The Living age ... / Volume 8, Issue 93
345-392
LITTELLS LIVING AGE.No. 93.21 FEBRUARY, 1846.
From the Athen~um.
Oliver Newman: a New England Tale (unfin-
ished;) with other Poetical Remains. By the
late ROBERT S0WrHIIY. Lougmans.
THERE are many to whom the name of Southey
is dearmany who, having never seen him, yet
have conceived an affection for him, from the
benevolent purpose generally manifest in his
works, even when his argument was unconvincing,
and his cause erroneous. Undoubtedly he was a
partisan and one-sided writer, and in that charac-
ter indulged in personalities even against his poeti-
cal brethren, not to he defended; but there was an
elevation of mind that, in some degree, compensated
for the contraction of its sympathiesa warmth
of feeling that bespoke a kind disposition; and a
glow of patriotism warm from the heart, and which
went to it, despite all difference of opinion. Add
to this the gift of eloquence, and we have his char-
acter. As a poet, it was not by the employment
of a peculiar diction, hy imagery, by unexpected
associations or exquisite sentiments, that Mr.
Southey sought to attract, to surprise, or to de-
light; but simply by an harmonious arrangement
of high thought and feelings, a plenary expression,
and an enthusiastic delivery. His narrative poems
might have been written in prose, without any
diminution of interestthe style might have been
retained to a word: we should have missed nothing
but an occasional involution or transposition, and
the flow and variety of a lyrical metre, which in
Thalaba, and some parts of The Curse of
Kehama, is, it must be confessed, a special
charm. But his tales were still of the marvellous
orderostentatiously wild and wondrous in inci-
dent; and hence frequently wanting in human
interest. This was a defect which Mr. Southey
himself frequently acknowledged, and was desirous
of removing. He made the attempt in his Tale of
Paraguay, but with imperfect success. A more
stirring action was requisite. This, he thought he
had discovered in the subject of Goffe the regicide,
who, after the restoration, found refuge in New
England, and took part in Philips war. His
hero, however, was to have been one Oliver Goffe,
the Quaker-son of the exile; but he ultimately
changed the name to Oliver Newman, and divested
the character of its drab clothing, though not of its
patience and enduring sufferance, until the 19th
Canto, when pious passivity was decreed in
the poets design to give way to a just wrath.
Such, then, is the argument of Oliver New-
man. In manner, it is somewhat like Thala-
ba, with a more frequent recurrence of rhyme,
and dramatic blank verse. The poem opens with
a funeral at sea
The summer sun is riding high
Amid a bright and cloudless sky;
Beneath whose deep oer-arching blue
The circle of the Atlantic sea,
Reflecting back a deeper hue,
Is heaving peacefully.
The winds are still, the ship with idle motion
Rocks gently on the gentle ocean;
Loose hang her sails, awaiting when the breeze
XCIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. yin. 22
Again shall wake to waft her on her way.
Glancing beside, the dolphins, as they play,
Their gorgeous tints suffused with gold display;
And gay bonitos in their beauty glide;
With arrowy speed in close pursuit,
They through the azure waters shoot;
A feebler shoal before them in affright
Spring from the wave, and in short flight,
On wet and plumeless ~ving essay
The a~rial element:
The greedy followers, on the chase intent,
Dart forward still with keen and upturnd sight,
And to their proper danger blind the while,
Heed not the sharks, which have for many a day
Hoverd behind the ship, presentient of their prey.
Oliver Newman has taken the opportunity
for religious exhortation; and thus becomes the
theme of talk between Randolph (a man urgent and
earnest in hunting out the regicide refugees from
their hiding places) and the captain. Oliver car-
ries about his person Miltons Paradise Lost,
which gives rise to criticism on the part of the cap-
tain and Randolpha fair enough specimen of
contemporary verdicts. We have also descrip-
tions of a calm, a fresh breeze, stormy weather~
and of harhorage in the haven- of Cape Cod, where
the hero is visited by appropriate historical reflec-
tions and pious aspirations; but these are inter-
rupted by the approach of Annabel, the fair com-
panion of his voyage, whose feelings have been
shocked by the ill-usage inflicted on a poor Indian
woman. The description of her wrong is reim-
dered in Mr. Southeys best style
She led him hastily toward a shed,
Where, fetterd to the door-post, on the ground
An Indian woman sate. Her hands were bound,.
Her shoulders and her back were waled and scored
With recent stripes. A boy stood by
Some seven years old, who with a piteous eye
Beheld his suffering mother, and deplored
Her injuries with a cry,
Deep, but not loud,an utterance that expressd
The mingled feelings swelling in his breast,
Instinctive love intense, the burning sense
Of wrong, intolerable grief of heart,
And rage, to think his arm could not fulfil
The pious vengeance of his passionate will.
His sister by the door,
Lay basking in the sun : too young was she
To feel the burthen of their misery;
Reckless of all that passd, her little hand
Playd idly with the soft and glittering sand.
At this abhorred sight,
Had there been place for aught
But pity, half-relieved by indignation,
They would have seen that Indian womans face
Not with surprise alone, but admiration;
With such severe composure, such an air
Of stern endurance, did she bear
Her lot of absolute despair,
You rather might have deemd,
So fixd and hard the strong bronze features
seemd,
That they were of some molten statue part,.
346 OLIVER NEWMAN.
Than the live sentient index of a heart
Suffering and struggling with extrernest wrong:
But that the coarse jet hair upon her back
Hung loose, and lank, and long,
And that sometimes she moved her large black eye,
And lookd upon the hoy who there stood weep-
ing by.
Oliver in vain attempted to assuage,
With gentle tones and looks compassionate,
The bitterness of that young Indians rage.
The boy drew back abhorrent from his hand,
Eyed him with fierce disdain, and breathed
In inarticulate sounds his deadly hate.
Not so the mother; she could understand
His thoughtful pity, and the tears which fell
Copiously down the cheeks of Annabel.
Toucbd by that unaccustomd sympathy
Her countenance relaxd: she moved her head
As if to thank them both;
Then frowning, as she raised her mournful eye,
Bad Christian man! bad Englishman! she said:
And Oliver a sudden sense of shame
Felt for the English and the Christian name.
Oliver, on expressing sympathy, is taunted into
the purchasing of these New England savages
the children and the wife of Kawnacom, a native
prince, lately slain. At length the vessel arrives
at its destination: Oliver stands in the presence
of the governor of New England, the excellent
Leverett, who, having been a Cromwellian, had
sobered down into a rational conformist. He
knew of the retreats of the regicides, but, conniv-
ing at their concealment, was as anxious to preserve,
as Randolph to destroy, the sufferers. He was
just the man, therefore, to help Oliver in his pious
~search for the grandfather, and in his amiable de-
~sire to convert the native tribes. Oliver has,
%esides, another claim ;presenting Leverett with
~the casket which had belonged to his mother, who
had died on board ship, and whose funeral it was
:that the opening canto describes
The governors countenance changed, as he re
ceived
That message from the dead;
And when he opened and contemplated
The sad bequest,
Tears filld his eyes, which could not be represt.
It was a womans picture, in her youth
And bloom portrayd, by Coopers perfect skill.
The eyes, which death had quenchd,
Kept there their life and living lustre still;
The auburn locks, which sorrows withering hand,
Forestalling time, had changed to early grey,
iDisparting from the ivory forehead, fell
In ringlets which might tempt the breath of May;
The lips, now cold as clay,
Seemd to breath warmth and vernal fragrance
there;
The cheeks were in their maiden freshness fair.
Thus had the limners art divine preserved
A beauty which from earth had passd away;
Aad it had caught the mind which gave that face
Its sureSt charm, its own peculiar grace,
A modest mien,
A meek submissive gentleness serene,
A heart on duty stayd,
Simple, sincere, affectionate, sedate,
Were in that virgin countenance portrayd;
She was an angel now; and yet,
More beautiful than this fair counterfeit,
Eien in heaven, he~ spirit Scarce could be,
Nor seem from stain of ill, and evil thoughts, more
free.
Time was, when Leverett had worn
That picture like a relic in his breast;
And duly, morn and night,
With loves idolatry,
Fixd on its beauties his adoring sight,
And to his lips the precious crystal prest.
Time was, when in the visions of his rest.,
That image of delight
Came with sweet smiles, and musical voice to
bless
His sleep, and all his dreams were happiness.
And still, though course of tinme, and fatal force
Of circumstance, grave thoughts, and worldly cares
(Ah! how unlike the blissful hopes of youth,
From which it had been worse than death to
part!)
Had fortified as well as heald his heart
That vision, in her beauty and her truth:
Sometimes would visit him; and he,
With a confused but conscious faculty,
Knowing full well
That this, which seemd, too surely could not be,
Struggled against the spell
Unchanged and unimpaired by thirty years,
Her image came, but only to distress
The heart she wont to bless,
Till from the painful unreality
He woke, disturbd in spirit, and in tears.
But he was master of his waking soul,
And could control
All unbecoming passion, and all feeling
That needs repressing or concealing.
Howbeit he sought not to restrain
His deep emotion now, nor turnd aside
His natural tears to hide, which freely fell;
But wiping them away a moment, eyed
Olivers pale countenance and anxious brow,
Perusing there his mothers lineaments:
Then took his hand, and s~itI, Thou needst not
tell
Thy hapless name and perilous secret now,
I know them but too well.
Though disapproving of his project, IE4everett
undertakes to speed Oliver and Annabel to the
Connecticut. Their act of pity, too, is now of
service to them. Those grateful savages will
guide them in safety through the wilderness. We
extract a portion of their forest journey
Had they from such disturbant thoughts been free,
It had been sure for them
A gladsome sight to see
The Indian children, with what glee
They breathed their native air of liberty.
Food to the weary man with toil forespent
Not more refreshment brings,
Than did the forest breeze upon its wings
To these true younglings of the wilderness:
A happy sight, a sight of heart content!
For blythe were they
As swallows, wheeling in the summer sky
At close of day;
As insects, when on high
Their mazy dance they thread
In myriads overhead,
Where sunbeams through the thinner foliage
gleam,
Or spin in rapid cirbles as they play,
Where winds are still,
Upon the surface of the unrippled stream:
Yea,, gamesome in their innocence were thay
POI~MS ON MAN IN TIlE REPUBLIC.
As lambs in fragrant pasture, at their will
The udder when to press
They run, for hunger less
Than joy, and very love and wantonness.
Nor less contentment had it brought
To see what change benevolence had wrought
In the wild Indian mother, whom they first
Had seen, her spirit strong
Maddend by violence of wrong,
For vengeance in her inmost soul,
With natural but with ferine rage, athirst.
That soul unhoped-for kindness had subdued:
Her looks, and words, and actions, now combined,
Expressd, in that composure of the mind
Which uneffaceable sorrow had left behind,
A lively ever-watchful gratitude.
Oliver seeind to her a creature
Less of this earth than of celestial nature.;
And Aunabel as well
Had won from her a love-like veneration;
(So goodness on the grateful heart can gain;)
Though charms of European tint and feature
No beauty to an Indian eye convey,
Regarded with disdain,
As if they were the original stamp and stain
Of an inferior clay,
Proved in some earlier, inexpert creation,
And then, for degradation
When the red man was fashiond, put away.
Pamya was troubled now, for she had seen
Their altered mien
Some change there was, she knew not what, nor
why,
Some infelicity
Which yet she might descry
Rose not from wrath nor alienated will:
For in their converse still
The tones were such as meet
The ear of love, and still
The smiles they interchanged, though sad, were
sweet:
Yet plainly she could tell, all was not well.
They too could read in her observant eye
Its apprehension and its sympathy:
And surely she, had but her speech been free,
Had prest, how earnestly! for explanation,
And sought to bring about
The full and perfect reconciliation
Dearly desired by both, she did not doubt.
Their hearts were merciful and meek she knew,
And could not to each other but be true
But on her tongue the curse of Babel hung,
And when the eager wish her breast was swelling,
Eye-speakiiig thoughts were all she could impart,
Intelligibly telling
The deep indwelling yearnings of the heart.
Four days they travell ~d throu~h the endless wood,
Measuring their journey still to reach at eve
Some settlers home, and sure of their receiving
Such hospitality, sincere, though rude,
As men who felt no want, and had no vice
Of chilling avarice,
In their plain kindness found a joy in giving.
The fifth morn rose, and with the morn rose they,
That they might reach that day
Their journeys end; and through the forest wide
Did they their weary way
Hold on from early dawn till eventide;
But ere the light of eve
Began to fade, their guide,
Accustomed to descry
With instantaneous eye
The slightest trace of man, a smoke espied,
847
Staining a little space of open sky:
Yon s the place we seek! he said; nor knew
What a cold feeling, at the words, ran through
rphe veins of Annabel, and Newman too.
Ainnabel is the daughter of Willoby, a high
old cavalier, having an allotment near the Nar-
baganset lands, to ~vhom Oliver restores her.
Here the fragment, as left among Mr. Southeys
papers, ends. A sketch of the phn remains, from
which we learn that Oliver would, at length, reach
his father, but thereby occasion his detection by
Randolph; whom, however, he is destined to save
from Indian vengeance. Annabel also will be
made a prisoner of war, and be r~tscued by the
hero from the hands of a ruffian renegade, whose
life will pay the forfeit of his rascally violence;
and Oliver, having thus benefitted all parties, will
be rewarded with the maiden~s hand.
Such is the nature and scope of this fragment,
which~ though in power and picturesqueness
inferior to its authors greater productions, bears
many evident marks of his happiest manner, and
rises sometimes into beauty, delicacy and tender-
ness. The miscellaneous pieces are pleasing; and
a fragment of a poem, in hexameter verse, entitled
Mohammed, is characterized by considerable
vigorequal, in fact, to anything in Mr. Southeys
best compositions.
Poems on Man in the Republic. By Coa.KE-
LIIJS MATTHEwS. New York: Paine & Bur-
gess.
Tins is a new and very attractive edition of a vol-
ume of poems first published in 1843. Miss Barrett,
the gifted authoress of the Drama of Exile, in
her preface to that work, has accorded to them extra-
ordinary merit, a commendation in which we are
disposed to coincide. They are dedicated to the
hopeful friends of humanity, and their ohject is
in a measure indicated by their title and dedication;
and the views under which the race in the Repub-
lic are considered, are, the Child, the Father, the
Teacher, Citizen, Farmer, Mechanic, Merchant,
Soldier, Statesman, Friend, P& int:r, Sculptor,
& c., & c. Mr. Matthews has shown, in his wri-
tings, much originality and power of mind, and we
are inclined to think, that not a little of the unjust
criticism to which he has been subjected, has been
owing to his contempt for mere popularity. It is
true that he writes unequally, though at Pines very
effectively. The poenis in this volume are in the
main but brief sketches, yet the idea they develop
is noble and comprehensive. He has in some in-
stances fairly laid himself open to criticism for
his very fearless use, we had almost said abuse, of
poetic license, alike in the coinage and application
of words; and there are passages in which he has
not sustained the dignity of his subjectProtest-
ant ~iturclzman.
LORD, how near was I to dinger, yet escaped?
I was upon the brink of the brink of it, yet fel Inot
in; they are well kept who are kept by thee.
Excellent archer! Thou didst hit thy mark in
missing it, as meaning to fright, not hurt me.
Let me not now be stich a fool as to pay my
thanks to blind Fortune for a favor which the eye
of Providence bath bestowed upon me. Rather let
the narrowness of my escape make my thankful-
ness to thy goodness the lai~gttr, lest my ingratitude
justly cause, that whereas this arrow but hit my
hat~ the next mierce my head.Fuller~
348 A BALL AT A LUNATIC ASYLUM.
From Chambers Journal, the various classes of patients within those parts
A BALL AT A LUNATIC ASYLUM. of the building which are assigned for their resi-
dence; though, said our guide, we would do
AnouT two miles south of Edinburgh is situated without locks if we could. Ascending a flight
the picturesque little village of Murningside, under of stairs, we saw, by the hustle apparent at the
the shadow of Blackford hill, where end of a long gallery, that we were approaching
Lord Marmion stayed; the scene of festivity, and presently the opening
For fairer scene he neer surveyed. of folding-doors revealed the strange scene.
