than Sir Robert; and our posterity will blame us rather than any minister, if such overtures for the conclusion of the war should be accepted as it appears not improbable may be now proposed. If this were a war on our part and that of France for aggrandizement, or for necessary defence of our respective commercial or terri- torial interests, we should say, abandon the former, and as soon as the latter are secured, let the sword be sheathed. But such is not the character of this war. This is a war against the Russian systema system pro- pounded and developed in the testament of Peter the Great, and which the Czars his successors have, as he exhorted them, regu- larly and without any deviation carried into action ever since. As he proposes, they have leagued with Austria and Prussia, and ab- sorbed Poland; they have connected them- selves by so many alliances with the petty German princes as to become almost their liege lords; they have sown divisions every- whcre between the European Powers, great and small, and by the invention of the Holy Alliance have established and widened divis- ions between princes and their subjects every- whcre, until Austria and Prussia have become little more than their vassals; they have muti- lated Sweden; and they have done all this and more, not as they happened individually to be men of great ability, as Napoleon, or Cromwell, or Frederick, but as agents of a system which, founded as it is on the nature of society in Asiatic and European Russia, imperiously constrains them successively to uniform action, whether they happen to be clever or stupid. The function of the Czar is merely to marshal and guide that general propensity of the Tartar race to armed emi- gration which Peter points out as having, at previous epochs, achieved such great results in human affairs, though aiming at no defi- nite object. Peter defines what that object should be for the future, and points out the means his successors should take for compass- ino~ it peace that this or any other Czar can or will make, can or will involve a voluntary aban- donment. of this system. But France and Eng- land can now wrest out of their hands the pow- er to follow it up for the future in the manner they have for the past. The question for the French and English public therefore is, Shall we wrest this power from their hands now that we have them at an immense disadvantage, or shall we leave them enough of it to enable them in a few years to renew the struggle with us? Such, at this moment, is the question on which the French and English, now so hap- pily united, have to decide; and if it is, as we entirely believe, the great governing point, there can be no doubt that the only possible security for future peace lies in their depriv- ing th~ Czars of the power to prosecute this system for the future. Even the Prime Min- ister, we imagine, .would agree to this, but then lie would doubt whether it is the point he would take a different view of the reality or the tendency of this Russian system. here be stands on similar ground to that which Sir Robert Peel occupied when he took his disastrous resolution on the railroad question. Sir Robert stood on the threshold of a fu- ture, and did not beleive it would realize it. self into that present which we now deplore. Lord Aberdeen stands similarly on the thresh- old of a future, and acts as if he believed no repression to be needed in order to render it less dangerous than the past. He may be right, but if he is wronghow awfully mo- mentous will be the consequences to England, to France, to Europe, to civilization, to man- kind, should he accept peace unaccompanied 71 OPERATIONS ON THE DKNU~E. by that security for its continuance which the destruction of the power of Russia to do future harm can alone afford. We thercfore hold that the paramount in- terests of the country require this point to he cleared up at once. The nation is entitled to have the means without further delay of judg- ing upon it. Our future prosperity depends upon a right decision in regard to it, in a. higher degree thau in regard to any other which has occurred in our time. If our min- isters are of opinion that there is no future danger to England and to Europe from a peace that shall leave Russia pretty much as she is, let them say so. If they are of a con- trary or different opinion, let them announce it. In either case we shall know where we are,what we are aimin~ at,and what we have to do. At present the public is entirely. I in the dark on these points. We are like children looking out of a window, who ex- pect some procession, of some sort or other at some time or other, to pass hy. We are looking out every day for nPws from the Black Sea, from the Baltic, from the Danube. What, if we hear to-morrow that Sebastopol is hat tered down? To what previously defined1 object will this he a means or a step? We know not, hut we are entitled to know, and we want to learn. We hope the country will insist on know- ing, and at once. It is understood that the session will certainly not extend heyond the latter end of next month. The Houses ought not to separate until we ascertain in a precise and definite manner whether or not it is meant that we should accept a peace that shall leave Russia the power to pursue the course she has taken systematically for the last hundred years. If the ministry is prepared to accept a peace having this character, and the m tion acquiesces in its decision, we have nothing further to say. If, on the contrary, it is not so prepared, then thu sooner France and England proclaim the independence of Po- land, and the restoration of Finland to Swe- den, the less of our blood shall we shed, and the sooner will a certain and permanent peace he established, bottomed on th conly sure ground. Thus alone can the moral sense of the European mind find that repose and satisfaction, which protocols, treaties, congress- es, and holy alliances can never give. From The Examiner, 27 May. OPERATIONS ON THE DANUBE. IT is reported that the French and En~lish generals at the seat of war have at last agreed upon a plan of active operations, and it is to be hoped that this may promptly be confirm- ed. After reading the Austro-Prussian treaty, no one can be certain any longer of. the pre- cise designs of Russia, or that her armies have any other intention than retreat. But it is our dt~ty to render this retreat a necessity and a disgrace. If we would render the eva- cuation of the Principalities any security for the future, we must make it in all respects compulsory. We must not in this matter leave even so much opportunity for a boast as was furnished by the dismantling of the guns and the blowing up of the magazines at Odessa. Whatever is to be don~ therefore, on~ht to be done quickly, seeing that the German Powers have been busy opening posterns for the enemy, and that their (lecrees for raising armies turn out to be mere covers for his re- treat. We are now, it seems, engaged in de- stroying the Russian forts on the Circassian coast but it is three months since this was talked of, and full six weeks since it might have been done. Not only the English but the European public is justly impatient for results. Wherever the Turks have yet had an op- portunity on the Danube, the news has been encouraging. It is remarkable how steady their successes have been, unprovided and unassisted as they have remained until now. Notwithstanding all the blustering and lies of the Russian bulletins, every scheme of Prince Gortschakoff strikingly failed. When at the very commencement, the troops of Omar Pasha took their bold stand behind no very formidable entrenebments at Oltenitza, the courage of the Russians failed them. Again at Kalafat they were found unable to force hostile breastworks. And there is now no doubt that it was originally the intention of the Russian commander to cross the Danube higher up than Widdin, in order to take that fortress in the rear and compel the abandon- ment of Kalafat, when the attempt was resist- ed by the gallantry of Ismael Pasha, so de- servedly created Mushir the other day. Is- macI attacked General Auret at Citate, carried his position, and drove the Russians back to Krajova with slaughter and disgrace. So it has been throughout, and so~ continues. In the partial rencontres which have since taken place along the Danube, the Turks maintain the superiority. General Luders occupies the Dobrudschabut if he cannot advance upon either Varna or Shumla, if be cannot carry the siege of Silistria, if he cannot facilitate the passage of the Danube to the other corps left in Wallachia, of what advantage will it have proved to him to have passed with 30,000 men into one of the most unwholesome and unpro- vided countries of Ti~rkey? The Russians have their armies on both 7~2 MISCELLANEOUS. 73 sides of the river, in a region where its left passing the Danube for an advance into Bul. bank is one extensive and complete barren garia, the Turks were manifestly not in a swamp, extending from Hirshova to Silistria, position to prevent them, Omar Pasha having with only a narrow road across it at Rassova. concentrated his army at Shumla. The rca- The Dobrudscha itself is marshy, barren, and sonable inference has been, therefore, that the unwholesome, but is nothing in these respects invaders had in reality no serious intention compared with the tract from Hirshova to Si- of attack. But in that or ~n any case it is listria. It is impossihle for two portions of an now for the Anglo-French and Turkish armies army to be in a worse position, and we last to assume the offensive. Austrian or Prussian week gave terrible proof of the decimation by co-operation they do not want. They are disease of the ranks of the invaders, strong enough to fling the Russians behind Yet here they have remained inactive for the Pruth, and to inflict all due punishment several weeks. The movemept at present re- upon the Czar and not to do so would he to ported against Silistria might have been made connive at the policy of Austria and Prussia, more than a month since. The fact has heen who have heen merely feigning disapproval obvious all this time that, if they were really to protect him from disgrace, and to facilitate in the force that pretended around Buchar- that retreat to which it is now evident lie must e.st, and if they had seriously the intention of be driven. Music or THE EsQuiMxuxThe voices of the women are soft and feminine, and when sin~ino with the men, are pitched an octave hiL her than theirs. They have most of them so far good ears, that in whatever key a song is com- menced by one of them, the rest will always join in perfect unison. After singing for ten minutes, their key usually falls a full semitone; hut few of them can catch the tune as played by an in- strument, which makes it difficult with most of them to complete the unitin~ of the notes; for if they once leave off, they are sure to recom- mence in some other key, though a flute or vio- liii be playin~ at the time. There is not, in any of their songs much variety, compass, or melody. Unharmonious as they may appear to musical ears, they are pleasin~ when sung in good time by a number of female voices. The most com- mon is that in which the well known Greenland chorus, Amna Aya, commences the perform- ance, and is introduced between each verse, con- stituting fix-c-sixths of the whole song. When the words of the song are introduced, the notes rise a little for three or four bars, and then re- lapse again into the same hum-drum chorus as before, which. to do it justice is ~vell calculated to set the children to sleep. The words of the composition are as interminable as those of Chevy Chase ; for the women will go on singing them for nearly.balf an hour, and then leave off one by one not with their story, but their breath exhausted. They have a song second in popularity to the preceding, varying from it very slightly in the tune, and accompa- nied by the same chorus, but with different words. That which ranks third in their esteem is the most tuneful of any of their melodies. The termi- nation, which is abrupt and fanciful, is usu- ally accompanied by a peculiar motion of the bead, and an expression of archness in the coun- tenance, which cannot be described by words. There is only one verse in the song, and that, from its commencing with the word pihletay, is