LITTELLS LIVING AGE. No, 593.6 OCTOBER 1855. From the Times and its Paris Correspondent. THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. London, 18th, Aug. Saturday. VARTOUS and checkered beyond the ordinary lot of those spots of earth which man has chos- en for his hahitation have been the destinies of Paris. The mud village of Julian the Apostate was not more different from the pompous capital of Louis XVI., nor that cap- ital from the beautiful, city that now spreads itself over the valley of the Seine, than are the circumstances of this day from any which have preceded them during the long annals of French and English history. English Kings have, ere now, swept along the streets of Par- is, but they came to claim a kingdom which they could not hold, or in triumph for victories to he speedily and bloodily avenged. It is a curious fact, that never since France was con- solidated into one nationand before that time Paris had no right to the title of the capital of Francehas an English monarch entered her gates in peace. Henry V. went there, indeed, to celebrate his shortlived triumph, and Henry VI. to assume a crown, which soon glided from his nerveless grasp. Charles II. was there as an exile and afugitive, and James II. concluded his dishonored life under the shelter of the power of the Grand Monarch. Now at last, in the fulness of time, we witness a spectacle which our rugged forefathers prob- ahly never desired, and which we., however anxious, could never have hoped to seethe interchange of offices of the most cordial friendship, marking not only the sincerity of individual regard, hut the union of two great nations never hitherto wont to interchange other courtesies than those which diversified the brief intervals of a conflict extending, with little intermission, over a period of eight hundred years. Ten years ago indeed Queen Victoria met at the Chatteau dEu the then Sovereign of France, hut the happy omens of that da~ were clouded shortly after by events which, though they did not shake the amity of the two nations, introduced a coldness between the two Royal families never wholly removed during the remaining days of the dynasty of Orleans. It is with no such niisgivings that Queen Victoria goes to return the visit so Royally paid to her a few months ago by the present Emperor of France. The energetic support which France has so nobly and un- flinchingly lent us in so many common dangers; the vigor and good faith with which she has performed all, and more than all, which could DXCIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. XI. 1 be expected of her by the most exacting ally; the noble and magnanimous policy which her Emperor has pursued in the fitee of all Eu- rope, and in marked contradistinction to all its other Imperial rulers, forbid us for a moment to entertain the idea that the time will ever come when so much common glory, so much mutual esteem, will be forgotten, and the days of old jealousies and animosities return upon us. It were curious to speculate with what feel- ings and with what emotions the illustrious lady who will this day enter Paris will view that beautiful capital of which she must have heard and thought so much, but which alone, amid the brilliant circle in which she moves, she has by her exalted rank been prevented from visiting. The enormous facilities for travelling now possessed by all ranks have in- troduced a singular anomaly into the position of crowned heads. We do not speak of the petty Princes of Germany, who seem to be forever on the wing from the Court of one patron to that of another, but of Sovereigns like the Queen of England, whose movements are great historic events, not to he lightly Un- dePtaken, nor accomplished without the utmost care and forethought. Such personages are singularly placed. Living in the utmost splen- dor and surrounded by the most dazzling mag- nificence, they are yet debarred from those spectacles of beauty and grandeur which for- eign lands afibrd, and which are open to so many thousands of their subjects. The taste is formed and its gratification withheld, and it is therefore probable that no one ever en- tered Paris with a mind more trained to ad- mire its innunierable beauties and attractions, and to appreciate the spectacle so long with- held of an elegance and splendor for which the world knows no parallel, than the Queen of England. The time chosen for the visit is as auspicious as all the accompanying circum- stances. The weather is splendid, and the period of the year promises to us as long a continuance of bright suns and blue skies as consists with the variable temperament of a northern climate. Both countries are cheer- ed by the prospect of an abundant harvest, and the gratifying consciousness that their materi- al prosperity is so firmly based that war itself with all its miseries has been unable to shake it; above all, just at this auspicious moment the thick and threatening clouds which have hung so darkly over the commencement of the campaign have rolled away, and success, so long waited for and so coy in her approach, has THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. come at last in full radiance. From the Bal- and conceal their despondency,not at the tic and the Black Sea arrive almost simultan- prompting of a frivolous spirit, which seeks cously tidings of two great victories, and what for shows and spectacles to drive away serious was perhaps, under the circumstances, most thoughtbut in the full consciousness that to be desired, France has the honor of a share they have solid reason to rejoice in the good- in both, while England can only claim part in ness of their cause, in the union of their coun- one. On the island fortresses of Sweaborg sels,in the success of their arms, in the pros- the En~lish and French navies have demolish- pect of an honorable peace, and, above all, in ed with incredible ease, and without loss, the the firm persuasion that they have at last in- arsenals and storehouses in which Russia had augurated an alliance destined, as they hope treasured up those vials of wrath which she and believe, to endure as long as the war and was one day to empty on the heads of her discord to which it has so happily succeeded. Scandinavian neighbors, and on the banks of ______ the Tchernaya French and Sardinian valor has driven back the fierce attack of Liprandi with little loss, and yet with terrible slaughter. It is in the moment of triumph, in the first blush of victory, when it is beginning to re- ward on a scale more commensurate with the merits of the allies so much devotion and so many sacrifices, that Queen Victoria enters Paris a memorable personage, with whom the French nation may associate success and glory, and the idea of a peace which such successes must, one would fondly hope, restore to us. In this symbolical union of the two peoples, this interchan~e of acts of courtesy and friend- ship between the two greatest Sovereigns of the world, we see the rerm of a state of things which we cannot contemplate without a feeling of thankfulness that we live in these latter times, and not in those which have gone efore us. It is s~ id that between England and America the community of interests and the mutual interchange of the most amicable rela- tions have rendered war impossible: the same state of feeling is rapidly arising between England and France. Their enterprises are assisted by our capital and ours by theirs we are endeavoring to learn from them their ad- mirable method and wonderful rower of organ- izationth~y are content to derive from us such improvements as may have been tested by the practical genius of the nation. We are happy to le~ rn from each other without prejudice, without envy, and with only so much rivalry as seems to bc inseparable from mutual esteem. We do not 1oubt for a moment that Her Majesty will receive to-day at the hands of the people of Paris a salutation as cordial and as gracious as that hich met and everywhere accomp~ nied the Emperor and Empress of France in their recent visit to London. While terror and dismay are shaking all souls in St. Petersburgwhile the Russian fleet is tremb- ling behind its ~gra~te bulwarks at the ap- proach of the v~ctorsous alliesand the garri- son of Sebastopol is reeling under the blow that it has just received, England and France can find tinie to keep high holiday, not at the biddin_ of a despotic tyrant, who forces his people to be gay in order to relieve his terrors PARIS, SATURDAY, Aug. 18, 6 P.M. It would be difficult to give an exact idea of Paris for the last two days, of the animation, the life, the activity, which pervades every part. Not a railway train arrives from north, east, or south that does not contribute its car- go of human beings to swell the population of the capital, and the stranger who now visits it may, without leaving the Boulevards or the Champs Elysfus, see the quaint costumes of various remote provinces. During the live- lone day the streets and thoroughfares are thronged with strangers, and at nightfall it re- quires no small exertion to make your way on the side-paths. The beauty of the weather contributes to swell this ever-moving tide of population, and the wonder is where they can find lodging. As for provisions, they are rap- idly reaching a point not far removed from famine price. Classes of industry unknown before rapidly sprint up into existence, which do honor to the imagination of the inventor, and I have no doubt fill the pockets of the traders. A company was started some weeks since for the manufacture of French and Eng- lish flags, for the adornment of private houses, speculative innkeepers, or publicans. Li~,ht carts traverse the streets laden with the tri- color and St. Georges Cross, which you may have had some days ago for the comparatively moderate cost of 3f., but, like every other com- modity, they have risen in proportion to the de- mand. There are few houses from the Port. St. Martin to the Madeleine where those glo- rious colors are not waving side by side as they wave together on the hills of the Crimea, and as they will soon wave on the ruins of Sebas- topol. The alliance with England is express- ed in every imaginable form. The wine-shops are particularly zealous in this way. You see inscribed in large letters, Vice tErnpereur, Vice lIrnperetrice, Vice Ia Reine Victoria. Vice le Prince Albert, Vicent les peuits Princes et les petites Princesses, Vice 1 A hence Aeglaise, and Vice he Via et hAhe. This last compliment to the favorite bever- age of the countries has more meaning than a superficial observer may suppose. The master of the house is an agent for the sale 2 TUE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 3 of Allsopps beer, and he is evidently convine- back even now many centuries. Each people ed that true patriotism is best exhibited by a may look back upon tl]em with calmness and large consumption of the national liquids of with pride, for each finds the record of its own France and England. He whp drinks not is heroism and its own glory. No bctter occasion no lover of his country, and a teetotaller is a could have happened to repair by a cordial asso- priori a traitor or a Russian in disguise. ciation between two of the mightiest Powers of The whoJe of Paris seems suddenly to have the world the evil that their enmity had brought acquired a knowledge of the English langua~e, upon the world. That glorious deed the for there is scarcely a shop in which the passer- Emperor of the French and Queen Victoria by is not informed that English is spoken. have accomplished, and posterity will be grate- This notice of the possession of the vernacu- ful to them for it. Jar is occasionally of the quaintest kind, or Lord Clarendon observed the other day in anibiguously worded as the dicta of the Del- the House of Lords, when alluding to the phic oracle. The Englishman who has got Union between the two countries, that there through the elements of the tongue may guess was no longer an English Cabinet and a its meaning by the help of the correspondin~ French Cabinet, but one sole Cabinet whose translation in French. But it is not rare to members were deliberating indifferently at one see our new arrivals horribly puzzled when or the other side of the Channel. From they see on the windows of an eating-house this day, when Queen Victoria makes her en- in one of the back streets such notices as this, try into Paris, it may, I hope, be said with Bifsticks. RosbiffEriglisli spoken, et cuit equal truth, that there is but one peop!e. a point. Or, again, in a Magasin de Modes, The Moniteur has the following article on Dentelles et blondesEnglish spoken avec the visit of Queen Victoria de broderies superbes. Or, again, Drab it is this day that the Queen of England boa mareM, presque pour rienEnglish spo- is to make her entrance into Paris. The pre- ken, a 4 francs la mhtre. Or Bon Yin sence of Queen Victoria in France will be for English spoken, a 75 centimes le litre, etc. the inhabitants of Paris, an occasion for tes- During the whole night the sound of the tifying their sentiments of affection and respect hammer and the saw has not ceased. Struc- for the powerful ally of the Emperor, for that tures have arisen everywhere almost with the Sovereign, whose vast States do not count less rapidity of Aladdins palace, and at one mo- than 200,000,000 of subjects; in this circum- ment the great central thoroughfares seemed stance they will be the interpreters for all as if the days of barricading had again return- the nation; the Queen will find here a wel- ed. The barricades and arches are there, but come not less cordial, not less enthusiastic than bow different the purpose! Lofty poles and that which the Emperor and Empress have re- stately columns, pith flags and streamers float- ceived in London. Certainly, one of the most ing in the air, and tipped with gold, and the important facts of our epoch, so fertile in great multitudes that crowd the public places are no events, will be this visit to Paris of the Queen longer wild bands in arms rushing to shed of England, under the reign of the Emperor each others blood. Of the thousands of work- Napoleon; this solemn consecration of an al- men who are employed to adorn the city and liance now cemented by sufi~rings and victo- render it worthy the visit of a mighty sove- ries in common, and which draw closer still reign many may have figured in other times the mutual sympathies of the Sovereigns. in other occupations than preparing for the What more striking proof of her friendship presence of Royalty. The visit of the Queen can England give us than thus to confide to of England is the seal to that alliance which us at one and the same time her well-beloved three short years ago few would have dreamed Sovereign, who is a brilliant example on the of. It is an event which will he recorded in throne of every virtue, and the young Prince future annals as one of the most remarkable who is to succeed her? France will worthily of the extraordinary times we live in. The reply to this loyal confidence. The welcom& . reception prepared for her is not merely an given to the Queen of Great Britain will be act of courtesy offered by a gallant and chiv- addressed also to the august spouse so inti- airous people to an august ladyit is a politi- niately associated with her high destinies, and cal act of the highest importance; it is the ap- who, by the rare qualities of his mind and by proval expressed by an entire people of the his noble character, has known how to concili- policy of its Government, and a new and an- ate the esteem and affection of the English mistakable adhesion to the English alliance, nation. From the eagerness which is man,- While thus welcoming Queen Victoria, France fested in all classes, from the preparations celebrates the reconciliation of two powerful which are making upon the points ot passage nations who have effaced in the glorious fra- of these august guests, it is easy to discer terurty of arms the last traces of ancient hat- that the population comprehends all the bear- red, whose germs are, let us hope, for ever de- ing of this great event, that it associates itself stroyed. Those recollections seem thrown heart and soul with the sentiments of the Bin- 4 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. peror for his faithful ally, and that the arrival ing upon the ears of the Royal visitors, who of the Queen of England in Paris wiU be a could now distinctly see from the deck the day of rejoicing for all France. fine cathedral-like dome of the church in the Upper Town, and the clean stone houses of BOULOGNE, Saturday. the haute Ville. The English men-of-war now Tuis event, fraught with so much interest to took up the mimic thunder, and broadside af- the destinies of Europe, has this day set the ter broadside pealed from them. The ships seal to an ajliance consecrated and cemented were soon enveloped in smoke, and when it by the blood already shed in defence of civili- had cleared away and the Royal yacht had zation. The news of the glorious successes neared the squadron every ship appeared of the French arms in the Crimea, which only with manned yards. As the Victoria and Al- preceded Her Majestys arrival by a few hert drew still nearer to the shore a long dark hours, the recent destruction of Sweahorg by streak was seen stretching along the heights the allied fleets, and the commencement of for miles to the right and left of the town. another and, it is hoped, final bombardment Then wreaths and puffs of smoke, the gleam of the Russian lines south of Sebastopol, were of bayonets, and, by and by, the distant rattle circumstances of such happy augury that the of musketry converted the long dark streak Queen seemed to bring victory and good for- into lines of French soldiery. They not only tune with her; while the glorious harvest crowned the heights, but wherever a lower weather, with its associations of plenty and ridge upon the cliffs gave coigne of vantage abundance, gave superadded joyousness to the to a company of infantry there were drawn Royal progress. A cloudless sky, a sea re- up Chasseurs de Vincennes, or the light com- sembling a glassy Inland lake, reflecting in panics of a French infantry regiment, whose every slight ripple the rays of a brilliant Au- sharp volleys alternated with the deep-mouth- gust sun, a people feverish and excited with a ed welcome of the ordnance of the port. mingled feeling of enthusiasm and curiosity, When the Royal yacht crossed the bar, at 15 bnt offering the respectful homage of its ad- minutes to 2, loud hurrahs broke from the miration, and all the minor necessaries and crowds upon the left jetty. On the right jet- tokens of welcome which the boundless taste ty, along the lower stage near the water, was and ingenuity of an accomplished people one unbroken line of French infantry, who could devise have greeted Queen Victorias presented arms as the Royal yacht passed. entry into France. Bands of music were stationed at intervals on The Victoria and Albert Royal yacht, with both sides of the jetty, and thewonderfully spir- the Queen and Prince Albert, the Prince of ited and vigorous roll of the French drums was Wales, the Princess Royal, and the members continuous. The spectacle was now extremely of the Royal suite, left Oshorne at 4.30 this striking. The quay contained an immense multi- morning. She passed Cowes at 6.10, Beachy- tude. Tricolored flags and British ensigns way- head at 8.45, Dungeness at 11.25, was sighted ed in profusion from every house, and the whole at Boulogne about 12.30, and arrived off port was gay with streamers, flags, and g~sr- Boulogne about half-past 1. A mist over- lands. Every window had its group of fair spread the channel early in the morning, but spectators. Opposite the DepOt de Bagages it cleared away as the day advanced. When was seen a square pavilion or small temple- the Royal yacht had steamed to within about like edifice, open at the sides and decorated four miles from Boulogne, Captain Smithett, in the style of the loggie of the Vatican, which, who piloted her, waited a few minutes either as it appeared the niost conspicuous object for the tide or for the arrival of the steamers along the quay, was correctly supposed to be forming the Royal escort, or for both, and the place where the Emperor awaited the ar- then the Victoria and Albert, conspicuous by rival of his Royal visitors. As soon as the her three masts, her great size, and fine pro- Victoria and Albert drew alongside this pavil- portions, steamed majestically for the harbor. ion Her Majesty appeared at the ships side, She carried the Royal standard of England at and gracefully acknowledged the salutations the main, the tricolor at the fore, the union of the Emperor. A stage was thrown on jack at the bows, and the Royal ensign at the board, the Emperor quickly ran up the pInt- stern. The English men-of-war forming the form, and, after respectfully kissing her Ma- squadron of honor were drawn up outside the jestys hand, saluted her upon both cheeks, harbor, and formed an imposing spectacle, according to imperial and Royal etiquette and Each ship had the British ensign and the tri- the theory which presumes that crowned heads color floating at the main, and each gave in- stand in sacred and fraternal relations to each numerable flags to the wind. At 25 minutes other. The Emperor then cordially shook past one the first note of welcome was given hands with Prince Albert, the Princess Royal, by the sharp ring of a brass gun at the batte- and the Prince of Wales, and, giving his hand rv on the Capecure side, and one after an- to the Queen, led her down the stage to the Jther the Royal salute came distantly boom- pavilion, within which state chairs were plac THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 5 ed on a dais, an4 here Tier Majesty, seated, adorned with flags, and high masts bore aloft received the congratulations of the civic au- the Imperial and Royal standards of France thorities and the English residents. After a and England. Within the courtyard were brief pause the Emperor led Her M~jesty to three carpeted rows of seats for a select corn- one of the Royal carriages. The Princess pany, the backs of the stages being covered Royal took her place beside the Queen, and with velvet. The belfry tower over the grand Prince Albert and the Prince of Wales took entrance, the arches of the windows, and the the opposite seats, while the Emperor mount- pilasters had their appropriate standards, ea- ed his horse, and rode upon Her Majestys gles, green leaves, and flowers, and initial rioht hand. letters in gold upon velvet. How can one ~At this spectacle of the Emperor himself describe the marquise, with its roof of velvet, forming a part of her Majestys escort and its fine curtains of red velvet, its six cande- guard of honor the acclamations of the multi- labra entwined and overflowing with flowers, tude were redoubled, and cries of Vice la its exquisitely designed carpetbut a carpet I?eine! and Vive 1 Empereur! were not worthy, as it should seem, of such visitors, mingled with the hearty cheers of the Eng- for it is covered with velvet where they are lish spectators. The French minister of to walk? The reception room was a wonder War rode at the opposite side of the Royal of French upholstery. its walls hung with carriage, and the Emperors brilliant staff rich red velvet, strewed with spangled bees followed. Then came a carriage containing and leopards, the openings covered with inns- the two ladies in attendance upon the Queen, lin curtains and velvet hangings with golden the Earl of Clarendon, and the Marquis of acornsits tribunes covered with velvet and Breadalbane. The other members of the embroidered with coats of armsits twelve Royal household followed, and the Dragoons huge vases of flowers suspended from the and Lancers brought up the rear. The road ceiling, and its one magnificent flower vase in was kept by French infantry, whose drums the centre, its richly designed carpet covering and bugles made military music as the Royal the whole space must in turn give place to the cavalcade slowly proceeded through dense marvels of the Queens reception-room, with crowds to the railway station. Her Majesty, its door lined within with white velvet, its who appeared to be in excellent health and walls of red and white silk hangings crimped; spirits, acknowledged in the most gracious its mirrors, toilet tables, couches, sofas, and manner the vivats of the people. The Queen chairs disposed with that taste and eye to en- wore a white bonnet and blue satin visite, and semble which made the spectators wonder Prince Albert a Field-Marshals uniform, with whetherParisian taste in decoration could great- the blue riband of the Garter. The Emperor ly transcend the splendors of the Boulogne wore the uniform of a general of division, railway-station. In the station itself, where with the Grand Cordon of the Legion of the Royal train was drawn up, were seats filled Honor. with English and French fashionables. The preparations made at the railway sta- Upon the arrival of the Royal party at the tion at Capecure to do honor to the Royal station the directors of the railroad were pre- guests were on a scale of surpassing magnifi- sented, and, after a short delay, the Royal cence. A sum of 25,OOOf. had been voted for party were ushered to their carriages. In the these decorations, and good taste as well as first saloon the Emperor, the Queen of Eng- liberality had presided over the distribution, land, the Prince Consort, the Prince of Wales, Two lodges were constructed at the entrance and the Princess Royal took their seats. At of the station, and between the lodges a tri- half-past 2 oclock the train, containing nine umphal arch, 75 feet high, upon a scale of im- carriages, glided noiselessly from the station, posing grandeur, was constructed. The lower amid a salvo of artillery. Montrenil was the part of this arc de triomphe was of open gilt first station decorated in honor of the visitors. lattice-work, 40 feet high, and adorned with At Abbeville, the fine cathedral of which is flowers and evergreens tastefully disposed. At seen from the station, cdnsiderahle prepara- the spring of the arch was a green scroll, with tions were made to do honor to the guests of the words, Welcome to France, in large the Emperor. Two thousand cavalry and in- gold letters. The arms of England and France fantry were drawn up in view of the railway rose above the scroll, and a colossal figure re- station, at the entrance of which was a large presenting the Genius of Civilization held inscription, Welcome to France, surmount- aloft a scroll with a suitable inscription. The ed by an eagle and surrounded by flags. The flags of England and France, Turkey and Mayor and civic authorities of Abbeville Sardinia, waved side by side, and shields, ban- awaited the arrival of the train at the p~at- ners, emblazonments, streamers and garlands form,and proffered their congratulations, which of flowers were distributed through the various were received and acknowledged by 11cr Ma- compartments of the gigantic structure. The jesty in a manner that won the hearts of all two lodges on each side of the arch were also1 Abbeville. After clearing the railway station THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. the tower of the cathedral again came in sight, and the graceful fringe of trees on both banks of the river could hardly fail to be admired. The country here is richly wooded and pic- turesque, and groves of trees and wooded slopes give place to cornfields. Up to this point the country had been smiling, not to say Laughing, with plenty. Fields of corn, like golden shields cast down from the sun, had waved in rich luxuriance, awaiting the tardy reaper. France has no Ireland to send her sturdy out-door laborers at the precise mo- ment when they are wanted, and the agricul- tural districts seem in many places so thinly peopled that the ripe corn stands and sheds its ripest grains before the sickle can be brought into the field. Up to Abbeville the train dashed through a district containing ex- cellent crops of grain. The scenery then changed to cattle-bearing meadows and the region of the willow and pollard, while villa- ges of thatched cottages embowered among trees with a low-spired church in the middle were seen, and passed as soon as seen; and while looking at these chan~es of the railway phantasmagoria the train arrived at Amiens. Here the magistracy of the district were as- sembled, and the daughter, of the Prefect, an interesting young lady of 17, habited in white, approached the royal carriage, and timidly but gracefully presented to the Queen a splen- did bouquet, which her Majesty received with more than queenly courtesy. The pro~,ress of the train was extremely rapid after leaving Amiens, and the Royal party arrived safely at 10 minutes past 7 oclock at Paris, the journey having been performed in four hours and a half. PARIS, Saturday Night. The reception which greeted Queen Yicto- na from the inhabitants of Paris will long be remembered by every Englishman who wit- nessed it. In the honor there done to our constitutional Sovereign the whole nation will feel that it shares, and on their part the people of the French metropolis appear equally ani- mated by the conviction that they gave ex- pression, for the time being, to the hospitable and generous sentiments of their great country. The recent visit of the Emperor Napoleon to London did not more unmistakably represent the cordial interchange of friendship between powerful neighboring States than the scene which the streets of Paris witnessed this even- ing; and, although the two occasions are broadly marked out from each other by the different modes in which the strong emotions of the hour found a yoice, both had alike stamped upon them those essential character- istics which give to public events a high his- toric interest. We do not possess in our me- tropolis any of those facilities for display which this splendid city so abundantly commands. Our smoky atmosphere, our dingy, brick-built stuccoed streets, and the awkwardness of our people in getting up rapidly decorative effects compel us to rely mainly upon the moral influ- ence of vast numbers in conveying to the minds of illustrious foreigners a notion of what we are and what we think. We have no mil- itary array adequate to hold in splendid pomp any long line of procession. We can scarcely hang out a flag gracefully, and the thin blue line of policemen which usually guards our streets on such occasions, however significant of a well-disposed populace and good civil gov- ernment, is not very captivating to the eye. Here, on the other hand von have a cloudless sky, spacious thoroughfares set off on either hand by stately architecture, a noble army al- ways at hand br the purposes of spectacle, and, above all, a people who, from the highest to the lowest, have more or less strongly developed artistic tendencies. The spectacle which the route of the Queens progress presented to-day in all these respects rendered it a remarkable contrast to the Emperors reception in London. By far the most striking scene then presented was the aspect of the Borough and Lanibeth, the deep valleys of unwashed humanity through which the Imperial cor1~ge passed, and the ringing cheers with which our workin ~classes welcomed the ally of their Queen. Here eve- rything was different. Instead of alighting at the station of the railway by which she trav- elled to Paris, th~ Queen was conveyed to the terminus of the Strasbourg line, as best adapted by its architecture for adding to the ceremonial effects of a grand reception. Had it been ne- cessary to make the circuit of Paris to gain that object, no doubt it would have been ac- complished, and the same studious attention to whatever could give increased lustre to the oc- casion was perceptible in all the arrangements. This will be rendered obvious by the following details of the preparations within the terminus and outside, along the line of procession On the platform, magnificently carpeted, and fitted up as a grand saloon, were collected the railway officials, the corps municipal, the coun- cillors of State, and the chief civil and military authorities. From the balconies overlooking this area numbers of gayly dressed ladies looked down upon the pomp of the reception. Over- head lines of pendant streamers along the no- ble span of the semicircular roof swayed grace- fully, whilst the succession of arches on which the side walls rest were cleverly hung with portibres, which completed the furnished aspect of the interior. The entrance ball to the sta- tion had been prepared as a special saloon for Her Majesty, and there were placed some fine orange trees in full blossom. Without, on the principal facade of the building, were displayed along the lines of the architecture draperies of purple velvet brocaded with gold, festooned 6 7, THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. with laurel wreaths, having as their supports with that noble street, the Rue de la Paix, ~1lded eagles, and the whole splendidly set oft which was so brilliantly ornamented as to make y terminal groups of standards, bearing the one almost wonder that the corlege was not ir- flag of England, supporte(l on either side by resistibly led to enter the Place de la Concorde those of France, Sardinia, and Turkey, en and the Champs Elysdes in that direction. faisceaux. The area of the courtyard was also Whether by fortunate accident or skilful pr~ covered with beds of flowers; and on the flat meditation, the decorations appeared gradually roofs of the lodges at either si(le extemporized to dimnush as the more open space was gained, gardens had been established. At regular dis- but even there enough was retained to preserve tauces, all down the Boulevards, tall banner the festive character of the occasion and to standards had been erected from which long hei~hten the ordinary effect of the coup graceful streamers, suspended in the Venetian deii. style, waved with every breath of air; and Those who do not know Paris will have some besides these street decorations each house had difficulty in realizing the splendid aspect of its separate manifestations of welcome, some- the line of Boulevards to-day, with the hrighb times in the form of a familiar tn-color, some- sunlight pouring down from a sky without a times in a bit of tapestry hung out from a hal- cloud, the pavements and carriage-way swarm- cony, sometimes in the less pretending shape ing with people, the lofty houses with their of colored lanterns strung across from window jalousied windows thrown open and filled with to window, even to the lofty garret. It was spectators, the extensive ranges of balconies curious to observe the intense desire displayed all occupied, anil in every direction that indes- by all classes to make this wonderful city look cribable air of excitement manifest which its best and fairest before the eyes of our island marks the anticipation of a great public event. Queen, to inspire Her Majesty and the mom- Nothing could be finer, and Londoners might hers of the Royal family who accompanied her well gaze with a sense of humiliation at a spec- with a due appreciation of the claims which tacle which the inferior architecture of their Paris has to be considered the gayest and most own metropolis renders it impossible for them brilliant capital in the world. Certainly those to approach. The road of the procession lay claims were never more overpoweringly dis- along the Boulevard de Strasboung, the Port played. The great breadth of the Boulevards St. Denis, the Boulevards Bonne Nouvelle, and the importance of preserving the series of Poissonnibre, Montmartre, Italiens, Des Capu- splendid perspectives which they present un- cines, and the Madeleine, down to the Rue interrupted prevented a series of triumphal Royale, across the Place de Ia Concorde, and arches but along the route of the procession by the Champs Elysdes, the new avenue de 1 Jim. many trophies had been erected, some of them peratrice, and the Bois de Boulogne to St. including sculpture of considerable merit, and Cloud. About 4 oclock the troops to the bearing inscriptions suitable to the occasion, number, it is said, of 100,000 men, half of the At one point the names of the departments in- line and half of the National Guard, began to scnibed in shields drew attention to the senti- take up their positions on this immense and ment that Paris on that occasion represented splendid route. fbe former held the left side all France; at another it was some institution of the thoroughfare, and the latter the right, or private company close at hand, which, while, penned in behind them, the myniads of rushing to the edge of the irotloir, vindicated spectators gradually settled into their places its importance by setting up a special sign of and waited patiently for the arrival of the welcome. The one triumphal arch was really illustrious strangers. The Prefect of Police a fine piece of construction, and looked exceed- set down the number of people assembled at in~ly imposing. Raised by the artistes of the 800,000, and, considering the vast accession Opera close to the Rue le Pelletier, it had the made within the last few (lays to the population inside of its piers and intredos covered with of Paris, it did not probably fall much short of Imperial bees, the terminal figures over each that mighty aggregate. At particular points pier being formed by pairs of colossal eagles, along the Boulevard a thin stream of passen- with extended wings. At several other points gers might occasionally be observed in slow chains of streamers, or cords to bear some movement, fighting their way through the fixed pendant banner of inscription, crossed the tho- and immovable masses around them, but other- roughfare, but otherwise the grand series of wise all movement was completely at an end, vistas which the line of the Boulevards com- and for hours those who occupied the windows, mands w~ s not disturbed. It is worthy of re- balconies, and housetops had nothing better to mark that ot only did the decorations extend do than to watch, now a band of young Poly- throughout the route itself, but also along the technic students, now the officers of different side streets which open up from it, and that regiments, now the municipal authorities of tho these were hung with flags and trophies of banhienes, now a party of sergens do ville in evergreens as far as the eye could penetrate their black cocked hats, blue coats, and smart down them. This was particularly observable white pantaloons, sauntering or moving quickly 8 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. to and fro in the wide central space between graciously bowed her acknowledgments to the the lines of the military. At one moment a multitude. Nothing could exceed the cordi~ General of Brigade or Division passed by, fbI- ality and earnestness of her reception; and lowed by his staff; at another, some of the from the blouses on the pavement the demon- mounted Gendarmerie, and occasionally two strations of respect were quite as fervent as or three of the Etat-Major, distinguishable by from the wealthier classes at the windows and their plumes of red and blue feathers. What on the balconies. It was so along the whole afforded most amusement to the crowds was route of the procession, though the declining when solitary dogs found their way between light compelled the travellers to quicken their the lines, and, astonished by the novelty of pace, and thus seriously abridged the oppor- their situation and the roar of lau~,hter which tunity for a full display of the public feeling. pursued them, set off at a speed worthy of the There can be no doubt that the people of camp hunts in the Crimea. A curious illus- Paris share with the Emperor and with France tration of the respect paid here to persons of the gratification which this visit excites. Be- bumble station was manifested in the presence hind the Royal carriage came a second con- within the lines of a fine old sailor whose breast taming the Prince Napoleon, the Prince of was decorated with medals for acts of devotion Wales, Lord Clarendon, and the Marquis of in saving human life. Such honorable testi- Breadalbane. Others followed containing the monials, it was remarked by our countrymen, suite of the two Sovereigns; and to these suc- would hardly have been so recognized on any ceeded a rear guard of the Guides. The Pre- similar occasion in England. Time wore on, feet of Police, the Prefect of the Seine, and the sun set in splendor behind a bank of clouds, other high officers of State closed the pro- and then after the fervent heat of the day the cession. cool shades of evening began to settle down At several points along the route Her Ma- upon the city; the faces in the balconies and jestys attention appeared to be caunht by the at the windows grew darker, and fears spread vociferous cheers of her own subjects. This abroad that the Queens arrival would be de- was particularly marked opposite the house of layed until darkness had snatched from the Sallandrouze de Lamornaix, who had kindly assembled multitude that opportunity for grat. placed his large balcony at the disposal of the ifying at once their hospi ble feelings and foreign jurors and commissioners now assem- their curiosity; 7 oclock came and no word bled in Paris on the business of the Exhibition. of the Royal train. The bands of the different Lights had already begun to appear in the regiments had played at intervals to occupy windows, and the commencement of an ilIum- attention, but this could not go on forever, and ination to counterbalance the gathering dark- even the anxiety to see the Royalty of England ness of ni~ht, before the Emperor and his has its limits. The reputation of our Queen ~uests had traversed the long line of the Bon- for punctuality was known, and people won- levards. The trades unions therefore, who dered that she should be behiudhand. It got early in the day took up their position in the about that the arrival at Boulogne had not Champs Elys~es, and the fashionable world taken place till an hour and a half after the which went out in large numbers to the Bois time appointed, and if some portion of that de Boulogne, could have seen very little of delay was not made up on the journey to Paris the procession. But this disappointment there the procession through the city must be made will no doubt be several opportunities afforded in the dark. At a quarter past 7 oclock the of redeeming duiing Her Majestys stay, and, dull booming of the Royal salute began, and in the meantime, it is satisfactory to know instantly a hoarse roar of satisfaction swelled that Her Majesty and the members of the along the line of the Boulevards. The salute Royal family who accompany her have ar- of 21 guns for the Queen had hardly died rived at St. Cloud with no more serious draw- away when that of 101 guns for the Emperor back than a sli~,ht delay in the time fixed commeuced, and this in its turn had scarcely for the completion of their long journey. ceased when the cortege was sweeping on its They are expected to attend tl;e chapel at way through the city. First came a troop of the embassy to-morrow, and to visit the Palace cavalry of the Municipal Guard at a sharp trot, of the Beaux Arts on Monday morning. The then a double line of Sergens de ville on foot, programme during their stay includes, among then the Commander of the Municipal Guard other festivities, a grand ball at the hotel de with his staff, then an advanced guard of the Ville, which is expected to be a very grand Guides, and behind these the Imperial out- affair. It is said that the Emperor, ami(1 the riders in their liveries of green and gold. An pressing cares of government at this present open barouche followed, drawn by four horses, moment, has nevertheless given great attention and in which were seated the Queen and the to the fetes with which he proposes to celebrate Princess Royal on one side and the Emperor the visit of his illustrious guests, and that these and his Royal Highness Prince Albert on the have been organized on a scale.ofmagnifieence other. Her Majesty, who looked exceedingly unparalleled in the annals even of the French well, was greeted most enthusiastically, and Court. THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. LONDON, Monday, 20 Aug. AFTER the most brilliant reception which the ingenuity of a nation skilled above all others in the preparation and arrangement of public pa~eants and the real enthusiasm of a people excited by the stirring events of the day to a warmth of feeling which they do not usually evince could prepare, Queen VICTORIA has entered Paris, and is now fairly launched in that round of festivities which are to make her weeks residence in the capital of her ally one long ovation. It is the privile~e of the heads of a social and political hierarchy like that of England not only to feel and act for them- selves, but to impersonate and represent the feelings and impulses of great nations. Cir- cumstances in themselves light and triviala gesture, a word, a momentary outburst of feel- ingmay have, besides their primary and momentary significance, a secondary and more extended one, which may constitute, in one point of view, the slightest possible occurrence, and in another a very considerable historic event. The English public will carefully spell over the chronicles of the week with the hope to find in them ever-recurring evidence of the good f hug which recent events, if they have not caused, have at least developed, and we cannot doubt that our expectations in this behalf will be more than gratified. Fine weather, stirring music, splendid equipages, glittering escorts, triumphal arches, and all the panoply of popular solemnities can be com- manded for any purpose or on any occasion but the real and heartfelt sentiment of two great nations seeking for expression by every avenue of the eye and ear has something in it more impressive than processions, more strik- ing than pageantry, more enduring than all the ornament and glitter so easily put on to order, and so readily laid aside like an old state property. We must leave, then, to our reporte s the details of the adornments which lent splendor to the landing at Boulogne and to every step of HER MAJESTYS progress, and endeavor to realize as fkr as is possible with what sentiments the French nation really greet the~ Sovereign of the neighboring island, now, for the first time for so many hundred years, coming in peace and friendship to their capi- tal. The present institutions of France do not permit of our arriving at a conclusion on this subject with the same confidence on the other as on this side of the Channel, and there exists in France so wide a diversity of opinions, not merely as to t.he dynasty which ought to govern, but as to the form of government which ought to exist, that we cannot expect to find complete unity in any sentiment, however natural and well founded. Yet, we are happy to believe that on the present occasion all Frenchmen of all parties, who have not for- gotten in the rage of faction their paramount duty and affection to the great country of which they are citizens, will unite in cordial rejoicing at the auspicious event which seems to set a seal on the union and alliance of the two nations. The adherents of those families which still put forward claims to the throne of France may, indeed, feel some natural annoy- ance at the close intimacy which they see existing between the Queen of ENGLAND and a successful competitor for empire, and consis- tent Republicans can hardly view without a pang the high and palmy fortune of him who has inherited their hopes and their labors. But Legitimists, Orleanists, and Republicans will, we doubt not, alike remember that, whatever be their differences as to internal politics, they all have an equal interest in see- ing France honored and respected, and in knowing that the good understanding between the two nations and their mutual esteem for each other survive every change of Govern- ment, are permanent elements amid never ending vicissitudes, and increase more and more in spite of everything which might tend to thwart or diminish them. We apprehend the visit of the Queen of ENGLAND is popular with all classes of Frenchmen, because a cordial alliance, an intimate understanding between the two countries, is popular. As fhr as the present war is concerned, the balance begins to incline so rapidly to the side of England and France that we cannot doubt the immediate object of the alliance which is symbolized by the visit of Queen VIcTORIA to Paris will, in no long time, be accomplished, and that England and France will emerge from their present struggle with an increase of fame, a higher character, and more complete confidence in each other. These are the first fruits to be hoped, and, we trust, very shortly to be gathered, from the present alliance. But it would be a narrow view to limit the advantages of the alliance to what is passing in the Crimea, in the Baltic, or to whatever other shore the fortunes of war may drive our fleets and armies. We view our alliance as a guarantee to the whole world that lawless power shall never again be suffered to crush under her armed heel the claims of right and justice that these two great States shall henceforth be consoli- dated into a power strong without arrogance, and willing and able to protect civilization from those barbarous inroads which seemed but a little while ago to threaten Europe, and all her arts and all her cultivation, with the fate of the lower Roman Empire. Most appropriately was the Queen encountered, on her first landing, by the effigy, not of Victory or of Fame, but the gentler genius of Civilization. Once relieved from the necessity of constant and armed vigilance against the 9 10 unwearied disturber of the peace of nations; once dispensed from the duty of standing sen- tinel over the threatened liberties of mankind, what may we not expect from the energies of two associated peoples fully put forth in the generous rivalry of the arts of peace? The extension of abstract science in all its branches, its application in a hundred ways yet undreamt of to supply the wants and gratify the wishes of manthe destruction of those harriers which the jealousy of past ages raised against the freedom of commercethe importation into our island of the orderly and methodical spirit of France and the adoption in France of some of those maxims of social and political wisdom which have stood in England so well the test of timethe oblivion of past animosities, the obliteration of existing prejudices, these offer to the eye of the philanthropist and the patriot, whether he he French or Enrdish, subjects for contemplation of the highest inte- rest, and anticipations of the most cheering import. It is to ratify an alliance fraught with such vast results that Queen VICTORIA goes to return the visit of the Emperor of the IRENCIJ. What wonder, then, that a great and enlightened people should receive such a messenger, bound on such an errand, with every mark of goodwill and every demonstra- tion of respect. PARIS, Monday Night. YESTERDAY was ohserved as a day of rest by the illustrious visitors at St. Cloud. In the morniiig they attended divine service, which was performed by the chaplain to the embassy, and in the afternoon they took a drive in the p ark and through a portion of the Bois de B oulogne. After dining en farnille with His Imperial Majesty they were present at a con- cert of sacred music given at t.he palace hy the Conservatoire de Musique. Whatever regret may have been felt by the multitudes assem- bled on Saturday at the delay which prevent- ed Her Majesty from being well seen in the pro- gress through the streets of Paris, there can be no doubt that the programme to be observed dur- ing her stay here will afford abundant opportu- nities for countervailing the disappointment thus occasioned. Itis clearly the Emperors in- tention to let the people of his capital have every reasonable facility for seeinghis illustrious guests, and for manifesting their respectful sympathies. This was made evident to-day by the manner in which the visit to the Palais des Beaux. Arts was conducted, and by the subse- quent drive along the Boulevards and the examination of that splendid restoration, La Sainte Chapelle. Some 6,000 spectators were present at the Beaux Arts, and the promenade on the Boulevards was, of course, witnessed by all Paris. With one slight contreemps the THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. arrangements were conducted with perfect or- der and regularity, and the Queen has already been brought fully within the influence of that artistic spirit which, aniong this people and in this city especially, makes such constant calls upon the admiration of the stranger. The Emperor and his guests left St. Cloud at half-past 10 oclock, and reached the Palais des Beaux Arts at 11. There the Imperial Coni~. mission, headed by their President, Prince Na- poleon, the Foreign Commissioners, and the Jurors of the Exhibition, had as~enibled to re- ceive them. They had mustered in the saloons immediately adjoining the principal entrance, and it was at once remarkable and interesting to see so great a gathering of men, who, in differ- ent countries arid for various specialties, had achieved reputation and position in the ranks of industry and science. Among Frenchmen we observed M. Renault, the President of the Institute, M. horace Vernet, and M. Ingres, the artists, M. le Play, M. Arles iDufour, NI Salandrouze de Lamonaix, M. de Rouville, M. Michel Chevalier, Baron Rothschild, M. Per- ner, M. Schneider, and M. Trescat. Among Germans, Dr. Waagen, Professor Liebig, and M. von Yiebahn. Among our own country- men were Mr. Cole, C. B., Mj~. Redgrave, R. A., Dr. Forbes Royle, Professor Wheatstone, Mr. Fairbairn, Mr. Locke, M. P., Mr. Dighy Wyatt, Mr. Warren Delarue, Professor Wil~ his, Mr. Crampton, Mr. C. Manby, and Mr. Winkworth. A beautifully executed bust of IThr Majesty stood on a pedestal in the centre of the reception room, and on every side the walls were covered with chef de3uvres of art, while masses of excited spectators were hem- med in from an invasion of the reserved space by the police of the building. This small force it was at first believed would prove sufficient to protect the illustrious visitors from pressure by the crowd in the course of their survey; but after a time, notwithstanding their exer- tions, the police were overwhelmed, and in consequence it was found requisite to recruit their numbers by some serqens de yule. The Emperor, with the Queen leaning on his arm, entered the Palace shortly after 11 oclock. He ~vas followed by Prince Albert, who had with him the Princess Royal, and the Prince of ~Vales, and after them came the suites of both Sovereigns. The reception over, the cortfge, led by the Prince Napoleon, advanced into the principal saloon for the (hisplay of German pictures, and here the works of chief interest were pointed out by Dr. Wa~ aen, than whom none could be more qualified to fulfil such a duty. There are some very fine pro- ductions in this court, such, for example, as the three powerful paintings by Winantz near the entrance, and Kisss great statue of St. George and the Dragon, which occupies the centre, is a noble effort of sculpture; but the THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 11 merits of the collection as a whole scarcely Conrt stands a remarkable stat~c of {he first rise to the level of that exhibited by Belgium, Napoleon when a student at Bricoic, tl.o work which the illustrious party next proceeded to of M. Robinet, and which attractcd much at- examine, with as much care as the circumstan- tention. Passing along the north front of the ccs rendered possihie. The attention of their Palace the progress of the corUge was arrest- Majesties was, of course, much distracted by ed for some minutes while their Majesties us- the cheers and cries of Vice Ia Reine which tened to the performance of a large choir of greeted them at different points, hut the Prince workmen, singers trained on a system hearing and the Royal children, who felt themselves some resemblance to that of HulLh in Lug- more at liberty, were so earnestly bent on see- land, and who went through a coos us ia which ing all they could that several times they were God save the Queen was introduced, led left behind, and but for the recuperative en- by their conductor, M. Chivet w sth cxtraor- ergy shown by M. Arles Dufour and other dinary precision and musical dR t At the officials might have been lost altogether in the north-east corner of the buildsn~r a ce took crowd. It would have been stran~,e indeed place to examine the restoration os t ~. linerva had the wonderful pictures of the Belgian mas- executed by Phidias in precious ~ As, jew- ters failed to elicit the highest admiration. els, and ivory, which was plased in the Par- Such artists as De Groux, iRobbe, Stevens, thenon at Athens. This restos ation which is and Verboeckhoven do honor to their country in complete accordance with tl~~ descriptions by the style of their works, aiid successfully of the original by ancient wrstcr~ is the prop- maintain its celebrity as a school of painting erty of the Due de Luynes F ~ ely sati~. against the formidable rivalry of France and fles the expectations that are naturooy excited England. From the Bel~iau collection the by such a work, but of coursc i~ an interest- Emperor led his guests into the principal sa- ing feature among the general siti actions of loon of French painting, and here they were the Palace. Their Majesties no v c nt red the preparing for a rich intellectual feast, when in saloon of M. Ingres, who divids.~ with M. br- rushed the crowd of spectators, and for sever- ace Vernet the honor of havsisr I a special al minutes all was confusion. The illustrious court allotted to him for the cx s i ~a of his party made its way as rapidly as possible to works. Their merits cci taini) ~ s~tsl~ that the next saloon, which was at once cleared for high compliment, for, thou h sotis i hard and its reception, and here the scattered cortfge severe in his treatment, the arts t a is boldly was after some time reassembled. While a carried his individuality into absiost every reinforcement of sergens de yule was sent for, school, and produced masterpiccc~ that rivet the master-pieces of Delacroix and other attention by the educated spirit hi ithed over painters, suspended in this inner saloon, were them. From this point the Qus cii was con- leisurely examined. No great inconvenience ducted by her Imperial host thiou~h the Gal- therefore arose, asid both the Emperor and her lery of British Artists. It is unnecessary to Majesty sustained the temporary inroad upon I dilate upon the excellences of a school with their freedom of locomotion with exemplary which most Englishmen who have paid any good nature and self-possession. As soon attention to art are familiar. Our painters as order had been restored the progress are upon the whole admirably represented, through the Palace was resumed, and the two and the experience of months has in no de- Soxereigns now directed their steps to the gree diminished the interest attached to a cob French Sculpture Court. Here a great and lection which exhibits such strong contrast varied display of artistic excellence was pre- to the general character of the works in the sented to them, comprising many works of Beaux Arts. England shows a strong predi- rare merit. The sculptors of France are cvi- lection for cabinet paintings, because pictures dently more disposed every day to depart from are purchased there mainly to decorate the the severe standards of classic taste, and to walls of private dwellings and to enhance the consult mainly the inspirations of their own attractions of domestic life. In continental fancy. Some critics would probably lament countries the habits of the people and their that it should be so, but after all it cannot be relations with the Governments have hitherto denied that the artistic world at large profits had the effect of making their works of art by diversity, and that both by the faults and dependent upon a different class of custom the merits thus developed permanent instruc- and patronage and the result is, that their tion for the future is derived. From the subjects are more ambitious, their treatment Sculpture Court the Imperial and Royal vis- more adapted to grandeur than to minute elab- itors passed into the saloon devoted to M. oration, and well fitted for display ii halls and Horace Vernets ch~f dceuvres. There for a galleries where focal distance can be secured, considerable time they admired his celebrated but out of place in private residences. As- Razzia, his Battle of Isly, and some of the cending the staircase at the north-cast corner great paintings in which he has commemora- of the Palace, the cortege described the cir- ted the victories of the first Empire. In this cuit of the upper galleries, in which are dis 12 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. played the water-color drawings~ the miniature his capital. It must have occurred to the illus paintings, the engravings on wood and steel, trious strangers to ask themselves when and the architectural designs contributed by London was to be adorned with works of an different countries. Here England takes a equally extensive and splendid as well as use- very high position, from the excellence of the ful characterwhen and how the reqiii~ite works exhibited by her artists in several of steps were to be taken to relieve our crowded these departments. After completing the cir- thoroughfares of the enormous traffic which cuit of the galleries their Majesties returned now chokes them up daily, rendering rapid to the central saloon, .from which they had locomotion impossible, involving incalculable been compelled to retreat at an earlier period losses both in time and money to the corn- by the inroad of spectators. Here they took munity, and withholding from a population leisurely a survey of the great works with nearly as large as that of all Scotland, the sa- which the genius of French art has embellish- lutary and elevating influences of fine build.