Around a large square apartment were ranged
The known salubrity of this locality, which attracts two rows of seats. On one side females sat; on
many invalids to reside in it, induced the projectors the other males. The end seats were occupied by
of the asylum for lunatics, assisted by government, the inmates of the East iDepartmeiit, the mu-
to erect it on the favored spot. This institution sicians occupying benches in the midst. The
consists of two edifices; one built some thirty years instruments were a violin, played by a demented
since, for the reception of invalids of the higher dancing-master, and a violoncello, the performer
classes, and the other, a more extensive structure, on which was also a patient. After taking the
for the reception of pauper patients. Within the places allotted to us, a survey of the scene imparted
asylum, these two establishments are denominated, a feeling of awe; and now, for the first time, one
from their situation, the East and the West de- could appreciate the sentiment which is felt in the
partments. The system pursued in both is that east for idiots and madmen.* It was, indeed, an
of kindness and personal freedom, as far as is con- awful sight to look round upon the staring or
sistent with the safety of the inmate; the old meth- vacant faces by which we were surrounded. In
od, which included strict discipline and restraint, fact it cost some effort to suppress a rising fear;
being entirely abolished. Occupation and amuse- for, to be enclosed within four walls with from a
ments take the place of listless and irksome per- hundred and fifty to two huiidred lunatics, seemed
sonal bondage, and the results have been extremely a situation not altogether devoid of peril. Nor
beneficial. Among the most extraordinary, is that was a detailed investigation of the company calcii-
which allows of as many of the patients as may lated to lessen the feeling. Though sitting quite
choose, to assemble every Thursday evening,and close to each other, we could see but few convers-
indulge in the exhilarating exercise of dancing. ing together; each appeared too niuch occupied
Favored by an invitation, we attended one of these with his or her own cogitatiuns, to bestow time or
soir6es; certainly the most interesting, instructive, attention on a neighbor. This was explained to
but, moreover, saddening, we ever assisted at. us as more or less characteristic of all kinds of
The night was somewhat dark, and as the gates derangement. The insane are less communicative
of the asylum closed on us, and we drove along than the sane. Monomaniacs, in particular, have,
the thickly-hedged avenue which leads to the older as migh
mansion, a feeling of sadness and of dread could the one t be expected,, a tendency to dwell upon
subject on which they have gone wrong,
not be suppressed. The heavy pressure of ideas until moved by some external cause. This was
which are awakened by the sight of an abode, of exemplified at the ball; for whenever a dance was
the insane, was not even lessened by the cheering announced, abstraction ceased in all capable of
lights which gleamed from the windows, or by the partaking in the amusement, and they rose on the
smiling faces which welcomed us on the threshold, instant to choose partners. Some, alas! were in-
Still, at every step something occurred to dispel capable of being roused; and the most painful con-
sombre thoughts. Habit and past experience in- trast to the festivities, was that presented by the
duce us to associate with persons who have charge few patients who suffered under dementia or mel-
of the insane a qertain degree of sternness, or, at I ancholia: they either gazed on vacancy, heeding
the least, decision of manner and character. In- nothing and apparently seeing nothing, or sat with
deed these were requisites for carrying out the old their faces buried in their hands, the pictures of
system of practice. But the first introduction to despair.
the officers of the Morningside establishment, by Shortly after we were seated, a programme was
no means bore out this preconception. The sua- placed in our hands, which, as it was printed
vity and placid politeness of the chief physician within the establishment, and by the inmates, may
struck us at once as a guarantee of the mode in be regarded as a curiosity
which the unhappy people under his care are
treated. The immense responsibility which rests PROGRAMME OF TILE CONCERT AND BALL.
with him and his equally humane associates, ap- REEL. Song Yellow-haired laddie. Song.
pears to be worn with the lightness of a thorough COUNTRY DANCE The Triumph. Song
confidence in the system, and in the orderly atid Life is like a summer flower. REEL. Comic
proper behavior of the inmates. Indeed, so far as Song Sandy MNab. Song MGregors
we could observe and hear, the house had the Gathering. COUNTRY DANCE Petronella.
appearance of a well-ordered gentlemans resi- FINALE Auld Laugsyne.
deuce. Yet we afterwards learnt that much of it Presently an attendant announced the reel; and
was managed by patients: for instance, the horse where all had been hitherto quiet, all was now
which brought, and the man who drove us, were bustle. The men got up with alacrity, and cross-
handed over to the care and companionship of an ing the floor to the womens side, selected their
insane groom. partners. It is remarkable that, although the same
As the soir6es are held in the building devoted persons meet every Thursday throughout the year,
to the poorer classes, we were conducted through few preferences are shown in the selection of part-
the grounds to the more humbly appointed, but ners. It is evidently a matter of indifference to
much larger structure. The careful unlocking and medans believe
locking of the doors of each gallery, as we entered * Maho nsanity to be rather an inspira-
indication of restraint tion from above, than a mis or une; hence, persons
and left it, was the only afflicted with it are treated by the poorer classes with a
which we met with. This is necessary, to keep respect almost amounting to reverence.
A BALL AT A LUNATIC ASYLUM. 349
himself with whom each individual dances. The seem. Later in the evening, one of the attendants
choice is directed to whoever may he disengaged. happened to announce a country dance by mistake.
Thus the rule of non-sympathy and non-commu- In a minute there was a rustling of programmes,
nicativeness, which exists in all sorts of insanity, and more than a dozen voices, both male and fe-
applies not only to those of the same sex, but to male, exclaimed, No, no; it s a reela reel !
individuals of opposite sexes. Partners were chosen for the country dance, and
The order and precision with which the couples the Triumph was struck up with vigor by the
perhaps to the amount of fiftyarranged them- violinist. The figure of this dance requires
selves, could not have been exceeded in the most a little more attention than a reel; and the ex-
fashionable ball-room. In scrutinizing their faces, dancing-master eyed the proceedings with critica
while waiting to commence the dance, we could attention. When a top couple failed to lead off
not detect much that differed from what is seen in at the proper moment, he gave them the hint;
ordinary assemblies. On some there sat an expres- and when everything was going on swimmingly,
sion of pleasurahie expectation; others, again, he seemed to enjoy the pastime as much as if he
appeared as much abstracted as when seated; and were capering himself. Of the dancers, it may be
it became a matter of speculation whether they said that they performed the figures with, if not
would be roused ont of their reverie, so as to so much grace, quite as much correctness, as is
begin when the signal for starting was given; seen in more fashionable assemblies. This, in
but the band struck up an inspiriting reel, some cases, was evidently the result of habit, for
and at the end of the first eight bars, the whole these balls have been continued for more than
of the dancers put themselves in motion, with the three years. One or two of the parties, whilst
promptitude and regularity of a regiment of sol- they were not actually dancing, appeared totally
diers. unconscious of all that was going on around till
Spectators who, like ourselves, derive their the evolutions demanded their assistance, when,
knowledge of insanity from the old and scarcely at the right moment, they began to dance as if
exploded theories and systems of treatment, would some instinct, apart from the necessary attention,
have pronounced this exhibition as fraught with prompted them to do what was required. When
the most mischievous tendencies. Here were at a sign of hesitation was shown by one of the
least one hundred unfortunates, of both sexes, dancers, a neighbor, who, until that instant, may
dancing with might and main, and undergoing all have appeared as if plunged in the depths of
the unrestrained excitement which the most active abstraction, gave him a monitory nudge, and,
of exercises is capable of creating. One would starting from his dream, the lagger began to join
think that such an occupation, instead of having correctly in the evolution. It is evident, therefore,
a beneficial, would produce the worst effects; but that the abstractions of insanity are more apparent
experience has proved the reverse. Most of the than real; for, in the above instances, the patients,
dancers are monomaniacs, and to excite to frenzy though seemingly so rapt, Mere manifestly attend-
an individual suffering under that malady, it is ing not only to their own affairs, but to those of
necessary to present to him the special object or their neighbors. At the prescribed time the music
idea on ~vhich he is mad; dancing, not being one ceased, the dancers resumed their seats, and the
of these, proves not only harmless, but, by divert- almost painful silence recurred.
ing their thoughts and senses from the exciting This was broken by a new subject of attention.
cause of their malady, is a relief and a benefit. One of the attendants prepared to sing the comic
This in some measure accounts for the curious song of Sandy MNab. Many of the patients
fact, that the same patients who are often noisy laughed at the broader parts of the ditty, many
and obstreperous in their ordinary abodes in the apparently listened without laughing, whilst others
asylum, behave with the utmost decorum at the laughed without either listening or looking at the
soirees. singer. When he had finished he was much ap-
When the music ceased, the women. retired to plauded, as he deserved to be. The songs of a
their seats alone; they were not, as is usual else- serious cast were very pleasingly sung by another
where, handed to them by their partners. The of the attendants, who is gifted with a voice of
men also walked at once to the places they had unusual sweetness. Some expressions of praise
before occupied. All was now silent. There was were emitted, even in the midst of one of the airs;
a sudden reaction, and the lull which followed amid from a female patient near us, who had hith-
appeared more fraught with danger than the pre- erto appeared pleased amid cheerful, several deep
nuns excitement: the vulgar notion of violence sighs escaped. Perhaps the melody brought back
associated with insanity, is not easily effaced from broken recollections of happier days. Indeed, the
the spectators thoughts, and at this sudden changc most saddening thing of all was, the involuntary
duying the stillness which reigned throughout but unsatisfied inquiry which arose in the specta-
the apartmentone could scarcely help dreading tors thoughts on hearing an indication of that kind,
that some of the maniacs would start up to do as to what was likely to be passing in that diseased
something eccentric or desperate. But no approach and troubled mind.
to an attcmpt of this kind took place. The excite- The figure (if Petronella commences with a
ment they had undergoime showed no lastiuug effect little waltzing, and in that, more than in any other
upon them: the stimulant appeared to have acted, departuient of the Terpsichorean art, the eccen-
as it were, mechanically; for the moment it was tricities of the patients were developed. One
withdrawn the patients returned to their ordinary elderly person, in particular, displayed his agility
condition. Still, it seems., the meetings are looked by the most elaborate contortions and whirls; but
forward to with pleasure during the rest of the what is remarkable, despite their complexhy, he
week. One unhappy inmate is so nearly in a state managed to bring them in to the time of music.
of dementia, that only two ideas exist within him A tall and handsome young man, on the contrary,
the ball on Thursdays, and the chapel on Sun- performed the figure with a condescending formality
days. Nor are the other patients so inattentive which formed a strong contrast to the proceedings
to the proceedings between the dances as they of his elder companion. He, we understood,
350 RATIO?~ALE OF THE AMERICAN rEDERATION.
imagines himself to be an injured young noble-
man. There are many striking examples of this
sort of delusion amongst the inmates of the asylum.
One declares herself to be Empress of the World,
Whilst another is content with the humbler suppo-
sition that she is Queen of England. With
Petronella the ball closed, for Auld Langsyne was
not song.
In makingbefore leaving the rooma hasty
retrospect of what we had seen, the first reflection
which presented itself was, the extraordinary pro-
priety and decorum of the whole proceedings. To
say that the assembly was conducted as well as
similar parties in ordinary life, would hardly be
doing it justice; for, comparing this with other
ballsespecially those which are prolonged till
after sul)perwe are justified in saying that we
perceived fewer and less glaring inconsistencies
committed by these unfortunate beings, than we
have occasionally witnessed in the sane worl4.
This must be attributed mainly to the system of
general treatment to which they are subject.
They are daily in a state of comparative freedom,
consequently the personal liberty enjoyed amidst
an assemblage at soiree is no novelty to them, and
they do not abuse it. Yet it is a surprising
spectacle. Nearly two hundred human beings,
in an unfortunate condition of diseased reason
and harldly accountable will, congregated, many
of theni joining in the dance, without one
even of the most insanecommitting one glaring
eccentricity! It does not appear that the invited
guests are very exclusively selected for their
peaceable demeanor; for, on a subsequent visit to
the institution, we met with the energetic waltzer
in an apartment set aside for the noisy patients.
He was on this occasion singing a bass song
amidst some half-dozen scarcely less quiet com-
pan ions.
When the soir6e was concluded, most of the
assembly moved towards the door quietly. It is
true they stood not upon the order of going,~~
but went without regularity. At the door there
was for a minute a little crowding. In such a
situation elsewhere, an accidental push, or the
foerest jostle, is apt to rouse in the party incon-
venienced a transient anger; but here nothing of
the kind occurred; The patients walked to their
several galleries and apartments of their own
accord, each group guided by an attendant. rl7be
poor creatures labom-ing under dementia and mel-
aticholia were obliged to be roused em they
~ittempted to move; they had not altered their
attitudes of ~vrechedness during the entire even-
ing, and were partially lifted from the seat before
they could fully understand what was required of
them. Each was led out by an attendant. They
were brought upon the festive scene with a hope
that it might distract them from their malady.
But in the t~vo cases we saw, no such effect was
prod uced -
In a few minutes the room was untenanted, and
we left it with feelings far less sad than those with
which we entered it; for we had seen how much
can be dune under judicious management, if not
always to cure, to alleviate the sufferings of the
insane.
one cows grass. She was preparing her din-
ner of potatoes andwhat think you ?~sea~weed.
They gather, I was told by some twenty of them,
(and saw them using it,) a kind of sea-weed called
dilhisk, which they dry, and boil as kitchen
with their potatoes. It boils down to a kind of
gluten with the potatoes, and the salt in it, they
say, makes the potatoes more palatable. In win-
ter they gather the common sea-weed which grows
on the rocks, and which they call dhoolaman in
Irish; and cutting off the thin leaves at the extrem-
ities of the weed, boil these, when they cannot get
dillisk, which is a better kind of sea-weed.
The Times tommissioner. [Sea-weed has vul-
garly a bad reputation. Horace speaks of it as if
there could be nothing viler. But that many of
the numberless alger are esculent, there cannot be
the slightest doubt. This very dillisk or dulse has
been sold by women in the streets of Edinburgh,
as a popular delicacy, since beyntid the memory
of the oldest inhabitant ; carigeen, or Irish moss,
is a delicacy even among the rich; and, as may
be seen by referring to an article on the alger in
the present volume, p. 181, many of them are
held in equal repute in other countries. Our men-
tioning these circumstances is not designed to
check the feeling of commiseration due to the
depressed condition of tIme unfortunate Irish, but to
moderate the assumed importance of dillisk-eating
as a proof of it. The well-off have no concep-
tion of the ways of the poor, and often that appears
an evil to the one party which the other regards
as a comfort.] Chambers Journal.
THE RATIONALE OF TIlE AMERIcAN FEDERA-
TION.So many Americans migrate from north to
south for the sake of mild winters, or attendance
on congress, or the supreme courts of law at Wash-
ington, or congregate in large watering-places
during the summer, or have children or brothers
settled in the far west; everywhere there is so
much intercourse, personal or epistolary, between
scientific and literary men in remote states, who
have often received their university education far
from home, that in each new city where we
sojourn, our American friends and acquaintances
seem to know something of each oilier, and to
belong to the same set in society. The territorial
extent and political independence of the different
states of the uttion, remind the traveller rather of
the distiiict nations of Europe, than of the different
counties of a single kingdom like England; but
the population has spread so fast from certain
centres, especially from New England, and the
facilities of communication by railway and steam-
boat are so great, and are always improving so
rapidly, that the twenty-six republics of 1842, hay-
hug a population of seventeen millions, are mutre
united, and hielong more thoroughly to one nation,
than (lid the thirteen states in 1776, wheti their
nunubers were only three millions. In spite of the
continued decline of the federal authority, and the
uceasuonal cotifliet of comnuercial interests between
the north and south, and the violetut passions
excited by the anti-slavery movement, the old
colotuial prejudices have been softening down from
year to year; the English language, laws, and lit-
erature, have pervaded more and more the Dutch,
FOOD OF THE Iuisn Puomm.I asked one maut German, and French settlers; and the datinger of
a cobblerwho spoke English, to show me the disritembermemut of the confederacy appears
into one or two of the cottages near. I entered t(i all reflecting l)olitieians less imminent now thmtu
that of Nelly Gallagher; she pays 30s. rent for formerly.Lyells Travels in America.
351
TIIR LORD OF BDXGIILRY.
From the Atheesum.
The Lord of I3urghley. A Play, in Five Acts.
Churton.
A PLAY or poem may excite interest without
possessing either great dramatic or poetic excel-
lence; nay, there is a class of such productions
whose place is well defined and limited in the scale
of intellectual rank. Yet the Heywoods, the
Southernes, and the Otways, nay, even the Lilloes,
have, and maintain, their position; and the Kotze-
hues and the Bulwers attract audiences still, by the
mere force of pathetic situation. In the play before
us, there is little of the last in the stage sense of
the word; and we are glad of this fact, since it
enables us to estimate the performance without
theatrical reference; but there is something in it
which, in the closet, is productive of similar effects.
rrhe poetical execution, especially in the first act,
has some resemblance to Mr. Sheridan Knowles
manner; but there are puerilities of which he could
not have been guilty; and even this faint likeness
soon vanishes, and we get a more independent
style, which, though mixed with commonplaces,
gradually clears itself. This imitative spirit, and
these puerilit~es, with the extreme simplicity of the
plot and treatment, are, we suspect, the offspring
of inexperience, and not even the latter of Art,
though it might easily be mistaken for such. Thus
it is that extremes meet. The old Ballad and Mr.
Tennyson have made the reader acquainted with
the story as here told. The Lord of Burghley has
sojourned for some time with Farmer Weilbrook as
Master Frankland, a poor artist; and has evidently
won the heart of one of his daughters, Alice, and
turned the head of another, Kate. Of the former,
he has painted the portrait, and glad is the farmer
when he fin~ it finished and sent off to its sup-
posed purchaser ;so much it makes his daughter
to look like a lady, and so well calculated, there-
fore, is it for encouraging vanity and presumption.
The character of the yeoman Hoiu,ell, the lover of
Kate, is skilfully sketched; and the scene in which
the disguised lord and Alice ascertain the state of
their own hearts, has a touch of beauty. The fol-
lowing passage on the names of flowers, is suffi-
ciently sweet, though it suffers, of course, by the
association it suggests with Perditas unforgetable
description in The Winters Tale :
I know not who stood sponsors for the names;
But sore they matched each flower most happily
In natures first-made marriageas the pansy,
Called love-in-idleness, the golden locks,
The ladysmock that decks the standing pool,
The rich rose-ruby, modest speedwell, pink
As lids of blue-eyed girls, the stately bells
Young rostics in these parts call lords and ladies.
The snowdrop shivering in the icy crown
Of winter now grown old, the cuckoo-pint,
That with the swallow peering, sings a lay
Of long calm evenings, and bright-blossomed
spring,
The herb that serves Saiat John then grown a
flower
When midsummer days wax sultriest: As the
year
Declines and autumn mellows, come in stars
Of Bethlem, amaranths and grave passion-flowers,
beading with winters march the pensive thought
To soberness and the pages of the creed.
Oh there s no time nor stage, or of the year,
Or of mans calendar of life and death,
Of birth and burial, but the peasants heart
Hath gone to natures garland for a book,
And writ his almanac in blooming buds.
Frankland is, however, selfish in his affeQtion~.
That he may be sure that he ~ loved for himself
alone, and not for his fortunes, he conceajs his
rank, and induces the maiden to elope with him;
no leave taken, no parents consent requested: for
which furtive proceeding, punishment and remorse
await both in the sequel. Then comes the scene
which, in the ballad, is so pathetically affecting.
Poor Alice is brought home by her husband, as to
the mansion of anothera palace to which he has
gained admission by bribing the servants that his
bride may gratify her curiosity, in examining the
riches of the place. We extract a passage or
two
we all love
To walk at will in great mens parks, without
The burden of their state. Oft do I think
Wayfaring travellers the real owners there:
And the true landlord but a careful steward,
Planting the trees neath which the stranger basks,
And building tall and battlemented piles
He not himself inhabitsSumptuous fortune
Lives in repute, and envys hungry eye;
And is at best the rich embossed chalice,
Whereout another drinks the nectar, not
He who paid for the chasing.
* * * * *
They call this chamber
The stateliest of the galleries.
Alice. Rich indeed:
A dazzling blaze of tissne and gold-plate.
But the poor mortals who must live in it!
One would as soon go dressed up every day
In pall and sceptre; or breathe no fresh air
Save perfumed essences.For the use of life,
Much greatness is too grand.