supposed to he a beg0ing one. Of the mean- inn of their songs in general, from the imperfect knowled:,e of their langua~ e, little is accurately known. From the occasional introduction of the word sledge, canoe, spear, and others of that class, it is conjectured that their oxvn exploits, by sea and hand, form the principal subjects. The men seldom sing, and probably consider it unman- ly. If they sometimes commence, they generally leave the women to finish the ditty. Their prov- ince seems rather to invoke the muse of th~ women at the games.Musical Transcript. ANECDOTE OF CimiEr JUSTiCE ELLENB~- HOUGHLord Ehlenborough, at a large dinner party at the Chancellors, was seated next to the Countess Lieven, a lady in that age of consider- able fashion, but of very lean proportions, and much remarked upon for displaying to an unne- cessary degree a neck not lovely to hook upon.. By some accident the Chief Justice remained un- served, his fair neighbor meanwhile being busy. The host, seeing at last the plight of the hungry and discontented jud~e, recommended to him some particular dish. I wish I could get some, growled Ellenborough, casting a sava8e glance at the angular bust bending over the table at his side, for I have had nothing before me this quarter of an hour hut a raw blade bone. New f2uarterly Recien) for April. A New and (7onpiete (Jazetteer of the United States. By TamoamAs BALDWIN and ,J. TumoxAs, M.D. Philadelphia Lippincoti, Grambo, and Co., TrGbncr and Co., Paternoster row. One is astonished at turning over the pa~es of this well-compiled Gazetteer to perceive the immense number of. territories, districts, coun- ties, towns, villages, & c.. & c., which have received names after the heroes of America. Many pages are filled xvith Washingtons, Jackions, Munroes, Madisons, and Adamses, and derivatives from their names, forminn perhaps an instructive il- lustration of the manner in which names have been applied in ancient as well as modern times, and beinn themselves historical records of 00 ordinary importance. Ihformation concerning 74 WEARYFOOT COMMON. these different places is essential to foreigners if which are delineated its vast works of internal they wish to know which of the many Washing- communication, routes across the continent, & c. tons they are reading of in any work or para- It is one of the most useful literary productions graph referring to America; and, therefore, this we have yet received from the States, though Gazetteer ~vill he very acceptable in Europe, and latterly they have sent us many; proving that it especially in England. it is minute and elaho- was only the necessity of attending to more ur- rate, contains the latest information, including gent wants than books, which the old conutry statistics of many places to 1853, and comprises supplied, that formerly prevented them from in its 1.300 pages much topographical, statis- rivalling us in this as in so many other depart- tical, and historical information. It is accom- meats of artEconomist. panied by a very distinct map of the States, on CHAPTER XIV. THE PLAY BEFORE THE CURTAIN. ARE you sure, Sara, your letter for Robert was despatched in proper time? said the cap- tain, as he entered the breakfast-room simultane- ously witb his sister the next morning. Yes, dear uncle, replied Sara; Molly put it herself into the post-office: but it probably reached his address when he was from home. lie came here last night, but at too late an hour for me to see him. Too late for you to see him! echoedthe captain why, Sara, what is this I Would you not see poor Bob at any hour of ~he day or night, if you had not gone to bed? He looked at her anxiously. She was pale and listless, like one who had not slept. I was not very well, replied Sara, in a low voice. Her aunt glided up to her, and putting her arm round her waist with uncomfortable ten- derness, whispered: Let it be camomile this morning, love! Sara smiled faintly, and assured them that she was now l)etter, and all impatience to see some- thing of this Wonderful London. We will first, dear uncle, go to Here there was a knock at the street-door, and she stopped ahrupely. Go where? asked the captain. Toto Sara had forgotten; she was motionless, breathless; and when at length the room-door opened, she sat suddenly down in a chair. The sight of Robert reassured her. She watched his meeting with her aunt and uncle, and saw the flush of joy and yearning affection fade instantaneously into habitual paleness. How changed! Stronger, firmer, more noble-looking than ever, he bore, notwithstanding, like an un- shaken rock, tile tokens of the thunder and the storm. His brow was written over with inefface- able memories, and his look seemed without hope as well as without fear. When he turned to Sara, who was behind backs, she rose slowly, and not without some maiden reserve, for she felt that her eves were full. Robert knew at a glance that he had done her injustice, and his throb of joy was mingled with self-reproach for the feeling which, in his desperate circumstan- ces, seemed urigenci-ous. And so they met again, this young pair. with a pressure of the hand, a long look, silent lips, and full hearts. In reply to the captains questions, Robert ex- plained that he was at a dancing party the evening before, where he had learned acciden tally, but not till the night was far advanced, that they were in town. Even then -his inform- ant would not give him the address, but com- pelled him to wnit and attend her home. To me, added Sara, she behaved still worse, for she gave me to understand that you had re- ceived our letter, but were determined not to sacrifice the evenings amusement. And. did you believe that. Sara? said the captain, sternly you who have so much sense and thought? I have told you, dear uncle, that I felt un- well. But she had not told him that the ~,ay apparition of the night, with her fluttering ring- lets and snowy shoulders, had descrihed Robert as the cynosure of all eyes in the hall-room; and, moreover, that she had included a name in the list of his admirers which made her heart stop and her brain reel, and so rendered her wholly incapal)le of thoughtthe name of Claudia Fal- contower. This was in reality what had depriv- ed the country-girl of her nights rest, by closing her mind against all impressions but those of astonishment and terror. It now seemed to her that this must he as untrue as the restinclud- ing the fantastic story of Roberts noble origin, which had somehow gained admission into the ball-room; but still she felt a superstitious op- pression whenever the idea recurred to her, and she could not have mentioned that formidable name, if it had been to save her life. However agreeable, therefore, the ~claircissemeut may have been, it did not restore the full unbounded confidence of earlier years, and after a time she saw only too clearly that whatever her own feel- ings might he, there was something in Roberts manner which rose like a wall between them. So fhr from being less kind, she saw, on more than one occasion, that there was even passion in his feelings towards her; but a spectre seemed to warn him away whenever lie seemed about to fall into the old familiar mode of address and in walking out, it was always to her aunt he offered his arm, leaving her to the care of the captain. While they were at breakfast their attention was arrested by a noise of a peculiar kind in the hall as the street-door opened. Some disturh- ance had taken place. There ~vas shuffiuiig of feet, shrill but choked woices, crying, sobbing, and laughin~, and then the noise rolled away and sunk beneath the surface of the earthprob- ably down the kitchen stairs. When the servant came into the room the captain asked her anx- iously whether there was anything the matter. WEARYFOOT COMMON. Its Miss Jinks, sir, said the girl, and a visitor. The veteran pondered. Is that the name of our landlady, I wonder 3 said he, when she had left the room. No, it is an old familiar word; I am sure I have heard it somewhere. But she did not say what was the matter with Miss JinksI hope there is nothing amiss in the house. Hey, Elizabeth 3 This is a world of meetings and partings, replied the virgin; and the one is sometimes as affecting as the other, since the emotions of both receive their coloring from the things of the past. As for names, it is the doctrine of Sumphinpiunger but here the essay was interrupted by the door opening. Sara and Rob- ert had, in the meantime, exchanged a glance which brought them instantly back to the happi- est times of Wearyfoot Common; the young ladys ripe cheeks swelling with suppressed mirth, and Roberts eye kindling up once more with the joyous light of youth. You here, too, Molly 3 cried he, as the dam- sel came into the room; and he shook hands with her heartily. Mollys face was radiant with smiles and bedauhed with tears, and as she fixed upon Robert her great round eyes, glistening with a similar moisture, and as full of astonish- ment as they could hold, he thought to himself that she had grown into a prodigiously fine young woman, with the countenance of a barn-door Hebe, and the figure of a comfortable Juno. Her observation of Robert was not less favorable, and if any doubt of the theory of Mrs. Margery had ever assailed her, it was now given to the winds, once and forever. I say, Molly, said the captain, what was that disturbance in the hail just now about 3 0 sir, replied Molly, it was only Mrs. Mar- gery come to see me, and to ask about us all. But I say, Molly, who is Miss Jinks 3 0, thats me; sir!~ said Molly with her cheeks swelling like half a dozen of Saras; thats what they call me in London! So it is you, I declare, said the captain I was sure I knew the name !Bid Margery come in, and well tell her ourselves how we are. 0 sir she cant come in. She left home in such a hurry she hasnt cleaned herself. Thats very extraordinary! said the cap- tain; I never knew anythin~ like it but when I was in garrison once in the Peninsula. And then it wasnt exactly a cook that was invisible, but a friar; and he wasntno, he wasnt just invisi- ble neither; he rather stuck to me, as it were, he didin fact, I couldnt get him out of my si,,ht; he haunted me like a shadow, wanted to convert me, I think; but I ence knew my catechism when I was a boy, and was determined to stand up for it like a British officer and a loyal sub- ject. And so it was no go; but this friar, you see What now 3 You are impatient, Sara 3 Well, its a hard case; but Ill tell you the story a~ am, and its all very natural that you should want to see London now von are in it. The first thing set about was the transaction of business, and the captain found himself en- riched with what appeared to him to be a very considerable sum. The bankrupt himselg how- ever, was not present at the payment of the div- idend, and the clerks replied only with a starc to the veterans expressions of sympathy. But when he hinted delicately at his wish to return a portion of the money, the joke was received with cordial approbation; his friends had the satisfac- tion of seeing that he was voted from that moment a famous old file and no mistake, and one young gentleman in a corner ejaculated Walk-er! in a tone thatproduced a general lau~,h. Well, said the captain, a little puzzled, and taking up his hat, we can settle it all between ourselves. Be sure to give him my kind com- pliments, and say that if he will take a run down for a week, well make a ne~v man of him. We have a capital Common therea celebrated Common is Wearyfoot Commonand he may march and countermarch in it all day long. Dont make a mistake now, but remember my name is Walk-er! cried the young gentleman in the corner, and the captain made his exit in the midst of unanimous applause. Saras business was as well settled, a~d almost as promptly, although the relation who had brought her to the Common was not all at once convinced of the identity of the beautiful young woman who now stood before him and the little pale orphan who had paddled so wofully through the pools of Wearyfoot. Her little inheritance had been so judiciously managed that the amount was now about doubled, and Sara found herself the absolute mistress of property yielding enough to constitute a competent independence for a single lady in her station. When this fact was established, and the writings completed, she