~ ed the walls. The Last Days of the Reign of ings in a city. The Imperial and Royal ~ rt~ Terror, and the grand picture of the Imperial were also conveyed, in the course of their Guard re-entering Paris after Waterloo (by progress, close to the Hotel de Ville. Ilere Muller), M. Cousins painting illustrating the again our Queen must have remembered, with manners of the Lower Empire, Troyons cat- feelings akin to humiliation, the Mansion- tle picture, and Rosa Bonheurs Hayfield, house and the yet unreformed Corporation of were all carefully examined, and so delighted the city, and the late date at which we have were our Royal family with the masterpieces been able to secure for our English metropolis here displayed that they made the circuit of municipal institutions on a scale commensurate the saloon several times, with its requirements. After viewin~, the res- Shortly before 2 oclock they to~k their de- toration of La Sainte Chapelle, the Emperor parture amidst enthusiastic cheers, and pro- took his guests to see Notre Dame, and having cee(led for luncheon to the Elys6e. There at for some time admired that noble and venerable half-past 2 oclock there was a reception of the pile, let the reader imagine where they next corps dip1o~natiqe. At 3 Her Majesty, accom- directed their course. Why into the Quartier panied by her Imperial host, visited La Sainte St. Antoine, the hotbed of revolutions and Chapelle, and was received on her way there c~meutes, the portion, not only of Paris, but of and back in the most cordial manner by im- the whole world, which crowned heads have mense numbers of the population. Aniong had the greatest reason to regard with a fear- other streets, the cortege passed through the ful curiosity. They penetrated into it as far Rue de Rivoli, the principal hotels in which, as the Place de la Bastile. Future historians including Meurices, were handsomely decora- when they write about the present visit will ted. At half-past five the Imperial and Royal surely not forget to mark with the emphasis party returned to St. Cloud. At 8 to-night which it deserves, an occurrence so highly a grand dinner of 60 covers takes place there. dramatic. The throne of the Kapoleons has The proceedings of the day terminate with a been built upon demolished barricades, and performance by the company of the Theatre the Emperor does not hesi te to take the Fran~ais. Constitutional Queen of En,,land to a spot where she can best see these foundations that PARIs, Tuesday. have hardly yet ceased to tremble under the The movements of the Emperor and his weight of his firm and vigorous government. guests are so rapid, and there is so much for From the Place de la Bastile the cor1~ge drove the latter to see, that there is some difficulty in down the entire line of the Boulevards, on overtakin6 by description the programme of their way back to St. Cloud. In every direc- each days proceedings. There was only time, tion the Royal Family were received with un- by yesterdays post, to allude in a very cursory bounded enthusiasm, and there remains no manner to the visit paid by their Majesties to shadow of doubt upon the feelings with which La Sainte Chapelle and the promenade along all classes of the population hail the Queens the Boulevards. Perhaps, however, of all the visit. It is not the fashion here to cheer as incidents connected with the great event which we do, nor does the shout of the French peo- we are now witnessing this is the one which ple admit of such intense expression as our possesses the highest interest and will be most English hurrah, but on no occasion at home remembered. On their way from the Palace and among her own subjects have we ever of the Elys6e to the beautiful restoration of witnessed greater solicitude to catch a glimpse the church founded by St. Louis, the Queen of Her Majestys face than is being evinced and Prince Albert passed along the Rue de by the warm-hearted inhabitants of Paris. Rivoli, and thi~s had a good opportunity of Certainly one may well marvel at that curious surveying those magnificent improvements fate which has reserved for the heir of the which their host had been so actively engaged Great Napoleon the good fortune, and the aus- in carrying out in the street architecture of picious promises for, the future, bound up in 13 THE QUEEN AND TUE EMPEROR. this visit. The Bourbons could scarcely have I himself the extreme interest attached to such brought it about after re-occupying their an- an occurrence as that of the Emperor con- cestral throne by the aid of British bayonets. ducting the Royalty of England through a The Orleanists, ever intriguing for a dynastic long series of halls and galleries, on the walls character, and forgetting France in family of which are delineated in almost unbroken schemes, failed to accomplish it. But the series all the great events of French history, parvenu Emperor, raised to power by the down almost to the present time. It is to the voice of the people, and on the shoulders of the historic character of this great collection of French army, asked and has received this visit, paintings that its chief interest is due, but I-lost and. guests conduct their friendly inter- with them are mingled other associations, cal- course in the presence of the nation, and as culated to exercise a scarcely inferior infiu- befits sovereigns, and Frenchmen look on well ence on every thoughtful mind. Those apart- satisfied at an event in which no sacrifices of ments have witnessed many of the most re- dignity are involved on either side, and in markable scenes in modern times. One looks which many bitter remembrances are happily at them with far different feelings to those obliterated, with which one regards the state of rooms of To-day, their Majesties left the Palace at most other places. There is in their interest half-past 10 oclock, and proceeded, followed something beyond the triumphs of upholstery, by their respective suites, in open carriages to and in traversing them the imagination natur- Versailles. The drive is one of extraordinary ally reverts to the magnificence of Louis beauty, diversified by a noble variety of per- Quatorze, the vices or imbecility of the two spective. Now in the secluded avenues of the following reigns, to all of which they afforded ark round St. Cloud, now emerging on the a shelter and home. Of the myriads of strang- ighway which passes through the picturesque ers who during many generations have from town of Avray, now winding along the banks motives of curiosity visited these apartments of the Seine, with tall poplar trees casting the latest and the most illustrious is 11cr Ma- their shadows across its bosom, now plunging jesty Queen Victoria. Dare we hope that into the forest and from its- crest descending her benignant presence there is a happy omen into the well wooded valley in which Louis he for the future, and that henceforth France Grand- built his world-famous Palacehere of may enjoy a government so firm, wise, and itself was a rich treat alike for prince or permanent as to insure to its rulers the safety peasant in such a mommas excursion. The and repose of such splendid 1)recincts? AP inhabitants of the neighborhood of course ter a careful survey of the interior, the Em- turne(l out to pay their unpretending homage, peror took his guests into the grounds, and and the Ville dAvray was decorated in a very there for some time they were driven round simple but most effective manner with flowers the fountains which have hitherto rendered and evergreens. The town of Versailles, Versailles one of the wonders of the world. usually so dull and stupid, looked quite gay In this respect the attractions of the place and lively. A grand triumphal arch had been will shortly be eclipsed by those of our own constructed at the eastern end of the great Crystal Palace, for even the portion of the by- avenue by which the Palace is approached, drant scheme at Sydenham now completed and along its course a great abundance of places its superiority when finished beyond flags tastefully arranged were displayed. It the possibility of doubt. The gian(l fountains would be out of place here to attempt any de- were shown to-day, and viewed under such tailed description of what the Royal strangers auspices appeared to the greatest advantage. saw during their stay at Versailles. Though It was really a splendid sight to see the Im- new to them, its wonders are familiar to every penal carriages, with their escort of Cent- Eiiglishman who has visited the French Gardes, circling round basin after basin, capital, and need not therefore be dilated on. moving along shady avenues of iiiterlacing They went first through the State apartments, trees, through the umbrageous shelter of which then witnessed the grands eaux, and, after a the powerful sunlight scarcely penetrated, or cumplete survey of the park, proceeded to the emerging aaain into the full blaze of noon, l?rianon, where they partook of luncheon. At which shot rays of fire from each cuirass and haIt~past 3 oclock they returned to St. Cloud, helmet. The great Apollo fountain played and after having dined en famille at half-past last, but its effects are no longer unrivalled, 6 they closed the programme of the day by a and the Royal visitors were probably most im visit to the Grand Opera. pressed by others in the grounds, which are beautiful in form, and being seen against a PAlUs, Tuesday. welbarranged background of foliage will al THE survey of the state apartments to-day ways retain a peculiar charm. It is worthy occupied some time, and was conducted La of remark that the plan of the waterworks at strict privacy but no one who has ever visit- Versailles carefully provides for such back- ed Versailles will be at a loss to picture to .grounds, which -are indispensable to the devel 14 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. opment of the full beauty of fountains. Won- ness of Colonel Fleury and Count Bacejoechi derful as Versailles is, we may perhaps be per- we should have been unable to procure ad- mitted to observe that one misses there the mission. The Emperors box was erected in fresh turf, kept like a drawing-room carpet, the grand tier, directly opposite the stage, and and the perfect order of the approaches, which on either side of it stood, like a statue, a sol- distinguish the landscape gardening of En& dier of the Cent-Garde, en grande tenuesu- land. On the other hand, our neighbors do perb looking fellows, as superbly dressed and not hesitate to use the best materials they can equipped. Two others stood sentry on the obtain for decorative purposes. The balus- stage at either wing. The pit was entirely trades on the terraces at Versailles are con- filled with gentlemen in full evening costume, structed of marble not only the statues, but and the stalls and tiers of boxes resembled so the sculptured pedestals on which they stand many parterres of rare flowers from the amount in the open air are made of the same substance. of beauty exalted by the highest triumphs of While the Emperor took his guests through the toilette with which they overflowed. When the apartments and grounds military bands the Emperor and Empress, with their guests, stationed at different points filled the air with entered, the whole House rose to receive music. There were also large numbers of them, and from that brilliant assemblage our people present, so that the spectacle altogeth- Queen met with a reception worthy of those er was exceedin~ly gay and splendid. After who gave and of her who was the object of it. examining every object of interest in the im- The enthusiastic plaudits had hardly subsided mediate neighborhood of the palace, the illus- when the orchestra be~an to play the National trious party proceeded to theTrianon, and ex- Anthem, and at its close the cheering was plored that also. There they were joined by renewed and long sustained. Her Majesty Her Majesty the Empress, whose delicate gracefully acknowledged these tokens of the state of health does not permit her to take any high favor with which she is regarded by the very prominent part in the present festivities upper classes in Paris. She was tastefully, but of the Court. She and the Emperor, accom- simply dressed, and wore the riband of the panied by their Royal guests, now withdrew Garter, and on her head a tiara of diamonds. to the chalet behind the Trianon, where in She sat on the right hand of the Empress, perfect retirement they had coffee served to having the Emperor on her ri ht, and looked them on the grass. The pretty chalet, with remarkably well. On the right hand of the its adjoining sheet of water and mill wheel, Emperor was the Prince Napoleon, and on appeared to take the Queen completely by the left of the Empress Prince Albert, who surprise, and her gratification and that of the again had the Princess Mathilde on his left. Prince were still greater when the splendid The Emperor wore the riband of the Garter band of the Guides made the air of this sweet spot also, and, as usual, appeared in the uniform resound with the choicest music. The corU~ge of a General of Division. Prince Albert dis- returned to St. Cloud about 4 oclock, and, played the insi nia of the Legion of Honor having dined there en farnille at half-past 6, over his Field Marshals uniform. Her Ma- the Royal party went at 9 in state to the jesty the Empress wore a magnificent tiara Opera. The Boulevards and other streets of diamonds, and her delicate, but beautiful along which they passed were brilliantly features were the theme of general admira- illuminated, and it is impossible to do justic~s tion. The Royal and Imperial personages to the fairy-like appearance of that part of seated in front, with the Maids of Honor Paris, lit up by thousands of variegated lamps. standing behind them, formed together a group The whole thing put one in mind of the des- which was at once historical and dramatic. It criptions in the Arabian Nights rather is unnecessary to enter into any details as to than of sober reality, and one was never tired the performance, beyond stating that it was of admiring the coup dceil thus produced. of a miscellaneous character, including both From the centre of the triumphal arch at the opera and ballet, and that Alboni and Cruvel- Rue Lepelletier an numense chandelier of Ii were among the vocalists. They sang God colored lamps was suspended. The principal save the Queen, with the English words, be- facades of the Opera-house were a blaze of fore her Majesty retired, and the House again light, and from the lon~ succession of crowded renewed its plaudits as at the commencement, cafes on the Boulevards the bright effulgence insisting upon an encore and thus ended an- of the illumination found its way into the other busy day in this memorable visit. darkness outside, bringing out in fine relief the The Queen, the Emperor, and Prince Al- gigantic gendarmerie ~t c1u~vel who patrolled bert will visit the Exhibition Palace to-mor- backwards and forwards, watching over pub- row (Wednesday) at 11 oclock, and on Friday lie order in the thorou ~hfares. Nor was the at 3. Prince Albert will also proceed there spectacle within the Opera-house less impos- on Thursday, but alone. In order to avoid ing. Not a seat has for days been obtainable the inconveniences caused by too great an in- either for love or money, and but for the kind- flux of the public, it has been decided that THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. during those three days only the members of the Imperial Commission, the foreign com- missioners, the members of the juries, the ex- hibitors, and the holders of season-tickets shall be admitted. PARIS, Wednesday Night. To-day at 11 oclock the Emperor took Her Majesty and the members of the Royal family who accompany her to visit the Palais de lJn- dustrie. They were received at the entrance by Prince Napoleon and the members of the Imperial Commission, by the foreign Commis- sioners, and the jurors. Nearly three hours were occupied in their progress through the Exhibition, and the amount of space traversed and the magnificent products of industry ex- amined must have conveyed to the minds of the illustrious strangers a vivid and powerful im- pression as to the merits of this extraordinary display. To those who were here during the first weeks after the opening, the changes which have been effected are so great as to make one almost doubt whether it can be the same undestaking; and some conception of the difficulties overcome may be formed when we unhesitatingly state that, as an illustration of the existin condition of the peaceful arts, this Exhibition is, in most respects, decidedly supe- rior to our own in 1851. Though serious er- rors have been committed in the classification and arran ement of objects ; and thou~h the delay which took place at the outset has intro- duced some elements of unfairness into the competition between rival manufacturers, no greater mistake can be made in England than to undervalue the importance of the present display. It has not the comprehensive unity which characterized so remarkably its precur- sor in Hyde Park, nor the facilities for con- trast which then existed in such extraordinary abundance; but each specialty is admirably set forth, and, from the plan upon which the space has been distributed, can be examined with concentrated attention. This in itself is a great advanta~e, and the result is that the vis- itor returns, on each occasion, from the place ith definite notions of what he has seen. If he saw the Exhibition in May, he will be for- cibly struck with the clever and effectual man- nar in which the Imperial Commission have overcome most of the difficulties by which they were then, to all appearances, hopelessly sur- rounded. Thou, h little provision had been then made for keeping down dust by inter- stices hetween the floor-boards, the inconve- nience that might have been expected to re- sult was not realized. Though the ventilation was overlooked, the evil consequences of that want of forethought have been reduced to a point at which they are endurable. Though the passa~es were not made wide enough at the commencement, a little management on the part of the administratjon prevents much con- fusion or blocking. The semi-circular arch of the nave, without a covering of some kind to moderate the suns rays, would have made the heat inside intolerable; but, instead of the cali- co being put outside, and one monotonous mud. color used, it has been placed underneath the glass, and the alternation of stripes possessing varieties of shading has given to the roof the aspect of a huge semitransparent mosaic. Again, the temporary structure which connects the Palace with the Annexe is so ingeniously hung with draperies and planned in such good proportion, as to have an exceedingly hand- some and furnished aspect, and to be well adapted for exhibition purposes. By a judi- cious use of flags and other decorative re- sources, brilliant effect is secured where Eng- lishmen would have despaired of obtaining it; and in the huge rotunda of the Pavilion do Panorama and at points of the Annexo we have even an approach to those sensations of bewildering astonishment which the building of 1851, with its fairy-like archetecture, ex- cited. The nave of the Palais de lIndustr~ certainly still remains overcrowded with ob- jects, and the view of it fi-om the galleries is sadly deformed by the ugly square tops of stalls protruding far into it, and covered with dust but even here the coep ciceil from the ground- door is very striking, and has been ~reatly im- proved by the variegated canvas lining of the roof. It will be borne in mind that the Impe- rial Commissioners have followed the examplo of our Royal Commission in having the prin- cipal trophies of the Exhibition arranged along the centre of the nave, with the main avenues for visitors on either side of them. In other respects, no material alteration has taken place in the arrangements of the Palace and Annexe, as described at the period of the opening. In the former, France still occupies the north half of the building the foreign countries, with Great Britain, the southern half. 1-Jere, and in the Pavilion de Panorama, the products of the higher and more elaborate departments of irk- dustry are exhibited, while the Annexe is de- voted chiefly to raw materials, machinery, and the larger and more important, but less sightly, products of human labor. 1-lence it arises that the colonies of England and France are found in this section of the Exhibition, and that in it also are to be sought out many of the most~ valuable results which the collection yields to the sum of our industrial knowledge. The ex- traordinary progress shown to have taken place in art-manufactures since 1851, makes the An- hexe less frequented or admired than other portions of the Exhibition ; but the chief in- terest and value of the display as a whole are, nevertheless, mainly concentrated in that shed., 5,000 feet long; and there are principally to be gathered those precious glimpses which such 15 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. undertakings affoid into what the future pr9- mises or is capable of accomplishing for the great cause of human labor. In the new world of information which international exhibitions are opening to us, men of acute minds and re- flective powers are only yet beginning to spell their way; but no one who has paid any at- tention to these subjects, can fail to ohserve that the defects of the display of 1851 are now being steadily made up. Other countries, on that occasion, felt their short-comings in ma- chinery; and, accordingly, in that department vast and striking progress has been made. Not only do the chief industrial nations of the Continent grapple with the difficulties of per- fecting their workmanship, and endeavor to imitate, however roughly, the triumphs of our best mechanics; they also exhibit a number of machines having considerable pretensions to novelty of design, and likely to be extremely useful. Belgium, it is said, bears away the palm, even from England, for the best made locomotives. The magnificent display of Prus- sian steel shown by Krupp, has excited gene- ral admiration; and among the French makers, Cails and other houses contribute works of a kind very superior to anything shown in Eng- land, from abroad, four years ago. Our engi- neers, pre-occupied by Government contracts, exhibit a comparatively small quantity of ma- chinery, and that, though excellent of its kind, showing no very marked progress. There are only one or two marine engines of British manufacture in the Exhibition, and these by no means remarkable for their merit in design. On the other hand, the great want of taste so painfully visible in Hyde Park, in 1851, in all those departmentsof manufacture where beauty of form and color are essential, has evidently attracted great attention during the interval which has since elapsed. Strenuous efforts have been made to redeem these defects, and with corresponding success. In our furniture, our pottery, our carpets, and in textile fabrics generally this is very conspicuous ; nor can any one go carefully through the British de- partment of the Paris Exhibition without be- ing strongly impressed by the progress thus made. Nearly all those monstrosities which disfigured the British ~1isplay of 1851 have dis- appeared, and instead we find the best materi- als admirably wrought up into shapes nearly always unobjectionable. and sometimes highly artistic and refined. Thus it would appear that the tendency of these great illustrations of industry is to diffuse productive excellence over the widest possible field, to enable each nation to bring up its manufactures to the highest known standard of excellence, and to make the pro~ress of industry and of genius instructively available to all. The Queen and Prince Albert took so ac- tive a part in the Exhibition of 1851, that it would have been surprising indeed had they not shown, during their present visit to Paris, a strong interest in that now open here. If their feelings can be at all estimated by the extent of the survey which they took to-day, the ex- hibitors must be highly gratified that so much respect for industry should be entertained by personages so illustrious. It is no ordinary ef- fort, in the present intensely hot weather, even for a man to traverse for three hours the boarded floors of an immense building, and to notice a great variety of objects which, however remark- able singly, become oppressive in the aggregate from the strain to which they put the atten- tion. But Her Majesty went through this great exertion without resting more than once by the way. She evinced an earnest desire to see everything that was worth seeing, and it was evident that time alone prevented her from making that minute inspection of the wonders of the French Exhibition which marked her numerous visits to the display in Hyde Park. The Prince showed even more curiosity, and rushed about from object to ob- ject with the eagerness of an enthusiast. He took with him the Prince of Wales and the Princess Royal, while the Queen leant on the arm of the Emperor, and Prince Napoleon acted as a cicerone. On entering the interior they first visited the series of courts devoted to French bronzes, and which comprise con- tributions from all the most celebrated manu- facturers. Thence, returning, they proceeded to the eastern end of the nave, and, crossing to the south side, passed in float of the Prus- sian, Austrian, Belgian, and other foreign (le- partments, the more showyand elaborate pro- ductions of which divided their attention with the trophies along the centre. Arrived at the English space they entered the court of Messrs. Elkington, and were for some time occu- pied in admiring the splendid examples of electroplating in different metals with which this court is furnished ; thence their progress was directed to the collection of pottery, to Mintons unrivalled display, and to those of Daniel Rose, Wedgewood, Copeland, and other exhibitors. This may not be quite the strongest feature of the British section, but for extraordinary and varied excellence it ranks with any other, and our neighbors are never tired of praising it. Having completed their survey at this point, the Emperor and his guests, with their retinue of commissioners and jurors, again betook themselves to the nave, doubling its western extremity, and ex- amining with delighted curiosity the exquisite productions which here embellish it. Arrived at the point whence they had started, they now crossed over to the south side, and enter- ed the series of outer courts which surrounded the Pavillon de Panorama, and which are fill- ed with an immense and splendid display of 16 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 17 French manufactures. Here the show of in candor be admitted that he has heen dis- furniture and of musical instruments appeared tanced. His consolation will he that he has chiefly to attract their attention, hut they also approached so near to so great and overwhelm- seemed much interested hy the huffet for the ing a rival. He has also the commercial view supply of refreshments, and a series of heau- of the question entirely on his side, for his tiful designs was not passed unnoticed. When prices do not take even his most expensive the examination of the outer courts had heen works out of the market, a great consideration completed, the Emperor and his guests passed to he borne in mind, and which must be his into the magnificent Pavillon de Panorama, encouragement to persevere in a path of im- with its unrivalled collection from the great provement and enterprise honorable not only national establishments of S6vres, Gobelin, to himself but to the industry of his country. and Beauvais, its carpets, han~,ings, and tapes- When the survey of the pavilion had been try from the looms of Aubussonits gold and completed, Her Majesty rested for mine time, silver work, the masterpieces of the most skil- and partook of refreshments brought from the ful Parisian workmen, and, above all, the buffet. The illustrious party now proceeded Crown jewels of France, placed in the very to the Annexe, the greater portion of which centre of the pavilion, and having the Imperial they traversed, examining attentively the (liadem, surmounted by the Regent Diamond splendid display of machinery and raw pro- as their culminating point. There was no duce with which it is filled. Their special no- part of the Exhibition of 1861, there is no tice was directed to several objects in this part of the present display, nor have we ever course of their progress by the Prince Napo- seen anything the splendor of which at all ap- leon, but otherwise it was impossible to linger p roaches that accumulated in this apartment. much over the many valuable and important It is certainly calculated to give every foreign- features of this portion of the Exhibition. It er a magnificent idea of the encouragement must have been with extreme regret that Her which it is the system of the French Govern- Majesty and Prince Albert passed through the ment to extend to the highest and most diffi- Canadian collection without being able to look cult branches of manufactures. We do not more closely into it. Had Her Majestys time say, nor do we believe, that the results produc- and strength, exhausted by so long a prome- ed are an aquivalent for the expense iiicurred. nade, permitted her to do so, she could scarce- It seems to us an unsound and dangerous pol- ly fail to have been gratified by its contents. icy in the State thus to interfere with the na- Throughout the huge mass of objects which tural development and tendencies of certain the Paris Exhibition contains there is not a branches of industry; but apart from such singl~ display so practical, complete, and considerations, it is impossible to speak too strictly industrial in its character as that con- strongly in praise of the exquisite taste and tributed by the Government of our North refined execution which the majority of the America possessions. It completely distances objects in the pavilion exhibit. Here Her the collection forwarded from the United Majesty and the Prince had submitted to their States, and hears within it most convincing inspection the new and interesting metal, evidences of the resources and the productive aluminum, both in bars and made into spoons, energy of these self-governed dependencies of forks, tankards, and other articles of domestic the Crown. The details of this Exhibition it use. The li~htness, elasticity and ductility of is impossible for us to dilate upon now, but this suhstance are very remarkable, and con- they are full of interest, and will amply repay fident hopes are entertained that it may be all who study them. produced at a rate and applied to uses upon On leaving the Palace the Emperor and his which to found results important to industry, guests proceeded to the Tuileries, where they The Queen examined for a long time and with had luncheon. At half-past 4 oclock they re- the liveliest curiosity the Imperial crown and turned to St. Cloud, where at 8 a grand banquet the immense number of splendid jewels by was given. The festivities of the day termi- which it is surrounded. The former is of cx- nate by a theatrical performance, for which quisite design and workmanshipa diadem in the artistes of the Gymnase are engaged, the the true sense of the word, and surmounted play being Le Pus de Fernilie. at the apex by the Regent Diamond, which, In the course of the afternoon his Royal though somewhat smaller, seems to he a far Highness Prince Albert paid a visit to Prince more brilliant stone than its rival, the Koh-i. Adalbert of Bavaria, who is staying at Meu- noor. Her Majesty and the Prince spent a rices Hotel. considerable time also in examining the man- ufactures of S~vres, which, in splendor, far PARIS, Friday Morning. surpass all past efforts of~ that establishment, On Wednesday afternoon, after their length- and leave France in undoubted possession of ened survey of the Exhibition, the Queen the supremacy in the practice of the ceramic and Prince Albert, accompanied only by the art. Wonderful as Mintons pottery is, it must Royal children, went incognito in a hired car- DXCIII. LXYII{G AGI~. VOL. XI. 2 18 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. riage to the Jardin des Plantes. This has al- quenity to examine the splendid design and ways been considered one of the principal exquisite effects of color in many of these pro- sights of Paris, and the illustrious strangers ductions. It was his intention here to have were much gratified by all that they saw there. witnessed several experiments illustrative of The programme of yesterdays movements in- recent discoveries in chymistry, which possess eluded a lengthened visit paid by Prince Al- high scientific interest, and may lead to im- bert to the Palais dIndustrie, and which lasted portant practical results but IDumas, who was from half-past 10 oclock till half-past 1; lunch to have conducted the experiments, was Un- at the Tuileries, followed by the Emperor and fortunately absent, and, in consequence, they his guests going through the picture galleries were not shown. One is a new mechanical of the Louvre; dinner enfamille at the Tui- pump for creating a more perfect vacuum leries, and at 9 oclock a grand ball at the than has ever hitherto been produced, and Hotel de Yille. among the effects obtained from it is the soli The Prince was accompanied through the difying of liquid lau~hing gas by evapora- Exhibition by Prince Napoleon and many of tion. the commissioners and jurors. His inspection Another is a beautiful chymical process for appeared to be guided by no particular plan, extracting the pluinbago from Ceylon black- and to be for the purpose of making purchases lead in such a state as to be at once fit for on his own behalf and that of Tier Majesty, as compression into lead pencils. There was well as to gratify his curiosity. It may be found also exhibited here the new and beautiful interesting to mark some at least of the dye, alizarine, obtained from the extract of objects which chiefly attracted his attention, for madder, and yielding a series of madder lacs, even in the disconnected form due to their asso- remarkable for the purity of their colors. ciation with such a visit they may help to Our most eminent scientific authorities concur awaken in the minds of the English people in statin~, that so wonderful a collection of no- some approach to a proper appreciation of the velties in chymistry has never previously been Paris Exhibition, of its extraordinary value as seen together, and they were much disap- an industrial display, and of the importance pointed that his Royal Highness was unable to that all who can spare the- time and money witness the proposed experiments, and to re- should cross the Channel to examine it. His ceive the explanations of MI. Dumas. While Royal Highness began with the ground floor, in the north gallery the Prince visited the on the north side of the Palace, which is ap- beautiful suite of apartments fitted up there propriated exclusively to French manufac- by M. Cruchet for the Empress. lie also tures. This he went through from end to end paid marked attention to the stalls filled with with great care, stopping for a long time be- jewellery,theenamels,theimitationsofprecious fore the furniture of Barbedienne Tahan; the stones, and other articles of personal orna- jewellery and precious metal cases of Fro- ment which overlook the nave on that side of ment-Meurice, Rudolphi, Lebrun, Callot, Mar- the building, and which afford so curious an rel, and other eminent makers. The display insight into the manufacturing tastes of the in zinc of the Vicille Montagne Company, Parisians. Descending to the ground floor Boy, and Miroy also attracted his marked at- and entering the Courts which surround the tention; nor is it surprising that it should, Pavillon de Panorama, the collections of fur- when one considers the extraordinary improve- niture and arms displayed there were care- ments which are visible in this branch of fully examined. In the former department 1)roduction since 1851. In that portion of the of industry our neighbors greatly outshone us building the porcelain turned out by the pri- in 1851, but our best London makers have vate establishments of France is displayed; greatly improved since then, and the result is and the contrast which it suggests with our that we now hold a much more satisfactory makers on the one hand, and the ceramic position. Messrs. Jackson and Graham, of triumphs of S~vres on the other, is sufficiently Oxford-street, have especially distinguished striking. Ascending the staircase at the east themselves by at least one work, a cabinet in end of the Palais the Prince took particular the French style, superior to anything of the notice of Foucaults remarkable pendulum cx- kind in the Exhibition. In arms there is a l)eriu~ent, showing the diurnal rotation of the small but brilliant and beautifully arranged earth, which is exhibited there. By the ac- display, the effect of which is considerably in- tion of an electro magnet, which has a voltaic creased by the care which the gunmakers of battery underneath it, a fresh impulse is given France pay to external ornamentation. Our to the pendulum at very oscillation, without manufacturers, whatever want of enterprise causing any divergence, and thus the accuracy they may have shown, at least concentrate of the apparatus is said to be increased to a their attention upon essential points of finish, degree which enables it to mark the flight of and when they have learnt to consult the me- time like a clock. The great display of tex- chanical engineers a little more than hitherto rile fabrics from Lyons was next passed in re- will astonish the world by the effectiveness of view, and his Royal Highness paused fre- the weapons they will turn out. As an illus THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 19 tration of this it may be mentioned that Mr. thing to be learned. Over the indian collec- Westlev Richards has already found the shoot- tion, which surpasses considerably in value and ing of the Mini6 rifle improved from 50 to instructiveness that of Hyde-park, his Royal 100 per cent. by the use of Whitworths dif- Highness was conducted by Captain Shepherd, ference gauges in perfectin~ the bore and the the deputy-chairman of the Court of Direc- size of the ball used. After satisfying his cu- tors, and by Dr. Royle. This department riosity as to the French contributions in the excited the unbounded admiration of the neighborhood of the Pavillon de Panorama, French, who are always assembled there in the Prince returned to the Palais dIndustrie great numbers, and whose predilections for and proceeded to examine the English display. ornamental production make them confess He could not have failed to observe with re- that they can study in no finer school. How gret how inadequately some of our great ma- curious it is that with all our efforts after the nufacturing towns Birmingham, Wolver- beautiful as applied to industry, the poor hampton, and Bradford especially are re- Hindoo artist, who traces his unprogressive p resented, and he must have remarked the skill through a descending experience of fine shows made by Manchester, Glasgow, many centuries, should still be our master in Sheffield, Leeds, Nottingham, Dundee, and design. other centres of industry. The different Among the English display ofjewellery and spirit which has actuated different com- gold and silver work, the Prince seemed most munities in exhibiting may be due in some struck by the stalls of Hunt and Roskell and degree to the operation of the protective sys- of Hancock. The former show a magnificent tem in France, but other causes have been at shield, a noble effort of repousse work, and work alsocauses which are to be much re- intended to portray the contest between Jupi- gretted considering the extension and im- ter and the Titans. The latter exhibits in his portance which the Paris Exhibition has as- case, among several other objects of interest, sumed, and the attention which, though long- Mr. Hopes celebrated blue diamond and Miss deferred, it is certain to excite among the in- Burdett Couttss magnificent set of sapphires. dustrial classes of all civilized nations. After Mr. Hancock also shows a fine oxidized sil- the Prince had completed hissurvey of British ver cup, representing the interview between manufactures on the ground floor he ascended Henry VIII. and Francis I., designed and to the gallery, and there his attention was im- modelled by Armstead, a young English art- mediately riveted by the wonderful collection ist of rising merit. The jewels in his ease, of minerals, of agricultural produce, and of including the emerald and collar of the young rising industries sent from our Australian pos- Maharajah Duleep Sing, are valued at the sessions. It is impossible to speak too highly enormous sum of 250,000. In his progress of these, or to exaggerate the interest which along the English gallery the Princes atten- attaches to them. Curiously enough, the tion was arrested by a large number of ob- French visitors to the Palais dIndustrie do jects, but it is impossible at present to do not appear to bestow the notice which would more than allude to some of the more conspi- certainly have been excited in England on cuous. Among these may be mentioned the the golden treasures of Victoria, but probably excellent dressing-cases by Mechi and Leuch- this arises from the out-of-the-way place allot- ars, the admirable show of fancy stationery ted to them, for one can hardly bring himself by Delarue and Co., the display of Irish pop- to believe that the universal passion for the lins and lace, the cromolithographic and the most precious and beautiful of all metals is photographic exhibitions, in which we surpass less strongly felt here than elsewhere. There all other countries, and the new ordnance sur- are nuggets here big enough to make every- vey of Scotland, which it is whispered about body who sees them wish himself a digger, has been recommended for a gold medal by but the mineral wealth of these remote Eng- the jury to whose class it belongs. From the lish possessions does not appear to have with- English department the Prince worked stead- drawn the minds of the colonists from seek- ily through those of other for~eign countries, ing fortune in those channels of labor most taking their gallery space first, and then cx- familiar to the experience of the world, and amining their ground-floor space. He saw the visitor hangs with undivided interest over enough to enable him to estimate their gene- the first steps of such young communities in ral character, but some of their most striking developing for themselves all the leading ra- and important specialties escaped his observa- inifications of industry. From the Australian tion. For example, Gintels, of Vienna, dis- exhibition the Prince passed to look at those covery, by which two messages can be sent at of Tunis and Turkey, Greece, Persia, and the the same moment in opposite directions along Italian States. These upon the whole are not one telegraphic wire; the perfect calculating so characteristic or distinctive as they were machine, so long sought for, and which stereo- 1851, but they are, nevertheless, well worthy types its results, exhibited from Sweden; ths of a visit, and from all of them there is some- beautiful and admirably-working composing 20 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. and distributing machine, produced by a Dane. were they with the highly explosive and corn- A few realized results like these soon corn- bustible materials developed by what they pensate for the cost of international Exhibi- consider to be diplomatic superciliousness. tions. Yet there are many equally valuable How the matter will end it is impossible to distributed all over this mi~,hty collection, tell, but the exasperation deserves to be re- which even the experienced eyes of jurors corded. If carried much further some of our slowly pick out from the mass, and of which most eminent men in science and the arts therefore Royalty, with the best intentions, will be bursting like so many Disney shells, cannot be expected to take notice. The and it will be positively dangerous to go to Prince was accompanied in his survey of the Galignanis or the courtyard of Meurices. exhibition yesterday by M. Fould, whose Barring disappointment, the ball last iiight at strong resemblance to Mr. Cobden struck the Hotel de Ville was certainly one of the several of the Englishmen in the procession. most magnificent entertainments ever given Mr. Dilke, who so ably performed his duty as by the inhabitants of a capital to a Sovereign one of the executive committee of 1851, was in friendly alliance with its ruler. The exte- also present; and here it may be mentioned nor was profusely and most tastefully deco- that the exclusion of that gentleman from any rated with flags, and illuminated by a row of share in the management of the British col- gas jets running along the entire facade. Im- lection here has excited general surprise and mense pyramids of colored lamps were also regret. That distinguished officer, Colonel placed around the entrance. The company Gordon, R. A., who has arrived in Paris, on began to assemble at the doors before 8 oclock. his way home from the Crimea, was in the At halipast 9 the Imperial and Royal cortege building yesterday during the Princes visit, arrived. The Emperor, giving his arm to the The Royal party went through the picture Queen, led her into the court of Louis Qua- galleries of the Louvre in strict privacy, and torze, which had been enclosed by a tempora- public curiosity, deprived of the opportunity ry roof, and converted into a vast vestibule. of gratifying its promptings there, concentrat- An immense chandelier hung from the roof, ed itself with extraordinary eagerness upon the windows looking into the courtyard were the evening festivities at the Hotel de Ville. draped with red curtains and illuminated by All Paris was not only anxious, but madden- numerous small chandeliers, and beneath a ed to go, and not only all Paris, but every- grand double staircase ran a cascade of clear body of importance from the provinces or water which ~,ave a delightful freshness to the from foreign countries now sojourning in the air. The floor of the court was richly carpet- capital. How small is the proportion of that ed, and a profusion of rare exotics was placed mighty aggregate likely to measure their dig- upon the staircase. The marble pillars of the nity by our modest scale on such an occasion court were newly polished, and the capitals one may readily conceive, but one thin~ was picked out with white and gold. Her Majes- quite certain,large as the accommodation ty, leaning upon the Emperors arm, ascended of the Hotel de Ville is, it has its limits, and the grand staircase, followed by Piince Al- beyond these the city of Paris would not be bert, who conducted the Princess Mathilde. justified in going with their invitations. It Prince Napoleon and Prince Adalbert of Ba- was requisite to draw the line somewhere, varia were also of the Royal party. The Roy- and the consequence was that many who either al visitors passed into the Hall of the Cary- were or believed themselves entitled to be atides, where fauteuils were placed, and where present never received their cards. Among the Ministers of State and their families pass- them, from some unexplained cause, which ed before their Majesties. From this beauti- will probably increase very much the feelings ful hall the illustrious party proceeded into of irritation with which they regard their the grand salle de dense, which presented a treatment by the ambassador, were a large scene of dazzling magnificence. Here chairs number of the British jurorsmen whose po- of State were placed under a crimson velvet sition at the head of great branches of indus- canopy, surmounted by an Imperial crown, try and whose claims in connection with the the walls of the salle being covered with white Exhibition beyond all question entitled them satin embroidered with gold. Her Majesty to be asked. Even Lord Cowley may find opened the ball with the Emperor, Prince Al. that he has acted unwisely in establishing a bert giving his hand to the Princess Mathilde, law of wounded dignity among such a body. and the remaining dancers in the quadrille They had hardly recovered from his neglect being Prince Napoleon, Lady Cowley, Prince of them in the presence-chamber of the Em- Adalbert and Mademoiselle Hausmann, grand- peror the other day, when this fresh cause of daughter of the Prefect of the Seine. After annoyance has broken forth, and in some way the quadrille some Arab chiefs were present- or other they are pretty certain to find their ed, whose picturesque bournous, cool white revenge. Last night it was rather a serious rohes, black beards, and piercing dark eyes affair to encounter any of them, so charged. excited a lively degree of interest among the THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR 21 Royal group, and whose obeisances to 11cr ive incident in that great historical event Majesty and the Emperor were most profound. which the inhabitants of Paris are now wit- One or two othei quadrilles were danced by nessing. Rifle shooting has been very much the company while the Royal visitors appear- neglected as a branch of military training in ed to admire the noble proportions of the salle, England, and even the men who have been the splendor of its chandeliers, and the beauty taught at Hythe have hitherto gone back to of its ceiling and decorations. The Emperor their regiments and resumed their ordinary then led the Queen through the crowded duties without being turned to account in rooms, followed by the other members of the making good marksmen of their comrades. Royal party and their suite, the company At Woolwich there are no facilities for the use making way as they passed, and receiving of great guns, and at Shoeburynees the estab- their Majesties with the most respectful salu- lishment kept up is so small, and the place it- tations, but without cries or exclamations, self so inaccessible, that the experiments made The whole suite of rooms of the Hotel de there from time to time are conducted under Ville were opened to the company, and lights, the greatest possible disadvantages. It is well mirrors, fountains, statues, and the choicest known that officers and soldiers belonging to flowers, disposed with exquisite taste, made our artillery force have been sent in consider- the scene one of the most dazzling in beauty able numbers to the East who have never fired and brilliancy that can possibly be conceved. a cannon in their lives, and, looking at the About 8,000 persons were present. Every preparatory system of training, the only won- official person appeared in the full uniform of der is that this arm of the service has succeeded his military, naval, ~r civil rank, and wore so well in the East. Here matters are very the stars or insignia of his orders. The ladies different. The Emperor takes an enlightened toilettes were of singular beauty and richness, interest in the efficiency of the French artillery, and as there were diplomatists, attach~s, and and before circumstances raised him to the military men from every country in Europe position which he now occupies wrote a work in full costume, the splendor of the scene was up?n the subject, which, when there was no complete. Her Majesty wore a white silk object to be gained by flattery, was spoken of robe covered with lace and embroidered with with praise. Having now full power, he is the flowers of the geranium, a diadem of dia- not a man likely to neglect the opportunity monds, and a splendid diamond necklace. for developing to the utmost the mechanical She also wore the blue riband of the Order and scientific resources which in modern times of the Garter, which the Emperor also wore are the only available counterpoise to the force over his uniform. The Royal visitors, having of numbers in war. Thereibre the visit to made the circuit of the rooms, left the Hotel Vincennes yesterday may fairly be regarded de Ville by the grand staircase, Her Majesty as almost a formal recognition of the import- stayin~, to admire as she descended the taste- ance which the allied Powers attach to the ful preparations made to do her honor, and subject of rifle and artillery practice. On expressing to the Prefect the warm admira- their return, soon after mid-day, to the Tuile- tion and delight which she had derived from ries, the Emperor aiid Prince found the Queen her visit. Their Majesties then took their already arrived there from St. Cloud, and after departure. The Queen and Prince Albert luncheon they all proceeded to visit the Exhibi- were attended by the Earl of Clarendon, the tion. They arrived at the grand entrance to Marquis of Breadalbane, General Grey, Cob- the Palace dIndustrie at half past 2 oclock, nel Phipps, Lord~ Alfred Paget, Sir James and, as on Wednesday, though even with more Clark, etc., and by the Ladies in Waiting. pomp and ceremony, were received on The Empress was unable to be present. Af- alighting from their carriages by Prince Na- ter the Royal party had left, dancing was re- poleon, the members and officers of the Impe- sumed in various apartments, and continued nab Commission, the foreign commissioners, until daybreak. Ices and other refreshments and the jurors. The illustrious party were were most liberally provided, and the extreme first conducted to the sheds between the main heat made the demand for them very great, building and the Annexe appropriated to car- but nothing was wanting to render the fete riages and F ranch agricultural machinery, worthy alike of the powerful Sovereigns in which was rapidly surveyed. There a separ- whose honor it was given and of the great ation took place, the Emperor, the Queen, city which thus splendidly entertained them. and the Princess Royal returning to the Pal- ace, while Prince Albert and the Prince of PARIs, Saturday, Aug. 25. Wales remained behind to complete their cx The visit which the Emperor and Prince amination of this department, and also to visit Albert paid the Ecole de Tin at Vincennes the interestiur, collection in the Annexe. yesterday, and the practice which they wit- Their Majesties described the circuit of the nessed not only with the Minie but in artil- galleries, examining with great interest the lery also, form an interesting and even instruct- varied collections of industry whicV that por 22 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. tion of the Exhibition contains. The En~lish production of new substances, such as isinglass department, including the Indian Courts, the and porpoise leather, to which the Exhibition Australian display, and the stalls of our prin- of 1851 had first directed attention, and many cipal silversmiths and jewellers, was first visited, other points of interest, to which it is for the then Belgium, Austria, Prussia, the minor moment irhpossihle to refer. The time at his German States, Sweden and Norway, Den- disposal for visiting the Annexe did not per- mark, Holland, Switzerland, Spain, and Por- mit the Prince to do much beyond passing tugal. The Queen paid particular attention, rapidly through it from end to end. [lad he in the course of her tour, to M. Foucaults ap- been able to remain a little longer there aratus for showing the rotation of the Earth, he could not have failed to appreciate the ex- p which was explained to her and the Princess treme importance of that wonderful collection, Royal by the inventor. Her Majesty also which really presents us with the materials for went carefully over the Lyons Gallery, and judging how far the principal nations of the made some purchases therein. After admiring continent are appealing to those mechanical the beautiful saloon and boudoir of the Em- agencies in relief of labor from which we have press, the exquisite products of the St. Etienne profited so largely as a people. looms, and the contributions from Sardinia, The review in the Champ de Mars, at half Tuscany, the Pontifical States, Tunis, Egypt, past 5 oclock, differed only from that of ordi- and Turkey, the illustrious party descended nary occasions in the presence of such un- the staircase immediately opposite to that by wonted and illustrious spectators. That con- which they had reached the gallery, and sur- sideration gave, of course, an extraordinary veyed for a time the French & xhibition on the interest to the display, for it cannot be re- ground floor. Here the buhl furniture, work- garded as otherwise than extraordinary that boxes, and toys attracted their attention, and the Queen and Royal family of England should with the latter especially her Majesty ap- with the entire approbation of the English peared much amused. Before quitting the people see 50,000 Frenchmen march past Palace the Queen visited the United States them in arms, of all places in the world on the department, but the display of goods there Champ de Mars, and shouting Vive lEmpe- is not worthy of the American people, and de- reur! to the nephew and heir of the Great cidedly inferior, both in interest and utility, to Napoleon. The advance of the Imperial and that from our own Canadian provinces. Let Royal cortege from the Pont Jena to the Ecole us return now to the Prince, whom we left in Militaire, with the troops drawn up, the cay- the agricultural implement shed, overhauling aIry on the left, and the infantry on the right, the ponderous and clumsy-looking machiner~ so as to form a sort of grand military avenue with which the French farmer conducts his for them, was a wonderfully fine sight, as it business. his Royal Highness minutely ex- always must be, but when the corhige ap- amined many of these machines, and, though proached, and the Queen and Empress were roughly made compared with the same class seen seated with the Prince of Wales and of productions in England, there can be no Princess Royal opposite, and th~ Emperor and doubt that in the materials valuable sug~es- Prince Albert on horseback at either side of tions are to be found amongst them. Our the carriage, one need not be surprised that neighbors appear to bestow great pains in the the mind of the spectator should seek and find manufacture of their millstones,a fact which in the scene thus presented to him a peculiar may in some degree account for the superior and extraordinary interest. The troops rent fineness of their flour. They show on this oc- the air with their acelamations as the Emperor casion a large number of portable steam-en- took his guests along their front, battalion after gines for agricultural purposesone of several battalion, and squadron upon squadron, to in- striking facts which prove how closely they are spect them. During the defiling also, which treading on the heels of even our most im- commenced as soon as the inspection termin- proved practice, and how necessary it is for us ated, and was witnessed by the Queen and never to think ourselves secure from competi- Empress from the principal balcony of the tion, or able to rest for a moment on our oars. Ecole Militaire, the shouts of each regiment In the Annexe his Royal Highness took a were equally enthusiastic, and there can be no rapid survey of some points which possess cx- doubt that if an army is ever permitted to treme interest, and among them the Canadian think or can do soa matter certainly against collection, through which he was conducted by theory, though that is not always realized in Mr. Logan and Mr. Perry. His Royal practicethe French army hails the visit of Highness had pointed out to hii~i the extraor- Queen Victoria with as much gratification as dinary specimens of cheapness combined with the inhabitants of Paris and the country at excellence in the manufacture of wood which large. It was observed as a minor point yes- that collection contains, the valuable nature terday that while the troopsof the Garde Im- of the woods for most useful purposes, the periale marched past in columns of companies splendid display of seeds and minerals, the only two deep, those of the line went by three THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 23 deep. The men looked exceedingly smart with themselves and all the world, except, per- and well up in their discipline, nor with the haps, Lord Cowley, hy heing presented to constant drain which the war in the East im- Prince Aihert. his Royal I-highness received poses does the Emperor appear at all in want them at St. Cloud, and made the interview of good, well-trained soldiers. General Can- more agreeable and flattering to each by hi~ robert appeared among the brilliant escort own Exhibition experiences. which accompanied h-her Majesty, and as often The Colonial Commissioners presented to as he was recognized received a hearty cheer. the Prince were Mr. MArthur, representing The weather, which looked very threatening New South Wales, and the secretary, Mr. during the progress of the review, fortunately Bousfield; Mr. Logan, Special Commissioner, continued f~ir until it had terminated. But Messrs. Maitland and Sterry Hunt, represent- then the rain descended in torrents~ and it was ing Canada; Mr. Holmes, representing Brit- in the midst of a tLmderstorm that the Em- ish Guiana. peror took his guests to the I-hospital of the The British jurors present were Sir John havalides there to visit the tomb of the First Burgoyne, G.C.B., Sir Joseph Olliffe, Messrs. Napoleon. Well might nature show signs of Alderman Carter, Crampton, CE., Warren do elemental agitation while such an act of hom- la Rue, Fairbairn, CE.. George Rennie, Pro- age to the ashes of the mighty dead was in fessor Wheatstone, Professor Willis, Mr. Dighy progress! After dining en femille at the Tuil- Wyatt, and Mr. J. Webb, Mr. Locke, M.P., cries, the Imperial and Royal party went to and Dr. Arnot were prevented by the urgent the Opera Comique, where they appeared business of their juries from being present. with less state, but were received with quite as Mr. Cole, C.B., General Commissioner; Mr. much enthusiasm as on Tuesday at the Grand Red~rave, R. A., Special Commissioner; and Opera. So terminated the programme of Captain Fowke, R. E., were also present. Fridays proceedings, a day in some measure To most of these gentlemen his Royal devoted to the interests of peace, but with Highness addressed questions calculated to which the pomp and circumstance of military elicit what they thought most worthy of special display were also skilfully blended, and wherein mention in their respective departments. Mr. those who study the rationele of such precon- MArthur was too modest to tell the Prince a certed events may find much food for curious fact which is creating a great sensation here, reflection. It would not be difficult to show vizthat Australia exhibits wines of extra- the consummate tact with which the programme ordinary excellence, Tokay especially, being of the Queens visit from beginning to end has finer than the best produced in Ilungary. been arran~ged; but if any proof of it be sought Otherwise the commissioners and jurors were more decisive than another it will be obtained frank enough. Mr. Logan told his Royal in the gradually culminating effect which the Highness that Canada had experienced meal- Emperor has managed to give his reception of culable benefit from the Exhibition of 1851. her, and of this perhaps the best illustration is He may rest satisfle(l that her present display the review in the Champ do Mars, following a in Paris, so practical and complete of its kind, quiet morning at the Exhibition, and itself will not be less advantageous to her. The followed by one of those graceful acts which, Prince seemed very desirous to hear of some at the will of those who interpret it, may be new an(l cheap fibre for the manufacture of construe(l either as regret for the past or as a paper, and on this point the Commissioner for tribute to departed greatness independently British Guiana expressed his confidence that of all other considerations. an ample supply of a material such as would answer the purpose most satisfactorily could Sunday Morning. be drawn from hit colony. We now come to Saturdays programme of But we are diverging once more into the festivities, and find them even more artistic, subject of industry, instead of asking the reader splendid, and successful than any that had pre- to accompany us in imagination to Versailles ceded themmore conclusive in the evidence and pass a too short night there amid splendors which they afford of the extreme care with such as few of those who witnessed them can which every detail connected with this memor- ever hope to see approached. Talk, indeed, able visit has been thought out, and of the taste of enchanted palaces and fairy halls and and judgment with which the whole affair has illuminated gardens, and all the decorative been conducted. adjuncts with which the fhncy teems when its A quiet visit to St. Germains, with its fine love of the wonderful is highly excited. But scenery of forest, river, and chateau, began the what idea can they give you, or any true des- day, and fitly prepared his Royal guests for cription of anything short of having been pro- that wondrous spectacle which the Emperor sent yourself; as to what Versailles was last had prepared in..their honor at Versailles. Our night? You must go hack to the feelings English jurors and commissioners had also which you had when still a childto the time earty in the morning been put into good humor when the imagination and the senses were so 24 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. quick that nothing seemed impossible to you pany, who you find are all in uniform, moving when it was not too difficult to put a girdle about in a flood of light poured down upon round the earth or to perform any one of them from thousands of waxli~hts. Ima me g delicate Arids proffered feats. The age the effect. The windows are all open, the of fresh and young belief in wonders is nearly night comes in refreshingly, and you turn to worn out, or only lives in the cold forms which look out upon the terrace, when, behold, you severe science and calculating hard-headed find its verde of ballustrade illuminated with discovery prescribe. But what is wanted here colored lamps which have converted it into an is the confiding credulousness of nursery days, arcade of variegated splendor, in which three an unquestioning spirit that will think we tell sets of arches with terminal crowns over them our story only too plainly, and he angry with form the most conspicuous objects. The foun- us hecause we try to be simple. Some 10 tam hasins in the foreground have undergone miles from Paris, to the westward, stands the the same process of decoration, and their sur- Palace of Versailles, a huilding of great ex- faces tremble under the murmuring flash of tent, surrounded by a terraced garden in the gas jets like lakes of molten silver or gold. Italian style, with fountains and statues spread- Arab chiefs move about with the slow, solemn ing coolness and heauty outside, and long gait which they appear to have borrowed from ranges of saloons and halls within, the walls of their own camels, admiring the wonderful which are either hung with historical paintings spectacle within the palace and outside. Sud- or decorated with marble and gilding and mir- denly, towards the south, a gun is heard, the rors and tapestry. A lovely autumii night has bands in the great mirrored ballroom play set in, and the moon is shining pensively in a God Save the Queen, and a movemen; sfy which is not altogether free from clouds, among the crowd shows the fireworks have and yet not overcast. As you approach this commenced. On the further verge of a fine home of the Sovereigns of France, wherein in sheet of water, with the shadows of the Park times gone by so many wonderful persons have behind to bring out its effects and the thunder lived and so many strange and great scenes of the cannon countenancing authoritatively taken place, you find the long avenues lighted the streams of soaring rockets, the pyrotechnic up, and the architectural outlines of the build- display takes place. We know nothing about ing itself indicated by lines of gas illumination, the management of such things iii England, There is a block up of carria~es at the entrance nor does Cremorne or Vauxhall give any, the to the courtyard, all filled with men in Court faintest, conception of the refined splendor dresses, and women so beautiful, so covered with which they are conducted on this occasion. with jewels that they flash out upon you A double bouquet, the first springing from a through the dark, and whose light robes care- transparency of Windsor Castle, and the last, fully held up to prevent crushing, make them still more magnificent, from ships of war, look like so many Venuses emerging from the brings the fireworks to a close, and causes the foam of the sea. Presently a sergent de ville ball to open with everybody in a frenzy of and your own dexterity get you thron ~h, and admiration. Then the Emperor, wearing the you are soon passing through anterooms filled Riband of the Garter, takes the Queen into with stately porters and footmen who stand up the circle prepared for her, and Priiice Albert as you pass by and dont laugh, but look very leads as his partner the Princess Mathilde, and grave indeed at the horrible absurdities of the Prince Napoleon the Princess Royal, and the uniform which you have borrowed from some Prince of Wales and Prince Adalbert of Ba- costumier for the occasion. A staircase brings varia join in the stately quadrille, which is you to the floor on which the State apartments danced while grave Ministers of State, like in splendid success set forth upon their em- Lord Clarendon, and Count Walewski, and blazoned walls the historical glories of France. Lord Cowley, and soldiers like Canrobert, and But before you euLer these you must give up Vaillant, and the Arab chiefs, already alluded the precious green ticket which you have per- to, some in white bournous, some in red, look scented everybody for several days to obtain, solemnly on at a spectacle such as few of those and only got at last as a favor never to be re- who witnessed it can ever hope to see repeated. paid, except by prostrating yourself before the Waltzes and quadrilies followed each other donor for the rest of your days. You forget three or four timet. Amo. ~ the Imperial and all that, in what you now have to see. The Royal guests Her Majesty the Empress looks retinue of servants disappears, and the Cent gayly on, a perfect Queen of the Revels, Gardes in full costume, varied occasionally by though not sharing in them before general a Sapeur Pompier, occupy a series of chambers dancing comi eneed. It was midnight when through which you pass in grand procession. the Emperor took Her Majesty and the rest Standing in pairs at the entrance to each salle of the Court to a banquet, which was magnifi- they look upon you with magnificent coldness cently served in the Theatre ef the Palace. as you pass. But at length you leave the bulk The ball at Versailles may be considered in of them behind, and join the rest of the com- some respects as the drop-scene of this Royal 25 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. visit, for to-day is a dies non, and to-morrow Her Majesty returns to England. The public will tberefore be able to judge of tbe finished skill with which tbe f& es of tbe memorable week wbich have just closed bas been brought to so splendid a climax. BO1JLOGNE, Monday Night. THE Queens visit to France and tbe Em- peror Napoleon will have terminated before the following hastily written details of its clos- ing scenes are in print. She embarks to-nigbt at 11 oclock on board the Royal yacht, and by 1 oclock it is expected that she will be on her way to Osborne. Thus has been happily concluded an event the magnitude of which it is impossible to exaggerate, which has been achieved without a single drawback, and upon all the details connected with which not only the illustrious personages most directly con- cerned, but the populations of two countries the most powerful and civilized in the world, have every reason to congratulate themselves. From the spectacle of such accord between Sovereigns who, being independent of each other, yet are proud to show their mutual friendship, the happiest auguries for the future may fairly be gathered. Thbse who are thus united by the bonds of personal intimacy will know how to guard the strength which it man- ifestly gives, and study to guard against dis- turbing an alliance which, begun on the grounds of interest and policy, has now receiv- ed an enthusiastic confirmation from the in- habitants both of Paris and London. It can no longer be doubted that the two nations have large sympathies in common, powerful enough to control all adverse influences, and to aflbrd the best guarantees for the safety of Europe. The Queens visit has partaken even more than the Emperors of a public character, and, great as was the enthusiasm with which he was welcomed in our metropolis, it was at least equalled, if not surpassed, by the feeling which has greeted Her Majesty from all clas- ses of Parisians. This was convincingly de- monstrated to-day by the immense numbers in which they turned out along the route of the procession to witness her departure. A weeks stay, during which she has constantly been seen driving in the streets, had in no sensible degree diminished the interest which her presence excited, and it must be among the highest consolations of Royalty for the cares which it involves to know that even among foreigners, who only know by repute the virtues which adorn our Sovereign, so much respect and homage are voluntarily ac- corded to her. it would really seem as if eve- ry thing had conspired to make this visit all that could be desired, for even the weather has been favorable to a degree that could hard- ly be hoped for. To-day there was not a cloud in the sky, and the sun shown down upon the ceremony of the departure with a fervor of brilliancy which left no portion of the general effect undeveloped. As on the occasion of her Majestys arrival, the line of procession was kept by a military force, the troops of the National Guard, according to custom, holding the right side, and those of the regular army the left. The Garde de Paris and the Ser- gens de ville co-operated at all important points, and the best order and arrangements prevailed. The Emperor and his guests left St. Cloud for the Tuileries before ten oclock, and thence, at halfpast eleven, proceeded in carriages to the t.erminus of the Strasbourg Railway. The route followed was that by the Rue Castiglione, the Place VendOme, and the Rue de la Paix, into the Boulevards, and along them to the station. The ceremonial observed was of a much more formal character than that of the entry into Paris. The cort~ye, which was marshalled with the greatest care to produce a splendid scenic effect, proceeded at a foot- pace for the whole distance traversed; and the Imperial carriage conveying His Majesty, the Queen, Prince Albert, and the Princess Royal a magnificent equipage in all its ap- pointments was drawn by eight horses, each of which had a running groom leading him by a gilded bridle. On either side rode Marshal Magnan and General Lmwenstein. Another carriage with six horses, and nearly as splen- did, conveyed the Prince of Wales, Prince Na- poleon, and two ladies. The suite followed, in five other carriages; end, in front and behind, there was an escort of Guides. A few Cent Gardes led the way, and behind them were the Officiers dOrdonnance. It was altogether a most stately and imposing procession; and the spectacle which the Boulevards presented, as it slowly swept throu~h them the drums beating and the trumpets sounding a flourish, the troops presenting arms, and the vast mul- titude on the troltoirs shouting Vive la Reine! was indescribably fine. The arrival at the station was signalled to all Paris by a double salute fired in honor of the Queen, and then for the Emperor. There, both outside and within, decorations even more effective and splendid than on the occasion of TIer Majestys arrival had been prepared. The initials V. A. interlaced in white flowers on a fresh bank of green leaves, closed in the end of the permanent way, the balconies were hung with velvet, the roof with streamers, and on the platform were assembled, within the ga~ range of elegantly-dressed ladies which bound it, a distinguished assemblage of official personages, who had come to take leave of Her Majesty or to see her safely on her way. Among these were M. de Baroche, M. de Persi~ny, Lord Cowley, and the Attach6s of the Embassy; Count Walewski; M. Pietri, Prefect of Police; 26 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. M. Haussmann, the Prefect of the Seine; Ba- third and fourth sides of this great quadrangle. ron Rothschild, chairman of the Northern Rail- Here, in the centre, after first makig the round way, and M. Petiet, chief engineer and mana- of inspection, the Emperor and his guests took ger; NJ. Perrier, Count de Segur, chairman; up their position amid a grand flourish of drums 1)uc de Galliera, vice-chairman; M. Sayr and trumpets. The d~/il~ was soon over, but and M. Roux, directors; M. Bossange, secre- not until the setting sun lighting up with tary; and MM. Edwards, Sauvage, and Yin- splendor so many successive forests and bayo- guer, en~.ineers to the Strasbourg Railway. nets had left upon the mind of the spectator a Their Majesties were at once conducted to the most powerful impression. This hecame en- state-carriage, and the train, soon after twelve hanced hy the presence of the Royal squad- o clock, took its departure amid loud cheers ron in the offinga presence proclaimed in and the strains of God save the Queen. the thunders of a magnificent salute as the re- At all the stations on the way, the neighboring view closed. At its termination the Emperor population were collected in dense crowds to took his guests to the Camp at Ronvault, welcome the illustrious travellers ; Amiens where from the heights they witnessed some was, however, the point of a special demonstra- practice with a new description of rocket. tion there the station was beautifully deco- Thence they drove as far as the Camp at Am- rated, and a saloon had heen prepared for Her hleteuse, and night had fairly closed in before Majesty. The National Guard, the Infantry they returned to the Imperial Pavilion Hotel. of the Line, and Cuirassiers kept the platform, The farewell dinner was laid with thirty coy- which was overlooked hy a series of balconies ers, and while it was proceeding Boulogne filled with elegantly-dressed ladies. A salute was hrilliantly illuminated. Exactly at 11 of twenty-one guns welcomed the arrival of the oclock the emharcation was safely effected train. Lieutenant-Colonel Duhamel, prefect amid the roar of a salute frorn~the fleet which of the department; General Boyer, Mon- shook the houses both at Folkestone and Do- leigneur do Salinis, Bishop of Amiens, the ver. A wonderful display of fireworks ac- sub-prefects, the Cour Imperial, and all the companied the departure, which thus took functionaries of the department, were in at- place without a single mishap or drawback. tendance to receive their Majesties, who were Indeed, looking back at all the arrangements greeted most enthusiastically. At Abbeville of this visit, there probably never was witness- a party of dra~oons were drawn up with the ed more successful management. Not one ac- National Guard to preserve order; but the cident has occurred, and the Prefect of Police, sight of the Imperial carriage was too much for M. Pietri, has reason to congratulate himself the latter, and they fairly broke their ranks, upon the manner in which the newly organiz- rushed forward, beating the ground with their ed force under his control has acquitted itself musket-butts, and shouting Vive la Reine! under a very severe trial of its efficiency. Vive 1Empereur, etc. It was five oclock It is not yet knownto what extent the mum- when the train reached Bonlogne, and imme- ficence of the Royal family has displayed it- diately after their arrival the Imperial and self in the shape of presents, but, no doubt, Royal party proceeded to review the troops these have been liberally bestowed. We un- now encamped on the heights. derstand that a magnificent snnfl~box has been The review took place on the sands in front presented to the Prefect of the Seine, and of the Imperial Pavilion Hotel; and, like that in that M. Hervoix, the chief of police for the the CW mp de Mars on Friday, consisted only Imperial household, whose activity and zeal- of the inspection and d~fi1~, the number of men ous exertions cannot be too highly praised, has assembled being from 45,000 to 50,000. This received a handsome diamond pin. 11cr Ma- force, with the exception of a regiment of Lan- jesty is extremely popular among the Pan- cers, consisted entirely of infantry of the line, sians on account of her natural manners and there being no artillery present. The Empe- her great affability. She has certainly on all ror, Prince Albert, and Prince Napoleon were pnblic occassions appeared highly gratified by on horseback, attended by their equeriies. the extraordinary attentions of her Imperial Her Majesty and the other members of the host, and we are assured that her private feel- Royal family, with the suite, witnessed the ings are entirely in accordance with her bear- spectacle from carriages. The tide being out, ing when all eyes have been upon her. and the sands tolerably dry, the troops wore The hasty manner in which, nnavoidably, displayed to the greatest possible advantage, this great event has been chronicled has pro- and looked superb. On the eastern or upper vented us from recording several minor facts side of the sands were the Lancers, extended and incidents, which, nevertheless, deserve a in one lone line. In another, parallel and of place in all contemporary records of an occur- equal length, were formed some fifteen regi- rence so remarkable. For example, at St. ments, in close-column of contiguous battalions; Germain on Saturday the Queen visited the and at either end were masses of men brittaded tomb of her ancestor James II., and yesterday together, whose serried ranks completed the again she went to Nenilly in the afternoon, THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. 27 and there stood beside the untimely grave of and it was a refinement of cruelty to allow the late Duke of Orleans. What food for the Sovereign just to touch the soil of France moralizing do these two simple occurrences and not to go further. A Queen who has afford! Yet perhaps they are exceeded by a lately been obliged to paint the front of her scene which took place this morning at St. palace to counteract the humidity and the Cloud, and produced a powerful impression on smoke of her capital, and whose pictures must all who witnessed it. Whether by clever pre- be annually scoured, had never seen that city meditation or fortunate accident, the Emperor over which the summers sky is cloudless and there caught sight of a Voltigeur of the Im- transparent, and in which architects and sculp- penal Guard, who had lost his leg before Se- tors work with a heart, for they know their bastopol and had otherwise been severely work will not be spoilt, at least in their life- wounded. The still suffering soldier was mak- times. With what a zest, with what enviable ing his way forward on crutches when the Em- enjoyment, with what a new birth of emo- peror advanced to meet him, and, taking off tions and aftergrowth of pleasures, a well the Cross of the Legion of Honor which he stored and cultivated mind must have drunk wore, transferred it to the poor fellows breast. in the beauties of a capital supreme in the All who witnessed the spectacle were much realms of taste, and fortunate in every cii- affected by it, most of all the decor~ himself: cumstance that contributes to the higher order Her Majesty is expected to arrive at Osborne of earthly enjoyments! to-morrow about noon. How many vague ideas must now have been definedhow many associations have now been arrangedhow many questions of compa- rison decided in the course of one weeks pro- gress through the capital and palaces of France! When next the Queen passes under the pedes. tal of the Duke of Wellingtons statue, at the top of Constitution-hill, she will be able to measure, by the Arc de Triomphe, a structure as large as the front of our St. Pauls. The taste of our artists and the skill of our engineers have been exhausted on the finest site in Europe Trafalgar-square, and the scheme of Waterloo- place, and the stairs to St. Jamess Park. With these efforts of genius the Queen can now compare the Place de Ia Concorde, where it is a matter of no small labor and time barely to enumerate the component parts of the unrivalled panorama. With the two or three little rooms that constitute our National Gallery, with our gloomy and crowded Museum, and some half-dozen other collections scattered here and there, the Queen can now compare the galleries of the Louvre, of the number and vastness of which, however, she could only form a rather over- whelming idea. As for the contents, it must pass even Royal quickness, accuracy, and re- collection to grasp the faintest glimpse of them in so brief a visit. Happily, there will be some redeeming features in the compari- son. The Thames, as nature made it, can be mentioned with the Seine; the bridges over the latter are but models by the side of Lon- don, Southwark, and Waterloo bridges; while the Champs Elys6es are only a suburban pro- menade under stunted trees upon gravel and dust compared with our parks. Westminster Abbey is not stripped of its monuments, and it so far beats Notre Dame in historical inter- est. Our St. Pauls, though little more than a vast mausoleum, far surpasses St. Genevieve or St. Eustache. For Westminster-hall there is no competitor in France, hut, on the other LONDON, 27 August. THERE have bean many emancipations and liberations in our time. Nobody but has been delivered from some tyranny or other, some restriction, some limit to his fair allowance of liberty, though we are not all so grateful as we ought to be for it. At this moment a man can do, we should be sorry to say how many, things he could not do 50 years ago. But we have just witnessed a real emancipation, which, for the extent of the grievance, and, we will venture to say, of the gratitude, beats all the rest. The victims of the persecuting old code were illustriousin flict, the highest in the landno less than Royalty. For 400 years no reigning Sovereign of England has seen, or could see, the beautiful metropolis of France. The Sovereign might have the most florid or the most exquisite taste; he might take a special interest in architecture and pageantry; he might see around him palaces and castles of his own designing and furnish- ing; he might see streets rising up after his own name, in particular rivalry of well known streets abroad; he might see his own statues, and the columns in honor of his own relatives and the heroes of his own age; he might be con- stantly tantalized with the comparisons made between these and their foreign rivals; but those foreign rivals he must never see. Every- body in his kingdom with a dozen sovereigns in his pocket, and as many ideas in his head, had seen Paris, but not the first gentleman in this country. The smallest shopkeeper in the smallest street in London was likely enough to have seen Paris, and, with the system of ex- cursion tickets, might take a weeks trip there quite as easily and cheaply as to Ramsgate. Probably there was not one in the whole circle of the Court that had not seen Paris, except only the centre of that Court. Till lately all France was tabooed but Paris is France, 28 THE QUNi~N AND THE EMPEROR. hand, Her Majesty will now have her ideas of I gious communions, and now we are both tole- the simple and beautiful augmented by the rant of all religions. We have quarrelled classic form of the Madeleine, the facades of for legitimacy, and now we both have mon- the Louvre, the unique Sainte Chapelle, and archies founded on the will of the people. the long row of splendid edifices on the south- We have quarrelled for colonies, and now we em bank of the Seine; she will now know, have discovered that colonies are no accession by actual recollection, those other famous edi- of power or wealth to a country, but rather a fices and localities where even the most cobs- burden, a risk, and an expense; in fact, that sal size and the most picturesque arrangement the best course is to leave them as much as yield to the higher and deeper interest of his- possible to themselves. We have quarrelled torical associations. She has seen at Versailles for commercial monopolies, and now we have how Louis XIV. enshrined the glory and found out that all nations have a common buried the wealth of France; where Marie interest in the absolute freedom of trade. Antoinette cherished the memory of the Ty- Every quarrel with France has been a mis- rol; and where Louis XVI. saw the last of take hitherto, founded on some great misappre- Royalty. At the Tuileries, begun in the mid- hension on one side, or on both, as the event dle ages, and still slowly laboring to comple- has proved. We claim no extraordinary tion, and passing from style to style like one light for the age, but simply that time has of our own cathedrals, she has stood where worked out our national errors to their own the closing scenes of three revolutions have confutation, when we say that, after eight occurred within the memory of her own centuries of alienation, there is no reason why Ministers. She has reviewed an Imperial England and France should not now exhibit army on the very ground where France has to the world a friendship only equalled by taken the oath to two Republics; she has their former animosities. It is this, reunion seen the sites of the Bastile and the Temple; that we see enacted and inaugurated in this she has driven through that Faubourg the interchange of Royal visits. If it portends name of which is terrible to every Court in nothing, why has it never occurred before? Europe; she has walked through the Palace What can it portend now but the commence- which was ancient when Henry IV. inhabited ment of a new period the very opposite, in it; she has seen where James II. maintained respect of our political relations, to that of the shadow of Royalty and ended his days; the last 1,000 years? and, to close the list, she has now visited that ______ marvellously beautiful sepu1chre to which,. PARIs, Monday, Aug. 27, 6 i~. M. with her consent, the remains of Napoleon The Queen has left Paris on her return to have been brought from St. Helena. England. Already the whirl of festivity in Of all these places there is not one which which this city has lived for the last eight or has not now acquired a new interest. Eng- ten days is beginning to subside. The crowds, land does not make an idol of Royalty, but, if though still much more than the average at it must have been something more than a this season, are less dense than on Frid~.y or shadow which for so many ages deferred the Saturday last. The houses that have been event of this week, that event must have most gaudily decorated begin to be thinned something more than an imajuary value, of their flags and streamers, and fewer on- But the truth is, England and France, in flammes flout the air. Shields and devices, spite of themselves, have always been mutually and garlands, and Imperial crowns are dis- interested, and even in their antipathies have solving away. The eagle himself the bird so confessed a common destiny. Whatever the worshipped by political ornithologists, de- one has suffered the other has felt; and there scends from his lofty resting-place, and with is not an event in the history of one which plumage ruffled from exposure to the weather, does not mt ode, uninvited, into the annals of and eyes dimmed from so long gazing on the the other. [Notwithstanding the immense du- sun, is hurriedly conveyed away among broken ration of the differences which have separated flagstaffs and torn canvas, destined, perhaps, the two countries, we venture to say that to figure at some suburban ffte; or, sad to they are accidental. The circumstance of think, transferred to the ?norckeods de bric ~i- the Conquest, the French possessions of brac of the Marais. The triumphal arch that our early kings, and the religious jealousies of imposingly spanned the Italian Boulevards at later days have stood in the way of that cordial their finest point is stripped of its effigies, its friendship xvhcli we believe to be the natural fia~s, its busts, its crimson covering, and, at state of the two countries. All the political the hour I write, it stands stark and bare like discoveries of our days, as important and as a huge skeleton; and before the sun sets will indisputable as the discoveries in natural not have left a trace behind! We have wit- science, tell us that for ages England and nessed so many sights of splendor during the France have been quarrelling for nothing. week that it is not easy to all at once resume We have quarrelled upon the claims of rell- the habits of quiet existence. Not a wheel THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. rolls along the pavement that is not taken for an incipient Royal salute. Courtiers have not yet begun to recover from the continuous bend of the spine, endured for so many days. Corporations and deputations of all sorts and sizes and denominations still, from habit, re- cite addresses and speeches of congratulation. The very garnins of the streets begin to talk favorably of beefsteaks, and the word lunch bids fair to be admitted into the French voca- bulary. When the Allied Sovereigns visited Eng- land after the fall of Napoleon, the Emperor Alexander, for some unknown cause, became a great favorite with the Irish colony of St. Giless. The Ilibernian nature loves ex- tremes; a party of pipers decided on giving His Majesty a concert, and actually played Green grow the Rushes oh! under his windows, from some vague recollection of the visitor being Emperor of all the Russias. I cannot say whether a similar blunder has been made here, but it is certain that Queen Vic- toria has been sung to, and played to, in every imaginable style and form and tongue, and even now the artisan of the faubourg whistles a tune which seems to be an unskilful com- pound of God save the Queen, the Mar- seillaise, Drin, drin, and the White Cockade. As you are already aware, the Queen and suite left St. Cloud this morning, at 10 oclock, in the Imperial carriages. Previous to start- ing the whole of the functionaries of the Cha- teau, administrative and military, were re- ceived by 11cr Majesty. The inhabitants of St. Cloud and the municipal body cheered her as she passed under the same triumphal arch which was erected for her arrival. The Army of the East, the garrison of Paris, the Nation- al Guards, Sappers, and Special Corps, lined the way from the bridge of St. Cloud to Paris the National Guard on the right, the place of honor. The weather was magnificent, as it has been, with two exceptions, since the Queens arrival. It has rained but twice for the last 10 days, and the moisture only served to lay the dust. The Royal cortege reached the Tuileries at 11 oclock, where the Em- press awaited the Queen. The Ministers and the members of the diplomatic corps were al- ready assembled there to meet Her Majesty. When the last presentations were over and the last farewell spoken, the cora~ge resumed its march. The numbers who thronged the line through which Her Majesty passed, the same as that by which she entered, were con- siderable. The decorations were pretty much the same, and the words Long Life to the Queen were substituted for that of Wel- come on the shields and escocheons. The triumphal arch raised by the artistes of the Grand Opera had resumed its floral decora 29 tions, and the Gymnase modified its previous mode of decoration, and was now covered all over with banners. When the cora~qe issued on the Boulevard close to the Madeleine, in the midst of aeclamations from the crowd, the flourish of trumpets, the drums beating to arms, and bursts of military music, the eagles in front of each regiment were lowered, and then it was that an immense cry of admira- tion arose from the multitude. But, with all this, it is right to observe that some disappointment was felt at the Queen passing in state through Paris in a close car- riage. Her entry was so far a failure that at the hour it took place no one could see her features, and, except to those in the streets and close to the cortege, the carriage she rode in prevented her being seen this day to any advantage. The carriage, the sides of which were plate-glass, was, it appears, that which was used by the Emperor on the occasion of his marriage. It glittered all over with gild- ing, and was drawn by eight horses of the same size and color, with gorgeous housings, mounted by postilions who seemed no bigger than the Aztecs, while grooms as tall as GuI- liver must have looked to the Lilliputians marched stately at the horses heads, and the grand officers of the Crown caracolled at the sides. The Emperor, in his usual military costume, and wearing the Riband of the Gar- ter, sat opposite; the Queen, with the Prin- cess Royal by her side, returned frequently the salutes of those who could see her and whom she could see. Prince Albert sat next to the Emperor. A second carriage, similar- ly appointed and attended, contained Prince Jerome, his son, Prince Napoleon, both in uniform, and the Prince of Wales. Several other carriages of the Court, drawn by sik horses, conveyed the officers of the household of the Queen and Emperor. It was 12 oclock when the cortege reached the Strasbourg termi- nus. The preparations to receive the Queen at this spot were not different from those that met her on her arrival; the decorations were the same, and so were the functionaries who received her. The National Anthem was per- formed, and the Queen, leaning on the Em- perors arm, entered the station. She saluted those about her, and proceeded to the Royal train, while the band of the 9th Regiment of the Voltigeurs of the Guard played God Save the Queen. She shook hands very cordially with Prince Jerome, the uncle of the Emperor, with Marshal Vaillant, and some others. She at once entered the Imperial carriage, and was followed by the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales, and then by the Emperor, Prince Napoleon, and Prince Albert. General Lo~westein presented the Queen with a fine bouquet and the Princess with another. The persons of the Royal suite 30 THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. took their places in the other carriages, as which he was not concerned, invctcrate pas- also the railway directors in attendance. The sions which were directed against him only Ministers and civil and military authorities hecause he was the highest personification of were drawn up in line in front of the car- the principles of 89, then ill comprehended. riages. In a few moments the signal was To-day these immortal principles have tri- heard, and the train slowly moved away, while umphed over the opposition of Europe, and a last cry of Vive la Reine I announced its liheral England has acknowledged their legi- departure. The great dignitaries moved to- timacy. The heir of the name of Napoleon wards the entrance of the station, and the had then no other reason for preferring an- rest of the crowd soon followed. The troops other r6le to that of pacificator, more conform- drawn up on the outside and along the line to able with the greatness of his soul, with the the Tuileries were already returning to their actual interests of his country, and the ideas barracks, and the masses of people separated of his age; and, as the Emperor had admirahly and moved about freely. comprehended that the durable and cordial ______ concert of France and England constitutes THE M~niteur contains the following appro- the greatest force of modern times placed at priate remarks on the late visit of the Queen the service of the progress of the world, he of England to the Emperor of the French has held out a friendly hand to the English The Queen of England quits our hospi- people and its Government. The enthusiasm table shores. Her visit will remain as one of of England has answered this appcal. She the grandest events of this epoch, so abundant has warmly grasped that loyal hand in hei~, in new and memorable facts. Let us salute, because it was that of France herself, thrice for the last time, this august Princess, the personified in the Emperor, and her well messenger of concord and peace. Let us beloved Queen has crossed the Channel to salute her, with her young family, the hope of bring us the expression of the confidence of three kingdomswith her Royal spouse, who a great nation with th~ seductive accompani- has so well comprehended the genius, the ment of goodness, grace, and the mildest Ma- manners, and the arts of France. This is not jesty. This was a moment awaited by France the first time that crowned heads have visited to show forth her enthusiasm; for it is not our country. Peter the First caine here to enough for the policy of Princes to prepare study civilization, to take advantage of it fusions ; there are none, in truth, which are against civilization itself; Joseph II. exhibited not effected by the people. It was therefore himself as a philosopher and as a critic, rather not enough that St. Cloud should worthily than a monarch. The one and the other ex- reply to the royal hospitality of Windsor. cited curiosity, but not national sympathies, Paris had resolved to rival London by its and the nation remained indifferent in the rejoicings and its spontaneous demonstrations. presence of those two travellers who were not Queen Victoria has witnessed the popular guests. The presence of Queen Victoria, on delight which has signalized her passage. At the contrary, has excited the French people; the theatre as at the Palace of Industry, at the from Boulogne even to the capital, and after- Holy Chapel as at the Hotel de Yule, upon wards from the capital to Boulogne, she has the Boulevards, inundated by floods of the received from this electrified people a yen- population, as at the Champ de Mars, resound- table triumph. This arises from its not being ing with the aeclamations of the army, every a mere simple personal gratification which has one of her outgoings has been af~te, and each brought among us this illustrious Sovereign, of these fftes has been an energetic manifesta- She arrived to close at last seven ages of dis- tion on the part of the French people, which astrous rivalries, and to cement upon its basis has had for witnesses the thousands of foreigners the alliance of the two greatest nations of the collected within our walls for the marvels of west. France and England, since circum- the Exhibition. It may be said that for stances have allowed of their studying each greater solemnity this fraternal alliance has other more closely, feel that they cannot dis- been celebrated in the J)resence of the whole pense with one another, and that they are still world represented in Paris. Providence, it nearer neighbors by the common stock of must be acknowledged, seems to have reserved liberal civilization than by their coasts. And for our epoch profound subjects of meditation. nevertheless their sentiments had not over- It is at Versailles, in the Palace of Louis XIV., passed till now the bounds of a reciprocal es- that the Emperor Napoleon III. offers to the teem; they were never intermingled either in Queen of England the most superb magnifi- the same policy or in the enthusiasm of a cences of the Court; for her he reanimates the warm friendship. It was reserved for the noble pleasures and the long extinguished Emperor to operate a more intimate approxi- pomps of the great King, that haughty foe of ination. When the chief of the ~apoleon the Revolution of 1688. The same day this dynasty was placed by the public voice at the Queen of an elevated soul was received in the head of the country he found national hates funereal asylum of the Stuarts, which her which had preceded him, obstinate conflicts in dynasty replaces. She has done more, and, THE QUEEN AND THE EMPEROR. surrounded by her family in emotion, she came to deposit upon the tomb of Napoleon I. the idea of conciliation of which her visit is the sympathy and the seal. Finally, France and England, which have filled Europe with their divisions, instead of persisting, like Rome and Carthage, in implacable resentments, associate their policy, their interests, and their blood for one of those immense causes which decide the future of humanity. Such con- trasts confound the provisions of men; there remains no more for the mind than to bow it- self humbly before the Supreme Wisdom whose grandeur is alone immutable, and which subjects our most rebellious passions to the harmony of its providential designs. WONDERS OF TIlE VICTORIAN AGE. Oux gracious Queenlong may she fill her throne, Has been to see Louis Napoleon. The Majesty of Englandbless her heart! has cut her mutton with a Bonaparte; And Cousin Germans have survived the view Of Albert taking luncheon at St. Cloud. In our young days we little thought to see Such legs stretched under such mahogany That British Royalty would ever share At a French Palace, French Imperial fare: Nor eatas we should have believed at school The croaking tenant of the marshy pool. At the Trois Freres we had not feasted then, As we have since, and hope to do again. This great event of course could not take place Without fit prodigies for such a case; The brazen pig-tail of King George the Third Thrice with a horizontal motion stirrd, Then rose on end, and stood so all day long, Amid the cheers of an admiring throne. In every lawyers office Eldon shed From plaster nose three heavy drops of red. Each Statue, too, of Pitt turnd up the point Of its probosciswas that out of joint Whilst Charles James Foxs grinud from ear to ear, And Peels emitted frequent cries of hear Punch. with the motherly affection which she mani- fests for her children in public, have not failed to touch a sympathetic chord in the French heart, and she will leave the shores of France carrying with her the good will and the affec- tionate regards of the whole nation. 11cr Ma- jesty and suite quickly yielded to the habits of the court of St. Cloud, and mixinrr freely with the people of Paris, or in other words, showing themselves to the public with as little ceremony as possible, and without nny of that stiffness which characterises the Court of St. James, almost everybody has seen and received a gracious smile from her. Wherever she goes, and she is always in the company of the Emperor, the people of Paris receive her as they do their own Emperor and Empress; in- stead of giving a loud hurrah, as is the habit in England, they bow low and smile, and her Majesty, following the directions of the Empe- ror, does the same; so that she does nothing but smile and bow wherever she appears in public, and this suits the French people best, for it deprives her Majesty of that air of stiff- ness which she would otherwise have, and which is so peculiarly obnoxious to the French. Since her Majestys arrival I have heard no words but admiration and the utmost respect toward her, unless it was from her own sub- jects, and her visit will do more to obliterate the bad feeling which the French people cherish toward the English, than all that Na- poleon III. has been able to accomplish up to this moment. The Queen is delighted at the cordiality of her reception, and her happiness has spread to the French people, who are much more easily captivated by the heart than by the head, and thus it is that her visit will prove so valuable to the interests of the alliance and for the future of the two countries. The first grand ball to her Majesty takes place to-night at the Hotel de Ville, the second and last one on Saturday night at the Palace of Versailles. To the Hotel de Ville but about five thousand invitations have been given out, and these are very select. Two hundred and fifty American names were sent in by the Le ______ gation, but I believe none have been accepted. The English list of invited, on the contrary, correspondent of the New York Tribune, will he large. The Americans were promised PARIS, Thursday, Ana. 23, 1855. sixty invitations to the Hotel de Ville and six- The ovations which are being offered to the teen to the ball at Versailles. The whole Queen of England absorb completely the at- number of applications which were made ~ tention of the Parisians. The curiosity which the Prefect of the Seine for tickets to the hall was at first manifested to see her appears to were more than forty thousand. In a fete have abated but little, and wherever her Ia- which may be said to be in commemoration of jesty goes she is met by crowds which it would an alliance against Russia, it ought not to be he impossible to penetrate were it not for the expected that the Americans would enter immense police force which has been placed largely into the consideration of those who had on duty. The reception which her Majesty the control of the invitation list. They are everywhere receives is of the most cordial and not, in fact, entitled to such consideration, for enthusiastic character. La bonne reine et ses a very large majority of those now is Paris are enfants, is in every French womans mouth, the synipathizers of Russia in the present and the good qualities of heart of her Majesty, contest. 31 From the Dublin University Magazine. THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. CHAPTER I. A LONELY LANDSCAPE. WHEEE that singularly beautiful inlet of tions as to what mi~ht be the consequence of the sea, known in the west of Ireland as the his coming. Little, or indeed nothing, was Killeries, after narrowing to a mere strait, ex- known of Lord Glencore his only visit to pands into a bay, stands the ruin of the an- the neighborhood had occurred many years cient Castle of Glencore. With the hold before, and lasted but for a day. He had ar- steep sides of Ben Greggan behind, and the rived suddenly, and, taking a boat at the ferry broad blue Atlantic in front, the proud keep as it was calledcrossed over to the castle, would seem to have occupied a spot that might whence he returned at nightfall, to depart as have bid defiance to the boldest assailanL The hurriedly as he came. estuary itself here seems entirely landlocked, Of those who had seen him in this brief and resembles in the wild fantastic outline of visit the accounts were vague and most con- the mountains around, a Norwegian fiord, tradictory. Some called him handsome and rather than a scene in our own tamer land- well built; others said he was a dark-looking, scape. The small village of Leenane, which downcast man, with a sickly and forbidding stands on the Galway shore, opposite to Glen- aspect. None, however, could record one core, presents the only trace of habitation in single word he had spoken, nor could even this wild and desolate district, for the country gossips pretend to say that he gave utterance around is poor, and its soil offers little to re- to any opinion about the place or the people. pay the task of the husbandman. Fishing is The mode in which the estate was managed then the chicg if not the sole resource of those gave as little insight into the character of the who pass their lives in this solitary region; and proprietor. If no severity was displayed to thus, in every little creek or inlet of the shore the few tenants on the property, there was no may be seen the stout craft of some hardy encouragement given to their efforts at im- venturer, and nets, and tackle, and such like proveme~t; a kind of cold neglect was the gear, lie drying on every rocky eminence, only feature discernible, and many went so We have said that Glencore was a ruin, but far as to say, that if any cared to forget the still its vast proportions, yet traceable in mas- payment of his rent the chances were it might sive fragments of masonry, displayed speci- never be demanded of him; the great security mens of various eras of architecture, from the against such a venture, however, lay in the rudest tower of the twelfth century to the fact, that the land was held at a mere nominal more ornate style of a later period; while arti- rental, and few would have risked his tenure ficial embankments and sloped sides of grass by such an experiment. showed the remains of what once had been It was little to be wondered at that Lord terrace and parterre, the successors it might Glencore was not better known in that Se- be presumed, of fosse and parapet. cluded spot, since even in England Isis name Many a tale of cruelty and oppression, was scarcely heard of. His fortune was very many a story of suffering and sorrQw clung limited, and he had no political influence what- to these 01(1 walls, for they had formed the ever, not possessing a seat in the upper house home of a hau~hty and a cruel race, the last so that, as he spent his life abroad, he was al- descendant of which died in the close of the most totally forgotten in his own country. past century. The Castle of Glencore, with All that Debrett could tell of him was com- the title, had now descended to a distant re- prised in a few lines, recording simply that he lation of the house, who had repaired and so was sixth Viscount Glencore and Loughdoo- far restored the old residence as to make it ncr; born in the month of February, 1802, habitablethat is to say, four bleak and lofty and married in August, 1824, to Clarissa Isa- chambers were rudely furnished, and about bella, second daughter of Sir Guy Clifford, of as many smaller ones fitted for servant ac- Wytchlcy, Baronet; by whom he had issue, commodation, but no effort at embellishment, Charles Conyngham Massey, born 6th June, not even the commonest attempt at neatness 1828. There closed the notice. was bestowed on the grounds or the garden ; Strange and quaint things are these short and in this state it remained for some five and biographies, wite ittle beyond the barren fact twenty or thirty years, when the tidings that he had lived and he had died ~ and reached the little village of Leenane that his yet with all the changes of this work-a-day lordship was about to return to Glencore, and world, with its din and turmoil, and gold-seek- fix his residence there. ing, and progress, men cannot divest them- Such an event was of no small moment in selves of reverence for birth and blood, and such a locality, and many were the specula- the veneration for high descent remains an in- 32 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. 