Frank. Oh not for the occasion
First furnished, with some cost I grant, this room.
These han~,ingsgold and silk shot cunningly;
So that ten thousand bright prismatic lights
Play from them in a cloud of glorious hues
This tapestry untarnished by a breath,
Round which the red and azure buds of spring
Bloom an enchanting garland of fresh flowers;
This lustrous canvass, where (lark bushy trees,
And sombre shadows golden-brown brood oer
You warm and chiselled form, the painted mar-
riage
Of life and sculptures transcendental touch;
These silver tables, cabinets of plate:
And the emblazoned roof, that like blue heaven
Glows gilt with golden beams, and gives the day
A lustre back it dims notthese, all these,
Were reckoned paltry labors for the occasion
They strove to pay in state. Survey this bed
The canopy droops with dull tissued gold
As if it did oppress it; and you cannot
Put finger on the satin coverlid,
But where raised garlands and embroidered
wreaths,
Full many needles many working days
XYrought long and painfully, rise to the touch,
And arabesque the surface.
Alice. It is most costly.
But is it ranged hei~O a mere thing of state,
Or did one sleep within itl
Frank. Oh yes, once,
And that the mightiest person in this land:
And ~herewithal, for honor s but a casket,
Although a costly one, real worth the pearl
352 THE SACRED CITY OF ICERBELA.
Oft hidden lurks within, of all the great
The best and kindliest. In her flushing morn
And dancing youth she made her visit here.
Full royally the master feasted her:
And full as gracious-royally repaid
Her courteous carriage, hospitality
Had else looked pale with over care to please,
And fainted with the fit of aspiration.
Therefore a loved tradition haunts this house
Of her most happy advent; and they keep,
Thus treasured for the eyes of visitors,
These rich memorials of her.
Alice. Sure she was
Some noble person. Was t a queenyou know l
Frank. Queen of this kingdom and her sub-
jects hearts.
There is a music in these verses that a tricksome
memory associates with some old harmonies with
which the poet could not fail to be acquainted.
The recognition of herown portrait as the lady of
the splendid mansion, at length reveals the truth to
Alice; at the same time, the suffering she manifests
at the sight of so many servants pressing to wait
upon her, foreshadows the melancholy result.
Seven years pass, and the Lord of Burghley dis-
covers that his lady is not happy. She remembers
her father and her sister, and how she left them
so ungratefullyso unlovingly. There is, moreo-
ver, as she subsequently confesses to her sister,
another source of discontentthe union has been
childless; a circumstance which is thus indicated
in a delicate and touching way. We quote the
passages that introduce the allusion that the latter
may come with the same effect upon our readers as
it did upon ourselves
Oh sister Kate, to seek
From kind ones kindness that can ne er rain down
Is worse than harshness from another man.
To see a heart that loved, repentnot love,
But that such love did master it. To behold
Unfitness rising daily like a shoal
Before affections anchorage. To grow apart
In one large roomy house, and solitary
In nuptial company; and, all the while,
To love as if life were one honeymoon,
Be doted on with fondness never cloys,
And feel that worthless forms and ceremonies
Can shut out natures claims. Oh, we, who raise
These bars for keeping human nature off,
Die crushed against the fence!
Kate. It is very sad.
Alice. A pale nun of the cloister, weaned from
surge
Of this loud world, dead to the ties of kin,
And wed to Heaven by bitter penances,
And solitary bidding of her bends,
Breathes a warm atmosphere to that I strain
Until I gasp. She sees flit past her cell
The uncheered votaries of her own sad weeds.
I am alonealonethe mariner,
Thrown on a rock the shoreless billows beat,
Not more alone than I am. Then my breach
Of duty hath called down a punishment
With righteousness in it. He feels it more
Than I myself do feel it.
Kate. Why, what lacks
Your marriage that a thousand do not pray for l
Alice. The one dear household tiethe blest,
loved things,
That fill the bed of marriage. For my lord, he is
proud,
And bath that love of lineage great ones have:
And so it pangs him that this house and lands
Must lapse when he departs, and of his tree
He stand the withered branch. He is very proud;
Although to hint it to him, never could one
Please him much less.
Kate. That well may be the case.
Alice. For my part, I feel lonely. He is grave;
He was as Frankland; as this potent lord,
Of course, he is graver still: his kindest acts
Have as it were a calm severity,
And coldness in the doingAlas for me!
All here about him treat him with such worship,
I have myself conceived an awe of him:
Therefore, at times I get out of the sun,
And sit long hours alone, and sitting long
For the sweet toil and charge of other mothers,
A tender something dozing on my knee
Or smiling up at my face. Oh, there are women
Wed with that cold affection, they invoke Heaven
To ratify a perjury; yet, it sends them
A troop of rosy cherubs round their boards,
And sucklings at the breast !
The tale is now told, though the drama is not
quite ended. The consolation of the poor ladys
father and sister arrives too latereconciliation has
been too long delayedthe unsuitableness of her
station to her breeding has remained too long un-
adjusted. Death comes accordingly upon her qui-
etly and slowly; and thus she falls a victim to the
suspicious nature of rank and wealth, which in
seeking a pure and irrespective love, thought only
of their own interests, and neglected to calculate
the condition of mind on which they acted, and to
prepare it for the changes which they meant it to
suffer. In the blindness of self-will, the Lord of
Burghley saw not that he had betrayed the beloved
object into the commission of wrong, and thus con-
demned his future wife to the secret torture of
remorse. Such is the spirit of the play the ex-
tracts we have given show the power manifested in
its structure.
From the Athen~uirz.
THE SACRED CITY OF KERBELA.
M. LOTTIN DN LAVAL, an archisologist of dis-
tinction, charged by the French government with
a scientific mission in the East, has addressed a
letter (which we find printed in the Courrier
d Orient) to the venerable M. ~Dhampollion, giving
some particulars relating to an excursion made by
him from Musseib to Kerbela : Kerbela, like
Mecca, he says, is a holy city par e cellence.-
possessed by the Schytes, who have erected their
superb tombs to their Imaums Hussein arid Abbas.
It entrance has been, from time immemorial, inter-
dicted, not only to the Christians of the East, but
even to the Osmanlis, who are masters of the
country. Scarcely two years agobefore it was
taken by Nedjid Pachahad a Musulman at-
tempted to introduce himself, he would inevitably
have been murdered. Everything about the city
was a mysterythe nature of its government and
its very site. Each year 50,000 or 60,000 sec-
tariessometimes 100,000flock thither from the
most remote parts of Russia, from Khorassan, the
Great Bokhara, Cashmere, Lahore, and the farther
parts of India. Sefer is commonly the month of the
most celebrated pilgrimage. Numbers of caravans
of Hadjis arrive at Bagdad; and a curious sight it
is to see those long files of horsemen clad in pic-
turesque costume, women hidden beneath their
THE SACRED CITY OF KERBELA.
thick veils and dervises of every shade, mingled
with the Moukaris who conduct the famous cara-
van of the dead.
Furnished with the recommendations of the
French Ambassador at Constantinople, and of the
Consul General of the same country at Bagdad,
M. Lottin de Lava] determined upon making an
effort to penetrate into a city of which the Orien-
tals relate so many marvels. Crossing the Eu-
phrates at Musseib, by a bridge of boats, he turned
west-by-south across the Arabian desert; and
arrived, after two hours march, on the banks of
the Husseinida great canal leading from the
Euphrates direct to Kerbela.
On the left bank of the Husseini6 appeared
plantations of date trees ; and shortly after these,
the gardens commence. During a march of
several hours, the path traverses a forest of huge
palms; and the canal is bordered, on either side,
by apricot, plum, pomegranate and lemon-trees in
flowerwith the vine twining everywhere among
their branches; presenting a rich scene of vege-
tation-~----still more enchanting after a journey of ten
days across the deserts of Babylon and Arabia.
We arrived, in the afternoon, at the gate, pro-
tected by a formidable bastion ; and over which
towers, to the south, the Mosque of Imaum Abbas
whose cupola and minarets, covered with painted
and varnished porcelain, glittered beneath the rays
of a burning sun. There, the order of our march
was arranged, so as to have an imposing appear-
ance in the eyes of the terrible and fanatic popula-
tion of Kerbela. Sadeg Bey, Mutsellim of the
country, and one of the most active and distin-
guished men of the empire, had given us, at Hilla,
a considerable escort of Arnauts and Aguelsa
very necessary precaution. A black Charwich
marched at our head, beating rapidly on two small
tabors, fastened to each side of his saddlea mark,
in this country, of great honor. I followed next
to this man ; then came my young companion and
the Frenchman born at Bagdadsucceeded by our
Persian servants and our trusty horsemen, lance or
musket in hand. * * The spectacle presented
by this dreaded population was curious. At every
step, we stumbled on pilgrims, mollabs, and green-
turbaned Seids (descendants of the Prophet.)
Women looked down upon us from the terraces.
Every one rose at my approach, crossed his hands
upon his breast, and then carried them to his
mouth and to his head, giving me the salam.-
ale~koun. I suppose I must have played my part
pretty well; for my aleikoun-salam was wonder-
fully well received, with no suspicion of the fraud.
Clad like a Kurdish chief, with long beard, and
arms at my girdle, and followed by my companion
in the uniform of a superior officer of the Nizam,
and M. Nourad wearing his ordinary costume
of an Arab of Bagdad, the Husseini6, no doubt,
fancied their new Mutsellim had arrivedSadeg
Bey having quitted Kerbela seven days before.
I had been told that the two mosques of Ker-
bela were of unrivalled beautyand I found it
true: they exceed their fame. That of the Imaum
Hussein is the most sumptuous. A vast pile of
masonry supports the cupola; and this cupola is
entirely built in bricks of copper, about eighteen
centim~tres square, covered over with plates of
gold of extreme purity. Three minarets spring up
by the side of this sumptuous cupola, adorned with
painted porcelain, enriched with flowers and in-
scriptions as far up as the Muezzins gallery.
Above this gallery are open colonnades Qfl the two
minarets which flank the southern gate; and these
colonnades and the final shafts are gilt likewise.
The interior is in harmony with this unheard-of
splendor. The side-walls are of enamelled porce-
lain, having a dazzling effect. Wrenthes of flow-
ers and friezes covered with inscriptions in Talik
characters intermingle with remarkable elegance;
and the cupola is adorned with mirrors cut facet-
wise, and with strings and pendents of pearls.
The tomb of Hussein is placed in the centre of this
cupola. It is a square mass, of considerable
heightcovered over with veils wrought in pearls
mixed with diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds.
Cashmere shawls are of .no account. Around the
tomb are hung marvellous sabres and kamas
(poniards of Khorassan,) profusely ornamented
with precious stonesbucklers of gold, covered
with diamondsjewels, vases, and all that Asiatic
luxury can conceive as most costly. Three balus-
trades protect this mausoleum. The first is of
massive gold, wrought with great art. The two
others are of massive silver, carved with the
patience and skill of the Persian. The treasury
of this mosque, before the taking of Kerb~la, in-
cluded riches incalculable; but Sadalla Pacha,
after the massacre which took place near the
tomb * * * paid his devotions there for a
space of five hours, with some Sunnite devotees
like himself ;and it may be that Imaum Hus-
sein, irritated by such an outrage, removed to
the seven heavens the treasure which had been
collected during a period of three centuries
for certainly the serdiThs were afterwards found
empty!
The mosque of Imaum Abbas, situate to the
east, has no wealth of gold, silver, or precious
stones; yet, in my opinion, it is, in an architec-
tonic point of view, far finer. Two minarets only
flank its southern gate, and tower above its bold
and magnificent cupolabuilt in porcelain, covered
with wide arabesques of a very grand character,
and with flowers of gold on a ground of tender
green. When the hot sun of Araby darts its burn-
ing rays on this richly-colored mass, the splendor
and magnificence of the effect are such as thought
can scarcely picture and no painting can convey.
The body of the edifice is octagonaladorned in
enamel of a lapis-lazuli tint, and enriched by inter-
minable inscriptions in white. All around are
pierced, moulded windows, retiring within in-
dented frames; and the great door, of the same
styleflanked by two galleries, sustained by light
and graceful columnsprojects boldly out, in a
manner closely resembling the porch of our ancient
basihicai. The court of this mosque is vast, square,
and pierced at each angle with gates of great rich-
ness. A fifth gate, less sumptuous, opening on a
street which leads to the Date Bazaar, fronts this
porch. The interior is simple: for Abbas de-
tested luxury ; and I have been told by Arab
Schytes, that all the presents offered at his
tomb are carried off in the night by genii, who
deposit them in the koubb~ of his brother Hussein.
From the terraces of the serai, or fortress, of
Kerbelawhere I remained three daysthe view
of this city is extraordinary. It detaches itself
vigorously and burningly from a forest of gigantic
palm-trees, against which it is reared. On all
sides float garments of dazzling colors over the ter-
races of the white Persian housesthe minarets
and cupolas of enamel and gold glisten in the sun
pilgrims are praying, mollahs declaiming, with
tears the tragical end of their revered Imaums
353
A PLEA FOR VEGETAEL~ DIET.
~ravans are coming and goingand, far in the
distance, for background to this animated picture,
is seen, on the reddened horizon, the long reach of
~lte Arabian desert.
I have already spoken of the caravan of the
deadand I have myself travelled in its silent
sompany. The corpses, embalmed with camphor,
which is the sacred scent of the Persians, and
with certain spices, are wrapped in shrouds
covered with inscriptions, very handsome and very
dearly paid for to the mollahs of the Mosque of the
Kasdm6, near Bagdad. They are then laid in
rude coffins, and placed on mulesone of which
often carries two of them. A Turcoman whom I
questioned said he had been on his journey a hun-
dred and ten days! He came from Kokhand, on
the frontiers of Eastern China. Each seetary,
well-todo, in Persia or India, leaves a portion of
his wealth to the Mosques of Kerbela, that his
body may be received there. There is a tariff,
regulated hy the place sought to he occupied by
the body. It varies from five krans to five hun-
dred (10,000 Bagdad piastres)the maximum
being applicable to those who desire to lie near the
tomb of Hussein. The fixed population of Ker-
bela numbers from nine to ten thousand; but there
is a considerable floating population, which pays
enormous imposts to the Pacha of Bagdad. The
air is very unwholesome, owing to the stagnant
waters and the great quantity of corpses brought
thither :fever makes cruel ravages there, every
year.
From Chambers Journal,
A PLEA FOR VEGETABLE DIET.
MANY speculations have been made regarding
the orig.mal and natural food of man, and of late a
pretty large octavo volume has been published on
the subject.* The ingenious author of this vol..
ume, himself a vegetable feeder, argues for an ex-
clusive vegetable diet. The structure of the teeth
in all the vertebrated animals affords a acre index
of their kind of diet. Thus all the flesh-feeders
have sharp-pointed teeth, both before and in the
back part of the jaw; while the herbivorous orders
have the grinders flattened and rounded. In man
the teeth form an uninterrupted series: they are all
nearly of equal length, and placed close to each
other, and occupy the whole jaw~-a character by
which man is distinguished from all existing ani-
mals. His canine teeth, which have been said to
indicate his carnivorous tendency, are less promi-
nent than in animals admitted to be exclusively
graminivorousas the horse, camel, or stag. His
bicuspids, or first grinders, have two prominences
instead of one, as in the carnivora. His grinders
bear a close resemblance to those of the monkey
tribe, but differ from the rest of the herbivora in
the arrangement of the enamel. In the flesh-feed-
ing animals, the inferior molars fall inside the up-
per, so as to tear the flesh; and the jaws have but
one motion upwards and downwards. In man and
the herbivora, the upper and lower teeth meet ex-
aetly; and the jaw has a rotatory motion, so as to
grind the food. On the whole, the digestive or-
gans of man bear a closer similarity to those of the
monkey tribe than to any other family; though the
teeth of the orang-outang, which lives on fruits
and farinaceous. nuts, have a more carnivorous
~1iaracter than those of the human species. We
* Fruits and Farinaeea the Pseper Food of Mart, By
.~eha Smith. Len4pn.
must also bear in mind that man, even in his rudest
state, is a cooking animal, and has various means
of preparing his food before he comes to masticate
it; and thus the true carnivorous teeth, even sup-
posing that flesh were his natural food, would be
to him unnecessary. If we appeal to long experi-
ence, however, it appears evident that man may be
either a flesh-feeding animal, a vegetable-feeding,
or both, as circumsfances may happen. There can
be no doubt that the great mass of mankind on the
earths surface are, in reality, very nearly exclu-
sively vegetable eaters. Yet there are some trihes,
as the Esquimaux, that live entirely on animal
food; and many nations of hunters that partake of
little else than the flesh of animals killed in the
chase. The American travellers, Lewis and
Clarke, spent upwards of two years among the na-
tives of the far west: and during the greater part of
this period, lived exclusively on animal food, with-
out even salt. They enjoyed excellent health; and
on returning to civilized life, they gave up their
hunters fare with some degree of reluctance. Cer-
tain carnivorous animals may also, in time, be
brought to live on grain; and herbivorous quadru-
peds have no objections to eat fish, or even flesh,
when they can obtain such fare. Such is the ef-
fect of habit on the animal system.
As recent discoveries in chemistry have shown
that vegetables contain the same elements as flesh,
we need not be surprised that man may live and
thrive on a diet almost or altogether vegetable.
The same gluten, albumen, fibrin, and oily matters
that exist in a beefsteak or mutton-chop, are also
found in our esculent vegetables; the difference
only amounting to a peculiarity of taste, or a slight
diversity in the arrangement of particles. The
starch and sugar of the farinacea are soon manu-
factured by the digestive apparatus into oil, and
the albumen into animal muscle. Experience
proves that a vegetable diet is lighter, and less lia-
ble to bring on diseases, than one in which animal
food largely prevails. It is affirmed to be equally
nutricious, and equally capable of sustaining the
strength even of the hardest laboring men. We
have undoubted evidences of this in the robust
Irishman, fed on potatoes; and the hardy Scotch
peasant, who rarely indulges in a flesh diet. From
a very early period, the philosophers of Greece ad-
vocated, and even practised, an exclusively vegeta-
ble diet, as being more conducive to clearness of
intellect and mental activity. The Pythagorean
sages inculcated the same; hence the prevalence
of the rice diet over the vast and densely-peopled
regions of Asia. It is related that Newton, while
writing his great work on optics, lived entirely
without animal food; while Descartes, HaIler,
Hufeland, Howard the philanthropist, Byron, Shel-
ley, and a host of other men of genius, were the
advocates of a vegetable diet. The tendency of a
full diet of animal food to bring on various com-
plaintssuch as gout, scurvy, liver disease, and
calculous disordersis not more clearly ascertained
than that a eontrary regimen of vegetable food is
decidedly efticaeious in their cure. To children
too, a farinaceous, combined with a milk diet, is
fotmd by universal experience to be that which is
least exciting, and most conducive to their health
and full development. It is also affirmed that a
vegetable diet is favorable to longevity. Among
the Norwegian, Russian, and Scottish peasantry,
who lead ~ simple life, and live on simple fare,
there are more instances of extreme old age than
among tway other more lttxurioiis nations.