looked furtively at Robert; but he was gazing at the blank wall before him, silent and abstracted. She felt hurt, for even her cold relative had paid his congratulations, and the captain at the tno- ment was shakin~ her hand nervously. Accord- ingly, when Robert turned rotitid like a man awaking from a dream, he found no conseiou~- ness in the looks he sought; the heiress put her arm within her uncles, walked coldly and grave- ly away, and left the oflice without turning her head. The serious business of their journey being now finished, they got into a vehicle, which transported them to the gayer streets of the town, where, dismounting, the ladies amused themselves with gazing and shopping, while their escort lounged in the rear. There is something I want to ask you, Bob, said the captain, and now is the best time for it. Margery has been putting all sorts of stuff into Mollys head about you. and your brilliant prospects, and your intimacy with a great fami- ly, and so on, and I am anxious to know what it all means. Have you really anything opening out before you such as she writes so mysterious- ly about 3 and do you know what it is 3 Surely, replied Robert, you must be aware that if I knew anything absolutely, youmy earliest friend, to whom I owe even my intellec- tual bein~~vould be the first to hear of it! But poor Margerv is as sanguine as she is lov- ing; and her cousin T)rift~vood, to whom she is doubtless indebted for the report you allude to, 4 76 WEARYFOOT COMMON. has no means of obtaining correct information, anywhere at all. As for the captain, he had been To say that he has no foundation to proceed up- admonished by his sister that regimentals were on, would be untrue; but I know nothing abso- not the thing in London, and so he appeared on lutely myself; I am now almost afraid to hope, this occasion in the commoa mourning attire of and it may he that even before you leave town, I an English gentleman when he means to make shall have settled down and he smiled sadly merry. into a position more befitting the heretofore Robert, whose experience of the theatre was vagrant of the Common than the guest and in- not extensive, had omitted to take places; and timate of Sir Vivian Falcontower. when they were set down hy their vehicle in the But can nothing be done to aid you l said midst of a crowd of elegantly dressed persons, the veteran anxiously. You know I am now male and female, so dense and so unceremonious comparatively rich, and if you were to go to law, as quite to alarm the country girl, they learned perhaps .. for the first time that it was a command-night, Mv dear sir, law is out of the question! My that the Queen was to be present. They tried claims depend upon favor, not force, and I will the dress-circle first, but entrance there was out never stoop to beg for what is my due. of the question; for the first circle was equally You are right, my boy. If the people have full; but iii the second they were at lengtl~ no sense of honorable or natural feeling, the less fortunate enough to obtain places, although you have to do with them the better. Dont be only in the corner box next the stage. The in a hurry, howeverdont condemn them with- novelty of the scene, the crowd, the rush, the out trial; hut if it turns out so, forget your claims, pressure, almost took away Saras breath; but whether they are well or ill founded, and rely she pressed on, blindly conscious of safety when upon yourself. But law or no law, you must under Roberts care, and opened her eyes to ob- have money, Bob. I have no use for one-half servation only when seated in the ~rout of the of this wind-fall, as Sara is now so rich that I box between the captain and Elizabeth, and dont mean even to make her a present, so, here with her protector guarding herjealously behind. is your share, old fellow. Robert squeezed the The scene before, beneath, above her, presented offered hand, and put it away without speaking. a picture almost sublime as a whole, but merely What! you wont l You are too proud exciting and amusing when the mind had time even to me l to examine it in detail. The young girl looked Believe me, said Robert, huskily, I should at first with alarm at the torrent of human fig- not be too proud to be your servant if you could ures filling gradually every corner of the house; not afford a hireling! But as for money, I am then she was struck with the almost comic tran- really in no want of it. I am always able to quillity of the company in the boxes, in the support myself singly in reasonable comfort, and midst, as it seemed of that rush and roar; and if fortune has decreed that I am never to be able then she xvas able to syllable the appalling sound to do morewhy, then, I will not accept at her from the gallery into words that threw an air of hands of a single additional luxury! ridicule upon the whole tumult. At this moment they were joined by Elizabeth The house was at length full. The boxesall and Sara, and when the veteran saw the flushed but one next the stage, which was still vacant cheek and radiant eyes of the young girl, who were like a parterre of thickly set flowersthe had probably been purchasing some article of loveliest in the world; the tumultuous sea~ of female bravery, he could not help contrasting in heads in the pit subsided into a deep calm; and his own mind her appearance and her position even the howlin~ gallery was silent in expecta- with those of his protdg~. His reverie, and the tion, when all on a sudden the concourse rose obvious depression of Robert, affected insensibly simultaneously, the men uncovei-ing their heads, the spirits of the ladies, and all four pursued and a terrific shout hurst from every corner of their walk in silence through this attractive quar- the vast building. Sara now observed that a ter of the metropolis, lady and gentleman had come quietly to the But if the earlier part of the day had been front of the before empty box; and as the roar of wanting in the enjoyment one expects to find greeting thundered through the house, the lady from a visit to London, the evening was to make a handsome and elegant but kindly-looking up for itfor the evenin~ was to he spent at the woman-l)owed gracefully her acknowledg- theatre. It was Saras first night before the cur- ments. Then the shout died away as suddenly tam, and as the hour approached, she began to as it had arisen, lost as it seemed, in the swell of be almost as unquiet as if she was to make her the national hymn which rose from the orchestra d~hut behind it. The thing most trying to her and stage; and Sara felt the veteran by her side nerves at the outset was the dress scene; and as tremble, and saw the teams roll down his cheeks, she caine on from behind through the folding- as he joined inwardly in the burdenGod save doors of the parlor, and presented herself to the Queen! She was herself agitated almost to Robert for the first time since she was a girl in weeping. She had no time to analyze her feel- evemug-costume, she was adorned with so many ings, hut she recognized in the midst of these a graceful blushes, superadded to the tasteful dc- sensation of pride swelling in her breast and a gance of her attire, that the young artist forgot deep and sisterly sympathy with every individa. all his miseries in admiration. Then followed al of that vast multitude. Elizabeth in the triumphant dress that had xvon Robert,she said in a broken voice, and turning for her the suifrages of the Wearyfoot hall, but to him with the frank confidin~ look and tone of looking so terribly composed that one might have other days, is not this wonderful l imagined she had forgotten that she was going I am glad you are here, Sara, he replied in WEARYFOOT COMMON. the same tone, for this is truly a fine and sug- gestive scene. But what does it mean, Robert 3 Why do I feel as proud as if I were the sister of that noble ladywhom I can scarcely see for the tears that are standing in my eyes 3 You will comprehend your feelings by andby, when you have time to think, and you will read in them the solution of more than one social and his- torical mystery. The principle of cohesion in the feudal regimein clanship and in free governments, is identically the same: in all, the chief is the head of a system to which the subject as essentially belongs, and the homage of the latter is only a refined and unconscious seif-laudation. The Queen belongs to us as much as we belong to her; and that sublime anthem did not arise for her as an individual, but in her mystical char- acter as the representative, or rather the com- mon union, as it were, of us all. This feeling is of course subject to modification. In a free gov- ernment, a sovemeign may divorce himself from public regard by betraying an obvious want of sympathy with his people. This was the case in recent times with an ancestor of the lady for whom your heart is even now yearning--and of a very different nature were the cries that rang in the ears of that unhappy man! But in the instance now before us, where we find public du- ties nicely understood and conscientiously ful- filled, and in the midst of the splendors of the palace everything we have been taught to love and henor in domestic life, our feelings of nat- ural loyalty, as it is calledloyalty to ourselves not only receive free play, but are to a certain extent exaggerated by our confounding uncon- sciously the princess with the woman. The play was a comedy, and afforded to our country girl a novel and fascinating entertain- ment. But the absorbing interest it had for the captain, and the remarks in which he gave vent to his feelings, were a drama in themselves, and as amusing as the other. He was particularly struck with a passion contracted at second-hand by one of the personages, from his friends de- scription of his sister, whom the former had nev- er seen; and it was obvious from his manner that he was afraid the episode would distress Eliza- beth. That the virgin did indeed feel it was clear from the faint color that rose into her waxen cheeks; and she was seen during the rest of the performance to pay marked attention to the incomings and outgoings of the actor who recalled to her memory the great event of her own life-drama. At the end of the play, the royal party left the theatre, and the boxes immediately began to thin. Our visitors would not be out of the fash- ion; and, at any rate, a five-act comedy had given them about as much of this kind of amusement as they wanted at a time. The crush was not so eager when they were going out as it had been when they were coming in; but still the crowd was dense enough to make their progress through the lobbies and down the stairs extremely slow. ,The captain led the march, piloting his niece, and Robert followed, making way for Elizabeth, who came close behind him. When they were not very far from the place of egress, Sara em- ployed herself in gazing with much interest at the company descending an opposite stair. They appeared to have come from the dress-circle, and were either not so numerous, or were more cere- monious in their sortie, for she could see to ffnll advantage a very lovely young person, wao looked like the queen of them all, and who was surrounded by gentlemen, vicing with each other in obtaining for her free passage. Sara, indeed, could have believed that she was the Queen her- self, had she not known that Her Majesty had 4ready retired by another egress. The young lady was in the middle of the stair, descending in this regal state, and so slowly, that Sara had abundant time to study a portrait the most exquisite she had ever seen. She was certainly not above the middle height of woman not so tall as Sara herself~ but there was a qneenly dignity in her air and carriabe, which seemed to command as much as it attracted. The dignity, however, was not assumed ; it seemed a natural manner exhibiting itself, as it were, above a simplicity as natural, while a stranbe radiance was flung by the most r,emarka- ble eyes in the world over features that would have been radiant of themselves. Her dress, though rich, was fastidiously simple; and her magnificent hair descended in clustering ringlets upon shoulders, in the chiselling of ~vhich nature seemed to have realized the ideal. While Sara gazed, from the same level as the object of her admiration, she was unconscious that she herself presented