33 stinet of humanity. Sneer, as men will, at man, who carried his letter-bag to and fro, and heaven-born legislators, laugh as you may a few laborers in the spring and autumn, none at the tenth transmitter of a foolish face, ever invaded the forbidden precincts. there is something eminently impressive in the Of course, such privacy paid its accustomed fact of a position acquired by deeds that date penalty and many an explanation, of a kind back to centuries, and preserved inviolate to little flattering, was circulated to account for the successor of him who fought at Agincourt so ungenial an existence. Some alle~ed that or at Cressy. If ever this religion shall be he had committed some heavy crime a~ainst impaired, the fault be on those who have dero- the State, and was permitted to pass his life gated from their great prerogative, and for- there, on the condition of perpetual imprison- gotten to make illustrious by example what ment; others, that his wife had deserted him, they have inherited illustrious by descent. and that in his forlorn condition he had sought When the news first reached the neighbor- out a spot to live and die in, unnoticed and hood that a lord was about to take up his resi- unknown; a few ascribed his solitude to debt; dence in the castle, the most extravagant ex- while others were divided in opinion between pectations were conceived of the benefits to charges of misanthropy and avariceto either arise from such a source. The very humblest of which accusations his lonely and simple life already speculated on the advantages, his fully exposed him. wealth was to diffuse, and the thousand little In time, however, people grew tired of re- channels into which his affluence would be di~ peating stories to which no new evidence ad- rected. The ancient traditions of the place ded any features of interest. They lost the spoke of a time of boundless profusion, when zest for a scandal which ceased to astonish, troops of mounted followers used to accom- and my lord was as much forgotten, and his pany the old barons, and when the lough itself existence as unspoken of, as though the old used to be covered with boats, with the armo- towers had once again become the home of rial bearin,~s of Glencore floating proudly from the owl and the jackdaw. their mastheads. There were old men then it was now about eight years since the living who remembered as many as two bun- lord had taken up his abode at the Castle, dred laborers being daily employed on the when one evening, a raw and gusty night of grounds and gardens of the castle; and the December, the little skiff of the fisherman most fabulous stories were told of fortunes ac- was seen standing in for shorea sight some- cumulated by those who were lucky enough what uncommon, since she always crossed the to have saved the rich ~arnings of that golden lough in time for the mornings mail. period. Theres another man aboard, too, said a Colored as such speculations were with all by-stander from the little group that watched the imaginative warmth of the west, it was a the boat, as she neared the harbor; I think terrible shock to such sanguine fancies, when its Mr. Craggs. they beheld a middle-aged, sad -looking man Youre right enough, Samits the cor- arrive in a simple post-chaise, accompanied by poral; I know his cap, and the short tail of his son, a chib~i of six or seven years of age, hair he wears under it. What can bring him and a single servanta grim-looking old dra- at this time o night? goon corporal, who neither invited intimacy Hes going to bespeak a quarter of Tim nor rewarded it. It was not, indeed, for a Healeys beef, may he, said one, with a grin long time that they could believe that this was of malicious drollery. my lord, and that this solitary attendant Mayhap its askin us all to spend the was the whole of that great retinue they had Christmas hed be, said another. so long been expecting; nor, indeed, could Whisht! or hell hear you, muttered a any evidence less strong than Mrs. Mulcahys, third; and at the same instant the sail came of the Post-office, completely satisfy them on clattering down, and the boat glided swiftly the subject. The address of certain letters past, and entered a little natural creek close and newspapers to the Lord Viscount Glen- beneath where they stood. core was, however, a testimony beyond dis- Who has got a horse and a jaunting-car ? pute; so that nothing remained but to revenge cried the Corporal, as he jumped on shore. themselves on the unconscious author of their I want one for Clifden directly. self-deception for the disappointment he gave Its fifteen milesdivil a less, cried one. them. This, it is true, required some in~,enuity, Fifteen! no, but ei~,hteen! Kielys bridge for they scarcely ever saw him, nor could they is bruck down, and youll have to go by Gort- ascertain a single fact of his habits or mode namuck. of life. Well, and if he has, cant he take the He never crossed the lough, as the inlet of cut ? the sea, about three miles in width, was called. He cant. He as rigidly excluded the peasantry from the Why not? Didnt I go that way last grounds of the Castle; and, save an old fisher- week ? DXCIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. XI. 3 34 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. Well, and if you did, didnt you lame your tinued energetically to draw attention to her baste ? own. Twasnt the cut did it. A little fippenny bit, my lord the lasto It wassure I know betterBilly Moore trifle your honors glory has in the corner of tould me. your pocket, that you 11 never miss, hut that II Billys a liar! sweeten ould Mollys tay to-night? There, Such and such like comments and contra- acushla, have pity on the dark, and that you dictions were very rapidly exchanged, and al- may see glory. ready the debate was waxing warm, when Mr. But Craggs did not wait for the remainder, Craggss authoritative voice interposed with hut, deep in his own thoughts, sauntered down Billy Moore be blowed! I want to know towards the village. Already had the others if I can have a car and horse ? retreated within their homes; and now all was To be sure! why not ?who says you dark and cheerless along the little straggling cant ? chimed in a chorus. street. If you go to Clifden under five hours, my And this is a Christian country ! this a name isnt Terry Lynch, said an old man ii~ land that people tell you abounds in kindness rabbitskin breeches. and good nature! said he, in an accent of Ill encage, if Barny will give me the blind sarcastic bitterness. mare, to drive him there under four. And wholl say the reverse? answered a Bother ! said the rabbitskin, in a tone of voice from behind; and turning he beheld the contempt. little hunch-backed fellow who carried the mail But wheres the horse ? cried the cor- on foot from Oughterard, a distance of sixteen poral. miles, over a mountain, and who was popularly Ay, thats it, said another, wheres the known as Billy the Bag, from the little horse? leather sack, which seemed to form part of his Is there none to be found in the village ? attire. Wholl stand up and tell me its not asked Craggs, eagerly. a fine country in every sinsefor natural Divil a horse barrin an ass. Barnys beauties, for antiquities, for elegant men and mare has the staggers the last fortni ~ht, and lovely females, for quarries of marble and mines Mrs. Kyles pony broke his two knees on of gould? Tuesday, carrying sea-weed up the rocks. Craggs looked, coutemptuously at the figure But I must go to Clifden; I must be there who thus declaimed of Irelands wealth and to-night, said Craggs. grandeur, and, in a sneering tone, said Its on foot, then, youll have to do it, said And with such riches on every side, why the rabbitskin. do you go bare-footwhy are you in rags, my Lord Glencores dangerously ill, and needs old fellow? a doctor, said the Corporal, bursting out with Isnt there poor everywhere? If the a piece of most uncommon communicativeness, world was all gould and silver, what would be Is there none of you will give his horse fbr the precious metalstell me that? Is it be- such an errand ? cause theres a little cripple like myself here, Arrab, musha !its a pity ! and such- that them mountains yonder isnt of copper, and like expressions of passionate import, were iron, and cobalt? Come over with me after I muttered on all sides; but no more active lave the bags at the office, and Ill show you movenient seemed to flow from the condolence, bits of every one I speak of. while in a lower tone were added such expres- Id rather youd show me a doctor, my wor- smons as, Sorra mend himif he wasnt a thy fellow, said Crag~s, sighing. naygar, wouldnt he have a horse of his own? Im the nearest thing to that same going, Its a droll lord he is, to be begging the loan replied Billy. I can breathe a vein against of a haste ! any man in the barony. I cant say, that for Something like a malediction arose to the an articular congestion of the mortic valves, or Corporals lips; but restraining it, and with a for a sero-pulmonic diathesisdye mind ? voice thick from passion, be said that there isnt as good as me; but for the ould Im ready to pay youto pay you ten school of physic, the humoral diagnostic, who times over the worth of your can beat me? You neednt curse the horse, anyhow, in- Will you come with me across the lough, terposed IRabbitskin, while, with a significant and see my lord, then? said Crnggs, who was glance at his friends around him, he slyly in- glad even of such aid in his emergency. timated that it would be as well to adjourn And why not, when I lave the bags? the debatea motion as quickly obeyed as it said Billy, touching the leather sack as he was mooted; for in less than five minutes spoke. Craggs was standing beside the quay, with no If the Corporal was not without his misgmv- ~ther companion than a blind beggarwoman, ings as to the skill and competence of his com- ~, perfectly regardless of his distress, con- panion, there was something in the fluent vol THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. ubility of the little fellow that overawed and impressed him, while his words were uttered in a rich mellow voice, that gave them a sort of solemn persuasiveness. Were you always on the road ? asked the Corporal, curious to learn some particulars of his history. No sir; I was twenty things before I took to the bags. I was a poor scholar for four years; I kept school in Erris; I was on the ferry in Dublin with my fiddle for eighteen months; and I was a bear in Liverpool for part of a winter. A bear! exclaimed Craggs. Yes, sir. It was an Italianone Pipo Chiassi by namethat lost his beast at Man- chester, and persuaded me, as I was about the same stature, to don the sable, and perform in his place. After that I took to writin for the papersthe Skibbereen Celt and supported myself very well till it broke. But here we are at the office, so ill step in, and get my fid- dle, too, if youve no objection. The Corporals meditations scarcely were of a kind to reassure him, as he thought over the versatile character of his new friend; but the case offered no alternativeit was Billy or nothingsince to reach Clifden on foot would be the labor of many hours, and in the inter- val his master should be left utterly alone. While he was thus musing, Billy reappeared, with a violin under one arm, and a much-worn quarto under the other. This, said he, touching the volume, is the Whole Art and Mystery of Physic, by one Falrecein, of Aquapendante; and if we dont find a cure for the case down here, take my word for it, its among the morba ignota, as Paracelsas says. Well, come along, said Craggs impatiently; and set off at a speed that, notwithstanding Billys habits of foot-travel, kept him at a sharp trot. A few minutes more saw them, with can- vas spread, skimming across the lough, towards Glencore. Glencore Glencore! muttered Billy once or twice to himself, as the swift boat bounded through the hissing surf. Did you ever hear Lady Lucys Lament? And he struck a few chords with his fingers as he spoke I care not for yon trellised vine I love the dark woods on the shore, Nor all the towers along the Rhine Are dear to me as old Glencore. The rugged cliff, Ben-Creggan high, Re-echoing the Atlantic roar, And mingling with the seagulls cry My welcome back to old Glencore. And then theres a chorus. Thats a signal to us to make haste, said the Corporal, pointing to a bright flame which suddenly shot up on the shore of the lough Put out an oar to leeward there, and keep her up to the wind. And Billy, perceiving his minstrelsy unat- tended to, consoled himself by humming over, for his own amusement, the remainder of his ballad. The wind freshened as the night grew darker, and heavy seas repeatedly broke on the bow, and swept over the boat in sprayey showers. Its that confounded song of yours has got the wind up, said Craggs, angrily; stand by that sheet, and stop your croning! That s an error vulgaris, attributin to music marine disasters, said Billy calmly; it arose out of a mistake about one Or- pheus. Slack off there! cried Craggs, as a squall struck the boat, and laid her almost over. Billy, however, had obeyed the mandate promptly, and she soon righted, and held on her course. I wish theyd show the light again on shore, muttered the Corporal: the night is as black as pitch. Keep the top of the mountain a little to windward, and youre all right, said Billy. I know the lough well; I used to come here all hours, day and night, once, spearing salmon. And smuggling, too ! added Craggs. Yes, sir; brandy, and tay, and pigtail, for Mr. Sheares, in Oughterard. What became of him? asked Craggs. He made a fortune and died, and his son married a lady! Here comes another; throw her head up in the wind, cried Craggs. This time the order came too late; for the squall struck her with the suddenness of a shot, and she canted over till her keel lay out of water, and, when she righted, it was with the white surf boiling over her. Shes a good boat, then, to stand that, said Billy, as he struck a light for his pipe, with all the coolness of one perfectly at his ease; and Craggs, from that very moment conceived a favorable opinion of the little hunchback. Now were in the smooth water, Corporal, cried Billy; let her go a little free. And, obedient to the advice, be ran the boat swiftly along till she entered a small creek, so sheltered by the hi~hlands that the water within was still as a mountain lake. You never made the passage on a worse night, Ill be bound, said Craggs, as he sprang on shore. Indeed and I did, then, replied Billy. I remember it was two days before Christmas we were blown out to say in a small boat, not THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. more than the half of this, and we only made Still he was sleeping; and, as Craggs whisper- the west side of Arran Island after thirty-six ed, he seldom slept otherwise, even when in hours beating and tacking. I wrote an ac- health. With all the quietness of a trained count of it for The Tyrawly Regenerator, corn- practitioner, Billy took down the watch that mencing with was pinned to the curtain and proceeded to The elemential conflict that with tremen- count the pulse. dious violence raged, ravaged, and ruined the A hundred and thirty-eight, muttered he, adamantine foundations of our western coast, as he finished; and then gently displacing the on Tuesday, the 23d of December___ bedclothes, laid his hand upon the heart. Come along, come along, said Craggs; With a long-drawn sigh, like that of utter weve something else to think of. weariness, the sick man moved his head round And with this admonition, very curtly be- and fixed his eyes upon him. stowed, he stepped out briskly on the path to- The doctor! said he, in a deep toned but wards Glencore. feeble voice. Leave me, Craggsleave me alone with him. CHAPTER II. And the Corporal slowly retired, turning as he went to look back towards the bed, and GLENCORE CASTLE. evidently going with reluctance. WHEN the Corporal, followed by Billy, en- Is it fever? asked the sick man, in a tered the gloomy hall of the castle, they found faint but unfaltering accent. two or three country people conversing in a Its a kind of cerebral congestiona mat- low but eager voice together, who speedily ter of them membranes thats over the brain, turned towards them, to learn if the doctor had with, of course, febrilis generalis. come. The accentuation of these words, marked Heres all I could get in the way of a doc- as it was by the strongest provincialism of the tor, said Craggs, pushing Billy towards them peasant, attracted the sick mans attention, as he spoke. and he bent upon him a look at once search- Faix, and ye mi~,ht have got worse, mut- ing and severe. tered a very old man; Billy Traynor has What are youwho are you? cried he, the lucky hand. angrily. How is my lord, now, Kelly? asked the What I am isnt so aisy to say; but who I Corporal of a woman who, with bare feet, am is clean beyond me. and dressed in the humblest fashion of the Are you a doctor? asked the sick man, peasantry, now appeared. fiercely. Hes getting weaker and weaker, sir; I Im afeared Im not, in the sense of a gra- believe hes sinking. Im glad its Billy is dum universatalisa diplomia; but sure may come; Id rather see him than~all the doctors be Paracelsus himself just took to it, like me, in the country. having a vocation, as one might say. Follow me, said Craggs, giving a signal Ring that bell, said the other, perempto- to step lightly. And he led the way up a nar- rily. row stone stair, with a wall on either hand. And Billy obeyed without speaking. Traversing a long, low corridor, they reached What do you mean by this, Craggs ? said a door, at which having waited for a second or the Viscount, trembling with passion? Who two to listen, Craggs turned the handle and have you brought me? What beggar have entered. The room was very large and lofty, you picked off the highway? Or is he the and, seen in the dim light of a small lamp up- travelling fool, of the district? on the hearthstone, seemed even more spacious But the anger that supplied strength hither- than it was. The oaken floor was uncarpeted, to now failed to impart energy, and he sank anda very fewarticles of furniture occupied the back wasted and exhausted. The Corporal walls. ln one corner stood a large bed, the bent over him, and spoke something in a low heavy curtains of which had been gathered whisper, but whether the words were heard or up on the roof, the better to admit air to the not, the sick man now lay still, breathing sick man. heavily. As Billy drew nigh with cautious steps he Can you do nothing for him? asked perceived that, although worn and wasted by Craggs, peevishlyNotbing but anger him? long illness, the patient was still a man in the To be sure I can, if youll let me, said very prime of life. His dark hair and beard, Billy, producing a very ancient lancet-case of which he wore long, were untinged with gray, box-wood tipped with ivory. Ill just take a and his forehead showed no touch of age. His dash of blood from the temporial artery, to re- dark eyes were wide open, and his lips slight- lieve the cerebrum, and then well put cowld ly parted, his whole features exhibiting an ex- on his head, and keep him quiet. pression of energetic action, even to wildness. And with a promptitude that showed at least TIlE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. self-confidence, he proceeded to accomplish the operation, every step of which he effected skilfully and well. There now, said he feeling the pulse, as the blood continued to flow freely. The circula- tion is relieved already; its the same as open- ing a sluice in a mill-dam. Hes better al- ready. He looks easier, said Craggs. Ay, and he feels it, continued Billy. Just notice the respiratory organs, and see how easy the intercostials is doing their work now. Bring me a howl of clean water, some vinegar, and any ould rags you have. Craggs obeyed, but not without a sneer at the direction. All over the head, said Billy; all over it back and frontand with the blessing of the Virgin, Ill have the hair off of him if he isnt cooler towards evening. So saying he covered the sick man with the wetted cloths, and bathed his hands in the cool- ing fluid. Now to exclude the light and save the brain from stimulation and excitation, said Billy, with a pompous enunciation of the last syllables; and then quiesrestpeace! And with this direction, imparted with a caution to enforce its benefit, he moved stealth- ily towards the door and passed out. What do you think of him? asked the Corporal, eagerly. Hell dohell do, said Billy. Hes a sanguineous temperament, and hell hear the lancet. Its just like weatherin a point at say. If you have a craft that will carry canvas, theres always a chance for you. He perceived that you were not a doctor, said Craggs, when they reached the corridor. Did he faix? cried Billy, half indignant- ly. He might have perceived that I didnt come in a coach; that I hadnt my hair pow- dered, nor gold knee-buckles in my small- clothes; but, for all that, it would be going too far to say, that I wasnt a doctor. Tis the same with physic and poetryyou take to it, or you dont take to it! Theres chaps, ay, and far from stupid ones either, that couldnt compose you ten hexameters, if yed put them on a hot griddle for it; and theres others that would talk rhyme rather than rayson! And so with the ars medicatrixeverybody hasnt an eye for a hectic, or an ear for a cough non contigit cuique adire Goriatheam. Tisnt every one can toss pancakes, as Horace says. Hushbe still! muttered Craggs, heres the young master; and as he spoke, a youth of about fifteen, well-grown and handsome, but poorly, even meanly clad, approached them. Have you seen my father? What do you think of him? asked he eagerly. 37 Tis a critical state hes in, your honor, said Billy, bowiv~ but I think hell come rounddeplation, deplation, deplationactio, acijo, actio; relieve the gorged vessels, and dont drown the grand hytiraulic machine, the heart theres my sentiments. Turning from the speaker, with a look of angry impatience, the boy whispered some words in the Corporals ear. What could 1 do, sir? was the answer; it was this fellow or nothing. And better, a thousand times better, noth- ing, said the boy, than trust his life to the coarse ignorance of this wretched quack. And in his passion the words were uttered loud enough tbr Billy to overhear them. Dont be hasty, your honor, said Billy, submissively, and dont be unjust. The realms of disaze is like an unknown tract of country or a country thats only known a little just round the coast as it might be; once yer beyond that, one man is as good a guide as an- other, ca~teris paribus, thnt is, with equal lights. What have you done? Have you given him anything? broke in the boy hurriedly I took a bleeding from him, a little short of sixteen ounces from the temporial, said Bil- ly, proudly, and ill give him now a concoction of meadow saffron with a pinch of saltpetre in it, to cause diaphoresis, dye mind? Mean- while, were disgorging the arachnoid ,mem- branes with cowld applications, and we re re- leeven the cerebellum by repose. I challenge the Hall, added Billy, stoutly, to say isnt them the grand principles of traitment. Ah! young gentleman, said he, after a few seconds pause, dont be hard on me, because Im poor and in rags, nor think inanely of me because I spake with a brogue, and may be bad gram- mar, for you see, even a crayture of my kind can have a knowled~,e of disaze, just as he may have a knowledge of nature, by observa- tion. What is sickness, after all, but just one of the phenomenons of all organic and inor- ganic mattera regular sort of shindy in a man~s inside, like a thunderstorm, or a hurry- cane outside? Watch whats coming, look out and see which way the mischief is brewin, and make your preparations. Thats the great study of physic. The boy listened patiently and even atten- tively to this speech, and when Billy had con- cluded, he turned to the Corporal and said, Look to him, Craggs, and let him have his supper, and when he has eaten it send him to my room. Billy bowed an acknowledgment, and fol- lowed the Corporal to the kitchen. Thats my lords son, I suppose, said he, as he seated himself, and a fine young cray- ture, toopuer ingennuus, with a grand frontal development; and with this reflection he ad- THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. dressed himself to the coarse but abundant fare which Crag~s placed before him, and with an appetite, that showed how much he relished it. This is elegant living ye have here, Mr. Craggs, said Billy, as he drained his tankard of beer, and placed it with a sigh on the table; many happy years of it to yeI couldnt wish ye anything better. The life is not so bad, said Craggs, but its lonely sometimes. Life need never be lonely so long as man has health and his faculties, said Billy; give me nature to admire, a bit of baycon for dinner, and my fiddle to amuse me and I wouldnt change with the king of Sugar Candy. I was there, said Craggs, its a fine isl- and. My lord wants to see the doctor, said a woman entering hastily. And the doctor is ready for him, said Billy, rising and leaving the kitchen, with all the dignity he could assume. CHAPTER III. BILLY TRAYNORPOET, PEDDLER AND PHY SIcIAN. DIDNT I tell you how it would be ? said Billy, as he re-entered the kitchen, now crowd- ed by the workpeople, anxious for tidings of the sick man. The head is relieved, the con-justice symptoms is allayed, and when the artarial excitement subsides, hell be out of danger. Musha but Im glad, muttered one; hed be a great loss to us. True for you, Patsey; theres eight or nine of us here would miss him if he was gone. Troth he doesnt give much employment, but we couldnt spare him, croaked out a third, when the entrance of the Corporal cut short further commentary; and the party now gathered around the cheerful turf fire, with that instinctive sense of comfort impressed by the swooping wind and rain that beat against the windows. Its a dreadful night outside; I wouldnt like to cross the Lough in it, said one. Then thats just what Im thinking of this ininit, said Billy. ill have to be up at the office for the bags at six oclock. Faix youll not see Leenane at six oclock to-morrow. Sorra taste of it, muttered another; theres a sea runnin outside now that would swamp a life-boat. Ill not lose an iligant situation of six pounds ten a-year, and a pair of shoes at Christ- mas for want of a bit of courage, said Billy; Id have my dismissal if I wasnt there, as sure as my name is Billy Traynor. And better for you than lose your life, Billy, said one. And its not alone myself Ill be thinking of, said Billy; but every man in this world, high and low, has his duties. My duty, added he, somewhat pretentiously, is to carry the Kings mail; and if anything was to ob- struck, or impade, or delay the correspondence, its on me the blame would lie. The letters wouldnt go the faster because you were drowned, broke in the Corporal. No, sir, said Billy, rather staggered by the grin of approval that met this remark. No, sir; what you observe is true. But no- body reflects on the sintry that dies at his post. If you must and will go, Ill give you the yawl, said Craggs; and Ill go with you my- self Spoke like a British Grenadier, cried Billy, with enthusiasm. Carbineer, if the same to you, master, said the other, quietly; I never served in the infantry. Tros Tyriusve mild, cried Billy which is as much as to say To storm the skies, or lay siege to the moon, Give me one of the line, or a heavy dragoon ;~ Its the same to me, as the poet says. And a low murmur of the company seemed to accord approval to the sentiment. I wish youd give us a tune, Billy, said one, coaxingly. Or a song would be better, observed another. Faix, cried a third, tis himself could do it, and in Frinch or Latin if ye wanted it. The Germans was the best I ever knew for music, broke in Craggs. I was brigaded with Arentschelds ilanoverians in Spain; and they used to sit outside the tents every evening, and sing. By Jove! how they did singall together, like the swell of a church organ.~~ Yes, youre right, said Billy, but evi- dently yielding an unwilling consent to this doctrine. The Germans has a fine national music, and theyre great for harmony. But harmony and melody is two different things. And which is best, Billy ? asked one of the company. Musha but I pity your ignorance, said Billy, with a degree of confusion that raised a hearty laugh at his expense. Well, but wheres the song ? exclaimed another. Ay, said Craggs, we are forgetting the song. Now for it, Billy; since all is going on so well above stairs, Ill draw you a gallon of ale, boys, and well drink to the masters speedy recovery. 38 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. It was a rare occasion when the Corporal suffered himself to expand in this fashion, and great was the applause at the unexpected mu- nificence. Billy at the same moment took out his fiddle, and hegan that process of preparatory screw- ing and scraping which, no matter how dis- tressing to the surrounders, seems to afford intense delight to performers on this instru- ment. In the present case, it is hut fair to say, there was neither comment nor impa- tience; on the contrary, they seemed to ac- cept these convulsive throes of sound as an earnest of the grand flood of melody that was coming. That Billy was occupied with other thoughts than those of tuning was, however, apparent, for his lips continued to move ra- pidly and at times he was seen to heat time with his foot, as though measuring out the rhythm of a verse. I have it now, ladies and gentlemen, he said, making a low oheisance to the company and so saying, he struck up a very popular tune, the same to which a revcrend divine wrote his words of The night hefore Larry was stretched ; and in a voice of a deep and mellow fulness, managed with considerable taste sung A fig for the chansons of Fran ce, Whose meaning is always a riddle; The music to sin,, or to dance Is an Irish tune played on the fiddle. To your songs of the Rhine and the Rhone Im ready to cry out jam satis; Just give some thing of our own In praise of our Land of Potatoes. Tel lol de lol, etc. What care I for sorrows of those Who speak of their heart as a cuore; How expect me to feel for the woes Of him who calls love an amore! Let me have a few words about home, With music whose strains Id remember, And Ill give you all Florence and Rome, Tho they have a blue sky in December. Tol lol de lol, etc. With a pretty face close to your own, Im sure theres no rayson for si,,hing; Nor when walkin beside her alone, Why the blazes be talking of dying. Thats the way, tho in France and in Spain, Where love is not real, but acted, You must always purtend youre insane, Or at laste that youre partly distracted. Tol lol do lol, etc. It is very unlikely that the reader will es- timate Billys impromptu as did the company in fact, it possessed the greatest of all claims to their admiration, for it was partly incom- prehensible, and by the artful introduction of a word here and there, of which his hearers knew nothing, the poet was well aware that 39 he was securing their heartiest approval. Nor was Billy insensible to such flatteries. The irrita& ile genus has its soft side, can enjoy to the uttermost its own successes. It is pos- sible, if Billy had been in another sphere, with much higher gifts, and surrounded by higher associates, that he might have accepted the homage tendered him with more graceful modesty, and seemed at least less confident of his own merits; hut under no possible change of places or people could the praise have bestowed more sincere pleasure. Youre right, there, Jim Morris, said he, turning suddenly round towards one of the company you never said a truer thing than that. The poetic temperament is riches to a poor man. Wherever I goin all weathers, wet and dreary, and maybe footsore, with the bags full, and the mountain streams all flowin overI can just go into my own mind, just the way youd go into an inn, and order what- ever you wanted. 1 dont need to be a king, to sit on a throne; I dont want ships, nor coaches, nor horses to convay me to foreign lands. I can bestow kingdoms. When I havent tuppence to buy tobacco, and without a shoe to my foot, and my hair through my hat, I can be dancin wid princesses, and handin empresses in to tay. Musha, musha! muttered the surround- ers, as though they were listening to a magi- cian, who in a moment of unguarded familiari- ty condescended to discuss his own miracu- lous gifts. And, resumed Billy, it isnt only what ye are to yourself and your own heart, but what ye are to others, that without that secret bond between you, wouldnt think of you at all. I remember, once on a time, I was in the north of England travelling, partly for plea- sure, and partly with a view to a small specu- lation in Sheffield warecheap penknives and scissors, pencil-cases, hodkins, and the likeand I wandered about for weeks through what they call the Lake Country, a very handsome place, hut nowise grand or sublime, like what we have here in Irelandmore wood, forest timber, and better off people, but nothing heyond that! Well, one eveningit was in AugustI came down by a narrow path to the side of a lake, where there was a stone seat, put up to see the view from, and in front was three wood- en steps of stairs going down into the water, where a boat might come in. It was a lovely spot and well chosen, for you could count as many as five promontaries running out into the lake; and there was two islands, all wood- ed to the waters edge; and behind all, in the distance, was a great mountain, with clouds on the top; and it was just the season when the trees is beginnin to change their colors, and there was shades of deep gold, and THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. dark olive, and russet brown, all mingling to- couldnt restrain myself, but broke out, Thats gether with the green, and glowing in the mighty like a bull, any how, and reminds me lake below under the setting sun, and all was of the ould song quiet and still as midnight; and over the Good luck to the moon, shes a fine noble cre~. water the only ripple was the track of a water- ture, hen, as she scudded past between the islands; And gives us the daylight at night in the dark. and if ever there was peace and tranquillity in the world it was just there! Well, I put Before I knew where I was, the boat glid- down my pack in the leaves, for I didnt like ed into the steps, and a tall man, a little stoop- to see or think of it, and I stretched myself ed in the shoulders, stood before me. down at the waters edge, and I fell into a fit Is it you, said be, with a quiet laugh, of musing. Its often and often I tried to re- that accuse Pope of a hull? member the elegant fancies that came through It is, says I; and whats more, there my head, and the beautiful things that i isnt a poet from Horace downwards that I thought I saw that night out on the lake fbr- wont show bulls in; theres bulls in Shak- nint me! Ye see 1 was fresh and fastin; j speare and in Milton; theres hulls in the an- never tasted a bit the whole day, and my cients Ill point out a bull in Aristopbanes. brain, maybe, was all the better; for some- vvnat have we here? said he, turning how janius, real janius, thrives best on a little to the others. starvation. And from musing I fell off asleep~ A poor crayture, says I, like Gold- and it was the sound of voices near that first smiths chest of drawers awoke me! For a minute or two I believed With brains reduced a double debt to pay. I was dreaming, the words came so softly to To dream by night, sell Sheffield ware by day. my ear, for they were spoken in a low, gentle tone, and blended in with the slight plash of oars that moved through the water carefully, as though not to lose a word of him that was speakin. Its clean beyond me to tell you what he said; and, maybe, if I could ye wouldnt be able to follow it, for he was discoorsin about night and the moon, and all that various poets said about them; yed think that he had books, and was reading out of them, so glibly came the verses from ~is lips. I never listened to such a voice before, so soft, so sweet, so musi- cal, and the words came droppin down, like the clear water filterin over a rocky ledge, and glitterin like little spangles over moss and wild flowers. It wasnt only in English but Scotch bal- lads, too, and once or twice in Italian that he recited, till at last he gave out, in all the ful- ness of his liquid voice, them elegant lines out of Popes Homer The Lord forgive me, but when he came to the last words and said, useful light, I As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, Oer heavens clear azure spreads her sacred light, When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, And not a cloud oercasts the solemn scene, Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole Oer the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And top with silver every mountains head: Then shine the vales; the rosks in prospect rise A flood of glory bursts from all the skies; The conscious swains rejoicing in the sight Eye the blue vault and bless the useful light. Well, with that he took a fit of laughing, and handing the rest out of the boat, he made me come along at his side, discoorsin me about my thravels, and all I seen, and all I read, till we reached an elegant little cottage on a bank right over the lake; and then he brought me in and made me take tay with the family; and I spent the night there; and when I started next morning there wasnt a screed of my pack that didnt buy penknives, and whistles, and nuterackers and all, just, as they said, for keepsakes. Good luck to them, and happy hearts, wherever they are, for they made mine happy that day; ay, and for many an hour afterwards, as I just think over the kind words and pleasant fisces. More than one of the company had dropped off asleep during Billys narrative, and of the others, their complaisance as listeners appear- ed taxed to the utmost, while the Corporal snored loudly, like a man who had a ri0ht to indulge himself to the fullest extent. Theres a bell again, muttered one; thats from the Lords room, and Craggs, starting up by the instinct of his office, hasten- ed off to his masters chamber. My lord says you are to remain here, said he, as he re-entered a few minutes later; he is satisfied with your skill, and Im to send off a messenger to the post, to let them know be has detained you. Im obaydient, said Billy, with a low, bow, and now for a brief repose! And so saying, he drew a long woollen nightcap from his pocket, and putting it over his eyes, resigned himself to sleep with the practised air of one who needed but very little prepar- ation to secure slumber. 40 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. ChAPTER IV. A VISITOR. THE old castle of Glencore contained but one spacious room, and this served all the purposes of drawing-room, dining, and libra- ry. It was a long and lofty chamber, with a raftered ceiling, from which a heavy chande- lier hung by a massive chain of iron. Six windows, all in the same wall, deeply set and narrow, admitted a sparing light. In the op- posite wall stood two fire-places, large, mas- sive, and monumental; the carved supporters of the richly-chased pediment being of colos- sal size, and the great shield of the house crowning the pyramid of strange and uncouth objects that were grouped below. The walls were partly occupied by book-shelves, partly covered by wainscot, and here and there dis- played a worn-out portrait of some bygone warrior or dame, who little dreamed how much the color of their effigies should be in- debted to the sad effects of damp and mildew. The furniture consisted of every imaginable type, from the carved oak and ebony console, to the white-and-gold of Versailles taste, and the modern compromise of comfort with ugli- ness which chintz and soft cushions accom- plish. Two great screens, thickly covered with~prints and drawings, most of them politi- cal caricatures of some fifty years back, flank- ed each fire-place, making, as it were, in this case, two different apartments. At one of these, on a low sofa, sat, or rather lay, Lord Glencore, pale and wasted by long illness. His thin hand held a letter, to shade his eyes from the blazing wood fire, and the other hand hung listlessly at his side. The expression of the sick mans face was that of deep melancholynot the mere gloom of re- cent suffering, but the deep-cut traces of a long-carried affliction, a sorrow which had eaten into his very heart, and made its home there. At the second fire-place sat his son, and though a mere boy, the lineaments of his father marked the youths face with a painful exact- ness. The same intensity was in the eyes the same ughty character sat on the brow; and there was in the whole countenance the most extraordinary counterpart of the gloomy seriousness of the older face. He had been reading, but the fast-falling night obliged him to desist, and he sat now contemplating the bright embers of the wood fire in dreary thought. Once or twice was he disturbed from his rev- erie by the whispered voice of an old serving man, asking for something with that submissive manner assumed by those who are continually exposed to the outbreaks of anothers temper and at last the boy, who had hitherto scarcely deigned to notice the appeals to him, flung a bunch of keys contemptuously on the ground, with a muttered malediction on his tor- mentor. Whats that? cried out the sick man, startled at the sound. Tis nothing, my lord, but the keys that fell out of my hand, replied the old man, humbly. Mr. Craggs is away to Leenane, and I was going to get out the wine for dinner. Wheres Mr. Charles? asked Lord Glen- core. Hes there beyant, muttered the other in a low voice, while he pointed towards the distant fire-place, but he looks tired and weary, and Ididnt like to disturb him. Tired weary with what ?where has he been ?what has he been doing? cried he, hastily. Charles, Charles, I say! U And slowly rising from his seat, and with an air of languid indifference, the boy came to~ wards him. Lord Glencores face darkened as he gazed on him. Where have you been ? asked he sternly. Yonder, said the boy, in an accent like the echo of his own. Theres Mr. Craggs, now, my lord, said the old butler, as he looked out of the window, and eagerly seized the opportunity to interrupt the scene; there he is, and a gentleman with him. Ha! go and meet him, Charlesits Har- court. Go and receive him, show him his room, and then bring him here to me. The boy heard without a word, and left the room with the same slow step and the same look of apathy. Just as he reached the hall the stranger was entering it. He was a tall, well-built man, with the mingled ease and stiff- ness of a soldier in his bearing; his face was handsome, but somewhat stern, and his voice had that tone which implies the long habit of command. Youre a Massy, that Ill swear to, said he, frankly, as he shook the boys hand; the fam- ily face in every lineament. And how is your father? Better; he has had a severe illness. So his letter told me. I was up the Rhine when I received it, and started at once for Ire- land. He has been very impatient for your com- ing, said the boy; he has talked of nothing else. Ay, we are old friends. Glencore and I have been schoolfellows, chums at college, and messmates in the same regiment, said he, with a slight touch of sorrow in his tone. Will he be able to see me now? Is he confined to bed? No, he will dine with you. Im to show you your room, and then bring you to him. 41 42 Thats better news than I hoped for, boy. By the way, whats your name? Charles Conyngliam. To he sure, Charles, how could I have for- gotten it! So, Charles, this is to be my quar- ters, and a glorious view there is from this windowwhats the mountain yonder? Ben Craggan. We must climb that summit some of those days, Charley. I hope youre a good walker. You shall be my guide through this wild region here, for I have a passion for cx- plorings. And he talked away rapidly, while he made a brief toilet, and refreshed him from the fa- tigues of the road. KNow, Charley, I m at your orders; let us descend to the drawing-room. You 11 find my father there, said the boy, as he stopped short at the door; and Har- court, staring at him for a second or two in silence, turned the handle and entered. Lord Glencore never turned his head as the other drew nigh, but sat with his forehead resting on the table, extending his hand only in welcome. My poor fellow! said Harcourt, grasping the thin and wasted fingers, my poor fellow, how glad I am to be with you again. And he seated himself at his side as he spoke. You had a relapse after you wrote to me? Glencore slowly raised his head, and push- ing back a small velvet skull-cap that he wore, said Youd not have known me, George. Eh? see how gray I am! I saw myself in the glass to-day for the first time, and I really couldnt believe my eyes. In another week the change will be just as great the other way. It was some kind of a fever, was it not ? I believe so, said the other, sighing. And they bled you and blistered you, of course. These fellows are like the farriers they have but the one system for everything. Who was your torturer ?where did you get him from ? A practitioner of the neighborhood, the wild growth of the mountain, said Glencore, with a sickly smile; but I mustnt he un- grateful; he saved my life, if that be a cause for gratitude. And a right good one, I take it. How like you that boy is, Glencore. I started hack when he met me. It was just as if I was transported again to old school-days, and had seen yourself as you used to be long ago! IJo you remember the long meadow, Glencore? Harcourt, said he falteringly, dont talk to me of long ago, at least not now. And then, as if thinking aloud, added, How strange TUE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. that a man without a hope should like the fu- ture better than the past. how old is Charley? asked Harcourt, anxious to engage him on some other theme. Hell he fifteen, I. think, his next birth- day; he seems older, doesnt he? Yes, the boy is well grown and athletic. What has he heen doing ?have you had him at a school ? At a school ? said Glencore, starting; no, he has lived always here with myself. I have heen his tutorI read with him every day, till that illness seized me. He looks clever; is he so? Like the rest of us, George, he may learn, but he cant be taught. The old obstinacy of the race is strong in him, and to rouse him to rebel all you have to do is to give him a task; but his faculties are good, his apprehension quick, and his memory, if he would hut tax it, excellent. Heres Craggs come to tell us of dinner; give me your arm, George, we havnt far to gothis one room serves us for everything. Youre better lodged than I expected; your letters told me to look for a mere barrack and the place stands so well. Yes, the spot was well chosen, although I suppose its founders cared little enough about the picturesque. The dinner-table was spread behind one of the massive screens, and under the careful di- Trection of Craggs and old Simon, was well and amply suppliedfish and game, the delicacies of other localities, being here in abundance. Harcourt had a travellers appetite, and enjoyed himself thoroughly, while Glencore never touched a morsel, and the boy ate sparingly, watching the stranger with that intense curi- osity which cpmes of living estranged from all society. Charley will treat you to a glass of Bur- gundy, Harcourt, said Glencore, as they drew round the fire; he keeps the cellar- key. Let us have two, Charley, said Harcourt, as the boy arose to leave the room, and take care that you carry them steadily. The boy stood for a second and looked at his father, as if interrogating, and th enasud- den flush suffused his face as Glencore made a gesture with his hand for him to go. You dont perceive how you touched him to the quick there, Harcourt? You talked to him as to how he should carry the wine; he thought that office menial and beneath him, and he looked to me to know what he should do. What a fool you have made of the boy! said Harcourt, bluntly. By Jove! it was time I should come here! When the boy came back he was followed THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. by the old butler, carefully carrying in a small wicker contrivance, Ilibernice called a cooper, three cob-webbed and well-crusted bottles. Now, Charley, said Harcourt, gayly, if you want to see a man thoroughly happy, just stel) up to my room and fetch me a small leather sack youll find there of tobacco, and on the dressing-table youll see my meer- schaum-pipe; be cautious with it, for it be- longed to no less a man than Ponitowski, the poor fellow who died at Leipsic. The lad stood again irresolute and con- fused, when a signal from his father motioned him away to acquit the errand. Thank you, said ilarcourt, as he re-en- tered; you see I am not vain of my meer- schaum without reason. The carving of those stags is a work of real art; and if you were a connoisseur in such matters, youd say the color was perfect. Have you given up smok- ing, Glencore? you used to be fond of a weed. I care but little for it, said Glencore, sighing. Take to it again, my dear fellow, if only that it is a bond tween yourself any every- one who whiffs his cloud. There are won- derfully few habits I was gQing to say en- joyments, and I might say so, but Ill call them habits that consort so well with every condition and every circumstance of life, that become the prince and the peasant, suit the gardcn of the palace, and the red watch-fire of the barrack, relieve the weary hours of a calm at sea, or refresh the tired hunter in the prairies. You must tell Charley some of your ad- ventures in the west. The Colonel has pass- ed two years in the Rocky Mountains, said Glencore to his son. Ay, Charley, I have knocked about the world as much as most men, and seen, too, my share of its wonders. If accidents by sea and land can interest you, if you care for stories of Indian life, and the wild habits of a prairie hunter, Im your man. Your father can tell you more of saloons and the great world, of what may be called the high game of I have forgotten it, as much as if I had never seen it, said Glencore, interrupting, and with a severity of voice that showed the theme displeased him. And now a pause en- sued, painful perhaps to the others, but scarce- ly felt by Harcourt, as he smoked away peace- fully, and seemed lost in the windings of his own fancies. Have you shooting here, Glencore? ask- ed he at length. There might be, if I were to preserve the game. And you do not. Do you fish? No; never.~~ You give yourself up to farming, then? Not even that; the truth is, Harcourt, II literally do nothing. A few newspapers, a stray review or so reach me in these solitudes, and keep me, in a measure, informed as to the course of events; but Charley and I con over our classics together, and scrawl sheets of paper with algebraic signs, and puzzle our heads over strange formulas, wonderfully in.. different to what the world is doing at the other side of this little estuary. You of all men living to lead such a life as this! a fellow that never could cram oc~ cupation enough into his short twenty-four hours, broke in ilarcourt. Glencores pale cheek flushed slightly, and an impatient movement of his fingers on the table showed how ill he relished any allusion to his own former life. Charley will show you to-morrow all the wonders of our erudition, Harcourt, said he, changing the subject; we have got to think ourselves very learned, and I hope youll be polite enough not to undeceive ~ Youll have a merciful critic, Charley, said the Colonel, laughing, for more reasons than one. Had the question been how to track a wolf; or wind an antelope, to outma.. nceuvre a scout party, or harpoon a calf-whale, Id not yield to many, but if you throw me amongst Greek roots, or double equations, Im only Sampson; with his hair dn crop! The solemn clock over the mantel-piec6 struck ten, and the boy arose as it ceased. Thats Charl~ys bed-time, said Glem- core, and we are determined to make no stranger of you, George. Hell say good night. And wit4~ a manner of mingled shyness and pride the boy held out his hand, which the soldier shook cordially, saying To-morrow, then, Charley, I count upon you for my day, and so that it be not to he passed in the library Ill acquit myself credit- ably. I like your boy, Glencore, said he, as soon as they were alone. Of course I have seen very little of him; and if I had seen more I should be but a sorry judge of what people would call his abilities; but he is a good stamp; gentleman is written on him in a hand that any can read; and, by Jove! let them talk as they will, but thats half the bat- tle of life! He is a strange fellow; youll not under- stand him a moment, said Glencore, smiling half sadly to himself. Not understand him, Glencore? I read him like print, man; you think that his shy, bashful manner imposes upon me; not a bit of it; I see the fellow is as proud as Lucifer. All your solitude and estranm~ement from the world, hasnt driven out of his head that hes 43 THE FORTUNES OF GLENOORE. to be a viscount one of these days; and some- how, wherever he has picked it up, he has got a very pretty notion of the importance and rank that same title confers. Let us not speak of this now, Harcourt; Im far too weak to enter upon what it would lead to. It is, however, the great reason for which I entreated you to come here. And to- morrowat all events in a day or twowe can speak of it fully. And now I must leave you. Youll have to rough it here, George; but as there is no man can do so with a better grace, I can spare my apologies; only, I beg, dont let the place be worse than it need be. Give your ordbrs; get what you can; and see if your tact and knowledge of life cannot remedy many a difficulty which our ignorance or apathy have served to perpetuate. Ill take the command of the garrison with pleasure, said Harcourt, filling up his glass, and replenishing the fire. And now a good nights rest to you, for I half suspect I have already jeopardied some of it. The old campaigner sat till long past mid- night. The generous wine, his pipe, the cheerful wood-fire, were all companionable enough, and well-suited thoughts which took no high or heroic range, but were chiefly reve- ries of the past, some sad, some pleasant, but all tinged with the one philosophy, which made him regard the world as a campaign, wherein he who grumbles or repines is but a sorry soldier, and unworthy of his cloth. It was not till the last glass was drained that he arose to seek his bed, and pleasantly humming some old air to himself; he slowly mounted the stairs to his chamber. CHAPTER V. coLoNEL RARCOURT 5 LETTER. As we desire throughout this tale to make the actors themselves, wherever it be possible, the narrators, using their words in preference to our own, we shall now place before the reader a letter written by Colonel Harcourt about a week after his arrival at Glencore, which will at least serve to rescue him and ourselves from the task of repetition. It was addressed to Sir Horace Upton, Her Majestys Envoy at Studtgard, one who had formerly served in the same regiment with Glencore and himself; but who left the army early, to follow the career of diplomacy where- in, still a young man, he had risen to the rank of a minister. It is not important to the ob- ject of our story to speak more particularly of his character, than that it was in almost every respect the opposite of his correspond- ent. Where the one was frank, open, and unguarded, the other was cold, cautious and reserved; where one believed, the other doubted; where one was hopeful, the other had nothing but misgivings. Harcourt would have twenty times a day wounded the feel- hgs, or jarred against the susceptibility of his best friend; Upton could not be brought to trench upon the slightest prejudice of his greatest enemy. We might continue this con- trast to every detail of their characters, but enough has now been said, and we proceed to the letter in question Glencore Castle. DEAR UPTON,True to my promise to give you early tidings of our old friend, I sit down to pen a few lines, which, if a rickety table and some infernal lampblack for ink should make illegible, youll have to wait for the elucidation till my arrival. I found Glen- core terribly altered; id not have known him. He used to be muscular and rather full in habit; he is now a mere skeleton. His hair and moustache were coal black; they are a motley gray. He was straight as an arrow pretentiously erect, many thought; he is stoop- ed now, and bent nearly double. His voice, too, the most clear and ringing in the squad- ron, is become a hoarse whisper. You re- member what a passion he had for dress, and how heartily we all deplored the chance of his being colonel, well knowing what precious caprices of costly costume would be the con- sequence. Well, a discharged corporal, in a cast-off mufti, is stylish compared to him. I dont think he has a hatI have only seen an oilskin cap ; but his coat, his one coat, is a curiosity of industrious patch-work; and his trowsers are a pair of our old overalls, the same pattern we wore at Hounslow when the king reviewed us. Great as these changes are, they are noth- ing to the alteration in the poor fellows dispo- sition. He that was generous to munificence, is now an absolute miser, descending to the most pitiful economy, and moaning over every trifling outlay. He is irritable, too, to a degree. Far from the jolly, light-hearted com- rade, ready to join in the laugh against him- self; and enjoy a jest of which he was the object, he suspects a slight in every allusion, and bristles up to resent a mere familiarity, as though it were an insult. Of course I put much of this down to the score of illness, and of bad health before he was so ill; but, depend upon it, hes not the man we knew him; heaven knows if he ever will be so again. The night I arrived here he was more naturalmore like himself; in fact, than he has ever been since. His manner was heartier, and in his welcome there was a touch of the old jovial good fellow, who never was so happy as when sharing his quarters with a comrade. Since that he has grown punctilious, anxiously asking me if I am com- fbrtable, and teasing me with apologies for 44 45 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. what I dont miss, and excuses about things that I should never have discovered wanting. I think I see what is passing within him; he wants to be confidential, and he doesnt know how to go about it. I suppose he looks on me as rather a rough father to confess to; he isnt quite sure what kind of sympathy, if any, hell meet with from me, and he more than half dreads a certain careless, out-spoken way in which I have now and then addressed his boy, of whom more anon. I may be right, or I may be wrong, in this conjecture; hut certain it is that nothing like confidential conversation has yet passed between us, and each day seems to render the prospect of such only less and less likely. I wish from my heart you were here; you are just the fellow to suit himjust calculated to nourish the susceptibilities that I only shock. I said as much tother day, in a half-careless way, and he immediately caught it up, and said Ay, George, Upton is a man one wants now and then in life, and when the moment comes, there is no such thing as a substitute for him. In a joking manner, I then re- marked, Why not come over to see him ? Leave this ! cried he; venture into the world again; expose myself to its brutal inso- lence, or still more brutal pity ! In a torrent of passion, he went on in this strain, till I heartily regretted that I had ever touched this unlucky topic. I date his greatest reserve from that same moment; and I am sure he is disposed to con- nect me with the casual suggestion to go over to Studtgard, and deems me, in consequence, one utterly deficient in all true feeling and delicacy. I neednt tell you that my stay here is the reverse of a pleasure. Im never, what fine people call, bored anywhere; and 1 could amuse myself gloriously in this queer spot. I have shot some half dozen seals, hooked the heaviest salmon I ever saw rise to a fly, and have had rare coursing, not to say that Glen- cores table, with certain reforms I have intro- duced, is very tolerable, and his cellar unim- peachable. Ill back his chambertin against your excellencys; and I have discovered a bin of red hermitage that would convert a whole vineyard of the smallest Lafitte into Sneyds claret; but with all these seductions, I cant stand the life of continued constraint Im reduced to. Glencore evidently sent for me to make some revelations, which, now that he sees me, he cannot accomplish. For aught I know, there may be as many changes in me to his eyes, as to mine there are in him. I only can vouch for it, that if I ride three stone heavier, I havent the worse place, and I dont detect any striking falling off in my appreciation of good fare and good fellows. I spoke of the boy: he is a fine lad somewhat haughty, perhaps; a little spoiled by the country people calling him the young lord; but a generous fellow, and very like Glencore, when he first joined us at Canter- bury. By way of educating him himself, Glencore has been driving Virgil and decimal fractions into him; and the boy, bred in the countrynever out of it for a daycant load a gun or tie a tackle. Not the worst thing about the boy is his inordinate love for Glen- core, whom he imagines to be about the great- est and most gifted being that ever lived. I can scarcely help smiling at the implicitness 01 this honest faith; but I take good care not to smile; on the contrary, I give every possible encouragement to the belief. I conclude the disenchantment will arrive only too early at last. Youll not know what to make of such a lengthy epistle from me, and youll doubtless torture that fine diplomatic intelligence of yours to detect the secret motive of my long- windedness; but the simple fact is, it has rained incessantly for the last three days, and promises the same cheering weather for as many more. Glencore doesnt fancy that the boys lessons should be broken in uponand hinc istw litercrthats classical for you. I wish I could say when I am likely to beat my retreat. Id staynot very willingly, perhapsbut still Id stay, if I thought myself of any use; but I cannot persuade myself that I am such. Glencore is now about again, feeble of course, and much pulled down, but able to go about the house and the garden. I can contribute nothing to his recovery, and I fear as little to his comfort. I even doubt if he desires me to prolong my visit; but such is my fear of offending him, that I actually dread to allude to my departure, till I can sound my way as to how hell take it. This fact alone will show you how much he is changed from the Glencore of long ago. Another feature in him, totally unlike his former self, struck me the other evening. We were talking of old messmatesCroydon, Stanhope, Loftus, and yourselfand instead of dwelling, as be once would have done, exclusively on your traits of character and disposition, he discussed nothing but your abilities, and the capacity by which you could win your way to honors and distinc- tion. I neednt say how, in such a valuation, you came off best. Indeed he professes the highest esteem for your talents, and says, Youll see Upton either a cabinet minister or ambassador at Paris yet ; and this he repeated in the same words last night, as if to show it was not dropped as a mere random observa- tion. I have some scruples about venturing to offer anything bordering a suggestion to a great and wily diplomatist like yourself; but if an illustrious framer of treaties and protocols 46 would condescend to take a hint from an old dragoon colonel, Id say that a few lines from your crafty pen might possibly unlock this poor fellows heart, and lead him to unburthen to you what he evidently cannot persuade himself to reveal to me. I can see plainly enough that there is something on his mind; but I know it just as a stupid old hound feels there is a fox in the cover, but cannot for the life of him see how hes to draw him. A letter from you would do him good, at all events; even the little gossip of your gos- sipping career would cheer and amuse him. He said, very plaintively, two nights ago, Theyve all for~otten me. When a man re- tires from the world, he begins to die, and the great event, after all, is only the coup-de-grace to a long agony of torture. Do write to him, then; the address is Glencore Castle, Lee- nane, Ireland, where, I suppose, I shall be still a resident for another fortnight to come. Glencore has just sent for me; but I must eJose this for the post, or it will be too late. Yonrs ever truly, GEORGE HARcouxT. I open this to say that he sent for me to ask fOr your addresswhether through the Foreign Office, or direct to Studtgard. Youll probably not hear for some days, for he writes with extreme difficulty, and I leave it to your wise discretion to write to him or not in the interval. Poor fellow, he looks very ill to-day. He says that he never slept the whole night, and that the landanum he took toinduce drowsiness, only excited and maddened him. I counsel- led a hot jorum of mulled porter before getting into bed; but he deemed me a monster for the recommendation, and seemed quite disgusted besides. Couldnt you send him over a de- spatch? I think such a docnment from Studt- gard ought to be an unfailing soporific. CHAPTER VI. QUEER COMPANIONSHIP. WHEN Harcourt repaired to Glencore 5 bedroom, where he still lay, wearied and fe- verish after a bad night, he was struck by the signs of suffering in the sick mans face. The cheeks were bloodless and fallen in, the lips pinched, and in the eyes there shone that un- natural brilliancy which results from an over- wrought and over-excited brain. Sit down here, George, said he, pointing to a chair beside the bed; I want to talk to you. I thought every day that I could muster courage for what I wish to say; but somehow, when the time arrived, I felt like a criminal who entreats for a few hours more of life, even though it be a life of misery. It strikes me that you were never less TIlE FORTUNES OF GLENCOP~E. equal to the effort than now, said ilarcourt, laying his hand on the others pulse. Dont helieve my pulse, George, said Glencore, smiling faintly. The machine may work badly, but it has wonderful holding out. Ive gone through enough, added he, gloomi- ly, to kill most men, and here I am still, breathing and suffering. This place doesnt suit you, Glencore. There are not above two days in the month you can venture to take the air. And where would you have me go, sir? broke he in fiercely. Would you advise Par- is and the Boulevards, or a palace in the Piaz- za di Spagna at Rome? or perhaps the Chiaja at Naples would he public enough? Is it that I may parade disgrace and infamy through Europe, that I should leave this solitude? I want to see you in a better climate, Glen- core; somewhere where the sun shines occa- sionally. This suits me, said the other, bluntly; and here I have the security that none can invadenone molest me. But it is not of my- self I wish to speakit is of my boy. Harcourt made no reply, but sat patiently to listen to what was coming. It is time to think of him, added Glen- core, slowly. The other dayit seems but the other dayand he was a mere child; a few years moreto seem when past like a long dreary nightand he will be a man. Very true, said Harcourt; and Charley is one of those fellows who only make one plunge from the boy into all the responsibili- ties of manhood. Throw him into college at Oxford, or the mess of regiment to-morrow, and this day week youll not know him from the rest. Glencore was silent; if he had heard he never noticed Harcourts remark. Has he ever spoken to you about himself, Harcourt? asked he, after a pause. Never, except when I led the subject in that direction; and even then reluctantly, as though it were a topic he would avoid. Have you discovered any strong inclina- tion in him for a particular kind of life, or any career in preference to another? None; and if I were only to credit what I see of him, Id say that this dull monotony, and this dreary, uneventful existence, is what he likes best of all the world. You really think so, cried Glencore, with an eagerness that seemed out of proportion to the remark. So far as I see, rejoined Harcourt, guard- edly, and not wishing to let his observation carry graver consequences than he might sus- pect. So that you deem him capable of passing a life of a quiet, unambitious tenorneither THE FORTITNES OF GLENCORE. 5eeking for distinctions, nor fretting after hon- ors. How should he know of their existence, Glencore ? What has the boy ever heard of life and its struggles? Its not in Homer, or Sallust, hed learn the strife of parties and public men.