ThRE1 ROMANCES OF RI~AL LIFE.
Tt is worth while to show upon how moderate an of his muscular powers, he has on more than one
allowance of food human life may be comfortably occasion walked sixty English miles in one day,
supported. In the year 1840, some experiments without any other inconvenience than blistered feet.
were instituted in the Glasgow prison on the diet ~His average weight has continued much the same
of a selected number of the inmates. Ten persons for the last seven years; but increases half a stone
were fed for two months on the following fare: to during summer, and diminishes in the same ratio
breakfast, each had eight ounces of oatmeal made in winter. To abridge the number of our wants,
into porridge, with a pint of buttermilk; to dinner, is to increase our happiness and independence;
three pounds boiled potatoes, with salt; to supper, and the writer affirms that he derives as high grat-
five ounces of oatmeal porridge, with one half-pint ification, or at least as high as he would wish to
of butter-milk. At the end of two months they derive, from satisfying his appetite with fruits and
were all in good health; each person had gained farinacea, as can be afforded by the gory ban-
four pounds in weight; and they liked the diet, the quets of others; whilst he is at least free from
cost of which, including cookery, was twopence those after-consequences which he hears so often
three farthings per day. Other ten young men complained of by his friends. Several other simi-
were fed for the same period solely on boiled pota- lar cases are mentioned by this writer, and among
toes and salt; each had two pounds for breakfast, others that of a cousin of his own, who came to ro-
three pounds to dinner and one pound to supper. side with him when seven years of age, and who
They gained three and a half pounds each; and was led, from motives of attachment, to adopt his
they declared that they preferred this fare to the Pythagorean habits, in which he persevered for
ordinary diet of the prison. Twenty others were above fifteen years, and was at last induced to
fed on the same allowance of porridge and milk for become carnivorous only by the painful sense of
breakfast and supper as the first ten; but to dinner peculiarity which he experienced on mingling with
they had soup, containing two pounds of p~tatoes society.
to each, and a quarter of pound of meat. At the [We would be understood as only sanctioning the prin.
end of two months they had lost each in weight one ciples advocated in this paper to a certain extent. We
and a quarter pounds; and they all disliked this are of opinion that a larger proportion of vegetable food
dinner: the expense of each daily was threepence might advantageously be introduced into the diet of the
seven eighths. Twenty others had the same middle and higher classes in this country; but we have
breakfast and supper, with one pound of potatoes no faith in an exclusively vegetable aliment, which, we
understand, often has a detrimental effect on the exere-
to dinner, and half a pound of meat. They pre- tions, rendering them unusually offensive, and also on the
served good health, but rather decreased in weight, intellectual operations, which it tends to weaken. One
and preferred the ordinary diet of the prison. The fact seems to tell strongly against all attempts to make
expense was fourpence seven eighths each. In out man naturally a vegetable feeder, that or the first
few months of his existence, while nursing, he is exclu~.
these cases, perhaps the previous habits and tastes sively supported by animal food.ED.]
of the prisoners had some influence; yet it appears __________________________
evident that the six pounds of potatoes daily was a
more nutricious diet than the smaller quantities of From Chambers Journal.
soup or animal food. If variety of dishes be de- THREE ROMANCES OF REAL LIFE.
sired, there is certainly a wider range in the vege-
table department even than in the animal. Rice, TUE French newspapers have recently reported,
sago, peas, beans, carrot, turnip, are all at hand to amongst their accounts of law proceedings, three
ring the changes upon. An excellent and nourish- traits of struggling poverty, so affecting and in-
ing soup may be made of a pound of pease-meal, a structive, that we reproduce them for the edifica-
carrot or two, and a turnip; and jellies and blanc- tion of our readers.
manges, of as beautiful an aspeet, and of a much The first came before the authorities in the shape
easier digestion, are as procurable for the dessert of a fraud on the revenue, but one attended by cir-
as those from animal products. cumstances which have softened the hearts of the
We have known persons who, from a peculiarity otherwise rigid and exact functionaries on whom it
of constitution, or perhaps rather from a vagary of was perpetrated. It had been remarked at one of
taste, have lived entirely without the use of animal the post-offices that a letter coming from the fron-
food; and these were certainly not deficient either tiers of Siberia, and of course entailing heavy post-
in physical or mental powers. A writer in the age expenses, arrived regularly every three months
Dublin Journal of Medicine thus gives his own in Paris, addressed to a Polish count. A few days
case :When about four years of age, having been after each letter reached its destination, a tall man,
much bantered by some friends for petting lambs with thick black mustaches, and ~ military bearing,
and rabbits, and afterwards eating the flesh of such came to ~claim it. Little difficulty was of course
animals, in a fit of childish indignation he declared made in giving the missive into his hands, the clerk
he would never again eat flesh. This resolution at the same time informing him of the price of the
was adhered to; and his parents, who weye not postage. The Pole, attentively examining the su-
very much impressed with the necessity of animal perscription, after shaking his head with emotion,
food, and who believed that the whim would soon would return it, saying that the letter bore his
wear off, did not interfere. For the last twenty- name, but was not intended for him. The same
one years he has entirely abstained from eating any- circumstance, repeated at stated intervals for 8ev-
thing that ever had life, as well as from eggs and eral years running, awakened curiosity. The
cheese; whilst he never partook of even one glass opening of the letters after the time appointed by
of wine, spirits, or any intoxicating liquor; nor the rules of the post~ofi1ee, af~rded no elucidation
does he make use of tea or coffee. His health has to this mystery, for the contents were in blank
been invariably good; and at school and college he paper. Some indiscretion at length revealed the
was possessed of more activity and strength than secret; and it turned out that the Polish cosat was
any of his associates of the same age, whilst he one of a family who took an active part in the rev..
exceeded all in endurance. Though sedentary olution of Poland, and, after the events of 1831,
habits must have prevented the full development was, together with his father, his three brothers~
356 THREE ROMANCES OF REAL LIFE.
and two uncles, condemned to banishment in Sibe-
ria. He alone escaped, and found an asylum in
France; but, reduced to the utmost straits, unable
to pay postage from so great a distance, and long-
ing to receive tidings of his relations, they agreed
upon thn following plan, which they carried on
with success for several years :On the cover of
the letter, each word in the address was written by
the different members of his family; thus the un-
fortunate Pole, from his exact knowledge of the
handwriting of each, obtained, by mere examina-
tion of the outside, certitude of the existence of his
captive relations, and of their continuing together
on the same spot. On hearing this pitiable state-
ment, the functionaries overlooked the fraud on the
revenue in the affection which prompted, and the
ingenuity which contrived, the scheme.
The second incident is of a more tragic cast, and
resembles one of those strange coincidences which
are met with in fictions. A young workman of
good character supported a sorrowing mother,
whose husband had many years previously basely
abandoned her to great pecuniary distress. Though
generally a sober and industrious person, he ~vas,
one Saturday night, enticed by several fellow-arti-
sans to visit a public-house near the Barrier dEn-
fer. The wine circulated freely; but after a little
indulgence, the young man stopped short, saying
that he could not afford to spend any more money
away from his mGther and his home. Accordingly
he left the house, and walked towards his resi-
dence, a little confused, it is true, by the quantity
of wine he had swallowed. Presently one of the
boon companions, an elderly stranger, overtook
him, and after commending his forbearance, and
expressing muiTh admiration of the sentii~nents he
had uttered, offered to treat him at the first
house of entertainment they passed. The youth
assented. They entered a wine-shop, drank, and
in a short time the guest felt his senses gradually
overcome. Still, he retained sufficient sense to
understand what was going on, and to feel the
hand of his entertainer gliding stealthily into his
pocket. Rendered desperate by the dread of losing
his weeks earnings, he aroused himself, called in
the police, had the robber arrested, and taken be-
fore a commissary or magistrate. The deceitful
old man defended hiinselt by saying he merely
wished to play~ a trick upon his companion, and in
proof of his respectability, produced his passport.
The magistrate examined it, and reading it aloud,
pronounced the name of Jaques Antoine .
The accuser, rubbing his eyes, and looking at the
defendant attentively, called out, after a pause, in
a tone of agony, Mon Dieu! cest mon p~re!
and, overcome by emotion, fell back in a swoon.
At first, dissipation, altered attire, and the time
which had elapsed since they had met, had effectu-
ally disguised the father from the son; but when
the name was mentioned, recognition ensued. By
the law of France, the accusation of a child cannot
be taken against a parent, and the defendant was
about to be dismissed, when he was confronted by
other accusers whom he had defrauded, and was
committed for trial upon bygone charges Qf felony.
The son returned, and told the sad tale to his mo-
ther; and has, it is hoped, been taught a lesson of
the necessity for temperance which he will profit
by. The father will, it is to be feared, end his
days an outcast from society.
The third little romance, perhaps the most af
fecting of all, is derived from the Gazette de Tri3~.-
naux. One day in October, a widow, who keeps a
book-stall near the bridge of St. Michael, was ac-
costed by an old man, who seemed borne down
by hunger and wretchedness. From under a worn
and tattered coat he drew forth a thick volume,
which was torn, and bore other marks of long use.
He offered it for sale, owning that its intrinsic
worth was little, though, he continued, it is
and always has been valuable to me, and I shall
part with it most unwillingly; but I have not the
courage to allow myself to die of hunger while I
have even this treasured relic to sell. Give me for
it anything you please. The stall-keeper exam-
ined the book, and found it to be the first edition
of the History of Astronomy amongst all Na-
tions, by Bailly, but in so bad a condition, that it
was scarcely worth buying at all: but out of com-
passion, the benevolent woman bought it for a
franc. The old man immediately entered a bakers
shop, brought out a loaf, and, sitting down beside
the river, ate it greedily, and in solitude. It hap-
pened that a canon of Notre Dame, who is an inde-
fatigable collector of old books, had witnessed the
whole proceeding; and when the old man had left
the stall, he took up the book. On examining the
back of the title-page, he found the following lines
traced with a firm hand with ink, which had now
faded to the color of rust : My young friend, I
am condemned to die: at this hour to-morrow I
shall be no more. I leave you friendless in the
worldin a time of dreadful trouble; and that is
one of my bitterest griefs. I had promised to be a
father to you; God wills that my promise shall not
be performed. Take this volume as the pledge of
my earnest love, and keep it in memory of me.
BAILLY. * This, then, was a presentation copy,
sent fifty years ago from the unfortunate author,
on the eve of his executionto the distressed indi-
vidual who had but now sold it to keep himself
from starving. The canon, throwing down two
francs to the good stall-keeper for her bargain,
hastened to the old man, who still sat eating his
cheerless crust. From him he learned that he was
the natural son of a person of high rank, and had,
after the death of his parents, been committed to
Baillys care, whose adopted child and pupil he be-
came up to the day before his execution, when the
above inscription was written, and the book sent.
The worn old man has since labored in the capacity
of instructor of children; but having been attacked
by illness, and compelled to resign his duties, he
gradually sank to such a state of destitution, that
he was driven to turn the last gift of his friend and
benefactor into bread. The priest took the old
man to his home, fed and comforted him, till he
was enabled to procure him admission into an asy-
lum specially instituted for receiving respectable
persons fallen into decaythe hospital of Laroche-
foucauld. There he now remains, to end his days
in peace.
* John Sylvanus Bailly was horn in 1736; and, besides
being an astronomer, was a poet of considerable fame.
On presenting the above work to the French Academy in
1784, he was admitted one of its members, and at the
Revolution was made president of the first National As-
sembly. Afterwards he became mayor of Paris; but his
humane conduct in repressing tumult, and the honest
sympathy he evinced towards the royal family, made him
so unpopular, that he was obliged to resign his office. In
1793. he was denounced by the anarchists of tile day, and
guillotined.
CITY TIMETIlE RAILWAY MANIA.
From Chambers JournaL In the morning, as the clock is about to strike
nine, omnibuses and stages draw up in the vicinity
of the bank, filled with well-dressed, gentleman-
like men. The thousand and one clerks are
arriving, all of whom are required to be at their
post by the precise time, under pain of a fine.
The old stager who has filled his situation there
for the last quarter of a century, and fears lest,
peradventure, something on the road might detain
him, and who prides himself not a little on his
punctuality, always contrives to leave his house in
the suburbs, where most of the clerks reside, a few
minutes before the necessary time; but sonie of
the younger ones, who are not so wary, show by
their flushed faces the quick step they have been
obliged to adopt in order to arrive in time. An-
other and another omnibus unburdens itself of its
load; quick as thought the thirteen inside and
five out are hurrying to the bank gate; gouty
old gentlemen hobble up to the entrance with all
the quickness they can muster; and at ten minutes
past nine, the twice five hundred men are at their
desks ready for action.
Still more animated and striking is the scene at
the General Post-office in St. Martins-le-Grand a
few minutes before six oclock in the evening. At
a quarter before six, the fray has scarcely com-
menced; there is ample time, and few care to
hurry themselves, except it be some unaccustomed
dame, who eagerly inquires, whether she is too
late to post her letter. But the minute-hand si-
lently moves onwards, and boys arrive with bags
of newspapers and packets of letters, which are
poured in at the all-receiving window. Onwards,
onwards moves the minute hand; only five minutes
to the hourand boys and men come hurrying in
from all parts with letters and papers, the young
urchins glorying in just nicking the time. Bag
after bag is thrown in at the window, at the peril
of the official who stands there to receive them,
packet after packet of letters being aimed at him
by their respective and irrespective bearers. St.
Pauls clock strikesone; still more and more
come running up the stepstwo, a cab draws up,
and a sack of newspapers is hastily hauled out and
thrown in at the windowthree, a porter puffs up
at his very quickest speed with a bag of letters
four, a panting, meagre horse arrives, and another
sack of papers is safely lodgedfive, a young
bare-armed paper-capped urchin pours in his arm-
ful of Suns and Globessir, the window-keeper
unceremoniously slams to the shutter, and the score
of surrounding urchins, having safely deposited
their burdens, salute with a shout of derision the
disconsolate lad who rushes up to the place with
his packet one minute too late.
THE RAILWAY MANIA.
CITY TIME.
AMONt.~ the many peculiar features which dis-
tinguish city from country life, not the least strik-
ing is the different estimation in which time is
regarded. In the country, the rustic plods along
the road, or leans over a stile, unknowing and
uncaring for the hour, much less the minute. The
deep tones of the church hell tell their tale to
very careless and inattentive hearers; and the
countryman thinks his watch correct enough if it
be within a quarter of an hour of the village clock,
in whose accuracy he places as much confidence
as if old Time himself had the winding-up of it
every day.
Very different, however, is the manner in which
time is estimated in a large city. There, where
thousands of persons congregate, and where busi-
iiess of great magnitude is hourly transacted, it is
of importance that strict punctuality be observed
that the standard of time be correctand that
time, even in its most fractional parts, be not de-
spised. Of course, without this arrangement, no
plans or purposes could be satisfactorily carried
out, and all would be disorder, uncertainty, and
disappointment.
It is, however, in a colossal city like London
that we see to perfection Time exercising his un-
controlled dominion; and perhaps no city in the
world could furnish such striking illustrations of
its paramount importance. Here it is not enough
that your watch is right by the parish clock; the
question is, is it in accordance with St. Pauls or
the Horse Guards No genuine Londoner would
think of passing either of those chronological
standards without setting his watch right by it;
which having done, he talks of the time with au-
thority, and right by St. Pauls is an assertion
which cuts short the dispute. In passing along
the streets, too, what anxious pulling out of
watches by evidently belated pedestrians is ob-
servable on every hand; what rating of omnibus-
conductors for having stopped for full five min-
utes. Here a traveller, with his greatcoat and
carpet-bag, and his face glowing like a red coal,
urges his way along the crowded street, fearful of
being too late for the train; and there a cab is
stuck fast in a crowded thoroughfare, the inmate
of which raves that the steamer will have started
in another three minutes. Here a tradesman from
the west end is hurrying to get his cheque cashed
at the banking-house, the appointed hour for clos-
ing which is even now ready to strike; and there
a country gentleman has arrived, just in time to
see the door of the public-office whither he was
bustling closed against him. Appointments are
made to the minute; and a delay of five or ten
minutes in keeping one, is at the hazard of disar-
ranging the next. Clocks are conspicuous in most
of the better description of shops: watches are
ticking in every business mans pocket. How
goes the enemy ~ is one of the commonest inqui-
ries; and everything testifies to the immense im-
portance of time in the social arrangements of a
great city.
As in the immense establishments with which
London abounds, and especially in the government
offices, punctuality is of the first importance, some
amusing illustrations of the value of time, even in
its vulgar fractions, are there exhibited, which, to
the eye of a stranger, .are very striking, and are,
probably, from the national superiority of our busi-
ness habits, unique.
THE history of railways, with steam as a loco-
motive, supplies some interesting views respecting
human nature. The reduction of friction attainable
by such a mechanically-arranged ground for car-
riages, was proved upwards of two centuries ago.