a portrait as remarkable in its way; but the look of admiring surprise she observed in the stranger as their eyes met, and she felt herself shone on as if by a blare of sun- li,,ht, sent a flush of modesty to her face, strangely mingled with alarm. The next mo- ment the lady had observed Robert, who was behind, and apparently not belonging to Saras party, and singled him out with a look of intelli- gence, followed by a graceful bend of recognition. This was succeeded, when the two descending streams came nearer each other, by a look, or gestureshe could not tell whichof beckoning; and Robert, making his waypast her, and through the almost obsequiously yielding crowd, received into his the hand of this remarkable person, while a few words of familiar greeting passed between them. Sara grew blind. Supported by her un- cle, she groped her way through the crowd, nod had hardly returned to recollection when she found herself seated in a vehicle, with all her companions of the evening, and on the way back to the lodgings. Who was that prodigiously fine girl you were speaking to 3 said the captain, as they drove off. Miss Falcontower. The answer was not requisite for Sara. The moment she was shone upon by the remarkable eyes, she felt her pres- ence, and knew that it would stand forever be- tween her and the sun. When they reached home, the ladies retired to take off their shawls, and the captain ordered supper. Robert cheerfully consented to stay, for his brief interview ~vith qlaudia had revived his hopes. Her manner had been kind, her glance confidential: it looked as if she had some- thing to say, and would have said something 77 WEARYFOOT COMMON. but for the surrounding crowd. Was it possible that under this fair exterior there could lurk the knowledge that her father had been paltering so long with his hopes, and robbing him of that time which was life l When Sara came into the room, he met her with a brighter, franker look than she had seen him wear in London; but on observing hers, it changed into one of sur- prise and grief. She was pale and inanimate and the hand he had taken in the old friendly way felt cold and dead. Both her uncle and aunt observed the change with alarm; hut she answered their inquiry in the stereotyped form. Only a little headache. How often the heart lays its grief upon the head! Their love, how- ever, was not to he deceived. The business of the day, and the excitement of the evening, had been too much for her; they were sure she was seriously unwell; and she must at once go to bed. Robert joined in the entreaty; and although attempting to smile at their fears, she complied, and was doubtless glad to do so. Upon this he abandoned his intention of staying supper, al- though Molly was now bringing in the tray; and pressing the dead hand once more in his, he in- stantly left the house. Sara, said the captain, as she was retiring, you will be glad to hear what I have to tell you, and will sleep the better for it: it is all true what Molly here has heard about poor Bob. I have it on his own authority, although he did not know exactly how it was to turn out. But that pro- digiously fine girl we saw on the stair is one of those who are interested in the result; and it was easy to see from the knowing glance she gave him, and the bright look of her face, that things are going on well, although she had no opportunity to give him the news. Bob himself, you must have observed, was satisfied of this, for that sunshiny look made a new man of him. lie returned to his own XVearyfoot self the moment their hands met; and it was only your illness, Sara, that struck the brightness from his eye. Now, good-night, darling; sleep soundly, and be quite well to see Bob when he comes in the morningHey, Molly, what is the matter with you l Set down the things, girl. and dont stand staring with your great eyes after Miss Sara, as if she was a phenomenon. Have you heard any- thing more about it l 0 no, sir, not I; thanks be to goodness, I hear as little of such doings as I can!, Why, whats in the wind now l I thought you were quite a friend of Mr. Roberts P 0 no, sir, not I, thank goodness, nor of any of his false sect! Mercy on us! has the baker been deceiving you? I scorn the baker, sir, and his whole batch~ and Ill follow Miss Sara, and go on my knees to her to scorn them all too. Master Robert is not worthy to look across a ten-acre field at her thats what he aint; and Ill tell him as much to his face! And Molly, with flushed cheek and flashing eyes, swept indignantly out of the room, leaving behind, for the free use of the captain, her whole stock of astonishment. CUA~TER xV. SECRETS OF THE STUDY. ROBERT was not in the habit of intentionally consulting his pillow. When in need of advice, he betook himself to the silent stars, as they were seen from lonely roads or deserted streets, and reached home sufficiently jaded in body to have some chance of rest On the present occasion it was well on to the dawn before he let himself in with his noiseless key, and glided to his solitary room; but although he had walked a very con- siderable number of miles since parting from his Wearyfoot friends, the pillow was still importu- nate : it would hear, from be~inning to end, what the stars had said, and it had its own sug- gestions and counsels to offer without number. Worn out at length, the adventurer did enjoy an hours sleep; and then the thousand sounds of a London morning awoke him to the toils and heart-strivings of a new day. His resolution, however, was taken. The re- view he had made of his London life was more unsatisfactory than ever; and he losked with dis- may at the gulf there was now between him and the buoyant, high-spirited aspirant of the world who had presented himself, for the first time, in Driftwoods studio. lie could not conceal fi-om himself that his independence and self-reliance had already received damabe that he was fast sinking into the mere conventional man, who circles in his own small orbit, and when unsuc- cessful there, drops and perishes, as if there was no other space for life or death in the universe. If the new caprice of Claudia for both stars and pillow had now advised him to distrust her was to pass away like the others, in what po- sition would he find, himself l Precisely where he was when he scanned for the first time the windows of the metropolis, to seek out in them the clue to some mechanical calling, in which he might live for the present and prepare himself for a higher effort. This must have an end and here. He would, that very day, bring Sir Vivian Falcontower to an explanation; and, strange as his absence might appear to the Sem- ple family, he would delay for some hours seeing them till the crisis of his fate was past. It was impossible, however, to commence the business of the day before ascertaining how Sara was; and at an early hour he took his way to the lodgings in Great Russell Street. Molly yes already astir; but when he obtained speech of her, he found her as crusty as the ba- kers loaves. Miss Sara, she said, had rested very well; why shouldnt she there was nothing on her conscience, she hoped. How was her head- ache l Oh, the headache was very well too at least it would be when she rung her bell; how could she tell before then l A heartache might be another thing; but a headache was nothing, if people would only let it alone, and not dose other people with Miss Ileavystokes mixtures, that made them not know the taste of their own mouths for a month. . Well, Molly, said Robert, I see you are out of humor; but that wont last long, if you are the same Molly I knew at Wearyfoot. Just say, if you please, that I shall be here again as early in 78 WEARYFOOT COMMON. 79 the forenoon as possible before then, I have to From Mr. Slopper, one of Sir Vivians honse. get through some important business ; and he hold; and he had it from Mr. Poringer, Mr. Sea- turned away with an air so proud yet so desolate, coles individual. that Molly was sorry for her crustiness, but afraid j I thank you. It is important information; to call him back, and so she stood looking after so conclusive, indecd, that I would not take the him with her great round eyes till he passed out trouble of going now to Sir Vivian only it of sight. must not be said that I have an enemy without Sir Vivian, he knew, was not to be seen till confrontin~ amid defying him. eleven at the earliest; and to pass the time, he Take care, take care, my boy! Small people called, when the morning was further advanced, dont get on in this world by defying great. at the studio in Jermyn Street. I)riftwood, he Because small l)eople have not the manliness thought, received him somewhat stiffly, and apol- to be true to themselves: I am one of the for- ob ized more loftily than usual for the absence of loin-hope. Here the hell rung. his boy. The artist, however, was gettin~ on That rascally boy! cried Driftwood swimmingly in the guinea-portrait speculation, never mimmd, I must just open myself. Robert and was even now expecting a sitter, was sorry he had waited, when in a minute or I should owe you something for that idea, two the artist returned, ushering in the same said he, had you not balanced the account by young lady who had paid him such marked at- depriving me of the countenance of Sir Vivian tentions at Mrs. 1)ommblebacks party. On seeing Falcontower. him she gave a pretty little scream I deprive you of the countenance of Sir Viv- You naughty man, said she; how you did ian! frighten me! Who could have expected to meet To be sure. I thought to do you good by yomm here on this particular spot of all the hmab- mentioning your expectations; and now, when itable globe l Isnt it strange l I (leclare I the game is all up, he turns round upon me as if dont understand it it seems like a dream, or I had tried to swindle him. like something that happens in a novel. I am Mr. Driftwood, said Robert seriously, I quite nervous. do at und~rstand you; I beg you to explain I should not guess that from your fresh and yourself. wholesome looks. Why, that s just what I can t do. I dare Ah, there you are again! Do yomm talk so to say you mi ht, after all, be only amusing your- all the poor girls whom destiny throws in your self with Margery; but she took it all seriously, way 3 Do you think I have forgotten what you and said so much to me about the flourishing said to me at time hall 3 I only hope that gm-eat fellow you were going to turn out, that I couldnt clumsy Miss Doimbleback did not overhear it, for help putting in my spoke to give you a hitch on. her eyes were fixed on us as if she was thinking Did you not observe what a high mightiness they I wonder what she was thinking! Heigh-ho ! made of you at the ball 3 and yet I danced three and the young lady sighed. times more than you, not to talk of the manner Miss Bloomley, said the artist, Ihiave just of dancing and most of them had seen my now been thinking, and pondering, and now I Robin hood! and he pointed grandly to a fac- have got hold of it. I remember clearly tlmat I simile of the sign, laid upon canvas in the true did tell you my friend Mr. Oaklamids was here out-of-doors style. almost every And so, said Robert, out of some sanguine Tush! who cares what you think or tell 3 For expressions of poor Margery based, perhaps, my part, I never listen to a word you say. upon hints I was unconscious of myself you And that if you came to have your portrait constructed one of your miserable daubs, and taken, you would tried to palm it upon Sir Vivian for a true Fiddle, faddle! Why dont you set to work picture! then, now I am here, instea(l of calling to mind Keep your temper, Oaklands; you dont your saying things that nobody ever heard a know pictures yet you were too short a time word of 3 under me. The world will one day do justice to I beg pardon, miss; I only thought you would my daubs; and in that day the price of my Holy be glad to have the mistake denied up. I am Famnily, two pound twelve, will be written with sure Mr. Oakhands considers himself in great the pound after the figures! luck to be in the way to see you. Dont you, For~ ive me, Driftwood, I did not mean to Oakhands 3 hurt your feelings; but I am vexed, maddened, Yes, I do, replied Robert, for I want to ex- and hardly know what I say. plain to Miss Bloomley that you, who talk so Well, well, my boy, you will come to know