~~ And why need he ever know them? hroke in Glencore, fiercely. If he doesnt know them now, hes sure to be taught them hereafter. A young fellow who will succeed to a title and a good for- tune Stop, Harcourt, cried Glencore, passion- ately. has anything of this kind ever es- caped you in intercourse with the boy? Not a wordnot a syllable. Has he himself ever, by a hint, or by a chance word, implied that he was aware of Glencore faltered and hesitated, for the word he sou,ht for did not present itself. Harcourt, however, released him from all em- barrassment, by saying With me, the boy is rarely anything but a listener; he hears me talk away of tiger shooting, and buffalo-hunting, scarcely ever interrupting me with a question. But I can see his manner with the country pe6ple, when they salute him, and call him my lord . But he is not my lord, broke in Glen- core. Of course he is not; that I am perfectly aware of. lie never willnever shall he, cried Glencore, in a voice to which a long pent-up passion imparted a terrible energy. How !what do you mean, Glencore? said Ilarcourt, eagerly. Has he any mala- dy ? is there any deadly taint? That there is, by Heaven! cried the sick man, jaspisig the curtain with one hand~ while he held the other firmly clenched upon his forehead. A taint, the deadliest that can stain a human heart! Talk of station, rank, titlewhat are they, if they are to be coupled with shame, 1~nomsny, and sorrow? The loud voice of the Herald calls his father Sixth Vis- count of Glencore; hut a still louder one pro- claims his mother a With a wild burst of hysteric laughter, he threw himself, face downwards, on the bed and now scream after scream burst from him, till the room was filled by the servants, in the midst of whom appeared Billy, who had only that same day returned from Leenane, whith- erhe had gone to make a formal resignation of his functions as letter carrier. This is nothing hut an accessio nervosa, said Billy; clear the room, ladies and gen- tlemen, a~ d lave me with the patient. And Harcourt gave the signal for obedience by first taking his departure. Lord Glencores attack was more serious than at first it was apprehended, and for three days there was every threat of a relapse of his late fever; but Billys skill was once more success ful, and on the fourth day he declared that the danger was past. During this period, Har- courts attention was, for the first time, drawn to the strange creature who officiated as the doctor, and who, in despite of all the detracting influences of his humble garb and mean attire, aspired to be treated with the deference due to a great physician. If its the crown and the sceptre makes the king, said he, tis the same with the science that makes the doctor; and no man can be despised when he has a rag of ould Galens mantle to cover his shoulders. So youre going to take blood from him? asked Harcourt, as he met him on the stairs, where he had awaited his coming one night when it was late. No, sir; tis more a disturbance of the great nervous centres than any decayin of the heart and arteries, said Billy, pompously; thats what shows a real doctor, to distinguish between the effects of excitement and inflam- mation, which is as different as fireworks is from a bombardment. iNot a bad simile, iMaster Billy; come in and drink a glass of brandy-and-water with me, said Harcourt, right glad at the prospect of such companionship. Billy. Traynor too, was flattered by the in- vitation, and seated himself at the fire with an air at once proud and suhmissive. Youve a difficult patient to treat there, said Harcourt, when he had furnished his companion with a pipe, and twice filled his glass; hes hard to manage, I take it? Yer right, said Billy; every touch is a blow, every breath of air is a hurricane with him. Theres no such thing as tratin a man of that timperament; its the same with many of them ould families as with our race horses, they breed them too fine. Egad, I think ypu are right, said Har- court, pleased with an illustration that suited his own modes of thinking. Yes, sir, said Billy, gaining confidence by the approval; a man is a mJ-chine, and all the parts ought to be balanced, and as the an- cients say, in equililjrio. If you give a pre., ponderance here or there, whether it be brain or spinal marrow, cardiac functions or digest- ive ones, you disthroy him, and make that dangerous kind of constitution that, like a horse with a hard mouth, or a boat with a weather helm, always runs to one side. Thats well put, well explained, said Har- court, who really thought the illustration ap- propriate. Now my lord there, continued Billy, is all out of balance, every bit of him. Bleed 47 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. him, and he sinks; stimulate him, and he goes ragin mad. Tis their physical comformation makes their character; and to know how to cure them in sickness, one ought to have some knowledge of them in health. How came you to know all this? You are a very remarkable fellow, Billy. I am, sir; 1 m a phenumenon in a small way. And many people thinks, when they see and convarse with me, what a pity it is I havnt the advantages of edication and instruction, and thats just where theyre wrong, complately wrong. Well, I confess I dont perceive that. Ill show you, then. Theres a kind of ja- nius natural to men like myself, in Ireland, I mean, for I never heerd of it elsewhere. Thats just like our Irish emerald or Irish diamond, wonderful if one considers where you find it astonishin if you only think how azy it is to get, hut a regular disappointment, a downright take-in, if you intend to have it cut, and pol- ished and set. iNo, sir; with all the care and culture in life2 youll never make a precious stone of it! Youve not taken the right way to con- vince me, hy using such an illustration, Billy. Ill try another, then, said Billy. We are like Willy-the-Whisps, showing plenty of light where theres no road to travel, but of no manner of use on the highway, or in the dark streets of a village where one has husi- ness. Your own services here are the refutation to your argument, Billy, said Harcourt, filling his glass. Tis your kindness to say so, sir, said Billy, with gratified pride; hut the sacrat was he thrusted methat was the whole of it. All the miracles of physic is confidence, just as all the magic of eloquence is con-vic- tion. You have reflected profoundly, I see, said Ilarcourt. I made a great many observations at one time of my life-the opportunity was fa- vorable. When and how was that? I travelled with a baste caravan for two years, sir; and theres nothing teaches one to know mankind like the study of hastes! Not complimentary to humanity, certainly, said Harcourt, laughing. Yes, hut it is, though; for it is by a con- sideration of the fer.e naturce that you get at the raal nature of mere animal existence. You see there man in the rough, as a body might say, just as he was turned out ot the first work- sl~op, and before he was fettered with the divinus afliatus, the aithereal essence, that makes him the first of creation. Theres all the qualities good and badlove, hate, ven- geance, gratitude, grief, joy, ay and mirth there they are in the brutes; but theyre in no subjection, except by fear. Now its out of man s motives his character is moulded, and fear is only one amongst them. Dye appre- hend me? Perfectly; fill your pipe. And he pushed the tobacco towards him. I will; and Ill drink the memory of the great and good man that first intro-duced the weed amongst us.Heres Sir Walter Raleigh. By the same token, I was in his house, last week. In his house! where? Down at Greyhall. You Englishmen, savin your presence, always forget that many of your celehrities lived years in Ireland. For it was the same long ago as nowa place of decent banishment for men of janiusa kind of straw yard where ye turned out your intel- lectual hunters till the sayson came on at home. Im sorry to see, Billy, that, with all your enliThtenment, you have the vulgar prejudice arainst the Saxon. ~ And thats the rayson I have it, because it is vulgar, said Billy, eagerly. Vulgar means popular, common to many; and whats the best test of truth in anything but universal belief, or whatever comes nearest to it. I wish I was in ParliamentI just wish I was there the first night one of the nobs calls out thats vulgar; and Id just say to him, Is there anything as vulgar as men and women? Show me one good thing in life that isnt vulgar? Show me an object a painter copies, or a poet describes, that isnt so? Ayeh, cried he impatientiy, when they wanted a hard word to fling at us, why didnt they take the right one? But you are unjust, Billy; the ungenerous tone ye speak of is fast disappearing. Gentle- men now-a-days use no disparaging epithets to men poorer or less happily circumstanced than themselves. Faix, said Billy, it isnt sitting here, at the same table with yourself, that 1 ought to gainsay that remark. And Harcourt was so struck by the air of good breeding in which he spoke, that he grasped his hand, and shook it warmly. And what is more, continued Billy, from this day out Ill never think so. He drank off his glass as he spoke, giving to the libation all the ceremony of a solemn vow. Dve hear that ?thems oars; theres a boat coming in. You have sharp hearing, master, said Harcourt, laughing. I got the gift when I was a smuggler, re- plied he. I could put my ear to the ground of a still night, and tell you the tramp of a rev- enue boot as well as if I seen it. And now Ill lay sixpence its Pat Morissy is at the how-oar 48 THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. there; he rows with a short jerking stroke theres no timing. Thats himselg and it must be something ur~ent from the post-office that brings him over the Lough to-night. The words were scarcely spoken when Cra~s entered with a letter in his hand. This is for you, Colonel, said he; it was marked immediate, and the post-mistress des- patched it by express. The letter was a very brief one; but, in honor to the writer, we shall give it a chapter to itself. CHAPTER VII. A GREAT DIPLOMATIST. My DEAR llARcouwr,I arrived here yesterday, and by good fortune caught your letter at the F. 0., where it was awaiting the departure of the messenger for Germany. Your account of poor Glencore is most dis- tressing. At the same time, my knowledge of the man and his temper in a measure prepared me for it. You say that he wished to see me, and intends to write. Now there is a small business matter between us, which his lawyer seems much disposed to push on to a difficulty, if not to worse. To prevent this, if possible, at all events to see whether a visit from me might not be serviceable, I shall cross over to Ireland on Tuesday, and be with you by Friday, or at furthest Saturday. Tell him that I am coming, but only for a day. My engagements are such that I must be here again early in the fol- lowing week. On Thursday I go down to Windsor. There is wonderfully little stirring here, but I keep that little for our meeting. You are aware, my dear friend, what a poor, shat- tered, broken-down fellow I am; so that I need not ask you to give me a comfortable quarter for one night, and so me shell-fish, if easily procurable, for my one dinner. Yours, ever and faithfully, H. U.~ We have already told our reader that the note was a brief one, and yet was it not alto- nether uncharacteristic. Sir horace Upton it will spare us both some repetition if we pre- sent him at oncewas one of a very composite order of human architecture; a kind of being, in fact, of which many would deny the exist- ence till they met and knew them, so full of contradictions, real and apparent, was his na- ture. Chivalrous in sentiment and cunning in action, noble in aspiration, and utterly scepti- cal as to such a thing as principal, one-half of his temperament was the antidote to the other. Fastidious to a painful extent in matters of taste, he was simplicity itself in all the require- ments of his life, and with all a courtiers love of great people, not only tolerating, but actu- DXCIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. XI. 4 ally preferring, the society of men beneath him. In person he was tall, and with that air of distinction in his manner that belongs only to those who unite natural graces with long habits of high society. His features were finely formed, and would have been actually hand- some, were the expression not spoiled by a look of astutenessa something that implied a tendency to overreach which marred their repose and injured their uniformity. Not that his manner ever betrayed this weakness; far from ithis was a most polished courtesy. It was impossible to conceive an address more bland or more conciliating. His very gestures, vis voice, languid by a slight habit of indispo- sition, seemed as though exerted above their strength in the desire to please, and making the object of his attentions to feel himself the mark of peculiar honor. There ran through all his nature, through everything he did, or said, or thought, a certain haughty humility, which served, while it assigned an humble place to himself, to mark out one still more humble for those about him. There were not many things he could not do; indeed he had actually done most of those which win honor and distinction in life. He had achieved a very gallant but brief military career in India, made a most brilliant opening in Parliament, where his abil- ities at once marked him out for office, was suspected to be the writer of the cleverest po- litical satire, and more than suspected to be the a~ithor of the novel of the day. With all this, he had great social success. He was deep enough for a ministerial dinner, and fast enough for a party of young Guardsmen at Greenwich. With women, too, he was espe- cially a favorite; there was a Machiavellian subtlety which he could throw into small things a mode of making the veriest trifles, little Chinese puzzles of ingenuity that flattered and amused them. In a word, he had great adapt- iveness, and it was a quality he indulged less for the gratification of others than for the pleasure it afforded himself. He had mixed largely in society, not only of his own, but of every country of Europe. lie knew every chord of that complex instru- ment which people call the world, like a mas- ter; and although a certain jaded and wearied look, a tone of exhaustion and fatigue, seemed to say that he was tired of it all, that he had found it barren and worthless, the real truth was, he enjoyed life to the full as much as on the first day in which he entered it; and for this simple reason, that he had started with an humble opinion of mankind, their hopes, fears, and ambitions, and so he continued, notdis- appointed, to the end. The most governing notion of his whole life was an impression that he had a disease of the chest, some subtle and mysterious affec- tion which had defied the doctors, and would 49 50 ~o on to ~efy them to the last. To suggest to ~im that his malady had any affinity to any known affection was to outrage him, since the mere supposition would reduce him to a spe- cies of equality with some one elsea thought infinitely worse than any mere physical suf- fering; and, indeed, to avoid this shocking possibility, he vacillated as to the locality oF his disorder, making it now in the lung, now in the heartat one time in the bronchial tubes, at another in the valves of the aorta. It was his pleasure to consult for this complaint every great physician of Europe, and not alone consult, hut commit himself to their di- rection, and this with a credulty which lie could scarcely have summoned in any other cause. It was difficult to say how far he himself be- lieved in this disorderthe pressure of any momentous event, the necessity of action, never finding him unequal to any effort, no matter how onerous. Give him a difficulty, a minister to outwit, a secret scheme to unravel, a false move to profit by, and he rose above all his pulmonary symptoms, and could exert himself with a degree of power and perseve- rance that very few men could equal, none surpass. Indeed it seemed as though he kept this malady for the pastime of idle hours, as other men do a novel or a newspaper, but would never permit it to interfere with the graver business of life. We have, perhaps, been prolix in our ~le- scription, but we have felt it the more requisite to be thus (litluse, since the studious simplicity which marked all his manner might have de- ceived our reader, and which the impression of his mere words have failed to convey. You will be glad to hear Upton is in Eng- gland, Glencore, said Harcourt, as the sick man was assisted to his seat in the library, and, what is more, intends to pay you a visit. Upton coming here ! exclaimed Glencore, -with an expression of mingled astonishment ~nd confusion how do you know that? He writes me from Longs to say that hell be with us by Friday, or, if not, by Sat- urday. XVhat a miserable place to receive him, exclaimed Glencore. As for you, Harcourt, you know how to rough it, and have bivouacked too often under the stars to care much for satin curtains. But think of Upton here! How is he to eat ?where is he to sleep ? By Jove, well treat him handsomely. Ji~ont you fret yourself about his comforts; THE FORTUNES OF GLENCORE. besides, Ive seen a great deal of Upton, and with all his fastidiousness arid refinement, hes a thorough good follow at taking things for the best. Invite him to Chatsworth, and the chances are hell find twenty things to fisult with the place, the cookery, and the servants; but take him down to the highlands, lodge him in a shieling, with bannocks for breakfast and a Fyne herring for supper, and Ill wager my life youll not see a ruffle in his temper, nor hear a word of impatience out of his mouth. I know that he is a well-bred gentleman, said Glencore, half pettishly; but I have no fancy for putting his good manners to a severe test, particularly at the cost of my own feeb ings. I tell you again he shall be admirably treated; he shall have my room; and, as for his dinner, Master Billy and I are going to make a raid amongst the lobster-pots. And what with turbot, oysters, grouse-pie, and mountain mutton, Ill make the diplomatist sorrow that he is not accredited to some native sovereign in the Arran islands, instead of some mere German Ilertzog. lIe can only stay one day. One day 1 Thats all; he is over head-and-ears in business, and lie goes down to Windsor on Thursday, so that there is no help for it. I wish I may be strong enough; I hope to heaven that I may rally Glencore stopped soddenly as he got thus far, but the agitation the words cost him seemed most painful. I say again, dont distress yourself about Uptonleave the care of entertaining him to me. Ill vouch for it that he leaves us well satisfied with his welcome. It was not of that I was thinking, said he, impatiently; I have much to say to him things of great huportance. It may be that I shall be unequal to the effort; I cannot answer for my strength for a daynot for an hour. Could von not write to him, and ask him to defer his coming till such time as he can spare me a week, or at least some days ? My dear Gleneore, you know the man well, and that we are lucky if we can have him here on his own terms, not to think of imposing ours; he is sure to have a number of engagements while he is in England. Well, be it so, said Glencore, sighing, with the air of a man resigning himself to an inevitable necessity. MAUD. From Blackwoods Magazine. MAUD. Br ALFRED TENNYSON.* WE are old enough to remember the time when the bare announcement of a new poem from the pen of Byron, or of a new romance from that of Scott, was sufficient to send a thrill of curiosity and expectation through the whole body of the public. No ingenious news- paper puffs, containing hints as to the nature and tone of the forthcoming production, were then required to stimulate the jaded appetite, and prepare it for the enjoyment of the pro- mised feast. Gluttons all of us, we had hard- ly devoured one dish fit for a banquet of the gods, before we were ready for another; and it needed not the note of lute or psaltery, sackbut or dulcimer, to induce us to pounce, ravenous as eagles, upon the coming prey. Some selfishness undoubtedly there was; for we have known desperate, and even demoni- acal struggles take place for the possession of an early copy. The mail-coach which was supposed to carry one or more of these pre- cious parcels a week or so before the general delivery, was in much greater danger of being stopped and plundered than if the boot had been stuffed with boxes containing the laminous issue of the Bank of England. One ancient guard, well known to travellers on the north road for his civility to passengers and his ad- miration of rum and milk, osed to exhibit a lump behind his ear, about the size of a magnum bonusn plum, arising from an injury caused by the pistol of a literary footpad, who attacked the mail near Alnwick for the pur- pose of obtaining forcible possession of a proof copy of Rob Roy. Judges were known to have absented themselves from the bench for the undisturbed engorgeinent, and for weeks afterwards the legal opinions which they delivered were strangely studded with medim- val terms. As for the poetical apprentices, Byron was, indeed, the very prince of the flat-caps. No sooner was a fresh work of his announced, than opium and prussic acid rose rapidly in the market; and the joyous tidings of some new harlotry by Mr. Thomas Moore created a fluttering as of besmirched doves among the delicate damsels of Drury Lane. All that, however, is matter of history, for the world since then has become, if not wiser, much more callous and indifferent. We have been fod for a long time upon adulterated vi- ands, and have grown mightily suspicious of the sauce. Since the literary caterers, with very few exceptions, betook themselves to puffing, and to the dubious task of represent- ing garbage only fit for cats-meat, as pieces of ~t Maud and other Poems. By Alfred Tennyson, D.C.L., Poet Laureate. London, 1855. 51 the primest quality, men have grown shy through frequent disappointment, and will not allow themselves to be seduced into anticipa- tory ecstasies even by the most tempting bill of fare. When every possible kind of publi- cationfrom the lumbering journals and sala- cious court-gossip of some antiquated patrician pantaloorin, edited by his senseless son, down to the last history of the Highway, with sketches of eminent burglarsfrom the play after the perusal of which in manuscript Mr. Macready was attacked by British cholera, down to the poem so very spasmodic that it reminds you of the writhing of a knot of wormsfrom au- dacious, though most contemptible forgeries on the dead, down to the autobiography of a rogue and a swindleris represented as a work of surpassing interest, full of genius, cal- culated to make a lasting impression on the public mind, and so forth, can it be wonder- ed at if the public has long ago lost faith in such announcements? It would be as easy to induce a pack of fox-hounds to follow a trail through the town of Wick in the herring sea- son, as to allure purchasers by dint of this in- discriminate system of laudation. Yet we deny not that at times we feel a re- currence of the 01(1 fever-fit of expectation. The advertisement of a forth-coming novel by Sir E. B. Lytton would excite in the bosoms of many of us sensations similar to those which agitate a Junior Lord of the Treasury at the near. approach of quarter-day. If we could only be assured of the exact time when Mr. Macaulays new volumes are to appear, we might, even now, forgive him for having kept us so long upon the tenter-hooks. Let Lord Palmerston fix a precise day for the issue of his Life and Political Reminiscences, and we gage our credit that, before dawn, the doors of his publisher will be besieged; and, to come to the immediate subject of this article, we have bean waiting for a long time, with deep anxiety, for the promised new volume of po- ems by Alfred Tennyson. The young cormo- rant, whom from our study window we see sitting upon a rock in the voe, was an egg on a ledge of the cliff when we first heard whis- per that the Laureate was again preparing to sing The early daisies were then starring the sward, an(l the primroses blooming on the bank ; and now the poppies are red amongst the corn, and the corn itself yellowing into harvest. Post after post arrived, and yet they brought not Alouda sore disappointment to mis, for we are ml welling in the land of the Nie- belungen, where, Providence be praised, there are no railways, and cheap literature is tie- liciously scarceso we fell back upon Ten- tysons earlier poems, solaced ourselves with the glorious rhythm of Loclcslcy Hall and the Morte DArtbur, lay amomig tIme purple heather, and read Ulysses anti the Lotus-eaters, and 52 MAUD. dreamed luxuriously of the Sleeping Beauty. protested that they had wept over portions of These, and one or two others, such as Dora, Jniilemoriam, and that they were able to ex and the Gardeners Daughter, are poems of tract deep lessons of philosophy from divers which we never tire, so exquisite is their cx- dark savings in The Princess, which to unini and so delicate their music ; tiated eyes, V meaning pression, we are content to pass ~ eveti they seemed rat ~tr devoid of their sake were constrained to admit that some deal that is indiflhrent in quality, and much thing better might have been expected from that is affecte(l in manner. Forthe truth Alfred. And now, when, after a breathing- must he said, notwithstanding the chirping of time, he had taken the field afresh, we enter- numerous indiscreet admirers who are incapa- tamed a sincere and earnest hope that his new ble of (listiugni shing one note from another poem would be equal, if not superior, to any Alfred Tennyson is singularly unequal in cam- of his former productions. position. Some of the poems upon which he We have at last received Maud, and we appears to have bestowed the greatest amount have risen from its perusal dispirited and sor- of labor, and on which we suspect lie particu- rowful. It is not a light thing nor a trivial larly plumes himself, are his worst and we annoyance to a sincere lover of literature to never could join in the admiration which we have it forced upon his conviction that the have heard expressed for In Mernoriarn. It is man, who has unquestionably occupied for simply a dirge, with countless variations, cal- years the first place among the living British Cuiate(l, no doubt, to show the skill of the mu- poets, is losing ground with each successive sician, but corive ing no impression of reality effort. During the earlier part of the present or truthfulness to the mind. Grief may be SO century, when poetry as an especial art was drawled out and protracted as to lose its pri- more caltivated if not more prized than now, mary character, aiid to assume that very mo- there were many competitors for the laurels difled form which the older poets used to de- and when the song of oiie minstrel ceased or nominate the luxury of woe. One epitaph, grew faint, another was eniulous with his in prose or verse, is enough for even the best strain. It is not so now. We have, indeed, of our race, and the briefer it can be made, niuchi piping, but little real melody and know- the better. To sit down deliberately and dab- ing that we have but a very slight poetical orate several scores in memory of the same in- reserve to fall back upon, we watch with more dividual, is a waste of iiigenuity on the part than ordinary vigilance and anxiety the career of the writer, and a sore trial of temper to of those who have already won a reputation. the rea(ler. Nor can we aver that we are at It is singular, but true, that the high burst of all partial to this kind of ftuiereal commemo- poetry which many years ago was simulta- ration when carried to an extreme. Poets neously exhibited both in Germany and Great may be excused for fabricating, in their hours Britain has suddenly declined in either coun- of melancholy, an occasional dirge or so, which trythat no adequate successors should be may serve as a safety-valve to their excited found to Schiller, Goethe, Tieck, and Uhiland, feelings but their voices were given them for in the oneor to Scott, Byron, Campbell, and something better than to keep wheezing all Coleridge, in the other. Many more names, day long like a chorus of consuniptive sextons. both German aiid British, we might have cited Therefore we have never included in Menio- as belonging to the last poetic era, but these are s-iarn in the list of our travelling library, but enough to show, by coniparison, how much we have left it at home on the same shelf with have dwarthd in poetry. It may be that thii~ Blairs Grave, and the Oraisons Fenebres. is partly owing to the wider range of modern We confess to have been disappointed with literature, and the greatly increased demand The Princess. The idea of the poem, though for ready literary ability, but the fact remains somewhat bizarre, was novel and ingenious, as we have stated it and certainly there are and allowed scope for great variety, but it ne- now few among us who devote themselves ex- cessarily implied the possession of more humor- elusively to the poetic art, and fewer still who ous power than Mr. Tennyson has yet display- have cultivated it with anything approaching ed. In it, however, are to be found some most to success. First among the latter class we beautiful lines and passagesso beautiful, in- have ranked, and still do rank, Tennyson. deed, that they almost seem out of place in a He has resisted all literary temptations which poem which, as a whole, heaves so faint and might have interfered with his craft like vague an impression on the mind of the read- Wordsworth, he has refused to become a litisr- er. We ouTht, however, to accept The Pria- ateur, and has taken his lofty stand upon mm- cGss, a ihIedley, for what it probably was in- strelsy alone. And upon that one account if no tended to bea freak of fancy and in that other, we should deeply regret to see him fail. view it would be unfair to apply it to any Occasional failure, or what the world will stringent rules of criticism, term as such, is no more than every poet who Even those who esteemed his later volumes has early developed his powers, and whose more highly than we were able to dowho genius has met with ready recognition, must MAUD. expect; for, in the absence of any universal standard, the public are wont to weigh the ac- tions, words, and xvritinrs of each man separ- ately, and to decide upon their merit according to previous achievement. It may be a posi- tive misfortune to have succeeded too early. There is much more in the word Excelsior than meets the common eyes, or, we shrewdly apprehend than reaches the understanding of the men who use it so freely. A man may rise to fame by one sudden effort; but unless he can leap as high, if not higher, again, he will presently be talked of as a cripple by multitudes, who, but for his first airy vault, would have regarded his second with astonish- ment. It is the consciousness of the universal application of this rule of individual compari- son which, in all a~ es, has fore ed poets atA other literary men to study variety. having achieved decided success in one department, they douht whether their second effort can transcend the first; and being unwilling to acknowledge discomfiture, even hy themselves, they essay some new feat of intellectual gym- nastics. That the world has been a gainer thereby we do not doubt. New fields and new pastures are as necessary to the poet as to the shepherd only it behooves him to take care that he does not conduct us to a barren moor. Now let us examine more particularly the poem before us. Had Maud been put into our hands as the work of some young unrecog- nized poet, we should have said that it exhib- ited very great promisethat it contained at least one passage of such extraordinary rhyth- mical music, that the sense became subordi- nate to the sound, a result which, except in the case of one or two of the plaintive ancient Scottish ballads, and some of the lyrics of Burns, has hardly ever been attained by any British writer of poetrythat such passages, however, though they exhibited the remarka- ble powers of the author, were by no means to be considered as manifestations, or rather aesur- arices, of his judgment, even in musical mat- ters since they alternated with others of pos- itively hideous cacophony, such as we should have supposed no man gifted with a tolerable ear and j)liable fingers would have perpetrated that sometimes a questionable taste had been exhibited in the selection of ornaments, which were rather gaudy than ~raceful, and often too ostentatiously exposedthat there were other grave errors against taste which we could only attribute to want of practice and studythat the objectionable and unartistic portions of the poem were, leaving the medio- cre ones altogether out of the question, gross- ly disproportionate to the goodand that the general effect of the poem was unhappy, un- wholesome, and disagreeable. Such would 53 have been our verdict, had we not known who was the writer; aiid we feel a double disap- pointment now when forced to record it against a poet of such deserved reputa- tion. But it is the best course to express our opinion honestly, and without reservation. My. Ten nysons indiscriminate admirers may possibly think it their duty to represent this, his latest production, as a magnificent tiiumph of genius, but they never will he able to persuade the public to adopt that view, and we trust most sincerely that the Laureate will not permit himself to be confirmed in practical error through their flatteries. We say this much because we see no reason for attributing the inthrior quality of his later poems to any decay of his native or acquired powers. We believe that he can, whenever he pleases, delight the world once more with such poetry as he enunciated in his youth; but we think that he has somehow or other been led astray by po- etic theories, which may be admirably adapted for the consideration of dilettanti, but which are calculated rather to spoil than to enhance the productions of a man of real genius. Theories have been ere now the curse of many poets. For example, who will deny that, but for their obstinate adherence to theory, the reputations both of Wordsworth and of Southey would have been greater than they presently are Mend is a monologue in six-and-twenty parts, each of them intended to depict a peculiar phase of the mind of the speaker, who is a young gentleman in decayed cir- cumstanees, and therefore morbid and misan- thropical. The poem opens thus: I hate the dreadful hollow behind the little wood, Its lips in the field above are dabbled with blood. red heath, The red-rihbd ledges drip with a silent horror of blood, And Echo there, whatever is askd her, answers Death. For there in the ghastly pit long since a body was found, His who had given me lifeO father! 0 God h was it well ? Man~led and flattend, and crushd and dinted into the groun(h There yet lies the rock that fell with him when he fell. Did he fling himself down? who knows? for a great speculation had faihd, And ever he mutierd and maddend, and ever wannd with despair, And out he walkd when the wind like a broken ~vorldhin~ ~vaihd, And the flying gold of the mind woodlands drove thro the air. 64 MAUD. I remember the time, for the roots of my hair proper remedy for adulteration of comestibles, were stirrd housebreaking, and child-murder By a shuffled step, hy a dead weight traild by a whisperd fright, And my pulses closed their gates with a shock on my heart as I heard The shrill-edged shriek of a mother divide the shud- dering night. Villany somewhere! whose 3 One says we are villains all. 1~ot he: his hottest fame should at least by me be maintaind: But that old man, now lord of the broad estate and the Hall, Dropt qif gorqed from a scheme that had left us flaccid and droind. Why do they prate of the blessings of Peace 3 we have made them a curse, rickpockets, each hand lusting for all that is not its own; And lust of gain in the spirit of Cain, is it bet- ter or worse Than the heart of the citizen hissing in war on his own hearthstone? But these are the days of advance, the works of the men of mind, When who but a fool would have faith in a trades- man s ware or his word 3 Is it peace or w(tr? Civil war, as I think, and that of a kind The viler as underhand, not openly bearing the sword. Sooner or later I too may passively take the print Of the golden agewhy not 3 I have neither hope nor trust: May make my heart as a millstone, set my face as a flint, Cheat and be cheated, and die: who knows 3 we are ashes and dust. Is that poetry? Is it even respectable versa? Is it not altogether an ill-conceived and worse-expressed screed of bombast, set to a metre which has the string-halt, without even the advantage of regularity in its hobble? Do not say that we are severe, we are merely speaking the truth, and we are ready to fur- nish a test. Let any man who can appreciate melody, turn to Locksley Hall, and read aloud eight or ten stanzas of that wonderful poem, until he has possessed hitnself with its music, then let him attempt to soun(l the passage which we have just quoted, and he will imme- diately perceive the woeful difference. The contrast between the breathings of an i~olian harp and the rasping of a blacksmiths file is scarcely more palpable. Our young niisan- thrope goes on to describe the ways of the world, of which lie seems to entertain a very bad opinion, and finally comes to the conclu- sion that war upon a large scale is the only And the vitriol madness flushes up in the ruf- fians head, Till the filthy by-lane rings to the yell of the trampled wife, White chalk and alum and plaster are sold to the poor for bread, And the spirit of murder works in the very means of life. And Sleep must lie down armd, for the villanous centre-bits Grind on the wakeful ear in the hush of the moon- less nights, While another is cheating the sick of a few last gasps, as lie sits To pestle a poisond poison behind his crimson lights. When a Mammonite mother kills her babe for a burial fee And Tinsour-Mam,non grins on a pile of childrens bones, Is it peace or war 3 better war! ~oud war by land and by sea, War with a thousand battles, and shaking a hun- dred thrones. For I trust if an enemys fleet came yonder round by the hill, And the rushing battle-bolt sang from the three- decker out of the~foam, That the smooth:faced snub-nosed rogue would leap from his counter and till, And strike if he could, were it but with his cheat- ing yardwand home. Having thus vented his bile by a wholesale objurgation of the peace-party, which shows, as Bailhie Jarvie says, that the creature has occasional glimmerings, this unhappy victim of paternal speculation suddenly bethinks himself that there are workmen at the Hall, now the property of the milhionnaire or gray old wolf, by which endearing titles the father of Maud is designated throughout, and that the family are coming home. lie re- members the little girl Maud with her sweet purse-mouth when my father dangled the grapes, but makes up his mind to have nothing to say to her Thanks. for the fiend best knows whether wo- man or nian he the worse. I will bury myself in my hooks, and the Devil may pipe to his own. However, on an early day he obtains a glinipse, in a (arliage, of a (old and (-lear- t-ut-liwe, which pi-oves to belong to Maud, and lie thus describes her MAUD. 55 Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, What if that dandy-despot, he, Dead perfection, no more; nothing more, if it i That jeweild moss of millinery, had not been That aild and curid Assyrian Bull For a chance of travel, a paleness, an hours de- Smelling of musk and of insolence, fect of the rose, Her brother, from whom I keep aloof, Or an underlip you may call it a little too ripe, XVho wants the finer politic sense too full, To mask, tho but in his own behoof, Or the least little delicate aquiline curve in a sensitive With a glassy smile his brutal scorn nose What if he had told her yestermorn From which I escaped heart-free, with the least How prettily for his own sweet sake little touch of spleen. A face of tenderness might he feignd, And a moist mirage in desert eyes, That so, when the rotten hustin~s shake In another month to his brazen lies, A wretched vote may he gaind. The thaw, however, commences. He pro- s~?ntly hears her singing, and as this passage is the first in the volume which displays a scintillation of poetic power, or reminds us in any way of the former writings of Mr. Ten- nyson, we gladly insert it A voice by the cedar tree, In the meadow under the Hall! She is singing an air that is known to me, A passionate ballad gallant and gay, A martial song like a trumpets call! Singing alone in the morning of life, In the happy morning of life and of May, Singing of men that in battle array, I~eady in heart and ready in hand, March with banner and bugle and fife To the death for their native laud. Maud with her exquisite face, And wild voice pealing up to the sunny sky, And feet like sunny gems on an English green, Maud in the light of her youth and her grace, Singing of Death, and of honor that cannot die, Till I ~veil could weep for a time so sordid and mean, And myself so languid and base. Silence, beautiful voice! Be still, for you only trouble the mind With a joy in which I cannot rejoice, A glory I shall not find. Still I will hear you no more, For yoni- sweetness hardly leaves me a choice But move to the meadow and fall before Her feet on the meariow and grass, and a lore, ~ot her, who is neither courtly nor kind, Not her, not her, but a voice. When we read the above passage we had good hope that the Laureate had emerged from the fog, but he again becomes indistinct and distorted. However, the worst is past, for we verily believe it would be impossible for ingenuity itself to caricature the commence- ment. Maud begins to smile upon Misanthro- pos, who is, however, still suspicious; for her brother has an eye to a seat for the county, and thu young lady may be a canvasser in dis- guise. We should like to know what gentle- man sate for the fbllowing sketch: What if tho her eye seemd full Of a kind intent to me, It seems, however, that a young member of the peerage, who owes his rank to black dia- monds, is an admirer of Maud; whereupon the misanthropic lover again becomes abu- sive Sick, am I sick of a jealous dread? Was not one of the two at her side This new-made lord, whose splendor plucks The slavish hat from the villagers bead? Whose old grandfather has lately died, Gone to a blacker pit, for whom Grimy nakedness dragging his trucks And laying his tranis in a poisond gloom Wrought till he crept from a gutted maine Master of half a servile shire, And left his coal all turnd into gold To a grandson, first of his noble line, Rich in the grace all women desire, Strong in the power that all men adore, And simper au(l set their voices lower, And soften as if to a girl, and hold A~ve-stricken breaths at a work divine, Seeing his gawgaw castle shine, Ne~v as his title, built last year, There amid perky larches and pine, And over the sullen pnmple moor (Look at it) pricking a cockney ear. What, has he found my jewel out 3 For one of the two that rode at her side Bound for the Hall, I am sure ~vas he: Bound for the Hall, and I think for a bride. Blithe would her brothers acceptance be. Maud could be gracious too, no doubt, To a lord, a captain, a padded shape, A bon~ht commission, a waxen face, A rabbit mouth that is ever agape Bought 3 what is it lie cannot buy 3 And therefore splenetic personal, base, Sick, sick to the heart of life, am I., But, after all, Misanthropos proves too muc~i for the titled Loi-d of the Mines, for he and Maud have a walk together in a wood, and the courtship commences in earnest Birds in our wood sang I{in~ing through the valleys, Mud - here, here, here In among the lilies. 56 I kissd her slender hand, She took the kiss sedately; Maud is not seventeen, But she is tall and stately. * * * * Look, a horse at the door, And little King Charles is snarling. Go hack, my lord, across the moor, You are not her darlin ~. 0 dear, dear! what manner of stuff is this? But that Assyrian Bull of a brother is again in the way, and treats Misanthropos cavaliely; notwithstanding which he proposes to Maud, and is accepted. We make every allowance for the raptures of a lover on such an occa- sion, and admit that he is privileged to talk very great nonsense; but there must be a lim- it somewhere; and we submit to Mr. Tenny- son whether he was justified, for his own sake, in putting a passage so outrageously silly as the followin0 into the mouth of his hero Go not, happy day, From the shining fields, Go not, happy day, Till the maiden yields. Rosy is the West, Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth. When the happy Yes Falters from her lips, Pass and blush the news Oer the blowing ships. Over blowing seas, Over seas at rest, Pass the happy news. Blush it thro the West Till the red man dance Bq his red cedar tree, And the red mans babe Leap. beyond the sea. Blush from West to East, Blush from East to West, Till the West is East Blush it thro the West. Rosy is the West, Rosy is the South, Roses are her cheeks, And a rose her mouth. Mr. Halliwell some years ago published a collection of Nursery Rhymes. We have not the volume by us at present; but we are fully satisfied that nothing so bairuly as the above is to be found in the Breviary of the Innocents. The part whib follows this is ambitiously an(l elaborately written, and we doubt not will find many admirers. It is eminently rhetorical, and replete avith graceful imagery, but some- bow there is not a line in it which haunts us. MAUD. It seems to us a splendid piece of vorsification, but deficient in melody and passion, and much too artificial for the situation. Others, how- ever, may think, differently, and therefore we extract the conclusion Is that enchanted moan only the swell Of the long waves that roll in yonder bay? And hark the clock within, the silver knell Of twelve sweet hours that past in bridal white, And died to live, long as my pulses play But now by this my love has closed her sight, And given false death her hand, and stain uwo To dreamful ostes where footless fancies dwell Among the fraqments of the ga/den day. May nothing there her maiden grace aifrightl I)ear heart. I feel with thee th e drowsy spell. My bride to be, my evermore delight, Mv own hearts heart and ownest own, farewell. It is but for a little space I go: And ye meanwhile far over moor and fell Beat to the noiseless music of the night! Has our whole earth gone nearer to the low Of your soft splendors, that you look so brigh~l 1 have climbd nearer ant of lonely hell. Beat, happy stars, timing with things below, Bent with my heart mare blest than heart can tell, Blest, hut for some dark undercurrent woe That seems to drawhut it shall not be so: Let all be well, be well. Then follows some namby-pamby which we shall not quote. There is to be a grand politi- cal dinner and dance at the Hall, to which Misanthropos is not invited ; but he intends to wait in Mauds own rose-garden until the ball is over, when lie hopes to obtain an interview for a moment. Then comes a very remarka- ble passage, in whicla Mr. Tennyson gives a signal specimen of the rhythmical l)~~~i which he possesses. The music of it is faultless; atid we at least are not disposed to cavil at the quaintness of the imagery which is almost On- cittal in its tone. We treasure it the more, because it is the one gem of the collection the only passage that we can read with ~ unmixed delight, an(l xvi th a perfect conviction that it is the strain of a true poet. Other pas- sages there are, more ambitions and elahoratea studded all over with those metaphors, strange epithets, and conceits which are the disfigure- ment of modern poetry, and which we are surprised that a man of genius and ~pcenco should persist in using ; but they all seem to us to want life atid reality, and stirely the ink was sluggish in the pen when they were writtert. Only in this one does the verse fish alit like a golden thread from a reel ; atid we fed that our hands are bound, like those of Thalaba, when the enchantress satig to him as she spun Come into the garden, Maud, For die black bat, night, has flown, MAUD. Come into the garden, Maud, I m here at the gate alone; And the woodhine spices are wafted abroad And the musk of the roses blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves, On a bed of (laffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die. All night have the roses heard The dote, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jassamine stirr~d To the (lancers dancing in tune; Till a silence fell with the waking bird And a hush with the setting moon. I said to the lily, There is but one With ~vhom she has heart to be gay. When will the dancers leave her alone I She is weary of dance and play. Now half to the setting moon are bone, And half to the rising day; Low on the sand arid loud on the stone The last wheel echoes away. I said to the rose, The brief night goes In habhle and revel and wine. 0 young lord-lover, what sighs are those, For one that will never be thine? But mine, but mine, so I sware to the rose, For ever and ever, mine. And the soul of the rose went into my blood, As the music clashd in the hall And long by the garden lake I stood, For I heard your rivulet fall From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer tItan all From the meadow your walks have left so sweet That whenever a March-wind sighs He sets the jewel-print of your feet In violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we meet, And the valleys of Paradise. The slender acacia would not shake One long niilk-hloom on the tree; The white lake-blossoms fell into the lake, As the pimpernel dozed on the lea But the rose was awake all night for your sake, Knowing your promise to me; The lilies and roses were all awake, They sighd for the dawn and thee. Qtieen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, Come hither, the dances are done, In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, Queen lily and rose in one; Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls, To the do~vers, and be their sun. There has fallen a splendid tear, From the passion-flower at the gate, 57 She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate The re(l rose cries, She is near, she is near; And the white rose weeps, She is late; The larkspur listens, I hear, I hear; And the lily whispers, I wait. She is coming, my own, my sweet Were it ever so airy a tread, My heart would hear her and beat, Were it earth in an earthy bed My dust would hear her and heat, had I lain for a century dead; Would start and tremble under her feet, And blossom in purpie and red. Little more of story is there. The lovers are surprised in the gar(lcn by the Assyrian Bull and Lord CuIm and Coke, and the for-. mer smites Misanthropos on the face. A duel ensues, when procosobit humi bos. Misan~. thropos betakes himself to France, returns5 finds that his love is dead. an(l goes mad. Mr. Tennyson has written a mad passage, but we must needs say that he had better have spared himself the trouble. Seven pages of what he most accurately calls idiot gabble, are rather too much, more especially when they do not contain a touch of pathos. We weep over the disordet-ed wits of Opheliawe listen to the ravings of Misanthropos, and are nervous as to what may happen if the keeper should not presently appear with a strait;jackct. The case is bad enough when youn~ poetasters es- say to gain a heating by dint of maniacal howls; but it is far worse when we find a man of undoubted genius and wide-spread reputa~ tion, demeaning himself by putting his name to such absolute nonsense as this Not that giay old wolf, for he came not back From the wilderness full of wolves, where he used to lie; Tie has ga;herd the bones for his & ergrown whelp to crack; Crack thei~ now for yourself, and howl, and diet Pi-ophet, curse me the blabhin~. lip, And curse me the British vermin, the r~ t; I know not whether he came in the Hanover ship, But I know that he lies and listens mute In an ancient mansion s crannies and holes: Arsenic, arsenic, sir, would do it, Except that now we poison our babes, poor souls It is all used up for that. Can Mr. Tennyson possibly he laborng nib-. der the delusion that be is using his hiTh tal- ents well and ~visely, and giving a valuable contribution to the poetic literature of Eng- land, by composing and publishing such gib- berish ? We are told that there is method in madness, and Shakspeare never lost si;2ht of that when giving voice to the ravings of King 58 MAUD. Lear; but this is mere barbarous bedlamite 0 go not yet, my love! jargon, without a vestige of meaning, and it The night is dark and vast, is a sore humiliation to us to know that it was The moon is hid in the heaven above, written by the Laur~ate. And the waves are climbing fast; At length Misanthropos recovers his senses; 0 kiss ne, kiss me once again, Lest that kiss should he the last! principally, in so far as we can gather from 0 kiss me ere we part the poem, because the British nation has gone Grow closer to my heart to war with Russia; and we expected to learn My heart is warmer surely than the bosom of the from ~ r. Tennyson that he had enlisted, and main! gone out to the Crimea to head a forlorn hope, and perish in a hostile battery. It appears, however, that he had no such intention; and the poem loses with the following passage, which bears a singular resemblance to fus- tian C~ Tho many a light shall darken, and many shall wecp For those that are crushd in the clash of jarring claims, Yet Gods just doom shall be wreakd on a giant liar, And many a darkness into the light shall leap, And shine in the sudden making of splendid names, And noble thought be freer under the sun And the heart of a people beat with one desire; For the long, long canker of peace is over and done, And now by the side of the Black and the Bal- tic deep, And deathful-grinning mouths of the fortress flames The blood-red blossom of war with a heart of tire) It must, we think, have been observed by most readers of Tennysons poetry, that his later productions do not exhibit that felicity of diction which characterized those of an ear- lier period. It seems to us that he formerly bestowed great pains upon his style, which was naturally ornate, for the purpose of attaining that sii phicity of expression which is the high- est excellence in poetry as in every other kind of composition. By simplicity we do not mean bald diction, or baby utterance ;we use the term in its high sense, as expressive of the utmost degree of lucidity combined with energy, when all false images, far-fetched me- taphors and comparisons, and mystical forms ofi speech, are discarded. The best of Ten- nysons early poems are composed in that manner; but of late years there has been a marked alteration in his style. He gives us no longer such ,exquisite little gems as Hero and Leander, which was printed in the first edition of his poems, but which seems to have been ex(lnded, through over-fastidiousness, from the subsequent collection. It is many a long year since we read that poem, but we know it l)y heart sufficiently well to declaim it ; and we venture from memory to transcribe the opening stanza What can be more beautiful, musical, or ex- quisite than that passage? No wonder that it lingers on the mind, like the echo of a fairy strain. But turn to those simple passages in Maud, and you find nothing but namby-pam~ by. We have already quoted more than one such passage, and perhaps it is unnecessary to multiply instances; but, lest it should be said that lovers raptures, being often incompr~. hensible. incoherent, and rather childish in re.. ality, ought to be so rendered in verse, we pray the attention of the reader to the follow- ing few lines, which admit of no such plea in justification So dark a mind within me dwells, And I make myself such evil dicer, That if I be dear to some one else, Then some one else may have much to fear; But if I be dear to some one else, Then I should be to myself more dear, Shall I not take care of all that I think Yea evn of wretched meat and drink, If I be dear, If I be dear to some one else l On what possible pretext can lines like tbe~ be ranked as poetry? Why should we con- tinue to sneer at Sterohold and Hopkins, when the first poetical writer of the day is not ashamed to give such offerings to the pub- lic? In his more ambitious attempts, Mr. Tenny- son is now wordy, and very often ruggesi Some of his later verses bear a strong resei~ blance to that kind of crambo which was in- vented to test the youthful powers of pronun.. ciation; and the enigma relatina to Peter Piper, who pecked a peck of pepper off a pewter platter, is not more execrably caco- phonous than many lines which we could s~ ect from the volume before us. Here is ono instance, not by any means the strongest Be mine a philosophers life in the quiet wood- land ways, Where if I cannot be gay, let a passionless peace he my lot, Far off froei the clamor of liars belied iss the hub- bub of lies From the long-neckd geese of the world that are ever hissing dispraise Also it appears to us that he has become ad- dicted to exaggeration, and an unnecessary use of very strong language. The reader must have already perceived this from the ex- tracts we have given deseriptire of Mauds brother, and of his friend; but the same vio- lence of phraseology is exhibited when there appears no occasion for hyperbole, and then the effect becomes ludicrous. In former times, few could vie with Mr. Tennyson in the art of heightening a picture; now he has lost all discretion, and overlays his subject, whether it relates to a material or a mental image. We might pass over daffodil skies, gross mud- honey, ashen-gray delights, the delicate Arab arch of a ladys feet, and the grace that, bright and light as a crest of a peacock, sits on her shining head. We might, we say, pass over these things, as mere casual lapses or mannerisms; but when Mr. Tennyson for the purpose, we presume, of indicating the morbid tendencies of his hero, makes him give vent to the following confession, we have no bowels of compassion left, and we feel a con- siderable degree of contempt for Maud for having condescended to listen to the addresses of such a pitiful poltroon Living alone in an empty house, Here half-hid in the gleaming wood, Where I hear the dead at mid-day moan, And the shrieking rush of the wainscot mouse, And my own sad name in corners cried, When the shiver of dancing leaves is thrown About its echoing chambers wide, Till a morbid hate and horror have grown Of a world in which I have hardly mixt, And a morbid eating lichen flxt On a heart half turned to stone. MAUD. Because their natures are little, and, whether he been compelled against our wish and expecta heed it or not, tion, to condemn. It may possibly be said Where earls man walks with his head in a cloud of that there was no occasion for exprcssing any poisonous flies. kind of opinion; and that if, after perusing Maud, we found that we cGuld not conscieJi~ tiously praise it, it was in our option to let it pass unnoticed. But we cannot so deal with Mr. Tennyson. His reputation is a high one; and he has a large poetic following. In jus- tice to others of less note, upon whose works we have commented freely, we cannot mair~. tam silence when the Laureate has taken the field. Some of those whom we have pre- viously noticed, may possibly think that our judgments have been harshfor when did ever youthful poet listen complacently to an honest censor ?but they shall not have at~ excuse for saying that, while we spoke our mind freely with regard to them, we have al- lowed others of more acknowledged credit to escape, when their writings demanded con-. demnation. Why should we attempt review- ing at all, if we are not to be impartial in our judgments? If the opinion which we have expressed should have the effect of making Mr. Tennyson aware of the fact that he is se- riously imperilling his fame by issuing poems so ill considered, crude, tawdry, and Ol)jectiOfl- able as this, then we believe that our present plainness of speech will be the cause of a great gain to the poetic literature of the cono- try. R~ on the contrary, Mr. Tennyson chooses to turn a deaf ear to our remonstrance, we cannot help it; but we have performed our du- ty. We have never been insensible to his merits, nor have we wilfully withheld our ad- miration; and it is from the very poignancy of our regret to see a man so gifted descend to platitudes like these, that we have express- ed ourselves so broadly. Fain would we, like Ventidius in Drydens play, arouse our Antho- ny to action, but we cannot hope to compass that by sugared words, or terms of indolent But we have no heart to go on further; nor approval. We must touch him to the quick. In virtue of the laurel wreath, he is the poeti- shall we criticise the minor poems appended . a of Britain, and should be pre- to Maud, for not one cal champio there is of them whic pared to maintain the lists against all comers. we consider at all worthy of the genius of the Is this a proper specimen of his powers? By author. our Lady of the Lances! we know half-a-do- A more unpleasant task than that which we dozen minor poets who, in his present con- have just performed in reviewing this poem, dition, could bear him from his saddle in a and in passing so unfavorable a judgment, has not devolved upon us for many a day. We canter. hoped to have been able to applaudwe have UNCEItTAIN MEANING OF WOIeDS. We say precisely the same meaning. Your news i~ of a newspaper that it contains the latest intel- late, means that it is stale; but He hr ings all libence; or, that it has the earliest intelli- the late news, expresses the very reverse of tar geuce ; both phrases beina intended to convey diness. Notes and Queries. KITCHEN AND PARLOR. From Chamberss Journal. KITCHEN AND PARLOR. Ott, that will do for the servants. Mv dear, I ohserved. as the jagged half-raw remnant of the gi~ot ~vent clown stairs, what may ha the derivation of that word, servant ~ La! aunt, how can you ask such silly ques- tions ~ Servo, servavi, servatum, servare, mused my nephew-in-law, a young divine, with a turn for philology. Servansliterally, a person who serves. A d linition referring simply to the oc- cupation, and not necessarily extending to the species NoO no! Nor indicating any a priori difference of race Certainly not. My pretty niece opened her eyesas she al- ways did when her aunt was talkin~ non- sense with her husband. But at this minute Mary-Ann brought in little Johnnie for his pud- ding; and of coot-se it was the last thing to he wished that the domestics should suppose our teble-talk was about them. So we rushed hur- riedly to the suhject of Master Johns new frock, and left the former question, apropos of the gi- got, to be bron~ht out at leisure. I have since done so, rather deeply. for I go about a good deal from house to house, and see many people in their intimate domestic relations. And of all such relations, it seems to me there is none which in the present day so much wants remod tying, as that of masteror mistressand servant- I wonder whether a plain ~voman may speak a few plain ~vords on this subject Amon~ all m. tronhood, the universal moan is servantsservants Where shall I get a good servant Oh, I have been in such trouble about my servants ! They are all alike those servants ! There seems an un- dying fe, d, or at the best a sort of al-me(l neu- trality, existin~ bet~veen above and below-stairs the powers that he, and the powers that suffer. The family and the servants are quite a diffet-ent raceas different as the blots and the Lacedeentonians. If I hinted to Mrs. Man- anna. my niece, that Mary-Ann, her parlor-maid, was qnite as pretty a woman as herself, and, with one-half her advantages of education, would probably have been twice as intelligent, I should he sen ted indignantly, and never asked to din- rier any more. Yet such is the simple truth, though. luckily, neither party knows it. I am no preacliet- of equality ; there is not such thing in the world. How should man make yhat Nature does notnot even in a lettuce bed There will ever be varietiesthe tallest, the most d htente or the earliest plant. When you can -mow me a bed of ye_ etables all alike, then I viii ow von a human race whose first principle t~ cq s clity. To the worlds end, there must he hmdc artd low, rich and Pool,, masters and eer,-qn~s ill must tneet together. and we know Who s the Maket- of thent all But while I tecoenize this natural and i,nmutable law of supeitor and inferior, which, iaaving ex isted always, is evidently right to exist, I do not recognize that unnatni-al system of anta~onism which divides a household into two distinct spe- cies of humanity, otganizes one set of interests for the kitchen and another for the pat-br, one code of morals for the server and another for the served. Let us look at the thing in its root, atad con- sider the origin of servittide A household, not sufficient for its necessary york, accepts hired help, in which, as a natural consequence, the practised hand directs the unpractised, and rests from its own labors. Our first hint of this state of society is Abraham, with his men- servants, and maid-servants, his young men, his trained servants born in his [muse and probably horn of his own kindred, certainly of his own Hebrew race. Doubtless lie was a true patm-ierch, a -great father among them all, and they were free servants. Not a word fitid we of bondsmen or bondswomen, save in the case of Hagar the Egyptian. A servant, then, is ot-iginally one who, frotn out- waid circumstances or inward organization, finds himself iticapable of ruling, and is therefore necessitated to obey to become not the dictator, hut the ministertint the head, but the hands. It may be, he will in time rise out of this itife- nor position if not, he gradually settles in its level grows familiar with its cares, duties, and pleasures, and leaves the same to he inherited by his descendants. My niece Marianna, did it ever strike you that yourself and Mary-Ann might have been sisters, or at least cousins children Yet I have known a family, a higlaly respectable family too, where such was actually the case. One man sinks, another riseseach by his own momentum of character. Am I to blame if, while my daughter plays the harp in the drawing-room, my third or fourth cousin has to clean the kitchen-grate Not a bit of itif fortune has reduced her to the position of my hit-ed maiden and I pay her honot-able wu~es for honorable ~vork. But it is my duty to see that the said grate-cleaner, be she who sIte may, is treated as if she and myself both came from the one blood of the great human family, and is alboived every possibility that fate likewise al boivs, to raise htei-self in the scale of society, or become as perfect as she can be in that position for which she is fitted, and to which she was born. But I am reasonin,, on special points or gen- eralities. I will come to the practical question of ivhy it is that in one-half the families of ones acquaintance, especially in laq,e toivus, the grand burden and complaint iSset-vents. Let me look aroundfor examples are iseces- sat-y, and shall be made quite laarmless. Thete is Mrs. South. You will never once enter tltat ladys house, ivithout hearing of a change in its domestic at-rangemenis ; you will hat-mIly kmtock at the door font successive iveeks, without its being opened by a strange damsel. To cotint tlte number of servants l\Irs, South has hail since hen marriage, would puzzle her ebbest toy, even though he is jmtst goir-g ituto his multiplication-table. Out of some scores, sum-ely all could not have been so had; yet, to hacar bier, KITCHEN AND PARLOR. 