Men had it as clearly presented to their eyes, in
common wagon railroads, throughout the whole of
the last century, and during the first thirty years
of this, as it is at the present moment. Here was
one great element of the case which ought, one
would think, to have been held as settled. Then
as to the possibility of driving a carriage hy steam
power, which is the other element, it was equally
settled at least fifty-six years ago: for Syrningtoi~
357
TERRIBLE CHILD N~~~JEEt1~ALEM DELIVER ED.
was then driving a steam-carriage every day for a
whole summer or more along the roads in the high
country forming the upper parts of the counties of
Lanark and Dumfries. Trerithick and Vivian
exhibited a similar carriage in 1802; and the idea
was kept awake by other experimenters down to a
recent period. Steam locomotion on this plan
that is, on common roadswas a failure; but this
is nothing to the purpose; for the possibility of
impelling a carriageby steam was proved, which
is all we are concerned about. Here, then,
were the two elements of the present railway sys-
tem set before mankind, in a manner which did not
admit of a single well-grounded doubt, many years
ago; and yet, as we all know, the knowledge was
not taken advantage of. The idea bad not entered
the public mind, and any one who had expressed a
belief that steam locomotion upon railways was
practicable, and contained the germ of vast im-
provements for the world, would have been re-
garded as a dreamer. Even when the practicabil-
ity had at length been subjected to full and satis-
factory experiment upon the Liverpool and Man-
chester railway in 1830, the bulk of the public
remained in a state of mind which was the same as
non-conviction. Three years elapsed before a bill
for any longer railway was introduced into parlia-
ment. The acts for the Birmingham and Man-
chester, and the Grand Junction, were only then
obtained. So late as 1840, the Great Western and
the South-Eastern were only in progress. Great
lafid-proprietors at that time resisted thetn with the
most determined hostility, as a thing half-nuisance
half-convenience, designed only for the benefit of
the manufacturing interest. All this, we hold,
shows that the mind does not instantaneously
receive proof as preclusive of further doubt. If
the subject be new and startling, and still more so,
if any interest or prejudice be disturbed by it, the
clearest demonstration on earth is of no avail. At
the best, a few persons of unusual liberality will,
if strongly pressed, make a few slight admisstons.
If the evidence show, for instance, a speed of
thirty miles an hour, they will admit fifteenbut
no more. Another set, more cautious, but still
unable altogether to resist the pressure of evidence,
willafter taking great care to distinguish them-
selves from the crazy m~n who admit fifteen miles
yield a strongly qualified assent to ten. Truth
is continually and everywhere made the subject of
chaffuring admissions of this kind; and the good
name of her advocates is often, on a like principle,
defended, or their assumed faults extenuated,
where only honor ought to be rendered. Finally,
what do we see lan excitement arise on the sub-
ject of railways, and hundreds of millions vetttured
without thought or consideration, where formerly,
with equal evidence on the general question before
them, the public would not have laid out ten!
Reason dead, in the first place., to clear, incontest-
able proofafterwards, passion or frenzy doing ten
times the work that reason could justify! After
all this, is man a rational animal Is he not rather
passions slave, and, to this day, a child
Chamhers Jcu~nal.
TERRIBLE CHILDRENWe quote the following
from the Paris Journal des iDebats. It is taken
from a notice of a work recently published there
Selections from Gavarni. It was the remark
of an old divine, that the greatest respect is due
to children, and the old proverb of Little pitch-
ers have great ears, is founded, doubtless, on the
same idea Advertiser.
By terrThle child, which has become a popular
phrase, Gavarni means a child whose untimely sin-
cerity puts its parent, or the persons to which it is
speaking, into an embarrassing situation, or who
betrays some little humiliating or ridiculous house-
hold secret.
It is a very philosophical idea to make the
little criticise the great. These philosophers in
jackets, these juvenals in Scotch plaid, make, in
the innocence of their souls, bloody satires on hu-
manity. How often does their candor lay open hid-
den wounds, occult miseries, ridiculous circumstan-
ces, contradictions, all the manias and vices which
every life, every house contains! What attentive
spies, what indefatigable observers, what Arguses,
whose hundred eyes are always open, are these
rosy-lipped demons, with their round cheeks, who
all the while, ~ve imagine, are entirely occupied
with the autopsy of a jumping jack, or a card
horse! At the moment when they are beating the
drum with all their might, or blowing with fury
into a tin trumpet, they are listening to you, and
do not lose a syllable of what you are saying.
There is no example on record of a child having
forgotten a compromising phrase, a dangerous
expression. The word which might hang you,
the child will remember it at the end of a year, and
will repeat it, at the critical, the dangerous mo-
ment, even if it be in Chinese, in Algonquin or in
Sanscritto make his study on manners, Gavarni
has no need of the Asmodeus machinery which
lifts the roofs of houses and makes the walls trans-
parent as glass. He has only to take some petted
child by the hand, make him ride horseback on his
knee, and the child will tell him more about this
world, than any demon from the other could do.
An innocent Judas, he betrays father and mother,
master and servant, friend and enemy. Nothing is
beyond the reach of his mortal na~vet6swith him
you cannot lace a corset or dye a gray hairex-
press an opinion on any subject, serve up in a new
form, yesterdays dinner, receive a visit from the
least A frican cousin, leave in forgetfulness a
moustache comb on a fair ladys divan. You need
not speak, need not make a gesture, or allow a
smile to play over your face, and yet the boy will
find a way to come at your secret. It is enough
to make one wish to remain a boy to the end of
ages.
Jerusalem Delivered; translated by FAIRFAX. New
York: Wiley & Putnam.
Tnis glorious translation of Tassos Great Epic, by
Edward Fairfax, is one of the most welcome addi-
tions to the current literature of the day. How so
inferior a book as Hooles could ever have obtained
popular precedence over Fairfax, will ever be a won-
der. The fine old stately English of the age of Eliz-
abeth imparts to the versification of the latter a dig-
nity and charm which are wholly wanting in the
more modern translations. In reality, Fairfax reads
like an original writer, so fit was he to comprehead
and sympathize with the genius of his author, and to
transfer into another language, his thoughts and feel-
ings in all their force, not by means of mere verbal
translation, but by using that diction which we feel
Tasso would have used, had he written in our
tongue. This is certainly an essential quality in ~
good translatorRiot. Churchman.
DOES TALENT GO IN TilE MALE LINC?
From Chambers Journal.
DOES TALENT GO IN THE MALE LINE?
THERE are some notions which, having perhaps
been sanctioned by a favorite author, and never
afterwards rigidly examined, acquire a popular cur-
rency, and may almost be said to rank as axioms.
One of these is, that men of talent are always in-
debted for what gives them distinction to their
mothers, either in the way of an inheritance of
natural ability, or through the means of unusually
good nurture and education. Men, it is supposed,
can only he the parents of the ordinary, unless
there be a mother of talent, and then it does not
matter how stupid the father may he. It is a gal-
lant and courteous idea; and one could almost wish
it to be true, seeing that it appears to adjust the
balance of power between the sexes. Women are
excluded from political and professional situations,
although often fitter for them than most men.
Here, it might be thought, is a compensation for
them. They may not be Gracchi; but they may
he the mothers of Gracchi. They may not be
Alexanders, or Napoleons, or Wellingtons; but
they may he Olympiases, or Letitia Ramolinis, or
Countesses of Mornington, to rejoice in the thick-
ening laurels of their sons, as they go conquering
over the earth. Alas, gentle dames, as Burns
waggishly says, it gars me greet~~ to think that
~OU have no such peculiar privilegefor this really
seems to be the fact. There are noted instances,
it is most true, of great men springing from clever
mothers, while their fathers were of ordinary at-
tainments; but this is not decisive of the question.
If it be a rule, it should have only such a few ex-
ceptions as are expected from all rulesnot as
many contrary as supporting instances. I fear that
it is only the result of a prepossession springing
from amiable feelings, and so pported by the natural
love of paradox. Early dependence upon the
mother makes us p~rtial to her in judging as in
feeling. Poets, who are only children in breeches,
keep up the tendency by their continual ravings to
the same purport. Then, when cases do occur,
the unexpectedness of great and vigorous qualities
from this sourceas if it were too much to be
looked for from the weaker vesselcompletes the
delusion, leading us, without more inquiry, to
affirm that as invariable which is only occasional.
There is at least ample and ready evidence of
men of note having had able fathers, while either
nothing has been remembered of their mothers, or
it is known that they were not above ordinary.
Ijet us first look at the immediately past age: have
we not, in the very highest walk of English politi-
cal life, the remarkable instance of the two Pitts
so alike in commanding genius, in eloquence, and
even in moral qualities, that we cannot doubt the
younger to have been a reproduction of the elder.
Hester Grenville, the mother of the heaven-born
minister, is described as a women of merit. A
good mother, we doubt not, she was; but Pitt was
you gmmde blood o auld Boconnocks. Even his
faults tell this. Walpole, too, we may reniember,
had a son whose talents, if of an essentially differ-
ent order, were still such as to place him far above
the common run of men. Fox also had a minister
for his sire, though one who was not a favorite with
the public. The passing of an identical talent from
Sir William to Sir Johfi Herschel, is another
, modern instance on which we might expatiate,
if the second of the parties were not yet, to the
gratification of his countrymen, in the land of the
living.
Looking across the Channel, our attention is
quickly arrested by the instance of the Mirabeaus,
father and son; the first an esteemed writer on
financial and political subjects, the second the hero
of the Revolution. Necker, too, gives us De Sta~l.
A different and inferior talent is in the paternal
position in both these instances; but still it is talent
superior intellectdescending from father to
child; while the mother, as far as we know, had
nothing to do with the matter. With facts of so
decided a character in the opposite counsel~s hands,
the case for the ladies seenis to have a poor chance.
On the other hand, Catherine of Russia, a woman
of masculine ability, if ever there was one, gives
birth to.~the wretched Paul! And Lady Mary
Wortley Montague is the mother of an eccentrio
gentleman, only remarkable for whimsical conver-
sation and wearing a beard!
Instances of poets and philosophers who have
had fathers, either of decided and often kindred
talent, or showing some kind of tendency to intel-
lectual distinction, are plentifully sown over the
biographical dictionaries. We see, in Pascal, the
son of a father ~vho was esteemed for his scientific
and literary attainments. Tassos father, Ber-
nardo, had attained universal fame in Italy as a
poet, before his son had begun to write; and it is
only owing to there having been a second and supe-
rior Tasso, that the first is now little heard of. In
our own land, the poetical gift passed from the
Earl of Dorset, the first of the Elizabethan geniuses
in point of time, to a great-grandson, well known
as the friend of Dryden. Sacehi, the Italian painter,
was the son of an artist, who taught him. The
fathers of Mozart and Beethoven were both musi-
cians: men no doubt inferior to their sons, but from
whom, nevertheless, we can conceive their talents
to have been derived, only experiencing a great
improvement in the transmission. And this is no
uncommon case among ~the cultivators of the fine
arts. Lot fixes the man of moderate abilities in an
obscure situation, perhaps below his deservings:
his son, more fortunately placed, more ardent, and
having some benefit from early tuition, springs for-
ward and makes a figure before the world. The
father of the celebrated Sebastian Bach was a mu-
sician, in good esteem, though not famous. Sebas-
tian, in his turn, gave birth to two sons, both of
whom were eminent in their art.
In tIme north countrie there have been several
remarkable instances of a transmission of talent
through paternal channels, and that for more than
one remove. An Aberdeenshire clergyman, who
lived early in the seventeenth century, was the
progenitor of a family of Gregories, who have ever
since kept their name before the public as profes-
sional and learned men. First, there was James
Gregory, inventor of the reflecting telescope, and
an eminent mathematician ; next, three nephews
of the preceding, David, James, and Charles, all
of them professors of mathematics. Then we
have another member of the family, though the
precise relationship is not statedDr. John Greg-
ory, professor of medicine in the university of
Edinburgh, but best known to the world by a small
book called A Fathers Legacy to his Children.
Dr. James, the son of the above, was of unap-
proached eminence as professor of medicine in the
same university, and as a physician in our city.
His son, Dr. William Gregory, now flourishes itt
the chair of chemistry. This is a surprising series
of learned men, all of one line, and there is of
course no. need to suppose that the talent has gone
otherwise than from father to son, or at least passed
DOES TALENT GO IN TIlE MALE LINE?
in the paternal line. We have, however, a curious
admission to make as to the Gregoriesthat the
talent of the first or geometrical batch came in
through the honest ministers wife, a lady named
Anderson, whose paternal ancestors had been noted
for mechanical ingenuity, and a taste for mathe-
matics. The anatomy-teaching Monroes are hardly
less remarkable than the Gregories. Three gene-
rations of this family, bearing the same Christian
name, have now possessed this chair in the Edin-
burgh university for a hundred and twenty-five
years; and with the word Monro is associated no
small portion of the distinction of our city as a
medical school. Passing to literaturewe see, in
Mr. P. F. Tytler, author of the history of Scot-
land, a third generation of penmen; his father
having been the accomplished Lord Woodhouselee,
and his grandfather the revered defender of beau-
teous Stuart. Viresacquirit eundo. Allan Ram-
say too, the writer of the one unapproached pastoral
of the world; to him was born a son of the same
name, who perhaps showed his abilities less as a
painter than in the private effusions of his pen and
his lively conversation, which made him the favo-
rite of the highest literary and political circles in
his time. Only two months ago did the line of the
author of the Gentle Shepherd become extinct in
his grandson, General John Ramsay, who was alsd
a man of social qualities, removing him far above
the mass of his fellow-creatures. In him, how-
ever, there had been an infusion from a different
fountain, the clever Stormont family, his mother
having been a niece of the Chief Justice Earl of
Mansfield. If any feel surprised at the blood of a
Scottish bard ascending to mingle with that of the
Scottish nobility, he must be referred to ancient
gossip for an account of a certain young painter
being employed not long after the middle of the
last century in teaching drawing to the children of
a Sir Alexander Lindsay, of Evelick, when it
chanced that one of the young ladies formed a vio-
lent attachment to him, and took him, against her
parents wishes, for a husband. This, however, is
a digression: to return. We may only further
advert, under this head, to a singular fact which
rests upon the authority of sundry sepulchral
inscriptionsthat the duties of master mason, or
architect to the king, Were performed in Scotland
by eight generations of a family of Mylnes, the
last of whom seems to have lived early in the
eighteenth century.
What Phidias or Appelles could have done,
In brass or marbl~, that could he in stone,
says the epitaph of one of them who rebuilt Holy-
rood Palace in the reign of Charles II. A scion
of the family was the architect of Blackfriars
Bridge. There might not be a high talent at work
in all of these generations; hut still the duties
most have called for a degree of ability and taste
which it is surprising to think of as persisting,
without failure, throughout eight generations.
Against a hqst of instances so large, which yet,
being only drawn from the memory of a single
person, might easily be extended, it will be impos-
sible for the theory any longer to stand.* We do
* The reader will find some speculations favoring the
opposite view in an article entitled Clever Women,
which appeared in the Journal thirteen years ago (No.
36.) We have since then reflected more deeply on the
subject, and the present paper is the result of our delibe-
rations.
not, indeed, know in all these cases that the mother
was not a woman of unusual ability; but it is. a
good rule to be content with what explains the
point which may be in question, without passing
beyond that into needless surmises of other causes.
The father in these cases being notedly a man of
talent, ought to go far to satisfy us. We only,
however, come to conclude, that abilities are de-
rived from the father in a certain class of instances.
There are doubtless many in which they come from
the other parent. Thus we find the mother of
Scott to have been superior to her husband. But,
on the other hand, of the couple who dwelt in the
clay cottage at Alloway, and there gave birth to a
wonderful genius, who seems yet to have gathered
but half his fame, any intellect that exceeded the
ordinary, lay unquestionably with that shrewd,
hard-headed old gardener, who argued so stiffly on
doctrinal points; while the simple mother only
tended household work. Gilbert was the mothers
son; Robert belonged to his father, as far as he
belonged to anybody besides Nature. Since such
is the case, may it not be safest to suppose that, as
children bear an external resemblance, some to one
parent, and some to another, so, in cases where
there is a superior intellect, it may be from either
parent as it happens 2 To put the idea in different
terms: there may be supposed to be an equal chance
for its being derived from either, unless, indeed, it
may have passed over an intermediate generation,
and be derivable from some grandfather or grand-
mother.
If we admit this view, we can be at no loss to
account for both men and women of ability having
commonplace children. In these cases the other
parent is most probably the source of the dulness.
How little is this reflected on by great men!
Chesterfield seenis to have never doubted that his
son, who was a lump of commonplace, could be
made a brilliant character; and even Burke, whose
lamentations for the youthful heir of his name, are
so touching, is understood to have greatly over-
estimated the youths abilities, and his likelihood
of distinguishing himself. A Cromwell sees his
name betrayed, as it were, into the possession of a
spiritless changeling, who is truly the mothers
child, not his, and therefore utterly disqualified for
holding the reins of government after him. The
ardent hero of Agincourt is nominally, and but
nominally, represented by the innocent Henry VI.
It were well if great men would open their eyes to
the possibility of disappointments from this quar-
ter, or only select wives who were sure not to pro-
duce simpletons. One of the last Hackstons of
Rathillet became sensible of this when he found his
wifes imbecility represented in an odd Tony-Lump-
kinish son, at whose sallies he would sometimes
observe, Ab, Helenus, (for such was his name,)
ye hae oer mickle mother wit.
This is a sad attack which we are committing
upon the fairer part of creation, but let them be
quite at their ease. The general conviction of their
being exclusively possessed of all the finer qualities
of human nature, and able to transmit them to their
offspring, is so rooted, that we have little hope of
gaining even a fair hearing for these ideas. It will
therefore remain as prevalent a notion as ever, that
eminent men owe all to their mothers. As usual
with pertinacious theory-mongers, who can get
nobody to listen to them in their own age, we enter
an appeal to Prince Posterity.
360
MYSTERIES OF THE CABINET.
[IN reading this article from Frasers Magazine, (a
conservative journal, very friendly to Sir Robert Peel,)
American readers may see that the queen has something
to do with public affairs. If her husband had head and
heart enough to place himself foremost in matters con-
nected witb education, and the well-being of the poor,
he would gain an enduring reputationand stand much
higher in England (however he might in Germany) than
he would with the addition of any sinecures to his pres-
ent easy office.
It may be noticed that none of the denials of Sir
Robert Peels policy, would apply to a partial or gradual
repealor to a repeal accompanied by some compensatiom
to the suffering nobility.]