boldly of other peoples mistakes, are very apt to high art in time. But let me just give you a be mistaken yomirself. Mr. 1)riftwood has doubt- hint for your own good, not to be comin~ the less told you of certain expectations hue assumed grandee over us again. You have an enemy, I me to have, and has given you to understand can tell von, who follows in your track, and that one of these days I shall be (lute a ~reat paints it all out. His name is Seacole. rich personage. Now, our fi-icud did not intend Seacole! to deceive, but merely suffered Iris imagination Yes; he is hand-in-glove with Sir Vivian and no doubt, his good-natureto run away and his daughter. lie is going to marry the with him. There is not one word of truth, imow- younb lady, and wont stand your having any ever, in the story. I am a mere adventurer on expectations whatever. the world, without family, without a surplus From whom did you hear this 3 shilling in my pocket, and without the prospect WEARYFOOT CONIMON. of one that is not earned by my own industry. Miss Bloomley, when he be~an to speak, looked at him with great wondering eyes, that seemed to dilate as he ~vent on, the color at the same time mounting into her face; and hy the time he con- cluded, her cheeks were red-hot, and her eyes full of tears that glistened without falling. The Londoners, high and low, are remarkahle for generous feeling, and this young lady was a true Londoner. You are greater than lie told, said she, with a quivering voiceyou have the spirit of a man and thats better than being a nohleman! Rob- ert bade her good-by with a smile and a pressure of the hand, which she returned with a good, hearty, natural, unsentimental shake. Robert walked strai~ht to the mansion of Sir Vivian Falcontower, pondering as he ~vent, on the seeming fatuity that had thrown him into the power of his school enemy. He had ousted this enemy, by means of a timely warning, from the good graces of Sara; and now Seacole, in turn, and by similar means though different in character, had deprived him of the patronage of Claudia. But how stood, the account Altho he had, perhaps, saved Sara from an uncongenial marriage, he had appropriated her affections himseW and they must now be unwound from their object, if they were her very heart-striubs he had prevented Seacole from entering into a union for which he, as well as his bride, was unfit, and by so doing, had preserved him for an alli- ance the most fiatterin~ imaginable to his vanity and ambition; and having thus jrdayed his part in the world, the vagrant of the Common was now to subside into his orijual obscurity. These meditations were still in pro~ress, even while he was asking the question mechanically: Is Sir Vivian at home l but they were brought to an abrupt conclusion by the reply: Not at home, sir. Only a few minutes before, this consumma- tion could not have been looked for by one who was privilegedas the reader isto behold, in- vi~ihle himself, the secrets of the study. The study was a smaller apartment opening from the bookroom, or library; and here Claudia awaited the coming of that insolent youn,,, man who had of late thrust himself so much into her thoughts, and given misc to so many outlmreaks of a usually equable, or at least manageable temper. On this occasion, the sun, not the li~htning, was playing on her face. She seemed to be full of memories of the evenin~ beforewith its music, its smiles, its gems, its grandeur ; and of the last scene more especially in which she herself had performed, descendin~ the stairs in queenly state, and amid the homage of the obsequious crowd, yielding her soft hand, heroine-like, to the warm, manly clasp of the hero of the moment. It was an interesting picture for one who, like Claudia, had an eye for art; but it would be too curious to inquire how much of the vanity of the woman mln~led with the admiration of the coanois- seur. At all events it was clear that she indulged in some friendly feeling towards the actor who had supported her so well. The table was prepared for him with more than the care of a secretary. The books, the paper, the pen and ink, were scrupulously arranged; the chair was set for him at the proper angle; the fire was chastened so as to produce a summer warmth; the curtain was tutored into the admission of just light enough for convenience, and not a ray for glare. Not that all this was done at once. Claudia was prodigiously clever; hut she could not work miracles. She shifted the things a~ain and again before she got them into their proper places; then she looked at the pendule on the mantel-piece; then she stepped lightly again to the table, hut this time it was only a trifle that was wanted: one of the pens had somehow got a little across another (an unlucky position), and she placed them side by side. At length there was heurd a knock at the street-door. It was distant and indistinct, but she knew it well and straightway, as if conjured by the sound, she subsidednot suddenly, or in a flurrybut softly, smoothly, naturally, into the cold but graceful impassibility of her usual self. She did not even look towards the door of the room; but nevertheless she knew, withom~t turning her eyes, that it opened on its noiseless hinges, and that her father enteredalone. Sir Vivian took the chair that ha~1 been pre- pared for another, and Claudia sat down in her usual place at the table, opposite to him, and with her back to the window. Mr. Gaklands, said her father, was not here yesterday, and for some days he has not seemed to relish his work as usual. This shows that we approach the end. He was here this morningnow, remarked Claudia quietly. I heard his knock. True. I ordered them to say not at home, ~ for before we see him again I want to talk to you. I think I have detected the young fellow in a stratagem, and, clever as he undoubtedly is, he must not be allowed to suppose he has got the whip-hand of us. You remember that romantic story of Driftwoods I mentioned Well, it turns out to be all false: the only mys- tery connected with the young man relates to the parish lie has a elaim upon. lIe is the nat- ural son, it seems, of some low womana me- nial servant, I thinkand an impoverished half- pay captain. From whom had you this ~ demanded Claudia, almost sternly. From Mr. Seacole. Oh Why do you say Oh! so contemptuously l I want to talk to you about Seacole too: lie has formally craved my permission to pay his ad- dresses to you, and besought my influence in fa- vor of his suit. And you have pi-omised it l To be sure I have. My promise binds you to rmothin~ and if the worst comes to the worst for you know, Claudia, this caminot go on much longerSeacole is a likely young fellow enongh,. of an ancient family, and with a competent estate. Well, well, let us get through one subject at a time. I saw the two only once tobether. and paid no special attention to them; but now I can recall the look that passed between them, 80 WEARYFOOT COMMON. and I venture to say that Mr. Seacole and Mr. Oaklands are enemies. And what of that ~ Oniy that the information you may receive from one concerning the other is not to be looked npon as exactly ahove suspicion. Certainly not, if there was any motive for misrepresentation. The two individuals in ques- tion, however, cannot he supposed to clash in any way. Seacole, in fact, knows very little of the history of Oaklands; for althou~h they were hrought up in the same nci~hhorhood, their rank was too different to admit of free intercourse till they met again at school. He refers me to his servant who served at the time in the very house where the boy was taken to live with his reputed father and I expect the man every instant. While he still spoke, there was a tap at the room- door, and permission being biven, Mr. Poringer walked slowly and sedately in, and coming to a halt near the table, drew himself up, and stood there tall and still, looking very like a figure carved in wood by somebody who had forgotten the joints and did not know how to round off the corners. I have sent for you, said sir Vivian, to ask you a few questions respecting an individual in whom I feel an interest. His name is Robert Oaklandsdo you know anything of his or- igin ~ He originated, sir, in Wearyfoot Common, where he found me one evening in the mist. You mean that you found him, I presume ~ No, sir, I would not find a boy on no ac- count: I have an objection to it, I have. He found me, sir, and followed me home to Semple Lodge. And what then ~ Nothing more, sir. The hoy merely re- mained, and Captain Semple brought him up like one of the family. Was there no inquiry made about the hoys parentageno information given to the parish officers l No, sir; there was nothing said to nobody. The rector, and several of the ladies about the Common, made some inquiry at first, but they heard nothing that pleased them; and so, since things could not be helped, they said nothing more about it. Why was he called Gaklands? That was the name of thethewoman in the kitchen, whom the boy stated to be his mother, and who never denied it. And the other nameRobert l Bob, sir, Bob wars his other name. Was that the name of Captain Semple ~ No, sir; I did not approve of his getting the captains nameit was bad enough without that. I considered that he had no call to more than Bob, Bob being almost Boyno name at all to speak of. What has become of Captain Semple and his establishment ~ The captain, sir, was ruinated by the failure of his agent, and by his sister and niece coming upon his hands; his brother was a poor man, sir, with a large family of course, as poor men al- ways has. I hear they are all in town now, sir; DXXIX. LIYING AGL YOL~ YL 6 and so is the woman, who gets her living by washing, or something of that sort. Large fam- ily there toothe Boy and all, for of course he lives with his mother. Driftwood, a painter, in Jermyn Street, is to be pitied among them, for he cant disown his cousins. Then Driftwood is related to them. Yes, sh; all the rest, I believe, is the lower classesand he aint much to speak of. The woman Oaklands lives in Hartwell Place, Ken. signton Gravel Pits: last door in the row, no thoronghlisre, market gardens in fiont. This being all the evidence he could give, Mr. Porin- ger was dismissed. You see, Claudia, said Sir Vivian, the scheme was better got even than I supposed. I really did not give 1)riftwood credit for so much nous; and as for Onklands, why, he is quite a master. To think of a young fellow like him hanging on here so long, dressing and behaving like a gentleman, meeting in society some of the first persons in the kingdom, and concealing the whole time, with a fortitude quite heroical, that at home he burrowed among countlessrelations, watching hungrily and eagerly the result of his enterprise To be silent when no questions nrc asked, said Claudia, whose face was flushed, as if from sitting too near the fire, is not concealment. But perhaps, went on her father, the young fellow is wiser still in his generation. There being no ties of legitimacy to bind him to his family, it may. have been his intentionthe thing is not uncommon in the worldto cling to his relatives only till he could do without, and then, when he had reached the mark of his ambition, to withdraw quietly from a circle that No !there you are mistaken, cried Claii. dia, rising suddenly from her chair; he had no intention of the kind! You do not know the man as I do; you have not watched him, day after day, with doubt and wonder on your mind giving place at last to settled conviction. When the time came, and his fortune was established, he would have insisted upon bringing his bro- thers and sisters into this room; lie would have taken his frail mother to court if it were possi- ble; he would have stood up for and by them; and if hissed, hooted, and pelted out of society, he would have reti-eated backwardsbackwards shielding them from harm, and with his proud eyes fixed upon his pursuers! Claudia! is this acting Why, would it not be a sight to see! The squat, lean, vulgar children, stumbling along, well fed and well dressedthe coarse, red-arm- ed, gin-drinking washerwoman, flaunting in silks and satins, and bobbing her awkward courtesies and all hanging upon the neck and entangling the feet of the son and brother, the man of ge- nius, the elegant scholar and accomplished gen- tleman!,, All that