61 no imps of Satan in female form could he worse womanhood, and would end in the same dust than those with which her house has heen and ashes. She is well served, well oheved hauntedcooks who sold the drippin , and gave and justly, hutand that is justice tooshe i~ the ro~ st-meat to the policeman housemaids neither sympathized with nor confided in. Per- who could only scrtsh and scour, and wait at ta- haps this truth may have struck home to her ble and clean plate, and keep tidy to answer the sometimes; as when her maid, who had heen door, and who actually had never learned to sew ill unnoticed for months in waiting on her one neatly, or to get up fine linen! Nurses wickedly morning dropped down, anddied that night; pretty, or thinking themselves so, who had the or vhen, the day there came ne~vs of the battle atrocious impudence to buya honnet just like of Inkermana she sat hour after hour with my straw one, with flowers inside! Poor Mrs. the Times in her lap, in her gloomy, lonely din. Smith! Her whole soul is engrossed in the ser- ing-roomand not a soul came nigh her, to ask vaut question. Her whole life is a domestic or learn from her speechless looks what of the battleof the mean, scratch-and-snap, spit-and- youn~ master t snarl kin(l. She has a handsome house; she In the Joness highly respectable family, are gives good wagesthat is. her liberal husband most respectable servants, clever, quick, atten- doesbut not a servant will stay with her. tive, and fully conscious of their own value and And why Because she is not fitted to he a capabilities. They dress quite as finely as the mistress. She cannot ruleshe can only order family, go out with parasols on Sundays, and about; she cannot reproveshe can only scold. have their letters directed Miss. They guard Possessing no real dignity, she is always trying with jealousy all their perquisites and privileg- to assert its semblance ; having little or no ed- esfrom the tradesmens Christmas-boxes, and ucation, she is the hardest of all judges upon the talk outside the nearly closed front-door ignorance. Thon~h so tenacious of her prerog- wite unlimited followers, to the dearly prized ative, that she dismissed Sally Bains for imitat- right of a pert answer to missis when she yen- ing mississ honnet(Heaven forgive you Mrs. tures to complain. And missisa kind easy Smith! but do you know where you might find soulis rather afraid of so doing; and endures that poor pretty sixteen-year old child now l)~ many an annoyance, together with a few real still, the more intelligent of her servants soon wrongs, rather than sweep her house with the find out that she is not a lady; that, in fact, besom of riahteous destruction, and annihilate, if one stripped off her satin gowns, and sold her in their sprouting, evils that will soon grow up carriage, and made her inhabit the basement like rampant weeds. This is no slight regret to story instead of the drawing-room of her hand- Mrs. Joness friends, who see that a little judi- some house, Mrs. Smith would be not one whit cious authority, steadily and unvaryingly as- superior to themselves. Her quick-witted parlor- serteda little quiet exercise of will, instead of maid is fully aware of this, as you may see from fidgety or nervous faultfinding, and needless the way in which, notwithstanding all occasional suspiciousness, would make matters all straight, airs of authority, she contrives to wind missis and rednce this excellent and liberal establish- round her little-finger, get her own way entirely, ment, from the butler down to the little kitchen- and rule the house arrangements from attic to maid, to the safe level of a limited monarchy. cellar. This being not unprofitable, she will Instead of which, there is a loose sway, which probably outstay many of the other ser- often borders upon that most dangerous of all vantsnot because she is any better than the governmentsdomestic republicanism. rest, but merely cleverer. This last is the government at Mrs. Robin- Mrs. Browns household is on quite a different sons. She long let the reins goleaned hack, plan. You will never hear the small domestic and slumbered. Where her household will drive rows the petty squabbles between mistress to, Heaven only knows ! The house altogether and maid, injustice on one side and impertinence takes care of itself. The mistress is too gentle on the other. Mi-s. Brown would never dream to blame anybody for anythingtoo lazy to do of quarrelling with a servant, any more than anything herself or show anybody else ho~v to with her dog or cat, or some other inferior ani- do it. I suppose she has eyes, yet you might mal. She strictly fulfils her duty as mistress; write your name in dust-tracks on every bit of gives rcgnlar wages, very moderate certainly, furniture in her house. She doubtless likes to for her income is much below both her birth and wear a clean face and a decent gown, for she has her breedin~ exacts no extra service ; and is tastes not unrefined ; yet in Betty, her maid-of- rigidly particular in allowing her servants the all-work, both these advanta, es are apparently due holidaysnamely, to church every other impossible luxuries. Mrs. Robinson cant, or Sundry, and a day out once a month. Her believes she cant, afford what is called a good house-keepin~ is economical without being servantthat is, an efficient, conscientious, re- stingy; everything is expected to ~o on like sponsible woman, who requires equivalent wa- clock-work; if otherwise, dismissal follows, for ges for valuable servicestherefore she does Mrs. Brovn dislikes to have to find fault, even with poor Betty, but it never seems to strike Betty, in her lofty and distant way. She is a conscien- or her mistress either, that though poverty may tious, honorable lady, who exacts no more than he inevitable, dirt and tatters never arethat a she performs; and her servants respect her. girl, if ever so ignorant, can generally be taught But they stand in awe of her; they do not love a house, if ever so small and ill furnished, her. There is a wide gulf between their hu- can at least be cleana dinner, if ever so h)lain, inanity and hersyou never would believe that nay, scanty, may be well cooked and well ar- they and she shared the same flesh and blood of ranged; and however the servants fall short, 62 KITCHEN AND PARLOR. every mistress has always her own intelligent everything Mrs. Johnson has done, and exactly hrain, and has, at the worst, her own pair of ac - how she has looked, for a week past. ending with tive hands. Did you ever consider that last a grave, respectful remark, ventured in right of possibility, my good Mrs. Robinson 3 Would her ovn ten years of eldership, that she is Betty honor you less if, every morning, she saw afraid missis is wearin~ herself out, and would you dust a chair or two, or hunt out lurking you please to come and see her 3 ambushes of spidersso that she ~vas shamed And missis, on her side, returns the kindly into knowledge and industry by the conviction, interest. She likes to hear anything and every- that ~vhat she left undone, her mistress would thing that her damsels may have to tell, front the certainly do Would you be less amiabte in buying of a new gown to the birth of a new your husband~s eyes by the discovery, that it nephew. Any relatives of theirs who may ap- was you yourself Nho cooked, and then tau~ht pear in the kitchen, she generally goes to speak Betty to cook, his comfortable dinner 3 Would to, and welcomes always kindly. She is glad he have less pleasure in your dainty fingers for to encoura~e family affection, believing it to he seeing on them a few needle marks, caused by quite as necessary and as beautiful in a poor the making of tidy chair-covers, or the mending housemaid as in a sentimental lady. Love, also. of clean threadbare carpets, so as to make the best She has not the smallest objection to let that of his plain, quiet home, ~vhere Heaven has at young baker come in to tea on Sundays, enter- once denied the blessing and spared the respon- ing honestly at the front-door, without need of sibility of children 3 But you may he as i~no- sneaking behind area-railings. Aiid if, on such rant as Betty herself. I am afraid you are. Sundays, Jane is rather absent arid awkward, Nevertheless, if she can learn, surely you can. with a tendency to forget the spoons, and put Let me give you a golden rule Never expect hot plates where cold should be, her mistress a servant to do that which you cannot do, or, if pardons all, and tempers masters indignation by necessary, will learn to do, yourself. reminding him of a certain summer, not ten Mrs. Johnson, now, will be a very good illus- years back, whenetc. Upon which he kisses tration of this. I doubt if she is any richer than Isis little wife, and grows mild. Mrs. Robinson; and a few years after her mar- Thus the family have no dread of followers, riage, I know it was very uphill-work indeed no visions of burglarious sweethearts introduced with the young couple; especially for the wife, by the kitchen-window, or tribes of locust cous- who, married at nineteen, was as ignorant as ins creating a famine in the larder. Having any school-girl. Site and her cook are reported always won confidence, Mis. Johnson has little to have studied Mrs. Glass together. To this fear of being deceived. When pretty Jane can day, I fancy the praise of any special dinner make up her mind, doubtless there ~vill occur would be modestly received as conjointly due to that most creditable event to both partiesthe missis and rue. So, doubtless, would any maid being married from her mistresss house. grand e ect in household arrangements, thougl, Of course, Jane would be a great loss, or Mary where all goes on so smoothly and orderly. that either; hut Mary is growing middle-aged, and the most sudden visitor ~vould only necessitate is often seen secretly petting Master Fred, as only an extra knife and fork, and a clean pair of old maid-servants do pet the children of the sheets in the spare room, there is not much op. family. Freddy says, she has promised never portunity for any coup ddtat in the housemaid- to leave him and her mistress, who probably line. As for the nursery-staffbut since her knows as much of Marys affairs as anybody, boys could walk alone, Mrs. Johnson has abol- does not think it likely she ever will. ished the nursery altogether. If she has no The Johnson household is the best example I more children, these two lads will have the in- know of the proper relation between Kitchen finite blessing of never being managed by and Parlor. True, Jane and Mary are estima- any womankind save their mother. Of course, ble women, might have been such in any it is a busy, and often hard life for her; and her place; but I will do human nature the justice haudmaidens know it. They see her employed to believe, that the class of domestic servants from morning till night, happy and merry contains many possible Janes and Marys, if only enough, but always employed. They themselves their good qualities could be elicited by a few would be ashamed to be lazy; they would do more Mrs. Johusons. anything in the world to lighten things to missis. It is a clear but often unrecognized law of so- If little delicate Fred is ailing, Jane will sit up cial advancement, that any reformatory move- half the night with him, and still get up at five meut must necessarily commence in the higher next mornin ,~. Mary. the cook, does not grum- class, and gradually influence the lower. By ble at any accidental waiting. if missis, in her luger and lower. I mean simply as regards moral sewing, has the slightest need of Jane. Both and intellectual cultivation, which, continued would work their fingers to the bone any day to through generations, and become a habit of life, save her the least trouble or pain. Not a cloud makes, and is the only thing that does or ought comes across her pathnot a day of illnessher to make, the difference between master and own or her little onesshadows her bright servant, patrician and plebeian. I, as Mrs. looks, but is felt as an absolute grief in the Thompson, descended from the clan Robertson, kitchen. Janes face, as she opens the front-door, a very superior family, have a great deal more is a sufficient indication to all friends as how chance of being a lady than Peg Thompson, my things are with the family V and if you be- unirsery-maid, whose father, grandf ther, etc., ing very intimate, make any chance inquiry of have been farm-laborers. But if, by any of her Mary in the street, ten to one she will tell you not rare freaks, Dame Nature shtould have placed KITCHEN AND PARLOR. 63 in Pegs uncouth body the soul of a gentlewoman, pliances fail, and sickness come to her, as it together with that rare quality of risiug, which, comes to all, God forbid I should ever forget that in spite of circumstances, enables many refined she and I are alike his children. minds to reach their natural levelif so, I shall You suppose, I dare say, Mrs. Smith, that it is not have the slightest objection to assist that de- against you that Emma or Betsey sins when she airable end in every possible way. Nay, even mimics your satins and laces in flimsy silk or finally, it would be rather a pleasure to me some cotton blonde or, going a step further. actually day to sit at table with Miss MargaretThompson i flaunts in the very same materials you wear 3 and I would altogether scorn the behavior of that not a bit of it no snore than if you were to fine gentleman who once cut honest Dodsley purchase the same Cashmere shawl as 11cr Grace the publisher-footmanof whom the meek old the Duchess of Sutherland. Certainly you might; fellow only observed: Yes, he knows me i I you would harm nobodyexcept yourself. So, used to wait behind his chair. whenever your maid-servant errs in buying Un- But since the laws of nature and of circum- meet finery, she errs against herself; lowers her stance have made me a mistress, and my servants, own self-respect, and the honest dignity of her servants have given me incalculable opportum- position, by trying to appear what she is not ties of becoming their superiorHeaven knows wastes in shabby showiness the money which whether I am or no !the only way in which I ought to be laid up against old age loses the can prove this fact, and profit by it, is by trying simple neatness of the serving-maid, and becomes to realize the proverb, that a good mistress cen ridiculous as the sham fine lady. make a good servant. I believe this to be possi. I have no objection to a pretty servant on ble while, as any one will own, it is impossible the contrary, it is rather a pleasure to see her for the best servant in all the world to make a about the house. But if she, whose total income good mistress. The reformatory process, if need- is from eight to twelve pounds per annum, tries ed, must commence with me. to make an appearance equal to myself, who Let me never lose si,,ht of the fact, that my justifiably spend thirty guineas a year on clothes Servants are women like myselfwomen with alone, I will certainly show her, without any thoughts, feelings, habits, bad and good with angerpoor thing, she does not harm me 1the weaknesses, mental and physical with aims and extreme folly of such a proceeding. I would try hopes distinctly defined, however limited with to make her understand that, in her station as a life here meant to be their school for the next well as mine, true respectability lies in the life with an immortal soul. woman herself, to which her mode of dress can As duty is the great end and blessing of ex- add nothin,, and may take a great deal away. istence, one of say first duties to my maiden is to But in this matter, as in most others, the mis- ace that she performs hersto exact from her, tresss personal example is at once the gentlest kindly but firnily, the strict performance of that and the most infallible reproof. amount of service for which she was hired. Noth- Depend upon it, my dear Mesdames Smith, ing more. I have not the slightest right to more. Brown, and Jones, that if you make a point of I did not buy her, soul and body; I merely en- appearin~ at your breakfast-table invariably at tered into a compact that, for just wages, she eight x. at.I will not insult you by supposing should do something she ~vished and was fitted any later hour possible in your wcll-regulated to do anything over and above ~vhich she does establishmentsthere will be little fear of your for me, is an act of supererogation on her part, finding Martha drowsily opening the parlor. which I am bound to receive with pleasure, as shutters, or Sarah sulkily lighting the kitchen- springing out of those kindly relations which fire; if, in all your prandial arrangements, you place the whole human race on one level of fix a convenient time, and are punctual to it, love, satisfied that, except on emergencies it is quite Then, as to her comforts. I knowas many as unjust to Cook to keep bcr dinner waitin~, as of us sadly know 1the value of health myself it is for Cook to keep the family waiting dinner I dont see why the same sanitary laws that ap- you will not long have that indescribable ply to me should not apply to her. I do not nuisance, injurious both to health of body and think I have any rightif I have a ri~ht to keep quiet of mindirregular, ill-cooked, uncomforta- a servant at allto make her sleep in an un- ble meals. wholesome bedroom, be it hot, smothery kitchen, Lastly, if when things go wrong, as in the best or damp back-kitchen, or close attic without of households must happen at times, you, the either chimney or ventilator. I have no right to mistress, are seen to take it quietly, reproving despatch her on needless errands in pelting wet and remedying as much as you please, hut still nights or burniu~ summer-days. Not the slight- always quietly; never for an instant allowing est right in the world to keep her on her feet yourself to give ~vay to that temper which you nineteen hours out of the twenty.fourscnding would remorselessly condemn in your inferiors her to bed at one A. st., and feeling surptised if will you have still to complain ~f the ituperti- she does not rise the next morning at six. There nence of servants 3I think not. is no condition of physical health which I claim How strange ! said a lady, once, in my for myself that I ought not to grant to her, sub- hearing, to another, who was violently inveighing ject always to our different habits of life and against the insolence of her domestics; I never constitutional requirements. Morally speaking, bad a saucy speech from a servant in all my I most certainly am responsible, so far as my in- life. fluence and ~uthority extend, not only for her A fact which, much as she wondered at, I did souls, but her bodys welfare. But if these ap- not knowing her. The secret was simple PARLOR AND KITCHEN. enough she was a woman who had rule & ver herself, and therefore was capable Of rulin~ other people. Oct of her own conscientiousness she lastly judged icr inferiors, and her own weak- ness tauEbt her lenity towards theirs. With all her individuality of ladyhood, her sympathies were wide enough to give her some meeting- point of interest with the meanest Cinderella that ever scudded slipshod across a floor; and her large charity could, even in the darkest pic- ture of humanity, trace a little brightness a litle hope. Above all, she had the rarely femi- nine quality of being ablelet the vexed ques- tion he ever so confused, and her own feelings ever so mixed up therewithalways to see clearly the other side. It is this other sidethe Kitchen-sidewhich I would have viewed more clearly, and more often in parlors; viewed as a question of simple justice, in which the one wide law of a common humanity, with its common rights, merits, and errors, is perpetually recognized. Not hy preach- ing up an unnatural, unwholesome, and impossi- ble equality; not, in any case, by lowering the position of the mistress but by raising that of the servant. Small fear that, so raised, she will grow above her place above the condition where her lot is cast, and for which she is best qualified. I have always noticed that the higher a man or oman rises in the scale of intelligence, the more both gain of that honest pride which knows that it best respects itself, in respecting its superiors. There is no humility like that of wisdom, and no presumption like that of iguc- rance. I would wish to see every human being whom it has pleased Heaven to place in the ranks of servitude raised, by moral example, by judicious and liberal education, and especially by invariable justice of treatmentto that safe height of self-knowledge and self-respect which, alone, is true respectability. Honor and shame from no condition rise; Act ~vell your partthere all the honor lies. Finally, I would fain refer to a higher Authority still one, read unconsciously by my clerical nephew-in-la~v, on the very Saturday-evening when the bigot went down stairs; heard, uncon- sciously, by my pretty niece in her fireside arm- chairas well as by cook, housemaid, and nur- sery-maid, sitting apart by the dinin& room door, in a white-aproned, respectful row ; an Au- thority which, among many others, society ac- knowledges with its lips, but would recoil i~ astonishment if expected to believe in, or still woiseto act upon. Did you ever, my dear church-going friend, think of the plain, literal meaning of these plain words: For one is your niaster, even Christ: and all ye are brethren 3 From the American Agricu]turtst. THE NEW MOWN HAY. BY PAItK BENJAMIN. Talk not to me of southern bowers, Of odors breathed fi-oin tropic flowers, Of spice-trees after rain But of those sweets that freely flow When Junes fond breezes stir the low Grass heaped upon the plain. This morning stood the verdant spears, All wet with diamond dewsthe tears By Night serenely shed This evening, like aii army slain, They comber the pacific plain With their fast fading dead. And where they fell and all around Such perfumes in the air abound, As if long hidden hives Of sudden richness were unsealed, When on the freshly trodden field They yielded up their lives. From rural scenes so fair, Can never know in lighted rooms, Pervaded by exotic blooms This taste of natural air! This air, so softened by the breath Exhaled and wafted from the death Of herbs that simply bloom, And, scarcely noted, like the best Dear friend, with whom this world is blest, Await the common doom And leave behind such sweet regret As in our hearts is li~-ing yet, Though heroes pass away Talk not to me of tropic flowers, Or odors breathed from southern bowers, But of the new mown hay! OBLIGE PRONOUNCED OBLEEGE.I have little doubt that this was the fashionable pronunciation of the word some sixty years ago. I am ac- In idle mood I love to pass quninted with one or two octogenarians, persons These ruins of the crowded grass; who pride themselves on their education; they Or listlessly to lie, always say obieege and obleeged. In a spelling- Inhaling the delicious scents, book of the date of 1748, I find that the young Crushed from those downcast, verdurous tents, ladies of that generation were directed to pro. Beneath a sunset sky. nounce farthiingfin-deu, such being the fashion able mode of pronunciation. Times are chang- ed; we only find fordee now among the very lowest classes.Noies and Queries. It is a pure deli~ht, which they Who dwell in cities, far away 64

LITTELLS LIVING AGE. No, 594.13 OCTOBER 1855. From the Dublin University Magazine. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEASTS. IN that tract of time which lies between the ages of fable and the epoch when the blended civilization of Rome and Greece assumed its most gorgeous aspect, in all antiquity, the sci- ences which rest on the observation of positive facts made no progress. We cannot say they did not exist. One man opened the inquiry, but in this line of philosophy that solitary in- dividual had no disciples. Aristotle, the phi- losopher we allude to, perused with attention the habits of brutes, and recorded them with care, and classed them in accordance with the laws of a rude comparative physiology. But he had no followers in this path. The sci- ences of which he laid the basis, and of which he foresaw the results, were stifled by the swarming luxuriance of fable. In lieu of ob- servations, the most incredible and preposter- ous romances were massed together in the pages, for instance, of ~lian, Ctesias, and even Pliny himself, philosophers who seem to have swallowed the grossest figments without a twinge of fastidiousness. It is perfectly amazing, and we can only account for it by supposing in those ages writing was so rare and costly an accomplishment, that individuals who could use the pen deemed it unbecoming to use their eyes. If the theologians of pagan antiquity were poets, as Bacon observes, their naturalists were even worse. Animals that crowded about their steps, and which they could not move their eyes without seeing, are the heroes of the most extravagant lenends. The whole world is metamorphosed by super- stition. Truth is ignominiously swept out, and dreams substituted for reality. Writers stride forward from prodigy to prodigy, with the arrogance and self esteem of authors who scorn to be observers. In the presence of brute instinct, manthe king of the creation abdicates his reason, in order to endow the meanest animals with this prerogative. Noth- ing is more strange. When every being in existence is metamorphosed, he next proceeds industriously to invent a world of impossible beings, and his childish credulity greedily be- lieves in all that his own teeming fancy in- vents. Finally, Polytheism attributes pres- cience to brutesthe power of ascertaining and indicating futurity; and, by way of cli- max to this pile of absurdities, sublimates them into deities. It is, we think, worthy of inqui- ry, why the inferior animals should be thus humanized at once by superstition, and poetry, and philosophy. DXCIV. LIVING AGE. VOL XI. ~ According to the doctrine of the metemp- sychosisintroduced into Greece by Pythago- ras and Timinusthe brute animals are hu- man beings in altered form. In their new shape, they preserve a recollection of their former condition. They were believed by some philosophers to possess three soulsthe sensitive, rational, and vegetative soulcor- responding to what, in recent times, has been termed intellectual, organic, and animal life. A book was written by Plutarch, to prove that animals possess reason, inasmuch as the oper- ations of our boasted understanding are more liable to error than the mysterious operations of instinct. Poets, and even philosophers, re- garded them as our earliest teachers of the useful arts. At an early period (according to Pope) To man the voice of nature spake Go! from the creatures thy instruction take; Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield Learn from the beasts the physic of the field. Thy arts of building from the bee receive; Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave; Learn of the little nautilus to sail, Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale. Learn each small peoples geniuspolicies The ants republic, and the realm of bees: How those in common all their wealth bestow, And anarchy, without confusion, know. And these for ever, though a monarch reign, Their separate cells and properties maintain. A grasshopper, instructed by the melodious teachings of the nightingale, carried off the prize in the Pythian games. The chargers of the Sybarites were famous for pleasing man- ners and accomplishments. They particularly surpassed in dancing; and on one occasion, when the battle-trumpet sounded a charge, and all the Sybarite cavalry were advancing at the signal, the Crotonian enemy suddenly struck up a reel, or jig, or dancing tune, whereupon the Sybarite chargers, mistaking a battle for a ball, began to foot it featly to the measure, and capei~ed, and pranced, and tramped, so as to disorder the ranks, and, through love of pleasure, forfeited victory. Narratives and statements such as these fre- quently occur in the writings of the ancients, who tell them with the grave air of satisfied and undoubting credulity. Indeed they saw no reason to doubt them, when their philoso- phers, whose names were symbolical of wis- dom, recognized men in brutes, in birds, and THE MYSTERY OF THE BEASTS. even in insects; and when beasts were assimi- lated in intellect to men, we cannot be sur- prised if animals employed human language; that is, when reason dwelt in the mind, we can readily suppose it spoken by the tongue. The narratives of the fabulists are only dra- matic versions of universally accredited tradi- tions. That J~sops fox should converse with the stork, or that a philosophic discussion should beguile the leisure of the town rat, when visited by an acquaintance from the country, is not to be wondered at, when histo- ry itself teems with similar examples. On the fall of Tarquin, a dog, in the open streets, could not contain his political sentiments, but gave expression to his republican opinions by loudly vo~iferating his congratulations. When Domitian was assassinated, an observant crow, perched on the capitol, favored the city with its regicidal views by applauding the murder- ers. Its a good deed, screamed the crow; it is right well done. When Otho oppress- ed Rome, and Vitellius threatened the walls, the golden reins, to the terror of the alarmed city, dropped from the hands of the statue of Victory, and the oxen, in a low tone, were overheard exchanging private opinions on public affairs. When Lepidus and Catullus were consuls, a cock, in the farm-yard of Ga- lerius, conversed like a human being; and Pliny, animadverting on this fact, gravely re- marks, that speaking cocks are very rare in history. One of the most extraordinary features in this superstition is, that while beasts are adepts in the lan,,uage of men, it is only in exceed- ingly rare cases that men ever attain to any knowledge of the language of beasts. All an- tiquity produced but five individuals who, reached this extraordinary height of science, namelyTiresias, Ilelenus, Cassandra, Apol- lonius of Tyana, and Melampus. Apollonius was suddenly gifted with this privilege in In- dia, while manducating the heart of a dragon; and serpents communicated the faculty to Me- lampus. Here is the story :The servants of Melampus found a nest of serpents in a hollow oak, which, after killing the old ones, they brought to Melampus, who ordered the young creatures to be carefully brought up. When these serpents reached maturity, their grati- tude for the care bestowed on their education caused them one day, while Melampus was wrapped in profound repose, to glide close to his ears and lick them repeatedly, a process which improved his hearing to such exquisite fineness, that he was astonished, on awaking, to hear the brutes utter sounds that were quite intelligible to him. While it must be confessed that the zoology of antiquity is as fantastic and fabulous as an Arabian tale, it must be also admitted that, as far as we have yet gone, it is perfectly logical. For example: the brute has three souls; he has consequently the same faculties as man, and the faculties being the same, the passions must be identical. Though modern science yields its unwilling assent to the undoubted and melancholy fact, that the material appe- tites and instincts of man arc only too identi- cal with those of the brute, yet it refuses to admit of this analogy in the moral sentiments. A profound and even infinite difference is clearly recognized, though to define what this difference consists in is a task of which modern science is incapable. It knows and proclaims, however, that the sacred ray which enlightens and warms man has not reached the lower ani- mals. iNow, antiquity was blind to this dis- tinction. To the lower animals it attributed not merely the passions which agitate, but the moral sentiments which dignify, and the affec- tions which console, mankind.* Rivals are found among the beasts and birds for the he- roes of tragic passion, such as Phnedra, Ores- tes, Pylades, etc. A goose, according to Pliny, fell desperately in love with a youth named Egius; and in Egypt a tender passion was conceived for the beautiful Glance, a female musician of distinguished merit in the Court of Ptolemy by an amorous ram. A sublime constancy in friendship has been manifested from time to time by horses, eagles, and dol- phins. A young girl in Sestos reared and fed an eagle~ which, upon her death, was inconsolable; it rushed into her funeral pyre, and perished ~ The poet Campbell seems to have been a con- vert to the doctrine of antiquity, when he says: The deep affections of the breast, That heaven to living things imparts, Are not exclusively possessed By human hearts. A parrot from the Spanish Main, Full young and early caged, came oer With bright wings to the bleak domain Of Mullas shore: To spicy groves, where he had won His plumage of resplendent hue His native fruits, and sky, and sun, He bade adieu. For these he changed the smoke of turf, A heathery land, and misty sky And turned on rocks and raging surf1 His golden eye. But fretted in our climate cold, He lived and chattered many a-day, Until with age, from green and gold, His wings grew gray. At last, when blind, and seeming dumb, / H e scolded, laughed, and spoke no more; A Spanish stranger chanced to come To Mullas shore: He hailed the bird in Spanish speech. In Spanish speech the bird replied, Flapped round the cage with joyous screech, Dropt down, and died l 66 THE MYSTERY OF THE BEASTS. upon her ashes. A dolphin died of grief for the loss of a child, during the reign of Au- gustus. This child was accustomed, on its way to school, to cross the Lucrine lake every day, which the dolphin observing, approached the child and bore it on its back, safely de- positing its burden on the opposite shore. One day the child failed to appear, and the dolphin was seen waiting with evident uneasiness. The dolphin came the next day and the next, but the child was dead, and the sympathetic fish, as if it were A crime in heaven to love too well, sickened and perished of grief. Such tales justify us in maintaining that an- tiquity assimilated beasts to men. The mar- vellous predominates in these facts On~ every hand real creatures are strangely trans- figured; but the unbridled fancy of antiquity is not satisfied with transfiguration. When it has described grasshoppers that excelled in music, serpents that were profound linguists, eagles that committed suicide, and oxen that discussed politics, it turns from them in dis- gust to delight its greedy credulity with mon- sters made up o1~ the discordant fragments of living types. Antiquity passionately loved a monster, and slighted or neglected existing animals, to conjure up with eager avidity ani- mals that could never exist. The woods, mountains, seas, and even the infernal regions A cherubs head, a serpent all the rest. teem with horrible and dreadful formssuch as dragons with enormous pinions, winged This interesting creature was united to the horses, crocottes, that cunningly lured wood- fierce and terrific Typhon, to whom she bore men from their toils by calling them by name, four very anomalous children, renowned for and enticin~ them into the solitudes of the an extravagant superfluity of memberssuch forests, where they devoured them; griffins, as the hydra of Lerna with a hundred with sharp snouts; four-legged birds, furnish- heads; the cerberus with fifty heads; and ed with lions claws, and covered with red another chimaira which had the undesirable feathers; the catoblepas, which shot from its peculiarity of possessing four feet and three terrible eyes glances that killed the most heads; as well as the dog of Geryon, slain by powerful warriors. The marticorus, according Hercules, etc. The heroes of antiquity, The- to the description of Ctesias, was a strange seus, Bellerophon, and Hercules, amused their jumble of incongruous parts. It had green leisure meritoriously, in braining this unne- eyes, a scarlet skin,, a lions ho~y, three r?w5 cessary plurality of heads, just as the solitary of teeth, and the tail of a scorpion, in which, dragons that watched by the fountains or like a hand, it brandished a javelin. Accord- haunted the forests of the Celts were destroy- ing to Pliny, fishes with horses heads were of- ed by the heroes of a later period. As pagan- ten seen in the Arabian Sea, out of which ism and the devil were personified by the they crawled at night to graze in the fields. dragons of the Christian legends, we may take The backs of whales were often seen rising it for granted that the destructive carnivora above the surface of the Indian Ocean, to the of archaic ages (which retarded the progress extent of four acres; while in the waves of or arrested the foundation of civilization) were the Ganges enormous eels, thirty cubits long, represented by the monsters described above. slowly rolled their vast volumes. The fleet Amid this crowd of grotesque monstrosities, of Alexander was met by a shoal of monstrous the phenix appears as the type of beauty, tunnies, which opposed it with the discipline gentleness, and grandeur. The existence of and numbers of an army. The Praitorian the pbo~nix is not simply asserted by the na- guards fight with sea-serpents, and crimson turalists, the very gravest historians attest its the ocean with their blood to the extent of existence. The appearance of a phomix its thirty thousand paces. In the centaurs, the the consulship of Paulus Fabius, and Yitellius, onocentaurs, and the hippocentaurs, the hu- man shape is blended with that of the horse, the goat, the monkey, and the fish. ZEschyius speaks of the daughters of Phorcys, who had one common eye among five sisters, an eye which passed from hand to hand, apparently like a modern opera-glass. Snakes seen curl- ing on the heads of the Gorgons, in lieu of ordinary locks. All these monsters, according to a tradition which reminds us of the theories of geology, and which was known in the middre ages, were engendered in chaos, anteriorly to the formation of the earth. It was not merely poetry and popular credulityscience itself attested their existence. Pliny saw a centaur, embalmed in honey, exhibited in Rome in the reign of Claudius. The earliest Christian writers, Justin, Cyprian, and Jerome, admit their existence, believing them to be fallen ~ngels, condemned to stroll through dismal sol- itudes and uninhabited forests, until the day of judgment. These hybrid beings are dispersed in con- siderable numbers over the whole earth; but there are creatures combining the limbs of men with the forms of beasts, which fail to re- produce their kind, or at best give birth to monsters of a different nature. One of these, termed the chimiera, the daughter of Echidna, presented THE MYSTERY OF THE BEASTS. or the thirty-fourth year of our era, is des- cribed hy Tacitus as an event of the first im- portance, and worthy of transmission to the remotest posterity Every five hundred years the ph~nix, says Tacitus, comes into existence, though it is true, he adds, some assign four hundred and sixty-one years as the true period. The first phoenix appeared in the reign of Sesostris; the second was seen in the rein of Amasis; and the last under Ptolemy III. This last phoenix, surrounded hy a crowd of feathered attendants whom it far outshone in splendor of plumage, took its flight to Heliopolis, the city of the sun. The Roman historian does us the favor to inform us that when its time of death approaches, the phoenix constructs a nest in its native country, which it inundates with a generative principle. From this nest springs a new phcenix, which, on attaining maturity, take diligent care to perform the funeral rites of its deceased parent, and exhibits extraordinary sagacity in accomplishing its pious task. It carries bundles of myrrh from great distances, to accustom itself to bear burdens, and, when strong enough in the wing, takes its deceased parent on its back, and bears it through the air to the altar of the sun,, where, laying the body down, it burns it with spices. Believed by the people and blazoned by poetry, and recorded by history, religion also lent its sanction to these fables, while painting and sculpture gave them universal currency. The humbler animals, not sufficiently elevated when placed merely on a level with mortals, were advanced to the dignity of internuncios between gods and human beings; they were oracles of the future, and revealed the Divine will. The most momentous affairs, the armies and the colonies of the ancients, were, in all dangerous and foreign expeditions, guided by birds. The. dripping fugitives who escaped from the deluge of Deucalion, were guided to safety by a pack of wolves, and, in gratitude, their new city was named Wolftown. Egypt was indebted to the same animal for its safety from Ethiopian invasion. The sites of the most renowned cities were indicated to their founders by quadrupeds or birds, as was espe- cially the case in the instance of Rome, Alba, and Constantinople. The lower animals were the real priests of ancient prophecy, and in the very desirable quality of clearness, the language of the brutes always surpasses that of the oracles. Achilles is told by his horse, without a shadow of ambiguity, that he must die before Troy. In the midst of the Forum, a patriotic ox warns the astonished people, bellows his threats, of the dangers which envi- ron the republic. Ants are seen busily en- gaged in conveying grains of corn, and plac- ing them in the mouth ofthe infant Midas, thereby intimating the future opulence of the sleeping boy: They dont wear out their time in sleeping and play, But gather up corn in a sunshiny day, And for winter they lay up their stores: They manage their work in such regular forms, One would think they fojesaw all the frosts and the storms, And so brought their food within doors. Bees clustered round the cradle of the sleep- ing Plato, alighted on his lips, and intimated that the wisdom, of which bees are an em- blem, should one day issue from his eloquent lips. Serpents climb up and lock the infant Roscius in their folds; and, in the great pitch- ed battles of the Roman armies, eagles are seen hovering iti the sky, as heralds of victory. Mysteries to which men are blind are clearly perspicuous to birds; and this, owing to their elevation over terrestrial things, the great length of their vision, the purity of their aerial element, the innocency of their lives, and their power of ascending into the heavens. The debates in the councils of the gods are audible to birds; indeed augury takes its name from them, augur and Yluguriu?a being, according to Varro, derived from avium gor- ritus, the chattering of the feathered race. As polytheism was altogether a religion of ceremony, negligent of morals and void of dogma, it consecrated all these dreams, and thus resigned the management of most magni- ficent etnpires to the meanest animals. At Rome the consuls and emperors have much less influence, says Pliny, than the sacred chickens. The peckings of domestic fowls are contemplated with awe and solicitude. The proceedings of the magistrates are regulated according to the caprices of these fowl. As the chickens show an appetite or reluctance to feed, the magistrates open or shut their houses. The legions engage the enemy when the chickens are vivacious; they prognosticate victory, and command the commanders of the world. But it was not merely the Romansthe deities of Olympus applied for information to birds. Jupiter, the master of the universe, was at one time somewhat puzzled to make out the precise centre of the earth; so he en- gaged two eagles to fly, the one to the east, the other to the west, and proceed constantly forward till they met. The eagles obeyed, and the oracle of Delphi being the spot over which they came together, the ancients believed Delphi to be the umbilical point, the 6y~ba2~6g of the earth; and in grateful memory of the meeting of the eagles, the Delphians placed two golden images of that bird in the temple of Apollo. Delphi was to Greece what Meath 68 THE MYSTERY OF THE BEASTS. was to Ireland, or the Midhyama of the un- doos, the Midheirn of the Scandinavians, the Cuzco of the Peruvians, and the Palestine of the Hebrews. To place animals in temples and solemnly consecrate them was not enough for Poly- theism. It raised them to Olympus, where it associated them with gods. The eagle, bear- mo thunderbolts in its pounces, was alike the instrument of the pleasures and of the ven- geance of Jupiter. Standing by his throne, it was ever ready to sweep forward with the message of wrath or the pledges of his affec- tion. Polytheism twisted serpents round the caduceus of Mercury, placed an owl on the helm of Minerva, fed the horses of Olympus with ambrosia, endowed them with immortality, and extolled them as more rapid than the very gods. It was not enough for Polytheism, which a father of the Church terms the madness of mankind to blend brutesindiscriminately with deities; it raised them from the humility of associates to the di,nity of gods themselves. Thus Rome instituted the worship of the lo- cust, and celebrated its festival on the eighth of the kalends of December, the object being to prevail on those creatures to forbear des- troying the harvests of italy. Fetishism seem- ed pushed to its utmost extravagance by the Babylonians and Canaanites, hut Egypt really perfected the superstition. The animal king- dom furnished the country of the sphynx with nearly all its religious emblems. Birds, quad- rupeds, and reptiles swarmed in its temples, and were deified by its priests. Not satisfied with this, Egyptian imagination furnished the devotees of Egypt with what may be termed monster-ouds. It dignified or degraded Anubis with the head of a dog, and set off~ Isis with the head of a cow, while Osiris was made to look cunning and ridiculous with the head of a hawk. Jupiter Ammon looks foolish through the head of a ram, and Saturn grins portentously with the long snout of a crocodile. Paganism built temples to house quadrupeds, and hollowed ponds for the evolutions of finny divinities. At Melita a serpent lay coiled within a tower erected exclusively for its pre- servation, while trains of priests and servants were seen every day proceeding to lay flowers and honey on the altar of this reptile. The countless multitudes of Egypt sadden at once into the deepest mourning at that (to them) appalliu~~ eventthe death of a dog, a cat, an ibis, or a jackal. The mourning na- tion embalms them with pious solicitude, weeps over their inanimate forms, conveys them with solemn pomp into the sepulchres of royalty, and tenderly places them beside the buried majesty of Egypt. The insanity of Egypt hay ng deified the brutes, went a step fartheran awful step: men pale and tremb 69 ling in ligatures were dragged to their shrines and solemnly murdered before the unintelli- gent eyes of these monster gods, fully jus- tifying the remark of the Stagyrite, man is in many instances more stupid and meaner than the beasts. Oh I how vile must man be, exclaims Pascal, when he subjects him- self to quadrupeds, and adores brutes as deities 1 The vileness which Pascal laments, origi- nates in an ignorance which he could not re- medy. To human investigation the intellect of brutes presents the most puzzling enigma in the visible creation, and what man cannot understand, he naturally, if not inevitably, re- verences. Man, unenlightened by revelation, could not answer the query of the poet Who taught the nations of the field and flood To shun their poison and to choose their food? Prescient, the tides or tempest to withstand, Build on the wave or arch beneath the sand? Who made the spider parallels design, Sure as Demoirre, without rule or line? iVho bade the stork, Columbus-like, explore Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before? Who calls the council states the certain day Who forms the phalanx and who points the way ~ The question was first clearly stated by Montaigne and Pereira, philosophers who laid the foundation of the two distinct schools which divide the philosophic world at this mo- ment into hostile camps. One of these schools, which may easily trace its origin to Pereira, refuses intelligence, or even feeling, to low- er animals, while feeling and intelligence, and even soul, are conceded to the brutes by the disciples of Montaigne. The foremost cham- pions of the spirituality of the human soul may be found among those who make the souls of brutes material; while, on the other hand, those philosophers who are most liberal in endowing brutes with spiritual intelligences, are very niggardly and stingy in allowing men any souls at all. Brutes are considered by Pereira as insensible puppets, which some veiled hand jerks this way and that; and though they utter cries of joy or sorrow, with- out being sensible of either sorrow or joy and though they eat they are not hungry, though they drink they are not thirsty. Ac- cording to these philosophers, animals do not act from anything resembling human know- ledge, but solely from the disposition of their or- gans. Descartes admits, what it would be very difficult to deny, that brutes possess life; but while he allows fhem feeling he refuses them intelligence. He illustrates his argu- ment by comparing brutes to watches, which though made exclusively of insensible ma- THE MYSTERY OF THE BEASTS. ehinery, wheels and springs, can, neverthe- less, count minutes and measure time more accurately than men. The Being who made them, says Malebranche, in order to pre- serve them, endowed brutes with an organiza- tion which mechanically avoids destruction and danger; hut ia reality they fear nothing and desire nothing. The automatism of ani- mals was the fashionable philosophy of the Cartesians and Jansenists, and was at one time all the rage ia France. During the last century a swarm of hooks was published on the subject, which instead of elucidating the matter, only rendered it more obscure. The most unfeigned astonishment is expressed by many of these writers at the marvels of in- stinct, but these are the very writers who are most emphatic in declaring animals mere machines. The followers of Descartes, who maintained that the animals were inferior to machines, were opposed by the followers of Montaigne, who maintained that they were superior to men. The animals are endowed by these philosophers with freewill and foresight; the brutes speak, laugh, and reflect as we do. Leibnitz, after carefully balancing the attri- butes of men and brutes, hesitates to admit the superiority of our species. He declares that some men, and no doubt himself among the number, are decidedly superior to brutes,~ while the difference between certain stupid men and certain intelligent quadrupeds is so small, that he doubts if any difference really exists, or admitting its existence, thnt the ad- vantage is on the human side. He argues for the immortality of the souls of brutes, and Thinks, admitted to an equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company. But brutes must he gifted with conscience, knowledge and responsibility before they can be admitted to the dignity of another lifi~ and accordingly, these attrihutes are freely given them by the naturalist Bonnet. Cuvier, Buffon, Locke, and Voltaire, and all the writers who have endeavored to pene- trate the mystery of existence through the medium of metaphysical inquiry, or the stu- dy of animal organization, have devoted me- ditation and investigation to what some term the intellect, and some the automatism, of the lower animals. Their contradictions are in- numerable. But the medium between the preposterous extravagance of refusing sensa- tion to the very organs of the senses, and the no less ridiculous theory which lodges an im- mortal spirit in a flea, is to be found in what is termed instinct; But what is in- stinct? asks Voltaire. It is a substantial power, it is a plastic energy. Cest je ne sais quoi, cest de linstinct. The nature of instinct has been often canvassed subsequently to this writer, but the discussion has invaria- bly terminated in some unsatisfactory defini- tion, proving the invincible ignorance of man on this subject, and that Well hast thou said, Athenas wisest son, All that we know is, little can be known. It is one of those mysteries the solution of which is concealed in the mind of the God- head. The unaided intellect of main will never pierce it. What is this mighty breath, ye sages say, That in a powerful language, felt, not beard, Instructs the fowls of heaven l What but God, Inspiring God, who, boundless Spirit, all Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. A CHINESE REMEDY roit THE CHOLERA. each one of my fingers, and pricked each one on A Chinese missionary writes to the Civilta Cat- the outside at the root of the nails until be brought tolica of July 12 a drop or two of the same kind of blood from One morning after having said mass I felt each. Then, to see whether the operation had symptoms of Cholera. I had a difficulty of been successful or not, he pricked me with the breathing amounting almost to suffocation. A same in the arm, very near the vein that is cold so intense took possession of my arms and usually opened in blood-letting, and seeing no legs that I could not feel a hot iron applied to blood issue, he pronounced it satisfactory. I still them. Just then a Chinese Christian came in felt however, a fearful oppression of the lungs. to see me, and as soon as he looked at me he To relieve this, he ran the pin obliquely into the said, Father, you have the cholera. To be pit of my stomach about two-thirds of its length. certain, however, he looked under my tongue, (This operation the Chinese call opening the and observing the peculiar blackness of the veins mouth of the heart.) Not a drop of blood came there, he remarked, that unless I applied a reme- out here, but in a moment I feh myself entirely dy speedily, I would not live until night. I told relieved, my blood began its circulation, my na- him to do what he could for me. He took an tural warmth returned, and, after an hour of ordinary pin and began pricking me under the slight fever, I went about my avocations. This tongue until he drew out from tea to twenty jet- is the ordinary Chinese remedy. I have known black drops of blood. Then, after rubbing my it to be applied to five of our fathers in cholera, arms gently, he tied a string very tightly about and it failed only once. 70 WAGRAM. From Blackwoods Magazine. WAGRAM; OR, VICTORY IN DEATH. TUE battle of Wagram was fought on the banks of the Danube, in 1809, between the Grand-army under Napoleon, and the Austrians nuder the command of the Archduke Charles. On the 20th May preceding, Napoleon, in at- tempting to force the passage of the river, had been signally defeated by the Archduke after a bloody battle on the field of Aspern, and com- pelled to retire into a critical position in the islands of the Danube; but six weeks afterwards, on the 5th July, the French Emperor suddenly threw a bridge across the stream, at a point where he was not expected, and established his army in safety on the left bank. Here he was attacked next day by the Archduke Charles and the Austrian Grand-army on the plains of Wa- gram; while a lesser army, under the Archduke John, advanced towards the same spot from Rhab, but, being inefficiently led, arrived too late to affect the fortunes of the day. Resolving to anticipate the plans of his dread antagonist, theArchduke Charles put his columns in motion at dawn, and, descending from the plateau of Wagram, attacked the French at all pointsespecially pushing forward energetically his right wing, whose success soon threatened to cut off the French from their bridge over the Danube, and spread dismay throughout the rear of their army. The charge of the Imperial Guard in the centre, under General Macdonald, a Scotchman by extraction, retrieved the fortunes of the day for the French; and the Austrian empire, prostrated in the dust, only escaped dis- memberment by yielding the hand of an Arch- duchess to the Imperial victor. Wagram de- servedly ranks among the decisive battles of the world. Had the French lost it, the catastrophe of Waterloo would have been anticipated in 1809, and the star of Napoleon have sunk for- ever on the shores of the Danube. I SAW a sunrise on a battle-field, Een at that early hour the gladsome beams Broke upon smoke-wr~aths and the roar of war; And oer the dewy grass rushd hurrying feet, Austrias white uniforms sweeping to the charge, While Frances eagles trembled in the gale. Full gainst the Gallic left, not half arrayd, The Austrian horse are charging home; and foot And cannon follow fast, quick belching forth Their thunders. Troop on troop, amidst the smoke, Napoleon sees them, sweeping, between him And the broad Danube; and their loud hurrabs, Heard oer the din of battle, tell how nigh They come upon his rear, and threat with fire The floating bridge that brought his host across. Already stragglers flying from the charge, Are seen, and baggage-waggons with their startled team, Scampering in hot haste for the rivers bank. But in the centre, where the Old Guard stands Like serried granite neath the enemies fire, Paces The Emperor to and fro, in front Of the tall bearskin shakoswhere the shot 71 And shell of Austrias cannon make huge gaps. Courier on courier, breathless spurring up, Bring him untoward tidings of the fight. Yet in a marble calm, as if no turn Of Fortunes wheel could shake his clear-eyed soul, He paces steadily that storm-swept spot, Rooting by his example to their place His vext brigades, now mustering dense and fast For the bold game on which his soul is set. Massena! keep the Archdukes right in check: Roll it but backward from the bridge apace, And the day yet is ours. But still his ear Dreads every moment on his right to hear The thundering of the Archdukes brothers horse. The vanguard of the host on march from Rhab, Charging with freshness on his pressd array. At last the moment comes, the word is given The Emperors self, as past his squadrons rush, l)own-bending oer their chargers in hot haste, Stabbing the air, cries out, Give point! Give point! And on sweep cuirassiers, hussars, and all, Spurring, and thundering their Vive lEm- pereur! Rank after rank bright-flashing in the sun Like brazen waves of battlecharging on Right into smoke of th enemies batteries. Roar upon roar, and flash on flash, break out Like a volcano bursting,a red chaos glares ; And back they come, the routed horse, pell-mell, Gnashing their teeth in fury at defeat; Rallying with dinted helms and batterd mail, Again to plunge into the thick of fight. And still the saddles empty, and scared steeds Rush backwards riderless; and with oaths and cries Again a broken flood of horse oerspreads the plain. Macdonald! take the Guards, and lead them on. The Plateau must be won I, And through the mass Of flyers straight the serried column moves, And the war storms anew. Right on they go, Like men who hold life as a bagatelle, Up to the brief slope, and in among the guns, Giving and taking deathyet still advancing, Pushing their way with shot and bayonet-thrust Amidst the foe, who round them like a wall In front and on each flank hang dense; and still The cannon thunder on the advancing band. Oh, then there was a grim conflict! and t~ht ranks Of the French column melted fast a~vay In the unequal strife; and oft their chief Sends word for help, and hears no help can come, And that he must go on. Go on; the day Hangs on your sword! And on they went m sooth. And as the hostile fire, or want of breath, Or the re-forming of their shatterd line, Brings to a halt that foe-encompassd band, 72 Nigh ruind by success, the Imperial Voice Still sends them for sole word: No aid Go on! T was a brave, bitter sight! Blackend and scorcbd, Circled with fire and thunder, and the shouts Of a most maddening war, where each man knows Ruin or victory is in the scales, Hewing their way, each step oer fallen foes, That Column marches on. On over guns Dismounted, and rent banners, and the wreck Of wars magnificence,with blood-stained step, Oer brothers, kinsmen, comrades dropping fast, With clenched teeth and flashing eyes they press, ranting, fainting, dwindling neath the fire; Yet backand backand back compelling still The foemen to give ground. 