IF our readers expect that we are going to help
them to an explanation of the harlequin tricks that
have been played of late in the highest political
circles, we beg, at the outset of this paper, to unde-
ceive them. The whole series of events is a mys-
tery to us. We cannot even guess why Sir Robert
Peels government should have come to a dead-lock
at all, far less assign a plausible reason for the resig-
nation by all its members of their offices. It is the
ordinary practice, we believe, when differences
occur in cabinets, that the minority shall give way
to the majority, whosoever the individuals com-
posing the adverse factions may he ; and it some-
times happens, if the dispute run very high, or the
point under discussion be regarded as a vital one,
that the dissentients retire. So it was with Mr.
Huskisson and his friends in the famous East Ret-
ford case; so with Lord Stanley and Sir James
Graham, who quitted Lord Melbournes administra-
tion rather than be parties in any way to the spolia-
tion of the churchs property in Ireland. Neither
is the secession of the head of the government, if
he find himself at issue with his colleagues, by
any means unprecedented. The late Rarl Grey
gave place among the whigs to Lord Melbourne,
not because he found himself unable to do the
work of premier, but because his suggestions were
resisted by the younger members of his cabinet.
And if we go back to the days of the Butes, and
the Rockiughams, and the Portlands, we shall dis-
cover cases of the kind befalling continually. But
the sudden abandonment of their posts by a body
of noblemen and gentlemen whom the sovereign
had call-ed to her councils, and the nation trusted
to an extent unparalleled in modern times, that
was an occurrence for which people were unpre-
pared. Moreover, as if the mejtsure of the
peoples astonishment required some farther filling
up, it tutns out, after all, that this fugitive cabinet
is forced back again, bodily, in power, not through
any intrigue on the part of the statesmen com-
posing it, nor yet by a vote of the house of com-
mons, or the results of a general election, but
through the sheer inability of their rivals to under-
take the task which Sir Robert Peel and Co. had
voluntarily assigned to them. If our readers ex-
pect that we are going to account for all thisto
explain why the conservatives broke down, or how
they have contrived to set the state omnibus in
motion again, they give us credit for an amount
either of intelligence or ingenuity to which we
cannot lay claim. But though we be unable to
trace recent events to their cauCes, there is nothing,
as far as we can see, to prevent us, or any other
of her majestys reflecting subjects, from gathering
out of the circumstances by which we seem to be
surrounded a lesson which it may be worth while
to remember. Let us see whether our notions in
XCIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. VIII. 23
regard to the general position of affairs be either
rational in themselves, or likely to find an echo in
the opinions of those on whose judgments in such
matters we have hereto been accustomed to place
some reliance.
And, first, it maybe necessary to notice the
rumors which are floating about on the surface of
society, some of which, we must confess, appear
to us almost too ridiculous to be gravely enter-
tained. These are not days for the creation of
kings-consort, or even for the appointment to the
command of the English army of a young foreign
prince, however amiable. It may be distressing
to the feelings of an exalted personage, that one
whom she has honored with her hand should not
be permitted to claim at the courts of other nations
the foremost place, which is freely conceded to him
here. And with all our hearts we wish that the
grievance could be got rid of. But to suppose that
on ground so silly, for a reason so puerile, the idea
of seeking a crown matrimonial could have been
entertained is to outrage all decency, and to offer
to the illustrious individuals most deeply concerned
in the supposed arrangement a direct insult. No
minister, tory, whig, or radical, would dare to pro-
pose such a thing to a British parliament; no par-
liament, if any minister were found hardy enough
ta broach the project, would entertain it for a mo-
ment. There is neither scope nor pliability in the
constitution for such an interpolation on the rights
of the royal family; and we are altogether without
a precedent which might help us to bend it to our
purpose, were it desirable to do so. The case of
William and Mary is not a case in point. They
came in, conjointly, to fill up. a breach, or an
assumed breach, in the regular line of succession.
They were elected by the people of England act-
ing through a convention, which convention did not
become a parliament till after William, equally
with Mary, had been offered and had accepted the
crown. Moreover, the act of convention which
thus disposed of the crown decreed, that in the life-
time of Mary, the sole and full regal power
should be in the prince ; yet that, in the event of
the death of Mary without issue, the succession
should be in the Princess of Denmark and her chil-
dren. To look, therefore, to the revolution of
1688 as affording any sanction or precedent for the
engrafting of a new branch on the old royal stock
would be ridiculous. We have, however, a case
in point of not much more than a centurys stand-
lug. Prince George of Denmark, though the hus-
band of Queen Anne, continued Prince George to
the end of his days, without so much as a patent
of precedency having been made out for him, or
any other step taken to place him at the head of
society even in England.
So much for one rumor, which seems to carry
the refutation of its truth upon the face of it;
neither are we inclined to allow greater credit to
another, which is likewise going about. With all
possible respect for Prince Albert, we must use
the freedom to say, that he is every way unfit to
be placed at the head of the English army. His
royal highness is, we believe, a good man in all the
relations of life; nor is it because we distrust his
talents, whether as a tactician or as the adminis-
trator of a machine, however great, which he
understands, that we thus express ourselves. But
he does not und& rstandindeed it would be mirac-
ulous if he didthe construction of the British
army. Put him at the head of his fathers forces,
and we are persuaded that he would manage them
361
MYSTERIES OF THE CABINET.
well ; but the British army is so different from all
the other armies of the world, both in the materials
of which it is composed and the order of the duties
which it is reqnired to perform, that we defy any
man, except a native born Englishman, be his
natnral and acqnired powers what they may, to
command it properly. This was conspicnously
shown in th~ instance of William 111. William
was a soldier, and a tried one, too; yet his manner
of condncting the affairs of the English army was
snch as to prodnce universal discontent, and here
and there to provoke mutiny. Now, we do not
snppose that Prince Albert wonld act with the
sternness of precipitation which more than once
characterized the proceedings of the Prince of
Orange. His physical ternperanient is milder, and
he is a younger mantoo yonng, indeed, even if
all the other requisites were present with him for
so grave an office; and youth, and a temper con-
stitutionally gentle, would restrain him from out-
raging the feelings, or even jarring the prejndices
of veterans old enough, many tif them, to be his
grandfather. But he lacks that intimate acquaint-
ance with the tastes, habits, manners, and capa-
bilities of all ranks and orders in the British coin-
munity, which no foreigner can acquire were he
resident among oh twice as long as the prince has
been; and without which it would be fatal in any
man, be his position what -it might, to attempt the
establishment of any degree of authority over our
army. For the British army is governed now
and every day will but confirm and strengthen the
system, much more by moral than by physical in-
A uence. A commander-in-chief among us, must
not only know how to issue orders and come to
4ecisions which are wise, bet he must be able to
isatisfy the country that they are the wisest that
oGuld have been attained to; and that they deserve
to be respected because of their perfect adaptation
-to the eircumstances of the parties to which they
apply. And his royal highness, with the utmost
deference be it written, is very little familiar with
~the habits of any circle of society, beyond that of
-the palace. He never mixes, as far as we know,
with the gentlemen of the land. He speaks the
-English language but imperfectly. We doubt
whether he could put a battalion of the Guards
through the simplest manmuvres. He cannot be
~aware of the delicacy that is required in dealing
with courts-martial and their decisions. In a
word, he is altogether unfit for the office, which
his enemies, and those of our royal mistress, say
that he aspires to; and no man in the three king
-doms can he more fully satisfied of the fact than
-himself. We, therefore, dismiss this rumor, as
we have done the idle tale about the crown-matri-
monial, not only as a thing incredible, but imper-
tinent. Prince Albert is all that the people of
England wish him to be, where he is. But were
he to be 1)ushed by any influence whatever out of
- the retirement which best becomes the husband of
- the queen, his popularity would soon make to
itself wings and flee away; if results, much
more mischievous, did not arise from the pro-
ceeding.
We come now to a third report, of which The
Tinzes may be said, in some degree, to be the
- originator; that there were divisions in the cabinet
- on the snbject of the corn-laws, so wide, so irre
-concileable, that it was found impossible for the
sections to hold any longer together. Now, here
again, it appears to us that there must be some
- great mistake. That the cabinet, worked upon by
the apprehensions of a scarcity, the extent of
which, designing persons, for their own purposes,
had grossly magnified, may have taken an pro..
bably did take, the subject of the corn-laws into
consideration, we are not disposed to doubt. It
was a proceeding so obviously consecutive on the
cry which suddenly arose, that had the cabinet
failed to come into it, they -would have been very
much to blame. But how any reasonable man can
believe that Sir Robert Peel, in the face of recent
declarations to the contrary, would propose to the
cabinet an entire and unconditional repeal of the
laws which regulate the importation of corn and
other articles of food into this country, does indeed
surprise us. Nor is this all. Sir Robert, as we
are told, proposed an absolutely free trade in corn;
the Duke of Wellington refused to budge an inch
beyond the present sliding-scale ; the question was
put to the vote, Sir Robert was left in the
minority; and the cabitiet flew forthwith into
splinters. Is this probable l Is it likely that ~ir
Robert Peel and the duke would so far forget what
was due to themselves, and to their sovereign, as
to quarrel outright oii a subject so complicated;
and in their wrat-h impose upon the queen the task
of finding new advisers, at a moment when they
must have known that themselves, and only them-
selves, could carry on the affairs of the govern-
mentl We think not; and we should be ex-
tremely sorry to do otherwise. At the same time
it is evident that some extraordinary difficulty did
present itself somewhere. But as we shall never
know either wherein it consisted, or by what
happy process it has been overcome, till the parties
most immediately affected by it speak out, we must
therefore be content for the present with showing
cause why, in our opinion, it would be rash, in the
absence of better proof than a newspaper report, to
look upon Sir Robert Peel as the sort of rash
traitor which a few rash speakers in public places
have had the bad taste as well as bad mantiers tO
represent him.
It is not fair in this year of grace, 1845, to twit
Sir Robert Peel with the Roman Catholic triumph
of 1829, far less to make his proceeding on that
occasion the standard by which to estimate hi~
character as a moralist in politics. Sir Robert
Peel was not the prime mover in that arrange-
ment. Whether it were a wise or an unwise
measure, the merit of devising, and arranging, and
carrying it through, belongs exclusively to the
Duke of Wellington. Sir Robert Peel was the
mere journeyman of his grace; and by no means
a zealous journeyman either. It is ridiculous-,
also, to compare the state of public feeling, at
least in the two houses of parliament, as it bore
upon the question tif 1829, with the state of publie
feeling in both houses of parliament in regard to
the abolition of the corn-laws. The emancipation-
bill had passed the commons over and over again,
and was as sure to pass, yet again and again, as it
might be reintroduced. In the lords, too, th~
~opposition diminished from year to year. 1ndeed~
so rapid was the falling atvay, that, unless otir
memory be in fault, the last time that the uppe?
house refused to sanction what the lower had pro-
posed to them, the bill was thrown otit by an in-
considerable majority of fifteen. Moreover, of
these fifteen peers several avowed their intention
of voting, when next it should be brought forward,
in favor of the measure. It cannot, therefore, be
said, that however daringly he may have outraged
the religious prejudices of the British people, eve0
362
MYSTERIES OF THE CABINET. 363
the Duke of Wellington put any unnecessary
restraint upon the two Houses of Parliament in
carrying his Catholic emancipation act. And as
to Peel, it is rio longer a secret that he resisted the
makiug a cabinet question of the measure as long
as he could ; that he would have withdrawn from
the cabicet soouer than he a party to the plan, had
not the duke in some measure (onstraiue(l him to
abide. But how stauds the case now Whatever
may be the opinions of men out of doors; there is
no disputing the fact that the present house of
commons is, by a great majority, made lip of mnem-
hers who stand pledged to their constituencies to
prutect the agricultural interests. The lords,
likewise, are, almost to a man, opposed to any fur-
ther interference with the corn-laws; indeed, there
needed all the skill of Peel and all the moral influ-
ence of Wellington to lead their lordships forward,
even amid the dangers of 1842, to the licmnt at
which they no longer make a secret that they are
determined to stop. Are we to suppose that Sir
Robert Peel, knowing all this, knowing that it was
the agricultural constituencies which brought him
into officehis fixed duty scheme and nothing else
having sent Lord John Russell into opposition
are we to suppose that Sir Robert Peel, with these
truths patent before him, has ever meditated a step
so wild as the recommendation by the crown of an
unconditional and immediate repeal of the corn-
laws The idea is quite monstrous. Sir Robert
may regret, as many other good and wise men do,
that such laws ever had existence. He may wish
that it were possible to get rid of them, and cherish
the belief that their repeal would effect changes
neither so ruinous as their advocates apprehend, nor
so advantageous for commerce as is assumed by
their assailants. But he cannot fail to be aware,
that to repeal them in the lump is not possible,
except on lieril of the very existence of the consti-
tution. Now Sir Robert Peel may be as resolute a
politician as you please, but he is not a revolutionist.
He is not prepared to array one house of Parlia-
ment against the other, even if he were sure of
carrying the commons along with him, far less to
coerce the lords by pitchforking or threatening to
pitchfork one hundred members at the least into
the chamber. Yet, without some such procedure,
we question whether any minister would be able to
carry a bill for free trade in corn ; for we know
that a good hundred peers at least would be
necessary to equalize the strength of parties in the
upper house of Parliament.
Again, it is no secret to Sir Robert Peel, that
however free he may stand in his own person from
all pledges one way or another, his party accepted
him for their leader, and followed hint with an en-
thusiasni which has no parallel in the history of
political ~varfarefor this single reason, that they
put faith in him as the advocate of the viewsfis-
cal, religious, and economicwhich they then-
selves entertained. had their confidence in regard
to these matters been less surely fixed, there would
have been no rally worth the name from the defeat
of 1833. Doubtless the incapacity of the Mel-
bourne administration to carry on the detail busi-
ness of the country must have made itself felt
sooner or later; and, in the common course of
things, the powers of the executive would have
passed from one set of hands to another, till some-
body was found of sufficient judgment to wield
them. But there would have been no such indus-
try or ready expenditure of time and money in
watching the registration courts, and seeing that
the lists of voters were full, as has brought us
round, in point of public feeling, well-nigh to what
we used to be ere the reform act passed. Sir
Robert Peel cannot forget this; no, nor the one
great rallying cry which achieved it. He has
tried his party pretty well, it must be confessed.
They have given up much for him in various ways
much of Protestant prejudice, since it is the
fashion so to speak of that which our fathers used
to call a holy principle ; consenting to his charita-
ble bequests-hill, to his Maynooth endowment-bill,
and bearing with astonishing fortitude the liberal-
ism which dismisses gentlemen fiom the bench of
magistrates on no other grounds than that their
attachneit to the constitution in church and state
ts excessive. They have seen the amount of pro-
tection offered to the British corn-grower cut down
to a figure which no other statesman than he could
have presented, and are suffering, some of them
not very patiently, under the pressure of an in-
come-tax which they owe to his boldness. Let
them have reason to apprehend that he means to
go farther, and there will be an end at once to
their confidence. And then where is heay, and
where is the country? Sir Robert Peel knows all
this. He may regret that the public temper
should be what it is. He may feel the restraints
of party gall and hamper him sorely, and, in his
more earnest moments, he may come to the deter-
mination of breaking through them. But he can-
not break through them. Neither he nor any
other man living can govern this great country
except by a party, for the attempt to do otherwise
will overwhelm in one common ruin both the indi-
vidual who makes it and the constitution.
Lastly, Sir Robert Peel has some knowledge of
human nature, and does not, therefore, need us to
tell him that men who cannot be brought to fight
for anything else, will fight like lions for their
breeches~pockets.* Now the agriculturists may
be right or they may be wrong, but it is past dis-
pute that the conviction has established itself
among them, that the repeal of the corn-laws
would reduce the incomes of landowners by one
third at the least, besides throwing an immense
quantity of the land of the country out of cultiva-
tion. We know, indeed, of our own personal
knowledge, many tenants-at-will, the occupiers of
enormous farms, who are so satisfied of the mis-
chievous working of a repeal measure, that no-
thing would induce them to accept at this moment
leases from their landlords. Their argument is
this, We are doing well enough now; and, if
we could he insured against any further tampering
with the corn-laws, we should he happy to engage
to pay the same amount of rent that we are pay-
ing now, for as many years as our landlords might
propose; hut, whether rightly or wrongly, ~ve are
convinced of the impossibility of competing, on our
present terms, with the foreign grower, and are,
therefore, prepared to throw lip our farms the mo-
ment the ports are opened, and to live in idlenes.
till things find their level. Now, with such a
prospect before them, is it reasonable to expect
that the landlords of England will consent, whe-
ther they be peers or commoners, to an immediate
and total repeal of the corn-laws? Can they
afford to exist on two thirds of their present income,
* [But what is he to do? Is he, in this anxious crisis,
to stand, (as Lord Castlereagh said,) like a crocodit~,
with his hands in his breeches-pockets, doing nothing
LIvING Aax.J
MYSTERIES OF THE CABINET.
making good the engagements to which their
estates are liable? and if they could, who ~vill
undertake to guarantee even two thirds of their
income from the outset No one. A sodden open-
ing of the ports, an abrupt repeal of the corn-laws,
would tend as surely to anarchy for awhile as the
wiping out of the national debt; and five years of
anarchy, through the throwing up of leases or the
breaking of tenantsand we cannot anticipate less
would suffice to make beggars of the represent-
atives of all the best families in the kio~dom.
Can it surprise us to learn that the landlords are
determined to resist a sudden repeal to the death?
And seeing that in their ruin the ruin of the peas-
ants, at all events, must be involved, is the driving
of such a body of men to desperate measures a
contingency to be thought of without horror?
Whatever changes Sir Robert Peels plan may
involvethat is, supposing him to have a plan in
preparationwe are on these grounds satisfied
that he cannot contemplate either the unconditional
or the immediate repeal (if laws amid which all
the domestic arrangements of all the landed pro-
prietors and cultivators of the kingdom have for
the last five-and-thirty years been formed. And
we come to this conclusion, not only from contem-
plating the effects which such a procedure must
have upon the social condition of a very large por-
tion of our population, but from a perusal of the
arguments of those who endeavor, by fair means
and by foul, to push the change onwards. What-
ever our private opinions may be in regard to the
wisdom of a protective system in coiinection with
the corn-trade, we can never consent that the pol-
icy of Englands prime minister shall be forced
upon him by the anti-corn-law league; and we are
inclined to believe that the majority of the aristoc-
racyof the whig aristocracy not less than of the
toryare of our way of thinking. Messrs. Cob-
den and Bright, in the fervor of their anticipated
triumph, let out a little too much for the good of
the cause which they advocate, at the great Covent
Garden meeting. The English people entertain a
profound respect for the hereditary peerage; they
would not exchange so noble an institution even
for Mr. Cobdens serviccs, were he called to the
queens councils, and invited to bring in an aboli-
tion-bill as Secretary of State for the Home De-
partment to-morrow. Besides, the people of Eng-
land must be more gullable than we take them to
be, if they are persuaded to believe that an order
of things can be very injurious to trade and man-
ufactures under which the great apostle of the
repeal of the corn-laws has contrived to work his
way from the condition of a poor farmers son in
Sussex, to the ownership of mills, the profits on
which are rated to the income-tax at an amount
so enormous, that we are really afraid to particu-
larize it.