is true, Claudia; hut you sketch so vividly, you startle me. What is it to you, what is it to us, that this should be so l You seem, notwithstanding your ridicule, to pity the young man? Just as I pity the naturally lame, blind, or humpbacked: low connections are for one con- 81 WEARYFOOT COMMON. stituted like him a still worse calamity. But, settle with him how you may, remember we must now have done with him; yes, papa, done with himdone with himdone with him! Why, I sheuld not wonder if some of the ragged crew were at the door of the theatre last ni0ht, and saw me, surrounded hy half the nobility in town, stop to shake bands with him as if he was a prince! And the other day at the Royal Academy, is it not more than probable that among the crowd at the steps was the washerwoman herselg gazin~ at Claudia Falcontower leaning on the arm of her son 3 the washerwoman think of thatsmoking from the suds, steamin0 with gin! is it not rich 3Ha, ha! and she laughed, ab- solutely laughed, perhaps for the first time since she was a girl! The sound was musical, as clear as a hell, but nevertheless it shocked Sir Vivian, and he looked at his daughter with wonder and dismay. Another tap at the door; and it was scarcely replied to when a servant entered hastily, and presented a letter to Sir Vivian. The baronet looked at it for some moments as if unwilling to remove it from the curious antique salver on which it lay; hut at length he took it up slowly, and the man left the room. A telegraphic despatch, Claudia, said he, lin~ering on the syllables and from Luxton Castle. lie opened it ~vith some nervousness, and then dropping the paper upon the table, covered his eyes with his hands. Claudia sank into her chair, and fixed a long, blank look upon her father, while the flush forsook her face, which grew gradually as white and rigid as marble. As gradually the rigidity softened, althonHh the pallor remained, and some natural tears rolled, one by one, from her before dry and glistening eyes. My poor uncle! said she; and she gazed mournfully upon Sir Vivian, for~etting to wipe the moisture from her eyes. A dead silence ensued; which was at length broken by Claudia, who spoke more in the tone of soliloquy than as if addressing her father. And this is life, said she, this is the world! Go where we will, do what we may, dig, delve, soar, it is all one: in a few years comes the end and the end is death! What is the use of our care, our labor, our sacrifices 3 Of what conse- quence are the inequalities of fortune that are presently to be shovelled down to a level by the sextons spade 3 The grandeur we admire is but the nodding plume of the hearse; the ensign of nobility is only the hatchment on the wall; all we love and loathe are linked inseparably to- gether: the smile of the lip, the grin of the skull beauty and delight, corruption and horror pride and ambition, (lust and ashes! Her arms fell lifeless by her sides, her head drooped upon her bosom; and the beautiful Claudia looked al- most ghastly in her sudden desolation. Dont give way, said Sir Vivian, recover- ing; our grief is of no use to the dead; so let us look at the bright rather than the dark side of things. Remember, Claudia, you are now the Honorable Miss Falcoutower. and I am Lord Luxton! CIIAPTEIL XVI. THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW. THE next morning Robert called ngain on Sir Vivian Falcontower. Lord Luxton he was told was dead; the family had left town, and might be absent for some time: there was no letter or message for him. The crisis was then past. His fantastic speculation had failed; the fascinating smile of Claudia was nothing more than an ignis-fatuns; and her father was aa right honorable. He must now be once more a hand-worker; stealing from the night sufficient time for the labor of the brain, and awaiting pa- tiently the slow course of events. Patiently! Robert was no philosopher, and no hero. With one half of what he had been virtually promised, and by Sir Vivians own admission had fairly earned, Sara might have been his! She loved himthis he devoutly believed, for in her noble nature there was no guile and no falterinH; she would even consent to descend from her positioa to his, battle by his side with a courage as high as his own, and more hopeful, and waste her young and l)romisin~ life in an obscure strug,.,le for the means of subsistence. He knew now the strength of his hopes by the wrench with which th.y parted from his heart. The dream he had indulged during his compact with Sir Vivian, dim and indefinite at the time, was now seen distinctly for a momentlike a sinking ship re- vealed by lightningbefore it disappeared for ever; and when it was gone, the world seemed have passed away, and he felt as if standin~ to a alone in the immensity of space. Misty-misty-misty was the Common through which he wandered as he turned away from Sir Vivians door. There were voices around, but they had no articulate sound for him; figures glided past, but they were shadows, without form and void; the rain beat once more on his na- covered head, and the pools of Wearyfoot l)lashed beneath his feet ; but the only tears that now blinded his eyes were large drops of sweat that had rolled over his cold brow. While Robert was pursuing his metaphorical journey, makin~ his way to Great Russell Street as long as possible, that he might have time to recover from the shock he had received, the family were waiting his arrival to get his escort to some more of the sights of London. Eliza- beth was in her own room. The captain and Sara were in the parlor, the former employed in spelling through the morning newspaper in his usual straightforward way, and now in the midst of the deaths. I deckire, cried he, here is Lord Luxton dead! That is the brother of Sir Vivian Fal- contower, and one of Bobs friends. I wonder if he has left him anythingno, not a penny, Ill be sworn. Do you know Saratalking of that J was quite grieved the other day to see you come out of the shop with Elizabeth, so happy, so fresh, so rich looking; you had been buying the handsome what-d ye-call-ems for your hair, and I assure you it quite made my heart ache: no easy matter to do, you know, for the heart of au old soldier grows into cast iron. 82 WEARYFOOT COMMON. And why, dear uncle, should you be grieved at my even looking happy l Why, didnt you see There was poor Bob, like one of the monuments in Westminster Ab- hey, so pale and still they are, and with eyes that dont seem to see what they are looking at. And as proud and stuck-up, too, was Bob, and as hard as the marble they are made of: he had just refused his share of my windfall, and he grasped the hand that had the money in it like a vice, and put it away without speaking. No, you shouldnt have looked that way, Sara! What a thing it is that the poor fellow has no father to do anything for him, and that he wont let me stand in his fathers stead. lie loves you like a son, ~said Sara softly. I know thattheres just the hardship : he would fight for me, starve for me, die for me; but when it comes to money, then he remembers that there is no blood of mine in his veins, and he will not let me be a father. What could have made him so proud ~ Nature, replied Sara. Many of us are horn with good and ~reat qualities that never come to light for want of circumstances to deve- lop them. In Robert they have all germinated, and among the rest that manliness which is of- ten erroneously called pride. But what is to be done, Sara? If circum- stances, in which I have so great a part mysc~ have made him a gentleman in spirit, can I look on and see him a mechanic in station? What I offered him, I allow, would do but little perma- nent goodstill it would enable him at least to carry on the war handsomely amona those proud peol)le who are at present hesitating as to wheth- er they will own him or not; and it would put him more on a footing with that prodigiously fine girl we saw, who is now an honorable, and of course rolling in wealth; and who knows what might happen This, however, is only a dream, that might come true by chance, or might not, for he is not one to disguise himself in ex- ternals, and set u~ for a fortune-hunter; hut Bob is a clever fellowa prodigiously clever fellow and if he had a bit of real capital to start with, he might mount like a rocket. Thats what I have been thinking of: thats what has taken away my nights rest; and if we could only hit upon some scheme to make him consider what he gets his own and use it as such, I see my way well enough to pci-form the duty that devolved upon me when I gathered in that poor boy out of the mist of Wearyfoot Common! The vete- ran s face glowed as he spoke, and Sara felt her eyes fill as she looked at him. His hair had whitened a good deal, and his still delicate com- plexion and soft blue eye were no longer con- cealed by the mass of shadow once thrown upon them by his iron-gray whiskers, heard, and eye- brows. It was vain for the captain now to affect the ogre. His real nature was detected. through all disguises; and the very blindest saw in his expression the spirit of a gentleman mellowed by the simplicity of a child, and the gentleness of a womau. Now, Sara, continued he, you will perhaps think me selfish; you will suppose the old cam- paigner is at his tricks, and wanting to indulge himself at the expense of another. But I have sounded Elizabeth, and she sees no objection she rarely does, you know, when theres nothing against her hypothenusesand the only one I have now to consult is you. You see, my lass, I have not myself a great deal of money. There is only what is left of the amount that was saved up for the commission, and the windfall I got tother day, besides the other dividends that are to come: that is not anythir~ like enough. And soyou see, Sara, you are a great rich woman: still you mustnt think me selfish; I ho pelt is not that; I am almost sure it is not that I will swear it is not that! Ab! you are a good girl, a kind-hearted girl, a generous, high-spirited girl: I think you will excuse me when I explain it. And so Uncle, speak out! Your hesitation distress- esalmost insults me. Surely you cannot ex- pect opposition from mc ! Only tell me what, when. how, for I consent before you ask! Well, well, I was suic it would bp so. The thing is this. You know Elizabeth is to be my heir. and you of course hers. But a single lady of small income doesnt want a large house, does she? Not very badly, I think. A cottage would do, wouldnt it I think it would. And Eliza- beth thinks so too. Poor Elizabeth ! she is al- ways so noble, so disinterested; and sin cc you take after her, Sara, why the business is settled. What I want to do is to sell the Lodge. Sara did not expect this, for if the good captain had a pride upon earth his pride was the Lodge: she seemed struck dumb for a moment; and then throwing herself upon the veterans neck, she gave vent to a passionate burst of tears. Dont take on so, said the captain working hard to keep in the rebellious drops. I would not have thought of taking this advantage of her, unless I had now wherewith to insure my life to make up for it so far as money goes. - But she is a noblc creature, isnt she our Elizabeth ? Poor soul! and the so fond of the house, and the name, and the harden, and the walks behind it! But never mind, well be all the more kind to her in the cottage; ~vcll lighten the sacrifice in every way in our power; and make her so comfortable that at last she will for~ et the Lodge altogether, or at least only think of it softly and dimly as she thinks of poor Mollison. All this hem, settled, the important question was, how to et the intended gift palmed upon Robert as something that was his own? The sum contemplated was a thousand pounds; and with this wealth at his back, the captain fancied his proteg& might defy the world. Even Sara was not slow to be persuaded of the fact, for her knowledge of money was founded solely on the experience she had acquired in the economical housekeeping of Semple Lodge; hut in regard to the schemes proposed by the captain for blind- ing Robert to the nature of the windfall, she was far more difficult. One after another she dis- missed as impracticable, and ended by begging her uncle to leave the subject, in the meantime, to her consideration. There was no hurry, she argued, for a few days; and, at