0! sure In that fell strife, with all its wasted wealth And wasted lives, and broken hopes, and hearts Bleeding in far-off homes, and feverd cries Of mangled myriads,theres enough of woe To glut Ambition for a thousand years! I saw the sun set on that battle-field. A remnant of that Column paused at last On ground shot-furrowed, all begrimmed scorchd Like men escaped from out a craters mouth, Lean wearily on their arms. The clarions call Is pealing through the air of Victory! And banners wave, and the bright setting sun Streams oer the armed field, from whence arose The exultant music of a hundred bands, Making war glorious. But no prean comes From that lone Victor Column. They have fought And won,but won at what a cost! They have No heart or breath for triumph: so they stand And bear but join not in the loud acclaim, Sad, mute, erect. Twas Victory in Death! My Soul, be like that Column! Oh to be Dauntless, devoted in the war of Life Neither to sorrow, pain, nor~trouble down Bending thy colors, but march right through all, Obedient to the voice that says, Go on! Oh, there are shot and shell that rend the heart, And swords that pierce the soul, and pangs to which A bayonet-thrust were mercy, wounds within, That perchance bleed not in the sight of men, Yet ab! that will not heal. Oh, to be strong! And with a faith enduring all things, still To look to Thee, and battle stoutly through, Neer growing weary of the glorious strife! Ab! if on that red day a Herald of truce Had checkd that Column in its hold advance, And bade it pile its arms, and take its ease, Who would tave thrilld as now at Wagrams name! What generous hearts been fired with rivalry! Or could that Band itself have ever heard The pmans of an army saved, or seen A hostile Empire prostrate in the dust, WAGRAM. Or, proudest, sweetest thought of all, have felt Victorious oer themselves as oer the foe! And if such things were dared in dutys cause For a mere martial crown, shall less be done In the far nobler war of Life,that war, That ceaseless war, which goes whereer we go, At workat ease,at homeor in the stream Of social intercourse,nor least een then When we sit lonely with our thoughts, and build A day-dream world to compensate the old. Alas, how weak and wavering! How the world, And life, and love, and death, and grief all lay A hand upon the soul to turnt away From its high mission! * * * My Father! Heavenly Father! to whom sole I lift my eye in trouble or in joy, Thou who hast led me, erst a wayward child, And wayward still, from weakness, not from choice, And brought me thus far on my journeys way, Grant in the years to come I still may prove Obedient to the imperial Voice within, Voice of that Soul which Thou hast given, and which bids Still to go forward, resting not till death Oh, make me strong! that so when sorrows come, When loved ones die and leave me, and the day Grows dark about me, and the sunshine comes To the heart no more, and the Spirits life seems gone With the love that fed it, I may still march on, Content to do Thy work, and heed no more Whether the clarion-voice of Fame do come In life, or after death, or not at all. Oh, he it mine, at lifes hlessd close, to stand Scarrd though it be with sorrows, still erect, In harness to the lastraising my hands On the won battle-field a!oft to Thee, And with a calm joy yielding up my soul, Scourged, chastened, purified, and hearing now The inner voices chanting victory! Like some old warrior-chief, on his last field, Dying with upturad face, and in his ears An armys songs of triumph,heedless all, if so he the stern fight is won at last, And his flag flies, Victorious still in Death! Th H.P. GLF~x VERSUS MADRIGAL. ~Song is the generic term for everything that is sung, and of course includes all the species mentioned by Mr. Scribe hut it is generally appropriatcd to any air for a single voice. Ballad, originally a song of praise, but now a kind of popular song containin,, the recital of some action, adventure, or intrigue such as are especially the meaner kind of songs sung in the streets. Glee, as its name denotes, means a joyous song, as distinguished from mad- rigal, which ought to be of a more sentimental character. Madrigal i. q. maadracale, a pastoral love song, snug by shepherds in their maadrce, or sheepfolds. Notes and Queries~ A WIFES STORY. From Household Words. A WIFES STORY. CHAPTER I. WE stood on the deck together,I and my husbandI, shrouded in warm wrappings, with folded arms, leaning against him. How strong he was! how firm he stood! how delightful it was to me to lean there so! It was late, and a wild night; a strong Win(I blowing, and our ship bounding on over high- swelling waves. It should have been moonlightthe moon was at the fullbut only now and then a wind-rent in the clouds let her pale light through. We did not talk, the wild wind would have blown our words away, and my heart and soul were very full. Leaning there I thought 1 had found life-long peace, a refuge from all trouble and distress. What a beautiful future I pictured! We were both young: I some five years the younger: a mere girl in a~e and in ap- pearance, yet all too old at heart. Measuring life by the bitterness of gained experience, by its pain, and not by the number of its days and years, I was no longer young. My life had long been a struo~Ae~ a series of conflicts in which I always came off heart-wounded, sometimes hand disabled, never subdued. I had been ever at war with circumstance. There was a strange and secret strength somewhere within me, that would not he crushed out: that would not let me yield. But though too strong to submit myself a wil- ling slave to any imposed yoke, my nature was not strong enough, I was not wise enough, to gather all powers of soul, and heart, and mind together, into conscious possession, and then yield meekly, quietly, and entirely to the recognition of the controlling power of a higher will. So I had fought on as blindly as vehemently, doing battle boldly for real and unreal rights, resenting deeply both real and supposed injuries. No mere woman can live long so,at war with all around,I had grown heart-sick, and utterly weary; soon I should have lain down and yielded. But a great change came to me. While I had been struggling and striving in a night of great darkness, in which the things after which my ambition prompted me to reach always eluded my eager hands, God laid in my path, at my very feet, a good gift. I was a governess when my husband began to woo me. I was his equal by birth, but what did that serve me? He was far above me in station now, was handsome, and much courted and admired. The daughters of the family with whom I lived would have been proud to win him, but he turned from them with his simple, frank indifference, and bent the power of his nature to loving me! 1 was 73 rather small, generally very quiet in manner, not beautiful, and not plain. I believe I had a certain dignity of my own, which had been useful to me in my unprotected state. I felt that when I chose I could compel respect, and gloried in the power, though it made me more feared than loved. I do not know what it could have been in me that served to draw my husbands notice upon me, and then to win me his love. I think, for his was a most faithful heart, that he must have regarded me, first, for the sake of some real or imagined likeness to my bro- ther, my dead brother, who bad been his friend. And yet it was hardly me he loved; of my real nature, its force, its aspirations, its vehement unrest, he knew nothing. lie loved me as he saw me, looking through some medi- um of his own interposing. Of course he was my first lover. Who else would have turned from our three household Gracesthe grown-up daughters of the family brilliant, accomplished, dowered, and, appa- rently, sweet-tempered, as they were, to me? poor, plain, and proud, as 1 was considered. So, of course, he was my first lover! If I loved him aright 1 could not tell,if I ever loved him as a wife should love, I do not even now know. I felt it infinitely sweet and strange to be belovedto be the object of such manly, protecting tenderness as his. I asked no questions,when I could once be- liev~ in his love, I gave myself up, abandoned my whole being utterly, to the great, new joy. There was nothing to distract my mind, noth- ing to divide my affection with him, and I had very large capacity of loving. his loving me was a sufficient proof of his goodness, of his disinterestedness, and ~reat-heartedness. I was satisfied, arid harold could not long doubt that I loved him, and I am sure he never sus- pected me of acuepting him for any other rea- son. He could see my eyes well over with delight, my cheek flush, and my hands tremble when he gave me any new proof of the love I hungered, and yet half-dreaded, to be con- vinced of. I remember, how well! the first thing that excited my mistresss (so I called her in my proud humility) suspicion of the truth, and that first stirred up a joyful, thrilling hope in my poor heart. Mr. Warden came to the house one morning, it was earlier than lie had ever called before, and I was in the large school-room, giving a music lesson to the youngest girl, the three elder sisters were in the room that day, busily occupied with vari- ous works of idleness, and still in morning costume, so that an authoritative knock at the hall-door caused some alarm and stir. But I ~vent on giving my lesson, wearily endeavor- ing to do the work of both teacher and pupil. The door opened. and some one entered be.. 74 fore the young ladies had effected their escape to their dressing-rooms; there was a move- inent and flutter, but I did not look round or imagine that it in any way concerned me. Mr. Warden was particularly anxious to see our school-room, and to discover in what praiseworthy manner you young ladies were occupied here; so I have brought him in to take you by surprise, I heard my mistress say in her most gracious voice. Then I just glanced round, for I always felt a sort of interest in Mr. Warden for the sake of a remcmhered and happier lang-syne, though I did not expect him in any way to reciprocate it. He was standing at the far end of the room, surrounded by the four ladies: in his hand he held a most glorious bouquet of hot-house roses, which they were all admiring; he did not hold them carelessly and indifferently, and as if half-ashamed of carrying them, as gentlemen generally do flowers; hut carefully, and tenderly, and half~ proudly. I saw this at a glance, and, meeting his eyes, howed slightly, and turned hack again to the music-book and my pupils heed- less fingers, expecting that in a moment, the ladies, the visitor, and his roses would have vanished from my domain. But the fragrance of those flowers reached me, it grew more and more deliciously strong; they must he near. I turned my head very, very slightly, and became conscious that some one stood behind methat the precious flowers almost touched my cheek. How very sweet they are, I ventured to say, the flowers drawing the words from me; for their perfume seemed to have entered my heart. Are you not weary, Annie? Your pupil does not seem very attentiveisnt it tiresome work ? Mr. Warden asked. He was bending down to me, flowers in hand. Somehow I could not answersome- thing in tone or words touched me like re- membered music, and I longed to weep. He had heard of me as Annie all his life, and so forgot to call me anything else, even now, when I was a poor governess, and he hut I am sure he never thought of that. He found me again, after having lost sight of me for years, he found me unhappy, and took me into his great heart. I had not yet voice to speak when Mrs. Stone hustled up. Has not Amelia heen attentive this morn- ing, Miss Aston 2 she asked with a great appearance of concern. She has not been less so than usual, maam, I answered coldly. You should complain to me, my dear, when you find her troublesome; she is rather a giddy child, I know. Come now, Amelia, A WIFES STORY. and have your honnet put on, a walk will d~, both you and Miss Aston good. So saying, the lady went to the door with the child, thinking that we followed her. A moment ! Harold interposed as I was rising to do so. I sat down again in my chair by the piano, bending my eyes on the pencil~. case my fingers were playing with, and won- dering vaguely what he could be goin~ to say. I brought these for you, Mr. Warden began hurriedly, holding out the roses; you said the other day how fond you were of flowers. I came down from London last night, and brought these from Covent Gardenmay I leave them with you? I did not hold out my hand, so he laid them on my lapthey looked wondrous beautiful on my black dress. Harold glanced round the room: we were alone; the young ladies had disappeared to dress, meaning that Mr. Warden should escort them for a walk that bright winters morning. I want to know, he began confusedly, are you happy here? How do they treat you? Do not be proud with me, remem- ber I raised my eyes, full of tears, gratefully to him. He should see that at least I was not proud to him, to any who treated me kindly. Mr. Warden I Mrs. Stone called from the passage; I know you are fond of flowers I want to show you something rare in m~ conservatory. Oh! here you are! I beg your pardon for leaving you, I thought the girls had taken you into the drawing-room. This way, if you pleaseyou must stoop your tall head a little, I fear. 1 was aloneI sat as he had left methere lay the flowers, I did not stir or touch them, I oldy bent down over them, their fragrance filling my soul, and, perhaps, a tear or two falling on their petals. That fragrance must have been a kind of intoxication, such wildly beautiful thoughts stole in with it. It was winter: hut this precious gift over which I bent carried me away to some hea- venly garden of perpetual rose-rich summer. I gazed at my real roses, soft pink, rich crim- son, snow-white, bright-golden, they shut out the great, bare room, the gaunt, bare boughs swinging before~ the windows, they kept out sense of cold and ~emptiness, and filled my heart with warmth and sweetness. I do not know how long I dreamed. My reverie was broken into roughly. Mrs. Stone entered with a stormy rustling of her handsome dress that told of some excitement. Oh ! she began, looking sharply at me; Mr. Warden forgot his roses here, I suppose: I wondered where he had left them. He is gone out with the young ladies; Amelia is A WIFES STORY. with her sisters, so you can go into the garden, I shall not complain certainly not to if you please. You need not have touched Mr. Warden! I interrupted. those flowers, Miss Aston put them in water That is right: for once your pride is proper in the drawing room, if you please no doubt and becoming. You need not stand there any they were brought for Julia, but Mr. Warden longer: I have done; I only wanted to warn rather shy, and perhaps did not like to offer you; I am sure you understand me. Take them. those flowers and put them in water, as I re The lady approached, and looked more quested; they are beginning to droop. I am closely at my flowers, sure Julia will be pleased. I do not think Mr. lIe must have given several guineas for that Warden very clever, but he is a fine young bouquet at this season, she continued; very man, very steady and good tempered, and Ju- extravagant! but, however, he is a young man ha is ambitious and will spur him on, so they of large fortune, and, as a bachelor, can afford will suit well. such extravagances his father, I understand, Possibly! I answered, but about the was among the most wealthy of our merchant- flowers you are mistaken, maam, they are l)rinces by the way, how does it happen mine; Mr. Warden laid them where you saw you know him so intimately? them; I had not touched them when you came lie was a friend of ours of my brothers, in. I did not stay to see the effect of my words, when I was a child. but went up to my own room. There I put my Indeed! then of course you know all treasures lovingly in water, and then sat by about the family. Has he any near relatives them thinking; and my heart softened as it had living? not done for many a day. I felt so grateful to: I believe not, I answered. Harold! Any way, it was so kind so thought- I had risen, and stood leaning against the ful to bring such lovely flowers for me! In piano, my flowers gathered up heedfully in my my heart I was always most deeply grateful to folded arms. I half guessed what Mrs. Stone him; but I do not remember that lever thought would say next, and stood on the defensive, of being so to Heaven for any of my happiness I observed, the lady continued, that Mr. and so my very gratitude grew to be a pain to Warden called you by your Christian name. me and a bane to him. That was all very well when you were a child; But I must not anticipate, though you know but I am sure, as a sensihle young woman, you mine to be a sad story. ill see that now it is hardly becoming. There It was not so very long after my receipt of a wide difference of station and position, you that first, most precious gift (I have the dust must remember. For a governess to be treated of those flowers now !) that Harold asked me with such an appearance of familiarity by a to be his wife. handsome young man of fortune, is not the It was on one early spring evening, when I thing. You hear me, Miss Aston? Do not had stolen haf-an-hours freedom from my sla~. crush those flowers! very and gone, alone, into the garden. At least I had gathered them rather closely to my it should have been spring, by the calendar bosom I held them more loosely as I an- but it was a wintry evening bleak, black, swered: - damp, and cold: a very dismal and dreary I do, madam! evening, and so I loved to linger out in its I am sure you will acknowledge that I am ghastly, chill twilight. I believe I was always right. I will mention the matter to Mr. War- happier in what other people called most mis- den, if you choose he appears to be rather erable weather. It seemed as if I relished an unsophisticated young man, and perhaps throwing my defiance in Natures face, and yet does not know much of the ways of the world. I loved her with no half love-liking. Just then, I think Mr. Warden will act according to my proud, exulting heart joys in proving its his ideas of rirht, and not according tq what happiness, its little dependence on aught cx- any one may tell him of the ways of the world, ternal. Mrs. Stone. I had not paced, but rushed, up and down That scornful look and tone is most unbe- the broad gravel-walk, beyond the chance of coming, Miss Aston. I ~ you before, surveillance from the house, till I was weary that if you cannot better control your temper, then I stood leaning against a great tree, and and treat me wit~imore respect, I shall not be the solemn desolateness of the time and the able to keep~ou, sorry as I should be to be scene would steal icily to my heart, and I folded forced to dismiss you. You know how much my arms and gave way to a sombre, doubting, you b.av~e suffered already from the evil but almost despairing, train of thought. natural interpretations put upon your frequent I loved the old tree I leaned against, th ou~h changes of situation. I wonder you are not it grew in an enemys soil. My heart had throb- more guarded. You cannot, I am sure, com- bed against it many a time not with joy, plain to Mr. Warden, or any one else that you but with grief, scorn, or impotent rage. And have experienced anything but kindness here. many a time my bitter, burning tears had fal 76 A WIFES STORY. len upon the turf above its roots. No one else A flush and a frown came upon Harolds ever stood there, leaning so, and I had grown face; but I interposed: to fancy the tree endowed with some power of 1 shall be quite ready, Mrs. Stone, I an- sympathy, and that it bent down regardfully swered, to perform all my duties as usual till to me, and swept its branches lovingly over my the time for which I was engaged has expired. face, and whispered consolingly in my ear. I do not think you can accuse me of having But my friend was mute and still that night, ever wilfully neglected duty I do not know with neither touch nor tone for me. The why I should do so now. evening was sullenly quiet, and there was no Very well: this is, I believe, the last day wind-horn murmur among the hare bou~hs. of February As I stood leaning there hidden fro~n the The first of March, I think, maam ; is it path I heard a step, a firm, crushing step, not? I asked, turning to Harold. coming down the gravel-path. I knew who I think so, he answered discontentedly. came at least my heart knew for it beat On the first of June, then, you leave my high against the trees rough bark, stirred for service; Mrs. Stone said. Till that time, once by somewhat else than pride or pain, she added, I shall of course expect that my But it did not beat there lon~... I was soon daughters education will be carried on with- found, though I stood quite still in my hiding- out interruption. place: Harold reproved me tenderly and yet I bowed assent. Harold took his leave, chaf- authoritatively, for staying out in that raw, ing sorely at Mrs. Stones manner, and -at hay- cheerless air. I answered, not proudly, as I ing to leave me, for so long a time, to her ten- should have done had any other spoken so der mercies. I was not sorry to remain where but meekly and sadly. Then we both forgot I was: my present happiness was quite enough, the weather as that beaming, handsome, honest and I should be glad to grow quietly acquainted face was bent down close to mine, with that, ere there came any further ehange. He loved plain-spoken truthfulness; and, if I crept out of the room soon after Harold went I blushed and pressed my cold hands beneath away, and was alone with my joy till morning. my shawl tight down over my swelling heart, It was well for me that I was love-strong yet I frankly accepted the love he frankly of~ and proof against annoyance, for that house fered, and I did not scruple to let him know was no home or rest for me. that I took it very thankfully. They even tried to come between me and Then I was drawn close to him. It was cold Harolds love, filling his ears with tales no longer my heart was warm and full. I some of them, alas! too true of my violent suppose we walked up and down a long time temper, my singularities, my excessive pride, I remember it grew dark but the sky and my utter unsuitableness for making any cleared, and some few stars looked down up- mans home happy. But they soon gave up on us. this attempt. Harold looked through their as- Harold simply told Mrs. Stone of our en- sumed to their real motives with theclear vision gagement, that we should be married as soon as of a simple, sincere nature, and treated me .1 could make it convenient, and he had made only the more tenderly and pityingly when we proper preparations for receiving his wife, and met. This was not very often, or for long at a added that he trusted I should meet with kind- time; we had no opportunity of gaining any ness and consideration for the little while it real knowledge of each other. During those might be necessary for me to remain under her three months I had time for thinking over the roof impending change: I might have wei~,hed and He spoke very courteously, but plainly and tried m a I had a scale or table of decidedly. weights to guide me I had not. I knew that Mis. Stone was surprised and mortified, and I sickened at the bare thought of anything in- she could not quite well conceal it. She had tervening between me and Harold, and shut- not thought Mr. Wardens infatuation had been ting out the glimpse of a glorious, free life be- so great. She had had vague schemes, too, for yond my prison-walls that he opened to me, sending me away, and then securing him for and I did not question of what nature and kind one of her own daughters. should be the love between husband and wife, She was silent a moment, and then said, in or doubt whether we could make one another a hard, unmoved voice: happy. I had one relative, a maiden aunt, in Of course you are aware, Mr. Warden, that but poor circumstances, of whom I knew but Miss Aston must fulfil her engagement with me very little; to her I went when that long three a prior engagement to that so hastily, and, months had expired; from her house I was to to speak plainly, it seems to me, so unbecom- be married in a fortnights time. ingly, formed with you. - She is here as a gov- In spite of my happiness I hind grown paler erness and must continue here in the capacity and thinner of late. I had been kept wearily for which she was hired, for three months from and closely employed all day; or rather had this time. kept myself so, choosing to do more, rather than 77 A WIFES STORY. less, than formerly; and often sat up late at night busy with my needlework and my pleas- ant thoughts. Harold worried at my frail look; he was glad my aunt lived in the country; I promised to try and get rosy and strong there. As her house was small, and I knew she had a nervous horror of strangers, particularly of gentlemen, it had been arranged that Harold should not follow me to Ilton until the day be- fore the wedding. The fortnight I was there, he was to spend in London, near which he had taken a house. 1 found myself at my aunts door at the close of a fine June afternoon. Her door! I remember I smiled as I looked at it, it was such a tiny cotta,,e-door; how would Harold get in? I laughed to myself as I stood waiting a moment, before I knocked. Everything laughed too; the green leaves in the sunshine overhead, the bright, trimly- tended flowers in the narrow borders on each side of the narrow path. Then, how the butter-cups laughed in the fields beyond atich fields! so rich and dark-grounded and gold-spangled, bounded with hedges white with hawthorn. Field after field swelling and waving almost as far as I could see; only here and there a double row of tall elms or droop- ing limes, marking where some lane wound among them, or a little snowy patch of blos- soming orchard varying their gorgeousness. And over the fields went the slow-flitting, dark-blue shadows cast by the hovering clouds. Perhaps, somewhere near, out of sight, they were making hay already some very de- licious fragrance was floated to me by the soft wind. I laughed again, and then turned to knock at the little door. It was opened; my aunt peeped out shyly. She was relieved to find me alone; but looked as if she half expected my handsome giant were lurking near. My dear, I am so glad to see you! God bless you! But I didnt expect you for an hour yet. Quite welcome, and everything is ready; though, but are you sure you are come alone? I heard some one lau~h. I stood by myself, and laughed to myself, auntie. Yes, I am quite alone! I did not come by the coach; my lug~age is coming by that, though. Well, you know, my dear, I shall he de- lighted to see yourMr. Warden; but I am glad he did not come here yet; and what shall we do with him, love, when he does come? You say he is so tall, and my house is such a little one. If he cannot walk in to see me, he will crawl, perhaps. My eyes were brimming over as I spoke, and aunt looked into them. She nodded and smiled to herself, and then sighed. And now you must come up stairsnot many stairs, you knowand I am sure you must want your tea. My aunt bustled about, busy in taking off my bonnet and shawl. She kissed my fore- head and smoothed my hair, and told me I had my mothers eyes; and sighed again, and prayed God keep me and guard mc. Then she went down to make my tea, and I stood gazing out of the opened casement-window; I can exactly recall how I felt then !can see all I saw from that windowand remember just where each rose grew of those that clus- tered round and tried to peep in the room. I picked one and put it in my hair, that I might have its fragrance near. Then I folded my arms softly on my bosom and looked stead- fastly out, and such a peace came into my breast, and tears came softly down on to my hands! But then I only looked outi did not look up. Annie! Annie! my aunt called at the bottom of the stairs, and I went down. A little table was drawn up to the bowery win- dow; and the tea smelt fragrant and delicious, and was most refreshing. Everything re- minded me of the country,the bread, the butter, rich cream, and fresh eggs. Aunt and I sat and chatted and sipped our tea; and I felt very good and patient with her gentle talk; and afterwards we went out of the little back- door, through the little back-garden, into the fields behind, where they really were making hay. I hope it wont all be made before Harold comes, I said. And then my aunt asked me a thousand questions about this formidable Harold; and from him we got somehow to the very important subject of my wardrobe, and discussed most thoroughly what I had and what I should want. My aunt had a kind neighbor, she said, who often offered her the use of his pretty pony-phaeton. If I could drive she would horrow it, as the best shops near were at Hard, seven miles off. I was not at all afraid of driving over those smooth, quiet roads; so when we went home, Mary, the little maid, was despatched, with my aunts compliments, to this obliging neigh- bor, to beg the loan of his carriage for to- morrow. I stood on the door-step; I could not go in, it was such a balmy June evening; and it was so new and delicious to feel myself my own mistressto expect no hasty summonses to re- mind me of my bondage. I saw Mary trip away demurely through an orchard, then emerge and pursue the narrow track across a golden meadow, then disappear again be- hind some trees and shrubs, from among which I could see sundry chimneys arise. She came back presently to say, with a half-smile, that Mr. Swayne returned his compliments, and the carriage was quite at her mistresss service; and so was he, if she would like him to drive 78 A WIFES STORY. her. So Mary had to trip back again with a some, and my expenses very few. I had worn message that Miss Aston had a niece staying mourning for years, and my plain black dressee with her who would drive her; she was had cost me little. So now I felt quite rich, obliged to Mr. Swayne. and for the first time in my life, it gladdened Mr. Swayne is such an odd man! my me to hold money in my hand. I wanted to aunt said, quite bashfully, I fancied. look well, and I fancied I might improve my Not so odd to think he should like to appearance by dressing better. Harold had oblige you, auntie? I answered. loved me as he found me; so, for him, I would Aunt only shook her head, and sighed gladly look as pretty as possible. again. The little placid sigh that seemed What my purchases should he was again the habitual to her, and that always made me subject of conversation as I drove my aunt feel impatient with her. along the pretty, winding, fragrant lanes, down Aunt Aston, I knew, kept early hours; so into the little valley, crossing the bridge over I soon bade good-night. Mindful of the the placid river, through Lord A.s beautiful economy practised in her little household, I chestnut-studded beech-groved park, which first put out my candle, and then sat in the the use of Mr. Swaynes name enabled us to window, neath the starlight, for hours. To cut across. Then slowly up the one long dream happily on the basis of things probable steep hill of the neighborhood, across a small was so new a delight, I could not easily be satis- tract of open down, where the wind blew fled, and when at last my thoughts set them- fresher, and I fancied the sea might not be far selves in musical order, I went to bed only to off, and down again gradually, the church- sing them over in my sleep. spire and house-tops, and clustering trees of But I remember I slept little that night; it Hard lying beneath us. seemed as if my soul under my eyelids kept Arrived, our pony was dismissed for a few up too much light. The red dawn woke me, hours rest. We had so much business to do! and I did not close my eyes again; but while Hard was a very small town; but its shops the first heavy dewiness was in air and on were well supplied, and our fastidiousness had earth, I visited the hayfields, buried my face as good a chance of being gratified as at many in the hawthorn hedges, withdrawing it dis- a larger place. figured by one or two unfriendly scratches, Aunt Aston and I did not very well agree shook the petals of some late-blooming apple in our opinions about dress. She had the trees in showers down upon my upturned flice, quietest, most Quaker-like taste for herself; and gathered my hands full of wild pink and hut for a young person, like me, she fancied white-brier roses. Their perfume now always brighter colors, and recommended pinks, and calls to my mind the bowery lanes round blues, and greens, most indiscriminatingly. Ilton! There was a very wild life beating at My soft, pearly colored silk, delicately-pat- my heart that morning, in spite of the quiet terned muslin, and cloudy-colored bar~ge did ste p with which I paced about. I went in look rather sober-hued; so I bought some with dew-dabbled skirts, torn hands, and hair bright pretty ribbons to please Aunt Aston, dishevelled from its usual scrupulous neatness. and then we thought it prudent to ascertain Aunt Aston was down, and breakfast waiting the amount of our expenditure before buying but I had a second toilette to make before more. I had already made a large hole I was presentable; and then I glanced rue- in my small fortune; so that would do for to- fully at my hands when my aunt directed day, we thought. We must calculate and con- my attention to them. Harold would not like sider a little before we laid out more there. to see them so disfigured. I would wear Then we had visits to pay to the dress-maker gloves in future in my country rambles, I and milliner. That last, I remember, was a thought. most unsatisfactory visit. How plain I looked My aunt usually breakfasted at seven. That in her gay, flowery bonnets! but in one of morning it was past eight when we sat down; soft, transparent white my poor flice pleased and, hefore we had finished, our carriage was me better; and in the choice of a second 1 waiting for us at the door. I had, what seemed allowed Aunt Aston to have her way. I was to me, a large sum of money in my possession quite sick of my mornings employment by a whole years salary untouched, and a little this time, and my Aunt was tired too. She money saved from the earnings of former had friends in the town; should we go and years besides. Yet saved is hardly the right see them? I said Please no! and so we went word. My money, as soon as received, was to a confectioners, and thence sent for our lit-. always thrown into a drawer. I hated the tie carriage, and away home. What a time sight of it. My wagesas I scornfully termed we had spent! I felt a kind of contempt for it. I felt nothing of the nobility or the wor- myself and for my companion, who talked over ship of labor. I always resented never our purchases with lively interest, as we drove ~ loried in my state of servitude. My salary home in the golden afternoon silence. I was as Mrs. Stoi~e reminded me, been hand- warm and out of temper, in consequence of A WIFES STORY. which, and of my languid, indifferent driving, I nearly overset our carriage, and very much frightened my aunt. She was silent, and I penitent, after that. A box came by the carrier, for you miss, Mary announced, as she came to lead tbe pony home, when we had got out. For me? are you sure? I asked. Miss Anne Aston, Thorn Cottage, Ilton, is on it, miss ; so I think its for you. Of. course there was but one person in the wide world would send anything to me. I sat down in the parlor window-seat, and took off my gloves, my bonnet, my shawl, deliberately, be- fore I proceeded to examine its contents. Mary considerately had it uncorded by the man who brought it. I opened it at last, and Aunt Aston proceeded to examine the con- tained treasures. I found a letter on the top, and was fully occupied with that. These things were for my little wife, whom I have a right to bury under heaps of finery if I choose, and if could hear to have her out of my sight; and who has no right to wave gifts of her husbands away with any proud flourishes of her little white hand, the letter said. Harold had commissioned a lady-friend, a friend of his mothers, to choose these things for him, describing to her the little person whose wearing was to endear them. They were well enough chosen, yet rather too gay, perhaps, and much too costly, I thought. I stood musing, my letter in my hand turn- ing over with my foot quite absently the heap of treasures Aunt Aston was examining. I was doing mischief; my shoe was dusty, and with it I was touching a white lace something. Aunt called out to me, and then I roused myself, and listened to her comments. Annie, Im afraid Mr. Warden is extra- vagan t, dear; you must talk to him about it. How beautiful this is! We must send that to be made upthe coach passes our door this evening at six; you must choose what you will send. Did you see this brooch and brace- letpearl and amethyst !~is it not pretty? You must be married in this; it is lovely! How you will astonish the people in the vil- lage! and the church is quite the other end of it. how will you get there ?there will be such a crowd! My dear child, what will you do with all these things? Look here, aunt, I said. I had found a little separate packet of silk and ribbons, all of a pretty sober color, on which was written, For Miss Aston (Annies aunt). How very kind and thoughtful he is, aunt exclaimed. Of course he is, auntie dear, I said, proudly, my heart swelling with happiness. The poor dress I had meant for you is thrown into the shade. We made a selection from among my abund ance, and despatched a large parcel to hard by the coach that evening. Among the varie- ty I had found one dress fit for Marys wear- ing, and by presenting her with which I quite won her heart. My unrestful spirit was beginning to weary of Thorn cottage at the close of the fortnight. The low, rich, lovely country even, became tedious, as I had nothing to do but to enjoy it. I longed for hill-climbing, and most in- tensely for that great treat Harold had pro- mised me, being by and on the sea. I was tired of dreaming over my needle-work, in my long walks, in the hay-fields, in the night- timedreams I had no one to share: my spirit was thirsting to taste the communion, the perfect sympathy, which I fancied was to take all the pain of over-fulness from my soul for the future. My aunt could only sigh and smile, warn me not to hope too much, and caution me that in marriage, no doubt, as in every temporal estate, there was much to en- dure as well as much to enjoy. Not hope too much! I startled her one day by passion- ately exelaimino. Was there then no joy in life? My past had been bitter enough to give me a right to demand joy for my future. My aunt began a tearful and prayerful and tender little lecture on meekness, and pa- tience, and trust; but I could not bear it then, and went away with a perturbed spirit. I sat .in my window up-stairs till it grew dusk enough for the moonlight to show its power. I had found a sweet thought before I had sat there long. Haroldmy one friend, hope, joymy life, my very lifewas coming to- morrow. And I had forgotten all doubt and anger at the one who raised it, and had sat long smiling out into the moonlight, and hug- ging my happiness, when my aunt came timid- ly in. She had a candle in her hand; I thought she had been cryino. He is com- ing tomorrow, to-morrow ! I whispered, as we bade each other a very loving good-night. I lit the candle she brought me from hers, soon to put it out, for I liked the moonlight- streaked dimness. Next day, aunt was much more fluttered and nervously expectant than I. Then she was so full of business, too! though what she had to do, I could not tell. Her dress was home, fitted admirably, and became her very well. Everything of mine that I cared to have then was ready: it seem- ed to me that we might sit down and wait quietly. I forgot to say that I had made the acquaint- ance of my aunts polite friend, Mr. Swayne. He was a widower; his wife had been my aunts schoolfellow and one particular friend; so there was the intimacy of almost relation- ship between them. lie was to be present at 79 A WIFES STORY. 80 our marriage, giving me away, and at his now, but not with the interest of feeling of house Harold would sleep the one night of his that time. I had wanted to forget my sick en- stay in Ilton. ing expectation for a little while. I was soon While aunt ~ the giver my fluttered and flitted about completely absorbed, for~ettin~ even the house, up-stairs and down, and in and out of that as of all my other pleasures. Is it not the kitchen, I did what I could; filled every often the way of the world to forget the giver glass and vase I could find with fresh flowers, in his gifts? took the covers, at my aunts request, from the It was not a hook to be easily read, un(ler- pretty furniture, and superintended the hang- stood, and forgotten. It called out all the ing of snowy muslin curtains in the windows; power of my nature. I read on breathlessly, then there was no more to be done anywhere, only, when my eyes were dun, pausing to I was sure. look up and out over the wavering land. Harold would come by the coach at six in My aunt knocked at my door, and then the evening. Tea was to be ready for him, came in, saying: and more substantial fare. I had first smil- I would not disturb you before, Annie; Ingly, then gravely, to remonstrate with my but now it is nearly six I thought you could aunt about the over-abundance of eatables not know how late it was. she wanted to provide. Indeed I did not, I answered. It is so Gentlemen had such appetiteswhen very, very beautiful. they came off long journeys, especially, she What is, my love? said. This book I have been readinga poem I put off my black dress that day. Early Harold gave me; we must take it away with in the afternoon aunt and I went up to make us: he must read itwe will read it together. our toilettes. I looked anxiously at my face Then he likes poetry as well as you do? in the glass. Country air had done something asked my aunt. for me. The hue of my skin was freshened, Of course, I answered, confidently. and my cheeks boasted a little color. I put How nicely you look! I am sure he will on a pretty new dress, the tint of which suit- be pleased. But you are so like your moth- ed me. It was not too bright, too dingy, or er! The brow and eyes are hers exactly, too delicate. My brown hair (I had plenty and of it then) I braided very carefully. I fasten- You do think I look well ?really, dear ed my soft lace collar with a pretty brooch aunt? Better than the little, dusty, dusky not the grand one, but one of Harolds pre- traveller who stood at your door a fortnight sents, nevertheless. I had protected my hands since to-morrow? I asked, anxiously. carefully since the first morning, and the scars Yes; you are not like the same crqature. of the scratches had disappeared from them I am very glad you think I look well. and from my cheek, and the transparent lace I picked up the book reverently (I had sleeves fell cloudily and becoming down over dropped it when Aunt Aston startled me), those hands he admired. How carefully I and I)ut it with things I was to take away with looked at myselfscrutinizingly and gravely me; and then we went down-stairs. till the very gravity of my poor face pro- I walked up and down the room while we yoked me to laughter. But I thought of Ha- waitedI could not sit still. The rumbling roldfancied himso grand and tall and of wheels reached us in the country silence, handsomestanding beside me, and turned while the coach was a long way oW But it away from the glass, disconsolately sighing was at the gate at last. Ilarold jumped off al- out, What can be find in poor little me? most before it stopped, much to aunts alarm, I gathered a dark red rose from beneath my who was peeping shyly out from behind the window, and put it in my hair, but without curtains. I did not know if I ran out, oi~ stood venturing to look at myself again, still, or what I did; I only knew that soon I I was warm; for it was a very brilliantly- was gathered within Harolds arms, and then sunny affernoonbut a delicious breeze came held off at a little distance and examined. I in at the open casemen.t; so I sat down there raised my eyes inquiringly to his: I[ was soon to read. I had a book Harold had given me sure that he was satisfied, and glad to cast because every one was talkiwi about it a them down, because the hot blood would rush new poemin my hand. I had not much blindingly across my face. cared to read it, as he had not done so, and I Then he introduced himself to my aunt, should not be following where his eyes and and thanked her so heartily and cordially that thoughts had gone before. I had had the tears sprang to her blue eyes, for having taken book a month and had not opened it; and such excellent care, as my appearance tes. now I turned over the leaves, carelessly, at tified to, of me. And when he sat down she first, but my attention was soon caught. forgot how tall he was, and how afraid of I have that book lying by me as I writeit him she had been, and they chatted away delights me still. I can read it more ari~,ht easily and gayly: and all the while my hand A WIFES STORY. 81 was clasped so close and tight in his! We Get your cigar, if you must have one, Ha- had tea, and then weharold and Iwent rold, but let me stay, I)lease, I pleaded. I out into the hay-fields. Aunt ran after us to am not cold at all, and I know I shall not sleep the door to beg Harold to take care not to down there, it will be so warm. knock his head as he went out; and he laugh- But a drizzly rain began to fall; of course, ed his honest laugh, and she went smiling staying out all night would have been a most back, and up-stairs into my room, to make irrational proceeding, and my husband was some last arrangements for me. The hay- very wisely decided. He took me down stairs, fields that night! For neither of us were guiding my feet carefully in the uncertain light there ever such hay-fields again. Oh, my from the lamp at the bottom, and left me at husband, you were happy then! the door of the den, as I called the crowded Next day we were married. I said fare- sleeping-place. Already I had seen, or fan- well to my good aunt, to pretty Ilton, to bluff cied that he would expect from me, only an Mr. Swayne, and we went forthhe and I. implicit and child-like obedience. As yet I For a little while I mused over the anxious, had found it very sweet to obey, where to obey sad expression of Aunt Astons face, but soon had only been to do what was most pleasant; forgot to wonder at it any longer, to-night I was inclined to rebel; it was so sti flingly close and warm down there, might I CHAPTER xi. not go up again? But Harold pressed a So I stood that nighta wild, weird night Good-night, on my lips, pressing me the leaning against my husband with folded while to his heart, and my impatience vanish- arms; loving to measure my insignificance; to ed, and I obeyed. be at his side, not much more than reaching I lay a long time rocked on my uncomforta- to his elbow, yet as high as his heart,to look ble couch, with my eyes obstinately wide open, up into the handsome face so far above me listening to the firm, rather heavy, footstep when held erect, so often stooped down ten- pacing to and fro above me. At last, I sup- derly to mine. And I mused over the bitter pose, 1 fell asleep listening, and then the step things of my past life, imagined the happi- crushed painfully into my heart and brain, and ness to come to both of us, the happiness I awoke in trouble and aifriglit. It was new of hours, days, years, and a whole life spent to me to be on the sea, it was awful, the waves tooether; never knowing end of love nor wea- rushed so fiercely past the little window riness of existence. And I felt peace, and knew against which I lay! 1 could but dimly see, restfor a little whilestanding secure in the yet I heard and felt them; they stirred, not certainty of possession. fear, but a wild, hal& pleasant excitement with- We were on our way to Scotland. in me. The wind blew round us; sometimes driv- I listened again to the steps above; I felt in the waves so violently against the ships half-jealous that without me he found pleasure side that the foam splashed up in my face, and in lingering there so long. At last I heard the driving the clouds recklessly and violently sound no longer ; He is going to sleep now, across the wild sky, and the pale struggling I thought, so I voluntarily closed my eyes, pil- moon. And we were rocked up and down, yet lowed my cheek on my arm, and composed standing firm together, the wind and the sea myself for quiet slumber. singing us an inspiriting song, a loud soul- When we touched land next day, all was thrilling anthem; but too loud and too shrill wrapped in a mist-mantle; we could see noth- for an epithalamium ing, but we went on by land to our first rest- The other passengers had disappeared one ing-place,reaching it in the evening. On by one,we were alone. I could have remained the morrow I saw the sun shine upon one of there forever, I thought, so supported, so sere- the most lovely places in the Highlands,love- naded. Breaking into the world of my ima- ly and grand at once, and more beautiful than ginings came my husbands voice. I could bear. Annie, darling, it is getting cold! What a Harold had thought to surprise me,thought rough night it is! And as he spoke, the strong I should admire it,was very glad it was fine encircling arm drew my wrappings closer; he weather. I had never till now seen anything went on, You must not stay here any longer, of mountainous, or even hilly scenery; the love; you had better go below, and get a few pretty country round Ilton was the most beau- hours sleep, for it is long past midnight. I tiful feature of Natures face I had ever grown shall get a cigar, and walk up and down a little; acquainted with. I am quite chilly, and I am sure you must be. Now, I stood by the side of the loch in the No, I was not; and I did not want to go morningthe early morningI looked down down, out of the wind and the foam-splash into towards the sea; up to the splendid peak the close atmosphere of the ladies cabin. I, above peak of mountains piled up as far leaning there ,against his heart, had not thought as I could discern; across the wide, still of being cold. blue water, to the graceful hanging woods, DXCIV. LIVING AGE. VOL. XL 6 A WIFES STORY. $2 and heathery sheep-dotted slopes on the Is not that true? Have we not felt it? other side. What could I do? My heart~I said, looking up to my husbands face, seek- was swelling, my eyes kindling and dilat- ing to meet his expression of emotion and plea- ing, my cheek flushing and chillingI clasp- sure. ed my hands tightly together, almost as if in His eyes were closed, his arm rested on pain, some cushion he had brought for me, and I had At that moment Harold came up, with a not cared to use; his head was thrown back bright, lau~hing face, and hurrying step, and upon that arm, and he was fast asleep! I eyes fixed only on me. looked at him long, half in anger, half in love. I turned to him; I remember he stopped and I see the face now as it looked then. His sleep looked at me wonderingly ; I did not notice that was child-like in its perfect repose; his brow then; I uttered a little of my admiration and was so smooth, his mouth so quietly happy in delight, in words that seemed to me mockingly its expression, his breathing so low and regu- poor and feeble. I looked up in my husbands lar. At least he must be dreaming some beau- face for sympathy: he smiled down on me~, kind- tiful dreamdreaming only of me, perhaps, I ly as ever; hut somehow my haughty spirit rose thought. up in arms against that smile; a flashing look I had lifted my head from its resting-place, of something like disdain aimed at him fell I did not replace it; I sat quite erect, and back on me, paining only my own heart, and kept myself very still. I put a fern-leag from a miserable doubt and dread darted through a bunch of them I had in my hat, to mark the me. place where I had left off reading, and then Breakfast was ready, the urn waiting, and closed my book. For some time I sat watch- the salmon steaks on the table, Harold said. ing the ripples in the waters, and listening to So I walked in beside him, not taking his offer- Harolds breathing, with a cloudy face, and a ed arm, pretending not to see it. heart that had not quite made up its resolve The day was very warm and lovely, and we whether or no to resent this neglect. I got spent it on the water. We had hired a light tired of sitting in dignified rigidity. I leaned little boat; Harold rowed it across to the other over the boats side, and amused myself with side; we explored that shore a little, then we the broken reflections of my face and hands in moored our boat to the stump of a felled tree, the water; with splashing it up softly to my and sat in it under the shade of the wood forehead, and seeing the separate drops, pearl- that hung far over the marge. We enjoyed like, fall back upon the face of the loch. And the ~entie rocking motion, the sound of the I thought of Undine and water-sprites, good and ripple against the side, and the delicious fresh- ill, and tried to look to the bottom of the wa- ness of the light breeze that came up from the ter, that seemed to repel my glances, by flash- sea, and breathed upon our faces. We talked ing back its own brightness dazzlingly on my little, and very softly. I had taken off my hat eyes,and imagined the sights fair and foul for coolness, and I sat in the bottom of our that might lie there, till I almost saw strange boat, resting my head against my husbands eyes and hands gazing at me, and beckoning knee. I liked to feel his hand every now and to me, from below. Then I drew back to the then, passed caressingly and lovingly over my other side, and f2lding my hands, gave myself hair. up to day-dreaming. I knew it must be quite Shall I read to you, Harold? I asked, ~f- late in the afternoon now; the wind had quite ter we had sat so a long while, and I fancied died away, the water did not ripple, our boat he might be wearyin~, of idleness, though I did not stir, there was a great dream-silence, was not. Already I consciously recognized a under-toned by the faint hum and buzz of in difference between us. sects in the near wood. If you like, Annie, he answered if it A very audible yawn and noise of stretching wont tire you; but it is very hot. and stirring, told me that my husband was wak- I produced my treasured book, the book ing at last. The noise broke in jarriugly upon he had given me. I told him how beautiful my delicious dreaming, it was so loud! I did it was, how much he would like it; and then not look up or speak, but sat looking straight I began to read. I read in a low subdued before me far away. voice; I did not want to break in upon the Why I have been asleep, I declare! Ha- harmony of the soft music made by wind and rold exclaimed. It is just five oclock. Why water. didnt you wake me, Annie? You should How quietly I went on, and yet how deeply have thrown some water in my face. You and troublously the poets thoughts moved me! have been sitting there, quiet and patient, wait- Sometimes I felt my cheek grow chill, and my ing for your lords awakening, eh, you darling eyes dim with tears, as some passage thrilled little mouse? How stupid you must have through me. thought me? After I had read some time, I glanced I was very well amu~ed, I answered round. coldly. A WIFES STORY. 