And now a word or two to all right thinking
mento those among our readers who value the
countrys well-being above such minor considera-
tions as the question who shall or who shall not
preside in her majestys councils, and be called
prime minister. We witnessed with regret the
unbecoming haste with which, immediately The
Times rumor got afloat, some who ought to have
known better proceeded at once to condemn and
denounce the recreant premier. This was neither
just nor ~vise. Sir John Tirrell, and other equally
respectable, though somewhat hot-tempered gen-
tlemen, have no ground as yetnone with which
we, at least, are acquaintedfor coming to the
conclusions at which, with extraordinary precipi
tation, they arrived. They would have done better
had they waited, as we recommended others of
the party to do, till Sir Robert Peel and his col-
leagueswho continue in office, and their friends
who quit itshall have made their explanations.
If, indeed, The Times be correct in its assumptions,
then each man, wheth~r a member of parliament
or not, will be free to take his own line. The
unflinching advocates for protection will, of course,
resist whatever attempts are made to diminish or
in any other way to interfere with it; while such
of them as take pleasure in dealing out hard names
and bitter words may, with a better grace than
now, give license both to their pens and to their
tongues. At the same time one point there is
peculiar to the crisis at which we have arrived,
which seems to demand their serious attention.
Supposing they defeat Sir Robert Peel, and drive
him out of office, (no hard matter to do, it would
appear, seeing that he would have voluntarily
resigned, if he had been permitted,) are they pre-
pared with any one to rake his place, who shall
prove at once acceptable to the crown, and of suf-
ficient weight, personal or otherwise, to go down
with the constituencies? They cannot look to the
whigs, that is clear. The whigs have done their
best to form an administration, and failed ; neither,
we presume, will they condescend to make terms
with Mr. Cobden, or Mr. Bright, or Mr. OConnell.
Will the Duke of Richmond be invited to form an
administration? arid if he do, will the country sup-
port him?
We cannot tell, but this much we venture to
hope, that the actual measures of the existing
cabinet will be found much less alarming than the
sanguine on either side anticipate ; arid, at all
events, we advise our readers to suspend their
judgments, as we here undertake to suspend our
own, till the mystery in which the proceediugs of
the last month are involved, shall be dispelled; and
there are some sure grounds on which either to
supp(irt or to condemn the man whom, for ten
years or more, the great conservative party has,
both in opposition and in power, honored as its
champion.
LORD, the preacher this day came home to my
heart. A left-handed. Gibeonite with hi3 sling hit
not the mark more sure than he my darling sins. I
could find no fault with his sermon, save only that it
had too much truth; but this I quarrelled at, that lie
went far from his text to come close to me, and so was
faulty himself in telling me of my faults. Thus they
will creep out at small crannies, who have a mind to
escape; and yet I cannot deny, but that that which he
spake (though nothing to that portion of Scripture
which he had for his text,) was according to the propor-
tion of Scripture. And is not thy word in general the
text at large of every preacher? Yea, rather I should
have concluded, that if he went from his text, thy good-
ness sent him to meet me; for without thy guidance
it had been impossible for him so truly to have traced
the intricate turnings of my deceitful heart.Faller.
Loan, I trust thou hast pardoned the bad examples
I have set beford others, be pleased also to pardon
me the sins which they have committed by my bad
examples. (It is the best manners in thy court to
heap requests upon requests.) If thou hast forgiven
my sins, the children of my corrupt nature, forgive
me my grandchildren also. Let not the transcripts
remain, since thou hast blotted out the original.
And for the time to come, bless me with barrenness
in bad actions, and my bad actions with barrenness
in procreation, that they may never beget others ac-
cording to their likeness.Euller.
364
SCIENTIFIC AND LITERARY.
365
From the Athenaum. j found to be always directly proportional to the in-
SCIENTIFIC AND LITERARY. tensity of the magnetic force, but not to that of the
electric current; and also to be proportional to the
MAGNETIZING LIGHTRoyal Society, N~v. 27. length of that portion of the ray which receives the
Mr. Faradays paper On the Magnetization of influence. The interposition of substances which
Light and the Illumination of Magnetic Lines of occasion no disturbance of the magnetic forces,
Force was concludedFor a long time past the produced rio change in these effects. Magnets con-
author had felt a strong persuasion derived from sisting only of electric helices acted with less
philosophical considerations, that, among the power than when armed with iron, and in which
several powers of nature which, in their various magnetic action was consequently more strongly
forms of operation on matter, produce different developed. The author pursues the inquiry by
classes of effects, there exists an intimate relation ; varying, in a great number of ways, the circum
that they are connected by a common origin, stances in which this newly-discovered influence is
have a reciprocal dependence on one another, and exerted, and finds that the modifications thus intro-
are capable, under certain conditions, of being con- duced in the results are all explicable by reference
verted the one into the other. Already have elec- to the general law above stated. Thus the effect
tricity and magnetism afforded evidence of this is produced, though in a less degree, when the
mutual convertibility; and in extending his views polarized ray is subjected to the action of an ordi-
to a wider sphere, the author became convinced nary magnet instead of one that derives its power
that these powers must have relations with light from a voltaic current, and it is also weaker when
also. Until lately his endeavors to detect these a single pole only is employed. It is, on the other
relations were unsuccessful; but at length, on in- hand, increased by the addition of a hollow cylin-
stituting a more searching interrogation of nature, der of iron placed within the helix, the polarized
he arrived at the discovery recorded in the present ray traversing its axis being then acted upon with
paper, namely, that a ray of light may be electri- great energy. Helices act with equal power in
fled and magnetized, and that lines of magnetic any part of the cylindric spacti which they inclose.
force may be rendered luminous. The fundamen- The heavy glass used in these experiments was
tal experiment revealing this new important fact, found to possess, in itself, no specific magneto-in-
which establishes a link of cunnection between two ductive action. Different media differ entremely
great departments of nature, is the following :A in the degree in which they are capable of exerting
ray of light issuing from an argand lamp is first the rotary power over a polarized ray of light. It
polarized in the horizontal plane by reflection from is a power which has no apparent relation to the
a glass mirror, and then made to pass, for a cer- other physical properties, whether chemical or
tam space, through glass composed of silicated ho- mechanical, of these bodies; yet, however it may
rate of lead, on its emergence from which it is differ in its degree, it is always the same in kind;
viewed through a Nichols eye-piece, capable of the rotation it effects is invariably in one direction,
revolving on a horizontal axis, so as to interrupt dependent, however, on the direction of the ray and
the ray, or allow it to be transmitted alternately in of the magnetic force. In this respect it differs
the different phases of its revolution. The glass essentially from the rotary power naturally pos-
through which the ray passes, and which the au- sessed by many bodies, such as quartz, sugar, oil
thor terms the dimagnetic, is placed between the of turpentine, & c., which exhibit the phenomena
two poles of a powerful electro-magnet, arranged of circular polarization, for in some of these the
in such a position as that the line of magnetic rotation takes place to the right anA in others to
force resulting from their combined action shall co- the left. When, therefore, such substances are
incide with, or differ hut little from, the course of employed as dimagnetics, the natural and the
the ray in its passage through the glass. It was superinduced powers tend to produce either the
then found that if the eye-piece had been so turned same or opposite rotations, and the resulting effects
as to render the ray invisible to the observer look- are modified according as they are cumulative in
ing through the eye-piece before the electric cur- the former case and differential in the latter. In the
rent had been established, it becomes visible when- concluding section of the paper the author enters
ever, by the completion of the circuit, the magnetic into general considerations on the nature of the
force is in operation, but instantly becomes again newly-discovered power of electricity and magnet-
invisible on the cessation of that force by the inter- ism over light, and remarks that all these powers
ruption of the circuit. Further investigation possess in common a quality of character which
showed that the magnetic action caused the plane constitutes them a peculiar class, and affords an
of polarization of the polarized ray to rotate, for the opening which before was wanting for the appli-
ray was again rendered visible by turning the eye- ance of these powers to the investigation of this
piece to a certain extent~ and that the direction of and other radiant agencies. The phenomena thus
the rotation inipressed upon the ray, when the mag- brought to light confirm the views entertained by
netic influence was issuing from the south l)ole and the author relative to the constitution of matter as
proceeding in the same direction as the polarized being spheres of power, for the operation of which
ray, was right-handed, or similar to that of the the conception of a solid nucleus is not necessary,
motion of the hands of a watch, as estimated by an and leads to the presumptton .that the influence of
observer at the eye-piece. The direction in vhich magnetism on bodies which exhibit no magnetic
the rotation takes place will, of coorse, be reversed properties, consists in producing in them a state
by reversing either the course of the ray or the of electric tension tending to a current; while on
poles of the magnet. Hence it follows that the iron, nickel, and other bodies, susceptible of mag-
polarized ray is made to rotate in the same direc- netism, currents are actually established by the
tion as the currents of positive electricity are cir- same influence.
culating both in the helices composing the electro- The author states that he is still engaged in the
magnet, and also as the hypothetical currents which, prosecution of these inquiries.
according to Amp~res theory circulate in the sub-
stance of a steel magnet. The rotatory aetion was AT the Ethnological Society, Nov. 26, Mr. Rut
SCIENTIFIC AND LITERARY.
ton read a paper on the BUSHMEN OF SOUTH
AFRICA.The Bushmen inhabit the almost in-
accessible valleys of the Snewbury Menweldt, and
the desolate tracts of Xaroo or desert, extending
from the Northern Boundary of Cape Colony,
northward nearly to the tropic. Of the human
race, the condition of these poor outcasts is per-
haps -the most desolate and forlorn. The appear-
ance of locusts and other insects, by mankind con-
sidered a plague, is by them deemed the greatest
blessing, and the larvH are sought for as a luxury.
Even a slight intercourse is favorable to the mor-
als of this people,and that their habits are war-
like is proved by the fact that in the year 1510
Francisco Almeida, the first Portuguese governor
of India was defeated and killed by them in the.
Salt River, the site of the present Cape Town.
In 1652, ~vhen the Dutch took possession of the
Cape, the Bushmen were very numerous, and in
possession of large herds of cattle, which gradually
diminished as their intercourse with the u,/sites in-.
creased. Indeed, as the colony became settled,
barter for cattle was dispensed with for forcible
possession, a system of persecution which drove
them from desert to desert, their hand raised
against every man, and every mans against
them. Although inferior in stature to the Hot-
tentots, for they rarely exceed five feet, their limbs
are symmetry itself. Spare in form, the figure in
youth is light and elegant, the chest large and capa-
ciotts, and the foot and hand perfect. The exces-
sive inward curvature of the spine and the extra-
ordinary development of the hip is peculiar to the
Bushman and Hottentot, but it is more strongly
marked in the former. He differs in feature,
moreover, from the Hottentot. The complexion is
of a yellowish olive, or the color of a faded beech
leaf. The hair grows in small detached patches
or lines of tufts, and is sparingly distributed over
the head. In texture it resembles singed wool.
It is not cut, but on reaching a certain length
frizzles at the ends into a little ball, which drops
off. The eye resembles that of the Chinese,
while the facial angle is that of the Australian.
The Bushman is a cheerful and active person, and
his power of endurance is considerable. A simple
windbreak forms the only shelter from the weather;
their clothing consists of a kaross or skin thrown
over their shoulders, and a smaller one twisted
about their loins. Their weapons are a short
heavy club, a how and poisoned arrows, and
the assagat or dart, which they hurl with great
dexterity and precision. Their mechanical skill
is very respectable, as shown in their mats, fish-
ing nets, and implements of war. Two Bush-
man children, a boy of fifteen years and a girl of
eight, attended the meeting as living illustrations
to the paper, and the meeting-room was enriched
with drawings and implements, illustrative of the
manners and customs of their race.
Paris Academy of Sciences, Nov. 24.M. Arago
read a communication from M. Boucherie on the
preservation of wood for building and other pur-
poses. It is now four years since M. Boucherie
communicated to the Academy a series of exper-
iments, proving that he had discovered a means of
forcing into the pores of wood liquids capable of
giving to it great durability and entirely new prop-
erties. Since that tinie many patents have been
taken out in France and England for different
modes of preserving wood. M. Boucheries pro-
cess consists in the introduction of solutions by a
sort of filtration. A tub containing the liquid, is
placed in coi~tact with one end of the wood; the
pressure produced by raising the level of the
liquid a little above that of the wood, suffices for
its perfect impregnation, with the exception of the
central part or heart. In the experiments now re-
ferred to, some of these pieces of wood were left
in their natural state; others were impregnated -to
only half their length, and others in the entire
length. The liquids used were pyroligneousacid,
sulphate of 6opper, clilorurate of pyrolignated cal-
cium, double chlorurate of sodiuni and mercury.
The woods were buried in the ground, at the mlepth
of a few centimetres, in an enclosed yard, at Coin-
pi~gne, where they remained nearly three years.
On taking them up the prepared wood was found
sound, and that which had not been prepared rot-
ten.A report was rend by M. Boussingault, in
the name of a committee appointed to examine a
paper by M. Goudot, on the nature of the plant
called arracacha, and the possibility of introducing
it into Europe. It appears from the report that
this plant comes to maturity under the same con-
ditions of climate in South America as the potato,
and therefore, M. Goudot infers that it might be
cultivated in Europe. In good soil it produces a
root that weighs from four to six pounds, and an
acre of land will yield with good culture sixteen or
seventeen tons. The root is said to have a fine
flavor, and to be exceedingly nutritious.
Paris Academy of & iences, Dec. 1 .M. Dumas
made a communicatioxu in the name of M. Lewy,
relative to his experiments as to the composition of
the gases held in solution by sea-water at differ-
ent periods of the day. M. Lewy operated upon
water taken from the sea at Langreme in the Cal-
vados. He confirms the experiments made by M.
Morrean, with the exception of stating that he
has not found the variations so considerable as
those announced by that gentleman. The most
striking result of M. Lewys experiments is the
augmentation of oxygen during the day, and the
diminution of this gas at night, when the sky is
clouded, whereas, with the carbonic acid, the result
is in the opposite ratio. Sea water, says M. Lewy,
contains a notable quantity of sulphurated hydro-
gen and hydrosulphate of ammonia. The varia-
tions are due to two contrary actionsthe action
of light on vegetation and animalculH, and the ac-
tion of animal matter on the sulphates that are
held in solution. In the first case, there is a disen-
gagemnent of oxygen which increases with the
greater or lesser action or the greater or lesser
prolongation of solar light; in the second case,
there is production of sulphuretted hydrogen, and
formation of hydrosulphate (if ammonia, which di-
minishes in a remarkable way the proportions
of the oxygen dissolved.A paper was re-
ceived from M. Sichel, giving an account of the
engraving on some seals of ancient Roman oculists,
which have been recently discovered. It appears
that the Roman oculists had engraved upon these
seals the names of the remedies for diseases of the
eyes which were then in vogue.A notice was re-
ceived from M. Dessagneaux, on a newly-invented
watch, which marks the degrees of the heat and
moisture.
Geographical Society, Dec. 8.The paper read
was On the Geography of Suziana, by A. H.
Layard. The writer of this paper, of which the
reading will be continued on some future evening,
366
36Z
SCIENTIFIC AND LITERARY.
enters into details respecting the rivers, the moun- Park, said Mr. Duncans informant, cut off
tains, and the plains of Suziana; the greater part the hand of one of the people attempting to detain
of which are descrihed from actual examination, the canoe ; this was the commencement of the
and thus aftbrd the means of greatly improving our affray which ended in Parks death. The old
maps of those provinces of Persia. The country priest, Terosso Weea, further states, that about
seems covered with rujos of the Sassanian, Kay- four years ago a white man from Constantinople
anian and Mohammedan epochs, some of which came in search of Parks papers; that he, the
are minutely described in the paper, which upon priest, saw the person purchase, at a high price, ~
the whole is ooe that will not, we are sorry to say, long tin tube with large sheets of paper i& it; hut
bear to be abridged, that, after the purchase, the king declared the
price too little, and made a fresh demand upon the
Geographical Society, Dec. 22.The paper read poor merchant. The books, it appears, were dis-
was a letter from Mr. John Duncan, dated Cape trihuted into different hands, many were cut up and
Coast, Oct. 4, 1845. Mr. Duncan states that sold as amulets, and some were carried to Boussa,
though the king of Ashantee had refused him per- where they remained a very long time. This priest
mission to pass through his dominioris, not~vith- had been more than twenty times to Ti.mbuctoo,
standing it had been asked by Governor Hill, lie which he describes as not so large as Adofoodia,
had been enabled to penetrate into the interior and famed only as a great exchange mart for enods
by another route. Being at Whyddab. he had in consequence of the facilities for transport afford-
ingratiated himself into the favor of Senhor Dun ed by thirty-six tributary streams which enter the
Francisco de Suza, a Portuguese slave-dealer, who Niger within one league of Timbuctoo. From Ado-
had been established there between forty and fifty foodia Mr. Duncan was obliged to return. He re-
years, and whose influence with the King of Da- ceived, on his way back, the same kind attentions
homey was paramount. This gentleman obtained from the king of Dahomey. On starting from
for Mr. Duncan an invitation from the king to visit XVhyddah he had taken into his service a French,
him, and a promise of his protection. He accord- Canadian, by whom he was nearly assassinated;
ingly prepared suitable presents for the king and this man afterwards died of fever, brought on by
his cabareers, and started on the 6th of June. excessive drinking. The vessel from which Mr.