anyrate, nothing 83 84 WEARYFOOT COMMON. could be done in it till they were just leaving the stern unbending honor of his character. town, for they would be sure to betray themselves There were moments, however, when she thought by their looks when questioned by Robert. he did not love Claudia; that in some fated mo- So, dear uncle, she continued, you must, ment ambition had aided the spells of her beau- for the present, merely beat time. Since you ty and her genius; and that he bad fallen into have taken me into consultation, you should not toils from which it was at once impossible and stir a step without my knowledge. May I de- dishonorable to escape. But whichever of these pend upon this Do you give me your pro- hypotheses was the true one, Saras course was inise ~ clear. She would not be an object of pityon Of course I do. I will, in the meantime, that she was resolvedunless she died in the merely see about tl~ title-deeds, and so on, and struggle to conceal her feelings; and, guiltless put the thing in train, so that as soon as we hit as he wasfor she devoutly believed him to be upon a plan, the sale can be effected. the unwilling victim of some infatuation or fa- Even that will be imprudent. We shall he talityhe should owe no pang to her that she much with Robert, you know; and as he is not could save him. aware of any private business you can have to That forenoon was devoted to some of the or- transact in London, the least motion on your dinary lions of London; and Robert, by strong part will ultimately lead to detection. Promise self-compulsion, threw his mind into the subjects me, dear uncle, that you will do nothing before before them, till he eventually forgot his own consulting further with menothing to which I individuality in the interest they excited. Sara, am not a party myself. Only promise me this too, was gradually withdrawn from herself till do! Sara spoke eagerly, and with a flushed she listened with absorbed attention. Never he- face, and the veteran looked at her with anxiety. fore had she been so much struck with the bold- I promise, said he, and that is enough. ness and originality of his views, wit~i the fresh- But I dont like your appearance, Sara: your ness he conferred upon topics the most hackney- cheeks are burning, your eyes have a hot light, ed and worn out, with the power he possessed and your manner is feverish. You are not well of giving life to inanimate objects, and of dissi- yet. We must get everything over as fast as palm,, the shadows that obscure the past. He possible, and go back to Wearyfoot. For my addressed himself to the three collectively, but part, I wish now we had never left it; we could she knew that it was for her advantage he spoke, have managed our business well enough through and that he did so unconsciously, as if from a some lawyer fellow; and even Bobs money habit of his mind. In this particular his conver- would have come to him less suspiciously if we sation reminded her of his letters from school, were at a distance. All we have got by coming and she wondered whether, at each new flight here is seeing the play; Elizabeth does not look his genius had taken from the small vantage- as if she knew she was out of her own parlor; ground of scholastic learning, he had thought of Molly is as cross as two sticks, and flings about his poor pupil. To-day, at any rate, he did not like a mad drum-major of ours, with a name as think of her, at least in the intellectual part, and like her own as if they were twins a nameno, she was inexpressibly gi-atified to find him tak- not exactly in one syllable; in fact it was rather ing every opportunity of indoctrinating her with a long name than otherwisea very long name: his own opinions in reference to the subjects of buthere comes Elizabeth, looking as if she her studies. On one occasion, for instance, when couldnt help it, and didnt care. the captain had expressed his astonishment at Roberts walk had restored his firmness; and the ease with which he translated certain Latin when he presented himself that forenoon to his inscriptions in Westminster Abbey, she asked country friends, they even thought from his man- him whether lie did so literally, or transfused ner that he had heard satisfactory news. To the meaning, as it were, into En,,lish. their inquiries, he replied merely that in conse- I make the inquiry, she added, because I quence of the sudden death of Lord Luxton, the have recently been doing a little Italian into Falcontower family had left town. To Sara he English, and I was puzzled to know which is spoke kindly, but not familiarly, and took no the best method. notice whatever of the peculiarity in her appear- In translating inscriptions, replied Robert, ance that had been observed by her uncle. This or history, biography, scienceanything that peculiarity gradually disappeared; the hot light depends upon the truth of facts, the translation died in her eyes; and a cold, still reserve mantled should be as literal as the idiom of the language over the whole expression. She, likewise, spoke permits. But it is poetry you are busy ~vith, and kindlybut distantly. It might have seemed this is in a different category; inasmuch, as that a gulf of deep smooth water was between poetry speaks to us, in great part, by means of them, over which their voices were wafted melo- images, which in the course of time, and the diously to the ear, but inarticulate to the heart. conversion of language, may lose their value Sara, too, was resolved. It was clear to her and significance. For instance, the Homeric cx- that Robert had fallen, she knew not how, under pression, cow-eyed or ox-eyed Juno, would do the dominion of that terrible Claudia, whose very well with us in a travesty of the great epic, image had so long haunted her. It was clear but in a serious translation so ludicrous an idea that he had struggled; that he had yielded; that and one that does not give us the faintest no- he felt remorse; that at times, in the absence of tion of the sense of the authorshould not be the enchantress, a dying gleam of the old passion admitted. In a case like this, I think the image shot up in his heart and in his eyes; and that should be dropped, and only its meaning trans- his whole bearing to her was characterized by lated. The object of poetry is not to communi WEARYFOOT COMMON. cate facts, but to give enjoyment of a fine and lofty nature; and anything that interrupts this bespeaks, on the part of the translator, a want both of taste and fidelity. Such dry discussions, ~s the reader probably thinks them, were very Aelightful for Sara. They kept her mind in con- tact with Roberts, and prevented her from think- ing of the gulf that was between their fortunes. In the afternoon, or what was such to them, they looked on for awhile at the fashionables taking their forenoon ride, or saunter,- in Hyde Park, and then lounged away through the trees in the direction of the Serpentine River. They were followed at a distance by two gentlemen, the older of whom at one time seemed anxious to restrain the other. I tell you what, Fancourt, said Adolphus, I have more than once suspected that in this matter you have all along been playin~ into my mothers hand! She desired to break off my suit to a young lady in the country, and just at the dpropos moment comes your prOj)05a1 that I shall lay siege to a woman of rank and fashion much higher than my own. Well, iDolphy, replied Faneourt languidly, you ncted upon my proposal, and have now re- ceived the fathers permission to pny your ad- dresses, and his promise to render you all the aid in his power. What then 3 Just this: that you believed, from the first that I had no chance whatever with Miss Pal- contowerwhich, hy the way, has latterly been one great reason why I persevered against hope and even a,,ainst my own wishes. Against your own wishes Yes; for this curious Claudia had begun to tire, and, in fact, at times to alarm me. Her very imperiousness at first was attractive; the stran~e passiveness with which I yielded myself to her power made me feel as if I was under fascination, and gave an air of romance to my position, the very dimness and mystery of which blinded and bewildered me. Bnt after a time I was startled when I reflected that marria~ e is not a scene in a comedy or a chapter in a ro- mance, and when I began to picture this heroine of my imagination in the character of a wife. The intimacy she had somehow formed with the fellow Oaklaads was another staggerer, when I turned the thing coolly over in my mind, and more especially when it occnrred to me that neither before nor after marriage would it be possible for human power to tlivert her from any fancy she had once taken into her head. In a word, the fair Claudias theory had fail- ed her once more; and youbut that is the mys- terywhy did you propose when you no longer desired to marry her 3 Because I was a fool; because it was obvious that i~ou considered my suit hopeless, and because I fancied somehow it was necessary to go on. I did so; I took the irrevocable step; and that very evenin0but you will laugh !well, what is that to me? I am independent of your opin- ion ; I am the head of my family, and I have a right to do, and think, and feel as I choose! Surely you have. But whats in the wind now 3 It was Sir Vivian Faleontower who promised you his influence with Claudia, not Lord Luxton; you will find that both his lord- ship and his honorable daughter will now look quite over the head of a commonerso your proposal is the same as if it never had been made. I am quite aware of that, and I await the rejection of my suit with much philosophy. Then whence the heroics? That very even- ing I Why, on that evening you were at the playhave you been smitten by an actress, and is the mad Orlando now your part I On the contrary, I have been recalled to my senses. Your rosy-checked apple wont pass with me now, for I have seen specimens of all varieties of fruit, and am a connoisseur. In short, I am no longer to be blinded by your sneers, for I can O~~O5C to them my own knowl- edge and judgment; that evening I saw Miss Semple at the theatre, and I can undertake to say that, although without the brilliance of Clau- dia, she is as superior to her in real heauty and true dignity of deportment, as she is in noble- ness of character. Miss Semple! mused Fancourt is that the animated wax-flaure I had the honor of dancing with at the Hall? She is dignified, I admitor something or other, I cant tell what She made me, I know, feel deucedly queer; and I am sure, notwithstanding the excitement of dancing, my temperature fell seven or eight de- grees Fahrenheit, at the least. Come, that wont pass. said Seacole, smil- ing in spite of himself; for you acknowledged her niece at the time to be tIme most beautiful and the most distingud-looking ,,irl in the room, and a few minutes ago you paid her unconscious homage by affirming that the figure of the lady of that lady before uswas absolutely perfec- tion. Oh, I see! I now call the whole thing to mind. So, that is Rosy-apple. is it, with the hairy captain? But who is that handsome young fellow gallanting my partner 3I begin to feel jealous there. That fellow is Oaklands. Indeed! I dont wonder now at your dis- like to him. A prodigiously fine young man he isjust the figure and bearing of the conven- tional nobleman, of an earl, or baron at the least, of the drama or the novel. I should not like such a- fellow to be on intimate terms with any Rosy-apple of mine! It wont do, Fancourt; I am quite comfort- able. They were brought up together as brother and sister, and have not met till now since long hefore I came of age. I watched them like a hawk the whole evening in the theatre without i)eiag seen myself; and even now, so far from walking side by side, they have never exchan~ed either word or look for the last half-hour. It is clear to me, what I suspected before, that Oak- lands has been scorched in the blaze of Claudias eyes ; and it is equally clear, tha.t if he ever had the impudence to think of the niece of his pat- ron with other feelings than those of the beg- garly dependant he was, she now observes the change with profound indifference. I must speak to them and get their address. Wait till you are formally off with Claudia, 85 86 WEARYFOOT COMMON. said Fancourt, laying his hand upon his friends observin~ some