83 How? Reading, I suppose? would have been happier for the losing! No; with my own thoughts. something compelled me to say, as I looked Your own thoughts, you saucy girl! Have up in his face. There was love himself most you anything belonging to yourself, then ? beautiful and perfect, looking out from hi~ Were they not partly mine? those amusing eyes into mine, and I did not any longer thoughts? Eh, Annie? struggle in his embrace. Whatever else I may owe to you, I have God be praised! he murmured as he still a right to consider my thoughts free, gently released me, and sat me down in the have I not, my lord? I asked, only half- middle of the boat, when, at last, it had ceased jestingly. its perilous rocking to and fro. I did not You are angry, Annie! Come, you are cherish my wicked spirit lon~er. He took vexed with me for going to sleep while you the oars and rowed back. We were both were reading! Your voice is so sweet it grave and silent for a little while: but Har- soothed me. If you had been speaking I olds gravity soon vanished, so did all traced should have listened to the words; as it was, of emotion, save that he lifted me out of the I thought only of the dear voice. boat, and put me down far from the edge of Did not the book please you? I asked. the loch, as if he could not trust me near the To tell the truth, I did not understand water again. much of it, I do not care for the poetry; you I ordered dinner at five, he said, as we cannot think how strange it seems to me to walked up the beach; now it is half-past. think of any mans making it the occupation Mrs. Mac-Something will grumble,Iam of a life to rack his brains for out-of-the-way afraid. You wont be long at your toilette, thoughts about men and things, and then to Annie? remember we are to climb the twist and turn them ingeniously up-side down niountain, to see the sun set this evening. and hind-side before, till he has set them into The evening was only just pleasantly ad.. jingling order. vanced and cool, when we sat out on our lit- And that is your notion of poetry? I tie expedition. Harold had managed to hunt asked. up a pony for me, as we had some two or Do you not think it a just one? three miles to go. He was very merry, and Do you not like music? we laughed and chatted gayly as he led my Why do you ask! The two things are steed and strode on beside me. But when we so perfectly different. Yes, I like cheerful came to the narrow glen between high threat- music; I dont pretend to understand the enin~ masses of rock, that shut out the sun- classicality of the art? But, my dear child, light and frowned blackly down on us, the dont let us discuss art, or philosophy, or poet- liTht talk and laughter pained me; it seemed ry now. You look quite pale, I am sure you impious, my heart echoed it so hollowly. I are cold and tired; I am very sorry, it was put my hand on H~rolds lips, and said, Be very stupid of me to fall asleep; please to for- quiet, please! very gently. He kissed my give me, and I wont do so again. hand, and obeyed, seeming to understand; or Pray do, as often as you feel inclined. I else it was the gray shade that made his face will learn not to mind it, I assure you, I an- look grave and pale, and we wound up in swered. silence. I dismounted soon, as the way got Learn not to mind, Annie! what do you rougher; the boy, who had followed us, took mean? I do not want you to learn anything; the pony; and we went on alone. We two, I want you to be happy, and leave everythin~ who should have been not two, but one. else to me. The highest peaks were almost inaccessible, We must learn while we live, people say. but the one we ascended was comparatively It strikes me I shall have much to learn be- easy to climb, and we had been assured that fore I shall be able to do what you wish. the view was awfu grand. When we were Harold sprang up hastily. He nearly up- at the top, the sun was setting; we were just set the boat in doing so: the side on which I in time. I drew my arm from Harolds. I was sitting touched the waters edge,I lost planted my feet firmly on the craggy ground. my balance, and should have made ac- At first everythina swam before my eyes in quaintance with the bottom of the loch, con- a kind of mist of glory; but after a few mm- cerning which I had been speculating, had utes steady gaxing, all became distinct. not his strong arms been thrown round me. My soul strove and strug~jed, it essayed to Good Heaven !AnnieMy wife! dilate wide enough to take in all of the beau- I had been on the farther side from the ty, the glory, the grandeur; it endeavored, shorethe water-was deepno help nearhe passionately, to snake Gods things its own, could not swimall this flashed through his containing them. It did not, owning humbly mind, and I felt how the heart beat against its child-like position and dependence upon which I was pressed. the same Being, whose glory was now partial- God grant you have not saved what you ly revealed to it, then take a meek, a rever A WIFES STORY. ent, an awful joy, in thinking of the Maker of the Universe, as the Father and Friend of every living soul. iNo! there was strife and pain, and impotent self-abasement, and as im- potent, because as blind, aspiration within me. I forgot I was not alone. I cried out in the strange agony, and clenched my hands. Then I felt myself clasped in his arms, I was turned round, I could see no longer, 1 felt as if some divine inspiration had been kept off from me by that human presence. Harolds calm, kind voice, was saying You are too excitable, my darling: I would not have brought you here, if I had known it; you will make yourself ill; be quiet, and lean upon ~ But I struggled till I was free. Struggled so fiercely out of the darkness in which he held me, into the red, glorious, glowing light, that he let me go, and stood looking at me, wonderingly. The calmness of his half-pity- ing look, irritated me yet more. 1 poured out a torrent of wildly passionate words: as soon as they were spoken I would have given more than my life to recall them: but we were both silent. Harold drew my arm through his, and led me down. I was miserable; ungrateful wretch that I was! I shed bitter tears as we proceeded home in the twilight. I thought I had wound- ed my hushand deeply by my mad, impatient, ungracious words. Before I slept, I had thrown myself on my knees, sobbed out my sorrow, my wretchedness, and entreated his pardon. I remember he took me up and kissed me, as he might have done a child; he did not understand, one whit, what it was all about; he had almost forgotten that he had received any cause of offence: I found that to him it seemed a light matter; that in fu- ture I need not give way to any such agoniz- trig apprehensions of having wounded his calm, not easily-perturbed spirit. He was too simply, unperplexedly, good for my comprehension. Yet I throned my- self on an imagined elevation of intellectual superiority, and scorned his child-like single- ness of heart. But this unhappy feeling grew up gradually; there was many a struggle first. I wished to believe my husband a hero, and so to worship him; but the only heroic aspect of his character, was the very one in which my eyes could not see him. I was a heathen, my husband a Christian! Do not be startled and call up visions of Hot- tentots, or dark-skinned creatures of any nation: I was only spiritually dark. I had always lived with professing Christians; I had heard their professions, and felt their practice, and I was in heart truly a heathen. My aunt Aston was the only person of Chris- tian practice with whom I had been acquainted of her I had seen little, and had always in- dined to indulge something like contempt for her weakness of character and timidity of nature. While I lived with the Stones, Sunday after Sunday saw my place in the church-pew re- gularly filled by my person. My person, I say advisedly, for in my life of slavery the time of service on the Sunday, had always been a time of liberty; a time for the indul- gence of day-dreamings, and wild, strange fkncyings. The Stones lived in an old cathe- dral-town, and we always attended the cathe- dral-service; the music there was very fine; the organ was magnificent, and its tones gave a mystical elevation to my musings. Mine was the darkest corner of the pew; there I shrank back, and dreamed with open eyes the long sermon through. The first Sunday we were in the High- lands, my husband had taken pains to reach a place where the church would he within an easy distance, the evening before. It was a wild country place; the houses were scattered far and wide, and apparently there were but few of them; yet the church was full to overflowing, and the people in the plain, unadorned old building, neat and sober in attire, serene and reverent in coun- tenance, impressed me forcibly. Everything was sternly simple about the service and the preacher. Sitting beside my husband, 1, glancing up into his composed and attentive face; liked its expression, it was grand in its calmness. I would not have ruffled it for the world; and as I found that once or twice his eyes sought mine, and that he then looked uneasy, observing my straying and dreamy glances, I tried to listen too; but the art could not be learned in one day, and my thoughts would wander. In the evening Harold asked me, rather doubtfully, if I would go again to church or stay at homehe was going. I would go, II said, and his face bri ahtened. The evening service was very short, and we were soon out again. It was a lovely evening. I felt in my husbands wordsin many a little expression and turn of thought, that this Sabbath wor- shipping was, for him, no empty form; that he came from it holier and happier. That evening there was a kind of sweet, serious, chastened gravity in his tone and in his ten- derness that drew my heart nearer his than I had felt it before, and yet made me feel half afraid of him. Very docile in spirit as well as in act; for once, I tried to learn of my husband. We paced along the low, wild sea-shore, under the stars, in the balmy night air, and I tried to make him speak plainly to me of his faith and hope as a Christian. A girlish shyness on his partor what appeared to me suchprevented my getting at the depth of 84 A WIFES STORY. 85 his religious feeling. He seemed to have a everything went smoothly and prosperously; vague awe and (iread of speaking of these I guarded Harolds heart from e only thing things. If this Religion were a real thing, it that would wound it; in cherishing his happi- seemed to me that it would hear to he looked ness I found my own. But I had no real and at in the faceto he spoken of in plain sufficient occupation; so much time and no- words; but I could get from harold nothing thing to do in it; such a superfluity of unap- hut indefinite generalizations: of his mdi- plied powersuch a lack of necessary pa- vidual experience I could learn nothing, and tience. i soon became conscious that there 1 did not want to hear from his lips any of was always a great aching void at my heart. the trite common-places that I heard so often Where I thou~ht to find sympathy with every before. I found that my husband could not thought and emotion, a constant stimulus to reasoncould not even give a reason fbr his all aspiration and mental exertion, I did not faith. I ought to have looked to his life for always find myself even understood. After the teaching I wanted. awhile my vague uneasiness deepened into After this evening, the subject of religion torturing lon~ing and disquiet. came to be an avoi~led one between us. I In my drawing-room I had found a splendid am sure I had unwittingly pained Harold piano. Harold had said he liked music. I by my tone, and I think he dreaded to find thought I had discovered both an occupation out how shallow were the waters of my belief and a motive for it, when I applied myself He loved me so well, that even this shadowy heart and soul to the cultivation of my muss- imagining and dread weakened his own faith. cal power. The slightest expression of a wish He loosed his anchor from its firmest hold to take lessons placed the services of a first- in the haven of true rest, and so was more at rate master at my disposal. I had the taste the mercy of the wind and waves, liable to he of a real musician, and was already more than wearily driven about and tossed. ordinarily accomplished in the art; now I All my influenceand I gradually grew to studied root and branch, theory and practice, have muchover my husband was injurious throwing all my unapplied energy into my to himunhappy for him. It was of a de- endeavor. My zeal lasted through a whole structive kind for a woman to possessof a autumn and winter: I wanted to surprise Ha- fiendish kind for any woman to wield. He rold by my performance, so never let him grew to fear my uncertain temper, my scorn hear my practice. I employed myself in the or sarcasm, expressed seldom perhaps by composition of a piece. I had attempted this words, but often by look and gesture, which before in the long, lonely evenings o~en spent he read too much aright. I loved power dia- at the school-room piano at the Stones. The bolically, because for its own sake. I felt my themeof this, present effort was very wild and power over him, and made him feel it too. fanciful; mournful in the heginningmore Our sojourn in the Highlands was, on the mournfhl in the enddying out into the ex- whole, a happy one: looked back on from a treme silence of death. Midway between be- later time, it showed very fair and bri~ht. I ginning and end was a lively movement, full would willingly have prolonged it, but I fan- of some great tumultuous joy. cied my husband began to show signs of wea- I submitted my MS. to my masters perusal. riness at the close of a month. So we went He played it through once or twice. I inter- home. rupted him impatiently to show him an ill-ex CHAPTER III pressed meaning. When he had finished he bowed and paid me some compliments, show- My -home was very beautiful. Harolds ing me tears in his eves~ hut I did not listen thoughtful love had collected there, books, or heedI only wanted the use of his know- birds, pictures, music, flowers; everything he ledge, not the expression of his praise; and so could think of that should help to make my I somewhat haughtily gave him to understand. solitary morning hours pass away swiftly and He bowed again, and then favored me with pleasantly. My heart would have been very, some straightforward criticisms that were real- very hard had it not been deeply grateful in ly useful. its first surprise. Our comin~ to such a home It was the London season; my husband could not be anythin0 but happy. I thought, wished to see me do the honors of his beauti- when he planned and arranged all these things, ful house. So we were to give a very large how many beautiful anticipations of future party. It rather pleased me to he the centre happiness must have been clustering and of attraction in a large circle, and yet I de- brightening round my dear husbands heart. spised myself for the pleasure it gave me. In Such reflections quite subdued me, filling this, as in many things, I felt my two natures me with a strange pitying love for him. For at war. awhile 1 kept such a strict watch and ward This particular evening it was more pride over my tongue and temper, ruled my rebel- for my husband than any care for the opinion lious nature with such an iron hand, that formed of me, that determined we to appear 86 to the best possible advantage. I knew many of his old friends and associates would be pre- sent, and I wanted him to feel not only not ashamed, but proud, of his wife. In spite of everything incongruous in our natures, I loved Harold passionately, even when in my maddest moods I rendered him scorn and unwomanly despising in lieu of that wifely duty and loving gratitude he might so justly claim from meeven then I loved him. I never lost sight of this loveit made a tor- ture of many things which indifference would have helped me to bear easily. 1 had a passionate power of loving in my natureon whom else could I lavish it? That night we were happy and gay; we stood in the drawing-room together, waiting our guests, and chatted merrily over the fire. There was nothing to excite any of the feel- ing which Harold did not comprehend in me, so it slumbered a dead sleep, and I was quiet- lv content. I was not in the least nervous about the reception or amusement of our guests, though this was our first attempt of the kind. Our rooms looked beautiful, orna- inented and perfumed with hosts of lovely flowers. Harold was more than satisfied with my appearancewe were sure all would go well. My husband seemed to expect me to be very timid and anxious, and in want of encouragement, and when I looked up fear- lessly in his face, and told him I was not at all uneasy; that I did not care enough about any of these people, to be at all afraid; that only for his sake, that he might not feel ashamed of his poor little wife, should I trou- ble myself at all about them; he looked down on me with a half-pleased, half-puzzled ex- pression that amused me. What a very majestic little queen you would make, he exclaimed, stooping down to kiss me. Mr. Gower! a servant announced just at that moment; but that gentleman had con- trived already to be in the middle of the room, though we had heard no noise. Harold greet- ed his guest in rather a confused manner, and I in the coldest and proudest way. This gentleman had already been intro- duced to me, and I disliked him. Harold al- ways appeared to the least possible advantage in his presence. Mr. Gower had a manner of lording it over him which I deeply resent- ed; he seemed to feel for my husband a curious mixture of liking and contempt. I was vexed he should have heard our nonsense, as I knew he would consider it. We were a very uncomfortable trio for the few minutes that elapsed before any one else arrived; I drew myself up stiffly, only vouchsafing Mr. Gower a word or look when it was absolutely necessary. I knew this man had possessed great influence with my husband in his bache A WIFES STORY. br days; during our courtship I had some- times heard of Mr. Gower, and always in a way that inclined me, half from jealousy, to think unfavorably of him. His careful obser- vation of me, of which I was all the time aware,, rendered my reception of our first guests ungraceful and embarrassed; but I soon succeeded in divesting myself of the trouble- some consciousness of that observance. It was very pleasant to me to see Harold about the thronged rooms, always overtopping every one else, so that his hand- some, loving eyes seemed to find out his little wife in whatever corner she might be. But when our eyes met, and mine brightened un- der his look, withdrawing them I was sure to find Mr. Gower observing us. Whether he stood, as he often did, leaning against some door, or table, or part of the wall, idle and indifferent, or whether he were engaged in apparently animated and earnest conversa- tion, he always seemed so watch me. I exerted myself to talk and to please; of- ten I found myself the centre of a brilliant circle, listened to admiringly, and I thou~ht I only liked this because it so evidently ~rati- fled my husband. It was a new phase of life to me, and yet it seemed strangely old and worn already before that evening was half over. In the gay, superficial, or technical conversation about books and things the things being pictures, operas, and so forth ito deep notes were struck, or if they were, it was by so mere a chance, by so careless a hand, that they seemed to deserve no heed, till Mr. Gower drew near; then the tone of the gossipping prattle always changed. He chose to interpret earnestly some careless sen- tences of mine, giving them a profound, hid- den meanino~ he tried to draw me out, to make me feel he understood me, and was worthy of something more than I gave others. But I grew silent in his presence, I would not be interested by him, and slipped away from the circles he joined. I felt, in some strange, half-angry way, afraid of him. There were many fine professional and ama- teur musicians present, among the former, of course, my master. I was asked to play. I hear that Mrs. Warden is a very accom- plished musician, Mr. Gower said, coming up to Harold; I am told she has composed a piece which shows wonderful talent and even genius. We must hear it, Mrs. War den, he added, turning to me. Now the surprise my playing would give Harold and his pleasure were to be the crown- ing triumph of my evening, which was alto- gether to be a triumphbut my own music I had not intended to play. I was very unwil- ling to do so; to me it seemed a revelation of my inmost soul, and too sacred to be played there and then. But my music-master had A WIFES STORY. 87 noised abroad the fact of the existence of this with such earnest, that I had better take care composition, and I could not avoid perform- society did not engross you. But why so ing it without making much more demonstra- grave and silent? tion of my dislike to do so than I was willing. Do you think I care for society, or for My MS. was placed on the music-stand what your world thinks of me ? I asked, Mr. Gower stood rcady to turn over the pa~es. scornfully, moving my shoulder pettishly away I felt a presentiment that my music would de- from under his band. love, I did not know~ I thoua stroy all my calm and peace for that evening, Well, , ~,ht you but I sat down to play. Respect for the mis- seemed to enjoy yourself, seemed to be in good tress of the house in the musician hushed spirits. I suppose all women like admiration, every one in the room. The first chords and you have been pronounced fascinating, the first wails sounded upon a perfect silence: and I dont know what all. How splen- they stirred my soul powerfully, and then I didly you did play! how secret you must played on, forgetting all and everything hut have been about your practising; you were the mealiing and burtlien of my music. I am determined to shine, I see. But why dont sure my cheek changed color as I ~vent on, it you compose polkas, or valses, or something flushed and chilled so rapidly. When I bad merry of that kind, instead of such dismal, let the last chords die out into the silence incomprehensible music? Do you know, I there arose a great buzz and murmur, and dont suppose half the people knew what to people pressed round me with extravagant make of it, only expressions of admiration and delight. I sat Do not say any more about that miserable Btill a moment, my hand still lying on the piece! I cannot bear it to-niodit! I ex- keys, my eyes fixed on themI was hewild- claimed. I thought you would understand ered, and wanted my husband. When I rose it. 0 Harold! it is very hard! when I try I met that strange pair of eyes fixed on me. hardest to please you, I fail. Do you think I Mr. Gower had turned over my pages with- practised, caring to please any one but you? out speaking a word; now he said, It is too We shall never understand each other, never beautiful to be played or praised here. He he happy. I am quite weary of trying, weary spoke softly, and offered me his arm. But my of everything. You cannot love me as 1 love eyes bad found Harold, and brought him to you, or you would learn to comprehend me. me, his arm was ready, and I took that, look- Everything turns to pain, to torture. What ing up inquiringly, half-fearfully into his face. have I done, that I may never be happy? I He shook his head and said have no one but youno one; and there is You should not write such sorrowful music, no sympathy between us. We shall leave off Annie; it cannot please those who love you. loving each other: I shall turn your love to It is not at all my sort; I suppose I dont hate. I wish I were deaddead and quiet.TM understand it. But dont look heartbroken; I began to sob violently. I felt what the ex- every one is praising and admiring it, and pression of my husbands face was; though I appearing quite delighted. did not look up at him. I soon left him, and wandered about among What is the matter, Annie? he ex- my guests. I might have known he would claimed. For Gods sake be quietfor my not like, or understand it, I muttered bitterly sake. Miserable! What have you said? to myself fool that I am! The congratu- You are worn out and over-excited, poor lations and compliments I received from all child! Pray, pray be quiet. Remember, quarters only nourished the fever of pain and YesI remember everything ! I an- disappointment in my heart. When every swered. That only makes it worse. I one was gone, I sat down before the dying ought to be happy! Yes, of course I ought. lire, and si,,hed wearily. You have loaded me with gifts, you have A very brilliant evening, Annie ! Harold petted and spoiled me; and now, like a said, coming up joyously, and putting his hand naughty child, I quarrel with my playthings! on my shoulder. You have had a decided I am ungrateful, discontented, wicked! I have success, my little wife. You will be quite the received thousands of benefits; I am sumptu- rage, if you choose to mix much in society. ously lodged and clothed in fine linen, and ye~ I said you would make an admirable queen. I hold up my greedy bands, and cry out for His words sounded mockingly in my ears; something more. Poor child! No; you I sat still and silent, and he went on, standing should say naughty child !you should scold beside me, and speaking gayly. and punish me! I should not like you to he transformed Annie ! I-harold broke in upon my scorn- into a woman of fashion: my little quiet mouse ful, passionate words; Annie! you must be to he talked about and written about, as hay- quiet, and listen to me. ing been here and there, and said and worn so I shut my lips firmly, clasped my hands and so. The idea is ridiculous! Gower was tightly round my knees, and sat staring fix- saying, that whatever you did, you would do edly into the fire. In its dim red hollowness, 88 A WIFES STORY. I thought I could discern misery, vista after 0 Harold! I see it now. You are too vista, opening before me. How could I live good,I am not worthyforgive me! What with this torturing, craving, perpetual restless- a wife I am to you! I owe you everything, xiess at my heart? It had been gone a little and I poison your peacemake you miser- while; now it came hack worse than ever; able. No! I will not get up, I will stay here. it would abide there always, I tbOUrht Must You must tell me,how shall I make you my soul live all those future long, long years, happy? How can I grow good and quiet? alone; wandering on without aim or purpose, How can I alter myself? You must tell me finding no rest for her world-worn feet? No! you must teach me! I would die first; or, at least, I should go But he would not listen. He took me up mad. in his arms, soothing and caressing me, as if And I sat harboring like bitter thoughts; indeed I had been a child, a penitent, passion- gazing before me with hot, dry eyes, though weary child, be carried me up-stairs. I was my passionate tears still wetted my cheeks. ohli~ed to he passive now, because I felt liar old had not spoken. At last I glanced utterly weary; so my head lay quietly on his at him; be too sat looking into the fire; he shoulder, and my tears rained down quietly, had seated himself near me. A world of without effort to control or restrain them. perplexed thought troubled and clouded his But this sweet tenderness was not what I had face. lIe felt my eyes on him, and turned wanted ,l wanted him really to teach meI his head slowly round to me. He spoke very wanted to have learnt from him the secret of gently and tenderly. quiet happiness. Ab! if I could only have I see how it is, Annie. Yes, I do not governed myselfhave spoken calmly and always understand you; sometimes I disap- gently, and without tears, passion, or re- point and pain you. You have often borne proaches, have let him known how it was with with my dulness patiently, but to-night your me! That night I lay awake with the miser- disappointment was more than you could bear. able consciousness that I had done no good, Yes it was very hard, after you had been but great harm,that now, indeed, poor Ha- thinking you should please him, to have your rolds heart must be wounded,that I had husband the only one who did not admire told my husband that his love could not make your music. You are very clever, and have me happy,that I was miserable! many thoughts and feelings into which I do Tormented for the few hours before day- not enter. I did not know you, Annie, when light by such thoughts as these, I grew more I asked you to marry me; it I had and more restless and feverish. Next day, You would not have done so! I ex- and for many days after, I was very ill, and claimed, oh, misery! Then you have left during all the time my husbands tender, self- off loving me. I have wearied you with my forgetting care of me was a constant reproach temper and my violence! You thought you and cause of remorse. had won a good and quiet wifeone who The first day I was down-stairs again, and would have kept your house in orderbe al- tolerably calm and strong, I made a great ways ruled by you-make your world her effort to speak to Harold about that miserable world one who would be always grateful evening. He would hear no explanations. and cheerful, and content; and instead I was to forget all about it. I had not made Indeed, I do not wonder you cannot love the myself ill then, he was sure; I was feverish be- creature. fore. It was all his fault,he ought to have You shall not speak so !hush! I love known better than to subject me to so much youyou know I love you. Cannot I make fatigue and excitement. We had both talked you happy, my poor wife? I have been nonsense. Not happy? We were both as wrong and selfish; in my hurry to get the happy as the day was long. Could 1 look in treasure I wanted, I did not pause to think if his face and tell him that I was not happy? I were worthy to keep it. You were not he asked. He had come to the side of my happy,I thought, presumptuously, that I sofabad sat down by me and drawn my could make you so,that my great, entire love head from its resting-place, to pillow it on his would satisfy you. If I was mistaken and heart. Lying there, looking up into those wrong, Heaven forgive me. Heaven pity us most loving eyes of his, I said I was happy bothyou mostmy yoor, poor wife! then. He spoke so sadly that my heart melted It was high spring-time, now. As soon as utterly. I threw myself on the ground, clasp- I was strong enough, Harold took me to the ing his knees, and sobbed out: sea-side there we had a pleasant time. 89 ABDUCTIONS IN IRELAND. From Notes and Queries. nounced that verdict which saved their char- ABDUCTIONS IN IRELAND. acters, and the offenders were executed. The recent attempt of Mr. John Carden, a Again magistrate, a Deputy-Lieutenant, and lately High Sheriff of tbe county of Tipperary, to carry In the case of the Misses Kennedy, the yonng off by fprce Miss Eleanor Arbutbnot, a young ladies had been obliged to submit to a marriage Scotch lady, sister of the Honorable Mrs. (lough, and cohabitation for a length of time, yet the of~ has excited great indignation throughout the fenders were most justly convicted, and suffered empire. The crime of abduction was formerly death. Gurran and his Gontemporaries, by very common in Ireland amongst the rural classes; Charles Phillips, edit. 1851, pp. 390, 391, 392. gentlemen were not altogether free from a dispo- sition to follow their example; and a few details Sir Henry Hayes was found guilty, and re- will be illustrative of the former state of society ceived sentence of death, which was commuted in that country. The trial and conviction of Sir to transportation for life; he was, however, Henry Brown Hayes, Kut., before Mr. Justice subsequently pardoned, and permitted to return Day, at the Cork Spring Assizes of 1801, for the home. abduction of Miss Mary Pike, a Quaker heiress, Catherine and Ann Kennedy lived with their was a very remarkable one; the prosecution mother, a wi~lo~v in the county of Waterford; and having been specially conducted by the celebrated having, on September 14, 1779, gone to witness John Philpot Curran. The anecdote is well a dramatic performance at Graiguenamanagh, in knownthat when the mob cheered Curran, who the county of Kilkenny, two young men, James was very popular, on his way to court, ~vith a Strange of Ullard, in that county, and Garrett genuine Irish greeting: Counsellor, we hope Byrne of Ballyanne, in the county of Carlow, re- youll gain the day / his reply was: If I do, solved to carry them off by force. They accord- take care you dont lose the lenig/it ! ingly surrounded the house with a hundred armed Two very young girls, sisters. of the name of men, with shirts covering their dress as a disguise, Kennedy, who were supposed to be entitled to a habit which procured for the Irish peasantry of fortunes of 2000. each, considerable sums in that day the name of Whiteboys. They broke those days in Ireland, had been some years pro- into the room in which the girls sought shelter, viously carried off under circumstances which and seized them; having two horses saddled in created a great sensation at the time, and the readiness, Catherine was placed before Byrne on case was alluded to by Mr. Curran in his address one, and Anne before Stranbe on the other, and to the jury. An applic~ tion had been made on surrounded by a desperate clan, sufficient to over- the part of Sir Henry Hayes to the Court of awe the county, they were carried off from their Queens Bench, that his trial should take place friends. A person, who represented himself to be in Dublin instead of in the city of Cork, where a priest, was introduced in the night; a mock the offence had been committed; on the ground, ceremony performed, and the terrified victims that great prejudice existed against him in that were obliged to submit. They were subsequently attended by a lawless cavalcade through several quarter : counties, put on board a vessel at Rush, north of That applicatipn, he observed, was refused; Dublin; and after six weeks, were rescued by an and justly did you, my Lord, and the learned armed party at Wicklow. Byrne and Strange judges, your brethern, ground yourselves upon escaped to Wales; hut were pursued, appre- the reason you gave: We will not, said you, hended at Milford, and, on July 6, lodged in give a judicial sanction to a reproach of such Carnarvon jail. They were subsequently tried at scandalous atrocity upon any county in the the Kilkenny Spring Assizes on March 24, 1780, land, much less upon the second city in it. before Chief Justice Annally; when letters were 1 do remember, said one of you, a case which produced written by the girls, speaking of the happened not twenty years since. A similar men, with whom they had so long cohabited, in crime was committed on two young women of an affectionate manner, calling them their dear the name of Kennedy; it was actually necessary husbands; but these were proved to have been to guard them through two counties with a mil- dictated to them, and written under strong im- itary force as they went to prosecute. That pressions of terro?. The prisoners were both mean and odious bias, that the dregs of every convicted, and although much powerful interces- community will feel by natural sympathy with sion was made to spare their lives, in which the everything base, was in favor of the prisoners. Austrian ambassador participated; yet, in accord- Every means was used to try and baffle justice ance with the sanguinary administration of our by practising upon the modesty and constancy criminal code in those days, they were both exe- of the proscuutrixes and their friends; but the cuted. (Ireland Sixty Years Ago: MGlashan, infuriated populace, that had assembled to cele- Dublin, edit. 1851. pp. 3639.) brate the triumph of an acquittal, were the un- The Times has justly arraigned the feeling ex- willing spectators of the vindication of the law, pressed at Clonmel in favor of Mr. Carden; whG The Court recollected that particular respect is is now undergoing, for his failure, two years im- due to the female who nobly comes forward to prisonment with hard labor, to which he was so vindicate the law. and give protection to her sex. justly and impressively sentenced by Judge Ball. The jury remembered what they owed to their We are however told, so deep was the sympathy oaths, to their families, to their country. They felt for those whose example he sought to follow; felt as became the fathers of families, and foresaw that all the shops were closed and business sus- what the hideous consequences would be of im- pended on the occasion in Kilkenny, and other punity in a case of manifest guilt; they pro- neighboring towns. 90 AN ACCURSED RACE. From Household Words. AN ACCURSED RACE. WE have our prejudices in England. Or if that assertion offends any of my readers, I will modify it. We have had our prejudices in England. We have tortured Jews; we have burnt Catholics and Protestants, to say nothing of a few witches and wizards. We have satirized Puritans, and we have dressed up Guys. But, after all, I do not think we have been so bad as our Continental friends. To be sure our insular position has kept us free, to a certain degree, from the inroads of. alien races; who, driven from one land of refuge, steal into another equally un- willing to receive them; and where, for long centuries, their presence is barely endured, and no pains is taken to conceal the repugnance which the natives of pure blood experience towards them. There yet remains a remnant of the miser- able people called Cagots in the valleys of the Pyrenees; in the Landes near Bordeaux; and, stretching up on the west side of France, their numbers become larger in Lower Brit- tany. Even now, the origin of these families is a word of shame to them among their neigh- bors; although they are protected by the law, which confirmed them in the equal rights of citizens about the end of the last century. Be- fore then they had lived, for hundreds of years, isolated from all those who boasted of pure blood, and they had been all this time, oppressed by cruel local edicts. They were truly, what they were popularly called, The Accursed Race. All distinct traces of their origin are lost. Even at the close of that period which we call The Middle Ages, this was a problem which no one could solve; and as the traces, which even then were faint and uncertain, have van- ished away one by one, it is a complete mys- tery at the present day. Why they were ac- cursed in the first instance, why isolated from their kind, no one knows. From the earliest accounts of their state that are yet remaining to us, it seems that the names which they gave each other were ignored by the population they lived amongst, who spoke of them as Cres- tiaa, or Cagots, just as we speak of animals by their generic names. Their houses or huts were always placed at some distance out of the villages of the country-folk, who unwillingly called in the services of the Cagots as carpen- ters, or tilers, or slaterstrades which seemed appropriated by this unfortunate racewho were forbidden to occupy land, or to bear arms; the usual occupations of those times. They had some small ri~ht of pasturage on the common lands, an(l in the forests: but the number of their cattle and live-stock was strictly limited by the earliest laws relating to the Cagots. They were forbidden by one act to have more than twenty sheep, a pig, a ram, and six reese. The pig was to be fattened and brilled for winter food; the fleece of the sheep was to clothe them; but, if the said sheep had lambs, they were forbidden to eat them. Their only privilege arising from this increase was, that they might choose out the strongest and finest in preference to keeping the old sheep. At Martinmas the authorities of the commune came round, and counted over the stock of each Cagot. If he had more than his appointed number they were forfeited; half went to the commune, and half to the baillie, or chief mag- istrate of the commune. The poor beasts were limited as to the amount of common land which they might stray over in search of grass. While the cattle of the inhabitants of the com- mune might wander hither and thither in search of the sweetest herbage, the deepest shade, or the coolest pool in which to stand on the hot days, and lazily switch their dappled sides, the Cagot sheep and pig had to learn imaginary bounds, beyond which if they strayed any one might snap them up, and kill them, reserving a part of the flesh for his own use, but graciously restoring the inferior parts to their original owner. Any damage done by the sheep was however fkirly appraised, and the Cagot paid no more for it than any other man would have done. Did a Cagot leave his poor cabin and ven- ture into the towns, even to render services required of him in the way of his trade, he was bidden by all the municipal laws to stand by and remember his rude old state. In all the towns and villages in the large districts ex- tending on both sides of the Pyreneesin all that part of Spainthey were forbidden to buy or sell anything eatable, to walk in the middle (esteemed the better) part of the streets, to come within the gates before sun- rise, or to be found after sunset within the walls of the town. But still, as the Cagots were good-looking men and (although they bore certain natural marks of their caste, of which I shall speak by-and-by) were not easily dis- tinguished by casual passers-by from other nien, they were compelled to wear some distinctive peculiarity which should arrest the eye; and, in the great number of towns, it was decreed that the outward sign of a Cagot should be a piece of red cloth sewed conspicuously on the front of his dress. In other towns, the mark of Cagoterie was the foot of a duck or a goose hung over their left. shoulder, so as to be seen by any one meeting them. After a time, the more convenient badge of a piece of yellow cloth cut out in the shape of a ducks foot, was adopted. If any Cagot was found in any town or village without his badge, he had to pay a fine of five sous and to lose his dress. He was expected to shrink away from any passer-by, AN ACCURSED RACE. for fear that their clothes should touch each other; or else to stand still in some corner or by-place. If they were thirsty during the day which they passed in these towns where their presence was barely suffered, they had no means of quenching their thirst, for they were forbidden to enter into the little cabarets or taverns. Even the water gushing out of the common fountain was prohibited to them. Far away, in their own squalid village, there was the Cagot fountain, and, to drink of any other water, was forbidden to the Cagoterie. A Cagot woman having to make purchases in the town, was liable to he flogged out of it if she went to buy anything except on a Monday a day on whtch all other people who could, kept their houses for fear of coming in contact with the accursed race. In the Pays Basque, the prejudicesand for some time the lawsran stronger against the Ca~ots than any which I have hitherto men- tioned. The Basque Cagot was not allowed to possess sheep. He might keep a pig for provision, but his pig had no right of pastur- age. He might cut and carry grass for the ass, which was the only other animal he was permitted to own; and this ass was permitted, because its existence was rather an advantage to the oppressor, who constantly availed them- selves of the Cagots mechanical skill, and was glad to have him and his tools easily conveye(l from one place to another. They were repulsed by the State. Under the small local governments they could hold no post whatsoever. And they were barely tolerated by the Church, although they were good Catholics and zealous frequenters of the mass. They mi~ht only enter the churches by a small door set apart for them, through which no one of the pure race ever passed. This door was low, so as to compel them to make an obeisance. It was occasionally sur- rounded by sculpture, which invariably repre- sented an oak-branch with a dove above it. When they were once in, they might not go to the holy water used by others. They had a bdnitier of their own; nor were they allowed to share in the consecrated bread when that was handed round to the believers of the pure race. The Cagots stood afar off; near the door. There were certain boundariesimagi- nary lineson the nave and in the aisles which they might not pass. ln one or two of the more tolerant of the Pyrenean villages, the blessed bread was offered to the Cagots, the priest standing on one side of the bound- ary, and giving the pieces of bread on a long wooden fork to each person successively. When the Cagot died, he was interred apart, in a plot of burying-ground on the north side of the cemetery. Under such laws and prescriptions as I have described, it is no wonder if he was generally too poor to have much property for his children to inherit; but, certain descriptions of it were forfeited to the commune. The only possession of his which all who were not of his own race refused to touch, was his furniture. That was tainted, infectious, unclean, fit for none but Cagots. When such were, for at least three cen- turies, the prevalent usages and opinions with regard to this oppressed race, it is no wonder that we read of occasional outbursts of fero- cious violence on their part. In the Basses- Pyren~es, for instance, it is only about a hun- dred years since that the Cagots of Rehouilhes rose up against the inhabitants of the neigh- boring town of Lourdes, and got the better of them, by their magical powers, as it is saith. The people of Lourdes were conquered and slain, and their ghastly bloody heads served the triumphant Cagots for balls to play at nine-pins with. The local parliaments had begun by this time to perceive how op- pressive was the ban of public opinion under which the Cagots lay, and were not inclined to enforce too severe a punishment. Accord- ingly, the decree of the parliament of Toulouse condemned only the leading Cagots concerned in this affray to be put to death, and that henceforward and for ever no Cagot was to be permitted to enter the town of Lourdes by any gate but that called Capdet-pourtet: they were only to be allowed to walk under the rain-rutters, and neither to sit, eat, or drink in the town. If they failed in observing any of these rules, the parliament decreed, in the spirit of Shyhock, that the disobedient Cagots should have two strips of flesh, weighing never more than two ounces each, cut out from each side of their spines. In the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, it was considered no more a crime to brill a Cagot than to destroy obnoxious vermin. A nest of Cagots, as the old accounts phrase it had assembled in a deserted castle of Mauvezin, about the year sixteen hundred; and certainly they made themselves not very agreeable neighbors, as they seemed to enjoy their reputation of magicians; and, by some acoustic secrets which were known to them, all sorts of moaning and groanings were heard in the neighboring forests, very much to the alarm of the good people of the pure race; who could not cut off a withered branch for firewood, but some unearthly sound seemed to fill the air, or drink water which was not poisoned, because the Cagots would persist in filling their pitchers at the same running stream. Added to these grie- vances, the various pilferings perpetually go- ing on in the neighborhood, ma(le the inhabit- ants of the neighboring towns and hamlets believe that they had a very sufficient cause for wishing to murder all the Carots in the Chateau de Mauvezin. But it was surrounded 91 AN ACCURSED RACE. by a moat, and only accessible by a draw- bridge; besides which, the Cagots were fierce and vigilant. Some one, however, proposed to get into their ~onfidence; and for this pur- pose he pretended to fall ill close to their path, so that on returning to their stronghold, they perceived him, and took him in, restored him to health, and made a friend of him. One day, when they were all playing at nine- pins in the woods, their treacherous friend left the party on pretence of being thirsty, and went~ back into the castle, drawing up the bridge after he had passed over it, and so cut- ting off their means of escape into safety. Then, going up to the highest part of the castle, he blew upon a horn, and the pure race, who were lying in wait on the watch for some such signal, fell upon the Cagots at their games, and slew them all. For this murder I find no punishment decreed in the parliament of Toulouse, or elsewhere. As any intermarriages with the pure race was strictly forbidden, and as there were books kept in every commune in which the names and habitaYions of the reputed Cagots were written, these unfortunate people had no hope of ever becoming blended with the rest of the population. Did a Cagot marria~e take l)lace, the couple were serenaded with satirical songs. They also had minstrels, and many of their romances are still current in Brittany; but they did not attempt to make any reprisals of satire or abuse. Their dispo- sition was amiable and ~their intelligence great. Indeed it required both these qualities, and their great love of mechanical labor, to make their lives tolerable. At last they began to petition that they might receive some protection from the laws; and, towards the end of the seventeenth cen- tury, the judicial power took their side. But they gained little by this. Law could not prevail against custom: and, in the ten or twenty years just preceding the first French revolution, the prejudice in France against the Cagots amounted to fierce and positive abhorrence. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Cagots of Navarre complained to the Pope, that they were excluded from the fel- lowship of men, and accursed by the Church, because their ancestors had given help to a certain Count Raymond of Toulouse in his revolt against the Holy See. They entreated his holiness not to visit upon them the sins of their fathers. The pope issued a bullon the thirteenth of May, fifteen hundred and fifteenordering them to be well-treated and to be admitted to the same privileges as other men. He charged Don Juan de Santa Maria of Pampeluna to see to the execution of this bull. But Don Juan was slow to help, and the poor~ Spanish Cagots grew impatient, and resolved to try the secular power. They accordingly applied to the cortes of Navarre, and were opposed on a variety of grounds. First, it was stated that their ancestors had had nothing to do with Raymond Count off Toulouse, or with any such knightly person- age; that they were in fact descendants of Gehazi, servant of Elisha (second book of Kings, fifth chapter, twenty-seventh verse), who had been accursed by his master for his fraud upon Naaman, and doomed, he and his descendants, to be lepers for evermore. Name, Cagots or Gahets; Gahets, Gehazites. What can be more clear? And if that is not enon and you tell us that the Cagots are not lepers now; we reply that there are two kinds of leprosy, one perceptible and the other im- perceptible, even to the person suffering from it. Besides, it is the country talk, that where the Cagot treads the grass withers, proving the unnatural heat of his body. Many credible and trustworthy witnesses will also tell you that, if a Cagot holds a freshly-gathered apple in his hand, it will shrivel and wither up in an hours time as much as if it had been kept for a whole winter in a dry room. They are born with tails; although the parents are cun- ning enough to pinch them off immediately. Do you doubt this? If it is not true, why do the children of the pure race delight in sewing on sheeps tails to the dress of any Cagot who is so absorbed in his work as not to perceive them? and their bodily smell is so horrible and detestable that it shows that they must be heretics of some vile and pernicions descrip- tion, for do we not read of the incense of good workers, and the fragrance of holiness ? Such were literally the arguments by which the Cagots were thrown back into a worse position than ever, as far as regarded their rights as citizens. The pope insisted that they should receive all their ecclesiastical privileges. The Spanish priests said nothing, but tacitly refused to allow the Cagots to mingle with the rest of the faithful, either dead ot~ alive. The accursed race obtained laws in their favor from the Emperor Charles the Fifth; but there was no one to carry these laws into effect. As a sort of revenge for their want of submission and for their im- pertinence in daring to complain, their tools were all taken away from them by the local authorities: an old man and all his family died of starvation, being no longer allowed to fish. They could not emigrate. Even to remove their poor mud habitations from one spot to another, excited anger and suspicion. To be sure, in sixteen hundred and ninety-five, the Spanish government ordered the alcaldes to search out all the Cagots, and to expel theni before two months had expired, under pain of having fifty ducats to pay for every Cagot re 92 AN ACCURSED RACE. maining in Spain at the expiration of that time. The inhabitants of the villages rose up and flogged out any miserable Ca~ots who might be in their neighborhood; but the French were on their guard against this en- forced irruption, and refused to permit them to enter France. Numbers were hunted up into the inhospitable Pyrenees, and there died of starvation, or became a prey to wild beasts. They were obliged to wear both gloves and shoes when they were thus put to flight, otherwise the stones and herbage they trO(l upon, and the balustrades of the bridges that they crossed, would, according to popular belief, have become poisonous. And all this time there was nothing remark- able or disgusting in the outward appearance of this unfortunate people. There was noth- ing about them to countenance the idea of their being lepersthe most natural mode of accounting for the abhorrence in which they were held. They were repeatedly examined by learned doctors, whose experiments, al- though singular and rude, appear to have been made in a spirit of humanity. For instance, the surgeons of the King of Navarre, in sixteen hundred, bled twenty-two Cagots, in order to examine and analyze their blood. They were young and healthy people of both sexes, and the doctors seem to have expected that they should have been able to extract some new kind of salt from their blood which should account for the wonderful heat of their bodies. But their blood was just like that of other people. Some of these medical men have left us an account of the general appear- ance of this unfortunate race, at a time when they were more numerous and less intermixed than they are now. The families existing in the south and west of France, who are reputed to be of Cagot descent at this day, are, like their ancestors, tall, largely made, and power- ful in frame fair and ruddy in complexion, with gray-blue eyes, in which some observers see a pensive heaviness of look. Their lips are thick, but well-formed. Some of the re- ports name their sad expression of countenance with surprise and suspicion They are not gay, like other folk. The wonder would be if they were. iDr. Guyon, the medical man Qf the last century who has left the clearest report on the health of the Cagots, speaks of the vigorous old age they attain to. In one family alone, he found a man of seventy-four years of age; a woman as old, gathering cher- ries; and another woman, aged eighty-three, was lying on the grass, having her hair combed by her great-grandchildren. Dr. Guyon and other surgeons examined into the subject of the horribly infectious smell which the Cagots were said to leave behind them, and upon everything they touched but they could per- ceive nothing unusual on this head. They 93 also examined their ears, which, according to common belief (a belief existing to this day), were differently shaped to those of other peo- ple; being round and gristly, without the lob& of flesh into which the ear-ring is inserted. They decided that most of the Cagots whom they examined had the ears of this round shape but they gravely added, that they saw no reason why this should exclude them from the good-will of men, and from the power ot holding office in church and state. They re- corded the fact, that the children of the towns ran baaing after any Cagot who had been compell~d to come into the streets to make purchases, in allusion to this peculiarity of the shape of the ear, which bore some resemblance to the ears of the sheep as they are cut by the shepherds in this district. Dr. Guyon names the case of a beautiful Cagot girl, who sang most sweetly, and prayed to be allowed to sing canticles in the organ-loft. The or- ganist, more musician than bigot, allowed her to come; but the indignant congregation, finding out whence proceeded that clear, fresh voice, rushed up to the organ-loft, and chased the girl out, bidding her remember her ears,~~ an(l not commit the sacrilege of sincrinrr praises to God along with the pure race. But this medical report of Dr. Guyons bringing facts and arguments to confirm his opinion, that there was no physical reason why the Cagots should not be received on terms of social equality by the rest of the worlddid no more for his clients than the legal degrees promulgated two centuries be- fore had done. The French held with Hudi- bras, that He thats convinced against his will Is of the same opinion still. And, indeed, the being convinced by Dr. Guyon that they ought to receive Cagots as follow-creatures, only made them more rabid in declaring that they would not. One or two little occurrences which are recorded prove that the bitterness of the repugnance to the Cagots was in full force in the time just preceding the first French revolution. There was a M. dAbedos, the curate of Lourbes, and brother to the seigneur of the neighboring castle, who was living in seven- teen hundred and eighty; he was well-edu- cated for the time, a travelled man, and sen- sible and moderate in all respects but that of his abhorrence of the Cagots; he would insult them from the very altar, calling out to them, as they stood afar off, Oh! ye Cagots, damn- ed for evermore I One day, a half-blind Cagot stumbled and touched the censer borne before this Abb6 de Lourbes. He was im- mediately turned out of the church, and for- bidden ever to re-enter it. One does not know how to account for the fact, that the AN ACCURSED RACE. very brother of this bigoted abb6, the seigneur of the village, went and married a Cagot girl; but so it was, and the abb6 brought a legal process against him, and had his estates taken from him, solely on account of his marriage, which reduced him to the condition of a Cagot, against whom the old laws were still in force. The decendants of this Seigneur de Lourbes are simple peasants at this very day, working on the land which belonged to their grandfa- thers. This prejudice against mixed marriages re- mained prevalent until very lately. The tradi- tion of the Cagot decent lingered amongst the people, long after the laws against the accurscd race were abolished. A Breton girl, within the last few years, having two lovers each of re- puted Cagot descent, employed a notary to ex- amine their pedigrees, and see which of the two had least Cagot in him; and to that one she gave her band. In Brittany the prejudice seems to have been more virulent than anywhere else. M. Eniile Souvestre records proofs of the hatred borne to them in Brittany so late as eighteen hundred and thirty-five. Just lately a baker at Ilennebon, having married a girl of Cagot descent, lost all his custom. The godfather and godmother~ of a Ca~ot child became Cagots themselves by the Breton laws, unless, indeed, the poor little baby died be- fore attaining a certain number of days. They had to eat the butchers meat condemn- ed as unhealthy; but, for some unknown reason, they were considered to have a right to every cut loaf turned upside down, with its cut side towards the door, and might enter any house in which they saw a loaf in this posi- tion, and carry it away with them. About thirty years ago, there was the skeleton of a hand hanging up as an offering in a Breton Church near Quimperle, and the tradition was, that it was the hand of a rich Cagot who had dared to take holy water out of the usual b6nitier, some time at the beginning of the reign of Louis the Sixteenth, which an old soldier witnessing, he laid in wait and the next time the offender approached the b6ni- tier, he cut off his hand, and hung it up drip- ping with blood, as an offering to the patron saint of the church. The poor Cagots in Brit- tany petitioned against their opprobrious name, and begged to be distinguished by the appel- lation of Malandrins. To English ears one name is much the same as the other, as neither conveys any meaning; but, to this day, the descendants of the Cagots do not like to have this word applied to them, preferring the term Malandrin. The French Cagots tried to destroy all the records of their pariah descent, in the commo- tions of seventeen hundred and eighty-nine; but if writings have disappeared, the tradition yet rewains, and points out such and such a family as Cagot, or Malandrin, or Oiselier, according to the old teruis of a abhorrence. There are various ways in which learned men have attempted to a~count for the uni- versal repugnance in which this well-made, powerful race are held. Some say that the antipathy to them took its rise in the days when leprosy was a dreadfully prevalent dis- ease; and that the Cagots are more liable than other men to a kind of skin disease, not precisely leprosy, but resembling it in some of its symptoms; such as dead whiteness of complexion, and swellings of the face and ex- treniities. There was also some resemblance to the ancient Jewish custom in respect to lepers, in the habit of the people; who, on meeting a Cagot, called out, Cagote? Ca- gote? to which they were bound to reply, Perlute! perlute! Leprosy is not properly an infectious complaint, in spite of the horror in which the Cagot furniture, and the cloth woven by them, is held in some places; the disorder is hereditary, and hence (say this body of wise men, who have troubled them- selves to account for the origin of Cagoterie) the reasonableness and the justice of pre- venting any mixed marriages, by which this terrible tendency to leprous complaints might be spread far and wide. Another authority says, that though the Cagots are fine-looking men, hard-working, and good mechanics, yet that they bear in their faces, and show in their actions reasons for the detestation in which they are held ; their glance, if you meet it, is the jet tura, or evil eye, and they are spiteful, and cruel, and deceitful above all other men. All these qualities they derive from their ancestor Gehazi, the servant of Elisha, together with their tendency to lep- rosy. Again, it is said that they are descended from the Arian Goths, who were permitted to live in certain places in Guienne and Lan- guedoc, after their defeat by King Clovis, on condition that they abjured their heresy, and kept themselves separate from all other men for ever. The principal reason alleged in support of this supposition of their Gothic descent, is the specious one of derivation, Chiens Gots, Cans Gots, Cagots, equivalent to Dogs of Goths. Again, they were thought to be Saracens, coming from Syria. In confirmation of this idea, was the belief that all Cagots were pos- sessed by a horrible smell. The Lombards, also, were an unfragrant race, or so reputed among the Italians: witness Pope Stephens letter to Charlemagne, dissuading him from marrying Bertha, daughter of Didier, King of Lombar