passing equipage of more than arm. Your man Poringer xviii manage to fer- I ordinary pretension, our promenaders were oblig- ret them out easily enou,,h. Come, take my ad- ed to separate, and a different arrangement of vice. the interlocutors took place. The cap~tain was I have taken it once too often, replied Sea- in advance, and Adoiphus found himself the es- cole, doggedly: Claudias answer I am sure of, cort of Sara. and the moment I receive itwhich will be the Miss Semple, said he, pardon my abrupt- day after she returns to townI will demand ness, for there is no oJ)portunity for ccrcm()ny. one from Sara, which my mother prevented me The last time I conversed with von alone we from obtaining on the night of the fete at the were interrupted by my mother, and for awhile I Hall. rhere xvas a surly stubborness in his thought it fortunate that such was the case, for, manner while he said this, xvhich gave Fancourt judging by what you had said, I had a nervous to understand, for he was an observer of charac- dread of: what was to come. I resolved to give ter, that further opposition would he useless, and you time for redection. The time 1 assigned in both gentlemen quickened their steps till they my oxvn mind has almost passed, and very soon caine very near the party they pursued. I shall entreat to be permitted at least to renew I say, Fancourt, said Seacole, now hanging the friendly intercourse that was once the hap- hack a little since you are so famous at diving piness of my life. advice, I xvant you to tell me what you think I I cannot have the least objection, replied should say. The fact is, I put the qvsestion to Sara quietly, to meet on fuendly terms the vis. Miss Semple point blankmy mother interrupt- itors in my uncles house. If you are invited ed usand I have never seen her since. That there, I shall not have any disinclination to re- is axvkxvard, isnt it? I feel decidedly queer. ceive you as an acquaintance. My advice is just what I have already given: And is this all f 0 SaraO Mis~ Semple ! I would certainly counsel you But at the Mr. Seacole. interrupted Sara, I cannot moment the enemy wheeled about on their ic- help feeliub some shame on your account Per- turn home, and in another minute the two par- haps it is xvrong in me to expiess it; perhaps it ties met fhce to face. may even be considered indelicate to mention The meeting was not so unpleasant for Sea- what has come to my kitowledge; hut I have not cole as he had anticipated. He was rather an mingled much, with society, attd I may be ex- object of compassioti than anything else in the cused for being ignorant of its punctilios. At captains eyes, and was besides associated xvitli any rate, I cannot see a gentleman who has some ideas of the comic xvhich influenced his re- treated me with kindness and distinction place ception by the veteran. As for Sara, on seeing himself in the humiliating position you seem de- suddenly the favored lover of her girlhood, and sirous of occnvping, and I will therefore say at in the presence of another to whom her womans once, that xvhen you were, in the neighborhood heart had been irrevocably given, a pttinful blush of Luxton Castle I was in correspondence with suffused her facenot the less painful that she my former ~overness, Miss Heavystoke, atid that knew herself to be at the moment die object of she forwarded to me a letter from your fi-icud, Roberts scrutinizin~ gaze. Seacoles counte- Mr. I ancourt. which you returned to her xvith an- nance reflected the suffusion; hut his eyes blazed gry contempt, in mistake for mine. Adolphus with a triumphant light, altogether different from seemed thunder-struck for a moment, but he soon the beams that xvere hidden beneath Saras droop- recovered. ma lids. He addressed to her, however, only a Your generosity, said he, should not sur foxy common-place words, and then directed his prise me, for it is only consistent with your discourse to the captain, giving him an account character. But I am in reality more the object of a reviexv which was speedily to take place in of wonder and commiseration than contempt, the Park. for the infatuation into which I fell for a mo- Will Miss Semple, said Fancourt to Eliza- meat, while smarting and ci- your virtual rejec- beth, deign to recall to her remembrance the tion, xvas no more my fhult thaii if I had been partner xvho had the honor of dancing with her struck by the pestilence as it passed by! You at tIme Hall? do not kitoxv tIme individual you allude toyou The action of the memory, replied the vir- do not kuoxv the nature of the power she exer- gin is for the most part spontaneous. I re- cises. although so speedily neutralized in my member distinctly a white cravat on the occasion case by a hmohici enchantmeittyou do not knoxv referred ~o. and that cravat I have every reason I knoxv all. to believe was on the neck of the gentleman xvho iDo you know that lie xvhomn you regarded as noxv speaks to me. This was so far satisfac- a teacherhe, of witose knowledge, self-posses- tory, and the hermit of the Albany entered flee- sion. and strength of character you had formed ly into conversation xvith our spinster, and being so lofty an idea an observant man of the world, succeeded very No moic; I know all I She looked back soon in regaining the place in her esteem of shtsdderirtgl y. Tbey wem-e noxv clear of the which his letter to Seacohe. sent to them by Miss croxvd. Robert xvas at seine distance behind Heavystoke, had for a time dispossessed him, walking sloxvhy, with erect tivure. fixed eves As they arrived at a more croxvdcd part of the silent, (lesolate, alone. Sara thtoitght little about rina, where a hut-ned motion uoxv and theti took herself at that mometit, but site could have wept place among the spectators, for time purpose of fot- him. WEARYFOOT COMMON. CHAPTER XVII. A C0~5PIRACY. WE dispute the correctness of Claudias opin- ions touching the levelling power of death. Nev- er arc the social distinctions so punctiliously ob- served as when the late living and breathing man lies prone on his hack, a sta~ue of senseless clay; never are the vanities of caste and the pride of rank so strong as when the vault or the grave receives its new inhabitant, and dust is rendered to dust, and ashes to ashes. If the wax-like fl~- nrc which is the object of the solemn show has worn a coronet when in life; if it has exercised hi~h command over its fellow-men; or, arrayed in satins and gems, looked down with scorn upon its fellow-womenthe atmosphere of pride in which it lived, moved, and had its heing, still surrounds it in the coffin, and the spectators, who would pass lightly a score of meaner funerals, hold their breath with awe. The obsequies of the late Lord Luxton were performed with a pomp that would have been extravagant even in the case of some ~reat puh- lie character; hut no one thought of asking how he had earned the distinction; no one called to mind that, when living, he had been only an old, fat, good-natured man, who would have heen desperately vulgar had he not chanced to be hrought up as a nobleman. It was a great fone- ml, that ~vas what was thought and saidwhat mattered it whether the defunct had been in life a great man The bell tolled, the procession swept slowly on, the plumes waved in the heavy air, the priest proclaimed the resurrection and the life, the black vault swallowed up its prize; and then the world went on as before, with its old pride, its old vanities, its old ambitions with no difference whatever, except that there was a new lord both in the mausoleum and the castle. Claudia had much to do in those days; many punctilios to arrange, many precedents of rank to consider, many questions of heraldry to dis- cuss; and it is likely that she was very soon roused from her feeling of desolation. However this may be, she found time occasionally to con- verse with our old friend Miss Heavystoke, and not always on the suhject of that ladys young charge. When I lived at Wearyfoot Common, said the governess one day You at Wearyfoot Common !Oh, I remem- her; you seemed acquainted with Mrs. Seacole. and that is the locality of the family seat. Did you teach in her house 3 No, at the house of Captain Semple. At the house of Captain Semple! Yes; my pupil was his niece Sara, a very charming girl, and acknowledged to be the beauty of the district. Claudia mused. I have heard of Captain Semple, said she probably from Mrs. Seacole. He had a sister as well as a niece 3 But too old to teach. Indeed Miss Semple fancied that she had an aptitude for teaching grown persons herself! Any more in the family 3 said Claudia, sup- pressing an inclination to yawn. Not any more.~~ I imagined I had been told of a son. That must have been a mistake, for the cap- tain was never married. Your informant must have alluded to Mr. Gaklands, who was at school during the greater part of my residence. Oh, a nephew, no doubt. No; a foundling brou~ht up and educated hy the captain. Upon my word !you are coming to a ro- mance. A foundling. hrou~ht up in the same house with his patrons beautiful niecethere could he but one result! In a novel, I allow. But Robert an(I Sara hardly kne~v that they were not brother nod sis- ter till the captains affairs went wrong, aol the young man was taken home from school Short- ly after the whole establishment was broken up, and youn~ Oaklands ~vent adrift upon the world. Was there no scandal on the subject of the hoy 3 asked Claudia, musin~ a am. I think I have been told that the captains conduct towards him was supposed to be influenced by some stronger feeling than mere hnmiinity. If so, that must have been before my time, and the scandal had died out. The good captain is not a man to be suspected of irregularity of any kind, except in the matter of whiskers. Such a Black Forest of hair I never saw before on a human face! Black 3 Iron-gray; but now, alas! I am told, almost white. Claudia looked strangely at Miss Heavy- stoke, who could hardly bear what she had liar- self described as the condensed lightning of her gaze. Where are they now 3 demanded the young lady suddenly. In London. Ab, I thought so! I have seen just such a head as you describe, placed, too, on ci-devant military shoulders: and with your half-pay cap- tain a youn~ person remarkable for the classical style of her beautylike ~vhat you might sup- pose of a Helen without sin and without remorse, or rather of a Chryseis, the sl)otless faii, amid the truculent heroes of the Iliad. This is Sara! said Miss Heavystoke. It is just what Mr. Onklands said of her, and he has now turned an artist, and should know some- thing of beauty. How they used to dance, that young pair, till it was far on in the night. atid my fln~ers ached with playingand with no partners in the quadrille but the chair and Molly! I)an~erous amusement, remarked Claudia, for a youn~ painter to dance till midnight, in a lonely country house, with a heroine of Homer, and foi a heroine of homer to have for her habitual partner A young painter ! V kindly su gested Miss fleavystoke, for Claudia stopped abruptly. But Miss Sara was by that time almost betrothed, at least it was the belief of us all that the attentions ofofof the gentleman would end in propo- sals. Of what gentleman 3 One of the neighbors, replied Miss heavy- stoke, in some embarrassment. 87 88 WEARYFOOT COMMON. His name? The question was not put I stickle as far as policy demandsnot an offensivelyquite otherwise; but evasion was inch further. There are circumstances in which impossible when Claudia willed, ordinary rules must he disregarded, in which it Seacole, replied Miss Ileavystoke. is true policy to defy them. Conveutioualism is So! And what occurred to break off the the slave of the prudent, not the master. To sit affair ~ forever crouchin,, under the eye of the world be- The gentlemans visit to Luxton Castle, fits only a timid spirit, ignorant that the worlds said Miss Heavystoke, turning suddenly to bay; applause always waits on brave and noble action, and his falling under the more powerful en- when justified by the emergency and the magni- chantments of Miss Falcontower! Claudia re- tude of the stake. ceived this announcement simply as informa- Of what are you talking, Claudia? said her tion; the manner was a matter of indifference father. Surely you wander from the subject, to her, and she did not think it necessary to ma