Having arrived on the 10th, he presented himself Duncan had taketi him was an American, which was
to the king in his life-guard uniform, and was sold to the slave-dealers, and soon got off with a
most graciously received. At the kings desire he cargo of 600 slaves. Mr. Duncan safely returned
went through the sword exercise at gallop, which to the coast, bringing with him ten fine hullocks,
greatly astonished and interested the monarch, who eleven goats, two sheep, five Guinea fowls, five
in return, on the following day, showed him a re- rare ducks, eleven very rare pigeons, and sixteen
view of 6,000 female troops, whose arms, accoutre- domestic fowls, also of a very rare breed. These
tuents and performance, the traveller says, were were all presents from a part of the country never
truly surprising. Mr. Duncan remained at Abo- before trodden by an European. On his arrival he
mey, the capital of Dahomey, till the 17th, when received every kindness from the captains of H.
the king having had the road cleared for him for M. cruisers, who offered to take him on a cruise
more than one hundred miles, gave him an escort for the recovery of his health, somewhat affected
of one hundred men, and permission to travel over by his toils and anxieties. Captain Lee, of the
any part of his dominions he pleased. Everywhere Jane of London, obligingly gave him a passage
the traveller found provisions in abundance already from Wyddah to Cape Coast, whence his letter is
for him, and ready cooked. He de- dated, and from whence after
provided , some repose, he
scribes the Mahee-mountains as very remarkable in projects starting for Timbucto, and descending the
their appearance, and on the summits of the per- Quorra to Rabba.
pendicular rocks, of which they were formed, the
native towns are situated. The mode by which Tnz Goan AND PLATINA MaNEs OF SiSERIA.
the Dahomans successively became masters of The diamond-mine of Sincura, with its seemingly
these towns is described. Mr. Duncan havincr exhaustless wealth, has greatly deadened, for the
been informed of the existence, in the interior, of moment, the keen taste of the details which ~e-
persons who could give him informuation respecting riodically report the statistics of Russian Mining
Mungo Park, proceeded to a large town named for gold. Nevertheless, these latter have still a
Adofoodia, in 13~ 6 N. and 1~ 3 E. Here was a flavor in their small way. Their produce in Si-
large market with articles from the Mediterranean, beria, in the first six months of the present year,
and others from Bornon. At this place he found has been 157 puds and upwards of pure gold
a flue-looking Bornouese who spoke Spanish, and making about 3,150 kilogramumes. Of this quan-
who told him that he had been twenty-one years a tity, upwards of 60 puds, or 1,200 kilogram-
slave in Bahia, to the firm of Busby & Johnson mes, are from the State mines, the remainder front
of Liverpool. He also met a Tripoli merchant he those of private proprietors. The Platina mines
had seen at Egga, when on the Niger expedition. of individuals in the same province have yielded in
Amali Fatuma, was, it appears, the principal the same time more than 35 puds; those of the
cause of Parks death. Having complained to the state have nearly failed during that period.
kin~ or chief of Yaouri that Park had discharged
him without paying him his full wages, Park was A FHIEND IN NEED.A gentleman unaceus
interrogated upon the subject, and, of course, in- tomed to public speaking, becoming emharrassed,,
dignantly denied the charge, whereupon an attempt whaispered to his friend, Quick, give me a~
was made to detain the canoe, which was, at the j word 3 Upon which the other replied, Yes,.
time, moored to the bank by a piece of rope. yes, what word do you want 3
GOSSIP FROM ~HE ATHEN~UM.
GOSSIP, FROM THE ATHENAEUM.
THE collection of busts which Eton keeps of the
distinguished statesmen and divines educated within
her walls, has been recently increased by those of
Bishop Pearson and Professor Porsonthe work
of Behues, and the gift of the Rev. W. G. Cookes-
ley, one of the assistant-masters; and Lord Mor-
peth has commissioned that sculptor to execute a
bust of the poet Gray, for the same destination.
We may notice, in this paragraph, the fact of Dr.
Becklands having been located amongst the dis-
tinguished men of science in the metropolis, by his
appointment to the Deanery of Westminster :and
that the Lord Primate Beresford has announced
his intention, according to the Irish papers, of
endowing each of the three ne~v provincial colleges
in that country with the sum of 10001., towards
the foundation of divinity schools for students of
the EstablishedChurch.
THE Mornin ~ Chronicle says, that a committee
is forming, amongst the lawyers, for the purpose
of getting up a British testimonial in honor of the
lately deceased American judge, Story; and that
it is intended to offer to the Benchers of Lincolns
Inn a marble statue of that great jurisprudential
writer and ornament of the transatlantic bench.
THE conflict of opinion going on, at present,
throughout the Prussian monarchy, and the sort or
undecided compromise which lets the I dare not
of toleration wait suspiciously on the I would
of persecution, is creating official as well as domes-
tic difficultiesnot only setting city against city
and dividing a house against itself, but causing the
authorities to clash and bringing the courts into
collision. The arbitrary constitution of a high
court of censorship works badly in a medium which
defers to the liberal spirit of the times; and its
discretionary functions have taken, of course, a
character of peculiar delicacy in relation to the new
spirit which is moving on the face of the waters
of Geriiian thought. Accordingly, that tribunal,
in Berlin, finds itself suddenly in the novel position
of a defendant before a court assumed to have a
controlling power over itwhich, by the theory
of such a tribunal as the supreme censors, seems
to us an absurdity. It appears that a distinguished
geographer, Herr Liewenberg, had prepared a
map which he called An Illustrated Map of the
Religions and Confessions of the Prussian Mon-
archyits purpose being to exhibit the great and
rapid progress of the German-Catholic Church
founded by the Abb6 Rouge; and on which the
author has accordingly indicated the worship, reli-
gious opinions, and greater or less devotion, of
different localities, by means of various figures
such as mitres, crossiers, crosses of different forms,
monks, nuns, Catholic or Protestant priests, heads
of rabbins, & c.attached to their names. Wish-
ing, however, to protect himself against the possi-
ble responsibility of such a publication, he applied
on the subject to several of the censors of the cap-
ital; but these all declared that geographical
maps, drawings, and figures, are not subject to the
censorshipand that they had nothing, therefore,
to do with the work in question. From these cen-
sors, Herr LHwenherg went, by way of appeal, to
the High Court of Censorship; which delivered an
elaborate judgment, negativing only such part of
the former decision as declared the exemption of
all geographical mapsaffirming certain excep-
tions, but determining that the work of Herr
Lnwei~berg did not come within their category.
Satisfied that he was now safe, the author pub..
lished his mapand sold every copy before the
close of the second day. That other censor, how-
ever, the Director of the Police of Berlin, took a
different view of the publication ; and, determined
that it should neither be called a geographical map
nor a collection of drawingsbut a book by
itself a book, and one tending to bring into ridi-
cule the religious opinions professed by the kings
subjectshe lodged a complaint in the Supreme
Court against the High Court of Censorship, and
another against Herr Lnwenberg before the Tribu-
nal of First Instance. Both cases remain to he
tried ;but, to say nothing of the curious appear-
ance of one tribunal brought before another in the
character of a culprit, it is impossible for ordinary
understandings to conceive of an authority exer-
cising a moral or equitable jurisdiction under the
material compulsion and direction of a foreign
poweror of a court of censorship, thus dictated
to from without, sustaining the theory of its insti-
tution and prestige of its powerof which the
quality of irresponsibility is an essential idea.
THE Jewish Reform Committee, sitting at
Frankfurt, have decided upon a change, which
marks strongly the rapid emancipation of tLe
Hebrew mind from the mere letter of ceremonial.
This body has decided that, henceforth, the Jew-
ish Sabbath shall be observed on the same day
with that of Christendom.The Israelite commu-
nity, in the same city, have been inaugurating the
new building which they have erected for their
general school, with honors, in which the senate
of Fraukfort, the high civil and military functiona-
ries, and many Christian ministers and professors,
took a part. The choral singing, on the occasion,
was executed hy the 520 children, who are pupils
of the schools; and it is remarked that th~ proces-
sion of the scholars and their chiefs, through the
streets of Frankfort, is the first Jewish cereniony
which ever took place publicly in that city.
LETTERS from Alexandria announce the death,
near Balbeis, a village on the confines of Eygpt
on his way across the desert from Syria to Cairo
of our Right Rev, countryman, the Bishop of Jeru-
salem. Dr. Alexander was on his return to Eng-
landmaking an excursion to visit Cairo by the
way. He will be replaced, it is said, by the Rev.
Dr. l\ICaul, Prof. of Hebrew Literature in Kings
College; who declined the nomination, on the
foundation of the bishoprick, in deference to the.
superior qualifications of the deceased prelate.
THE King of Prussia has purchased the wine-
vase and cup with which Luther used to administer
the sacrament; and which are described as of sil-
ver, gilt in the inside. The cup resembles an
ordinary goblet, but . inclining in its circle to the
oval; the vase has the form of a jug, is covered
with subjects representing the Passion, and is said
to be of admirable workmanship.From Berlin, it
is stated, too, that the house of the celebrated Jew-
ish philosopher, Mendelssohn, has been purchased
by the Jewish commune of that city, at a cost of
35,000 dollars, for conversion into a free school for
the children of the Jewish poor.
THE JEws.At Avignon, the Jewish temple
has been destroyed by fire, with all which it con-
tained ; the heaviest part of the loss being the
Sacred Books, many of which were of great an-
tiquity. The collection of the & pher- Thora (Book
of the Law) was composed of forty-two rolls of
parchment, and was one of the richest in the
309
GOSSIP FROM THE ATHENIEUM.
world. This book contains a MS. of the Penta-
teuch; and, to show the value of a copy, we are
informed that it is at Jerusalem only that the Rab-
bins may devote themselves to this labor. Years
are consumed in the production of one of these
copies; for the slightest error, the smallest era-
sure, the most minute imperfection or inequality in
the letters, necessitates the recommencement of
the work. The letters of the book are counted,
and are txvo millions in number. With the excep-
tion of that at Bordeaux, the edifice destroyed is
said to have been the finest Hebrew temple in
France.
THE phenomena of Magnetism have been attract-
ing the attention of scientific men for some time
past; and it appears, from the results of their
investigations, as if we were advancing to a knowl-
edge of many of the more secret operations of
nature. A very interesting discovery has been
recently made by Mr. Robert Huntwhose discov-
eries in thermography and photography have
appeared in our columns. By placing a glass
trough on the poles of a powerful magnet, and
filling it with any fluid from which a precipitate is
slowly forming, it is found that the precipitate
arranges itself in the magnetic curves. Crystalli-
zation, taking place under the same circumstances,
exhibits also the infiuence of magnetism on their
molecular arrangementsall the crystals bending
and arranging themselves in the order of the mag-
netic curves. The experiment is very beautifully
shown by filling the trough with a solution of
nitrate of silver, and placing a globule of mercury
on the glass, equidistant from the poles of the
magnet: the revived silver shoots out in all direc-
tions, in a very pleasing arhorescent form; but it
maintains in a striking manner the curvilinear ten-
dency, and distinctly marks out the lines of mag-
netic direction. It would appear, from the results
already obtained by Mr. Hunt, that this influence
is universal; and if it issatisfactorily proved to be
so, we shall certainly approach much nearer to the
truth regarding the influences of electricity on the
structure of the earth than we have hitherto done.
By the Calcutta papers, just received, it appears
that the cause of education, so early adopted by
Sir Henry Hardinge after his arrival at the seat of
his government, continues to progress under his
auspices. (ine of the latest acts of the governor-
general, in conjunction with the supreme council,
previously to his departure for the north-west
provinces, was the establishment of a central col-
lege at Kishnagur, and four English schools at
other places. No less than fifty-nioc scholarships,
it is stated, were at the same time given to the
schools and colleges already in existence. These
measures are effected at an annual expense of
4,0001.A newspaper in the Armenian language,
said to he the first of its kind, has been established
in Calcutta.
THE Admiralty have received accounts of the
Polar Expedition, under Sir John Franklin, of a
date as late as the 10th August. The ships were
then on the north coast of Greenland above Gilberts
Sound; and would probably winter near that spot,
or at Parrys old wintering place, the Arctic islands,
amongst the Esquimauxthe state of the ice and
lateness of the season rendering further progress
unlikely, for the present year.
A NEW expedition has recently left Liverpool,
fbr the interior of Western Africa, under the direc
tion of Mr. G. XV. Daniell, a surgeon, with the
view of following up the discoveries in that region.
And to this paragraph we may add, that a French
expedition, composed of a steamer and two brigs,
will sail, next month, to complete the observations
made on the river Senegal, contract treaties with
the native princes, and organize the gum trade. It
is intended to advance as far as the Cataracts of
Govino, the extreme navigable point of the river,
at the junction with the Kakoro, the Baung, and,
the Fal~mewhich latter was recently ascended
by the exploring mission of the Bambouck.
WE have to record the death of a veteran in lit-
erature, the Reverend Henry John Todd, rector
of Settrington in Yorkshire, archdeacon of Cleave-
land, chaplain in ordinary to the queen, the editor
of Miltons Works and of Johnsons Dictionary.
Mr. Todd was in his eighty-third year, and died
at Settrington in Yorkshire on the 24th December
last. He hegan his career in literature in 1793,
with an octavo volume, entitled Some Account
of the Deans of Canterbury, from the new founda-
tion of the Church by Henry VIII. to the present
time. This was followed, in 1798, by an edition
of Comus, with numerous notes; in 1805, by
an edition of Spenser; and, in 1809, by a Life of
Milton, afterwards enlarged and appended to an
edition of the Poetical Works of the great poet
The Milton was followed by a volume of Illustra-
tions of the Lives of Gower and Chaucer, (8vo.,
1810;) not deficient in research, and altogether an
agreeable addition to our antiquarian literature. In
1812, he published, The History of the College at
Bonhommes, at Ashhridge in Buckinghamshire ;
in 1818, a new edition, in five vols. quarto, of
Johnsons Dictionary; in 1821, a Life of Brian
Walton, Bishop of Chester; in 1825, a pamphlet
concerning the authorship of Icon Basilike; and,
in 1829, a further pamphlet on the same interest-
ing subjectMr. Todd declaring in favor of Bishop
Gaudens claim to be considered the author. His
last original work was a Life of Cranmer, in 1831,
in two octavo volumes; a work of authority, and
not ill written, though Mr. Todd is by no means a
good writer of biography, either in style, in the
arrangement of his materials, or the inferences he
deduces from them. His Life of Milton has more
the air, it has been said, of a legal instrument than
a poetical memoir; hut it contains some new mat-
ter, has the merit of general accuracy, and in some
respects, (which is not often the case when men
write about Milton,) of impartiality. Mr. Todds
edition of Johnson was reprinted in 1827; his edi-
tion of Milton in 1843; and his Spenser in 1845.
He had revised the Milton, but had done little or
nothing to the Spenser.
MATHEHATIcsWriters, both of fact and fib..
tion, sometimes try their hands at mathematics, the
science of all others which the uninitiated should
let alone, both in the pnre and the mixed forms.
It has been noted that Walter Scott seems to have
made the lady of Branksome think that it is always
moonlight on St. Michaels night; and he makes
Davy Ramsay swear by the bones of the immor.~
tal Napier an association he had picked up,
thinking it had something to do with the tomb of
the great mathematician; whereas Napiers bones
are the little bone instruments which he contrived
for doing multiplication and division. He made
Dominie Sampson a profound scholar and mathe-
matician, but he wisely abstained from exhibitin#
him in the latter character. He thought, howev~*
369
370 GOSSIP FROM THE ATHEN~1Th1.
he might venture to show Guy Mannerings astrol-
ogy, and he has made a slip. The conjuror, from
the mere vieu~ of the heavenly bodies, without in-
struments or tables, makes his calculation of young
Harry Bertrams disastrous moment come to the
very hour of the very day which a previous calcula-
tion had made him fix for misfortune to fall upon his
own sweetheart: and the prophecy is fulfilled, too.
This is equivalent to giving him an eye which
would measure angles in the heavens to a minute
of a degree. But the author of The Diary of a
late Physician beats Walter Scott hollow in the
attempt which he describes his martyr-philoso-
pher as making to correct Laplace. There was,
says he, on the paper a fearful array of symbols
A/3a2, o ~-2+9n=9; n log, and sines, en-
ames, series, & c. without end. This is indeed a
fearful array of symbols; and it would puzzle all
the savans in Europe to guess any page of Laplace
with which it could have anything to do. He
might as well have picked letters out of the He-
brew alphabet at haphazard, and given the total as
a verse in the Psalms. We will now take a seri-
ous instance. The very excellent Gilbert White,
of Selborne, one of the few authors who should he
cited by the title of His Readableness, has an amus-
ing mistake, as follows :He thinks the long-leg-
ged plover must be, for his weight, a much longer-
legged bird than the flamingo; and thus he makes
it out: the latter weighs sixty-four ounces, the
former four and a quarter. But the plover has
eight inches length of leg; if, then, the flamingo
were as long-legged in proportion to its weight, its
leg would be more than ten feet in length, whereas
it is only twenty inches. Consequently, the plover
is out of all comparison a longer-legged bird than
the flamingo. Now, Mr. White had an idea that
the weight of a system increases in the same pro.
portion as its linear dimensions, and no one of his
editors has set him right. But had he made the
legs grow, as he ought to have done, in the propor-
tion of the cube roots of the weights, he would have
given his flamingo a leg of nineteen inches and three
quartersvery close to the truth. Therefore, peo-
ple should not write, & c. & c. without & c. & c.
Q. E. D.
WE hear, from Bonn, of a forthcoming publica-
tion, which excites great interest in the literary
world. This is a History of the French Revolu-
tion, by the late illustrious historian Niebnhr;
the manuscript of which was found among his pa-
pers, and which his son is now conducting through
the press.We may mention that another distin-
guished German historian, Herr Dahlmann, pro-
fessor at the university of that town, is, at the same
time, printing a history of the same revolution, at
Leipsie.
GREAT preparations are making for the solem-
nization to he observed in the city of Trent, on the
15th inst., in celebration of the three hundredth
anniversary of the famous council held there. The
Society of the friends of music throughout the A us-
trian states, having their head-quarters at Vienna,
will execute, on the occasion, by a body of 1000
performers, artists and dilettanti, Haydns Imperial
Mass, and two oratorios to be chosen from the works
of the most celebrated amongst the old Italian com-
posers. The prince-~ rchhishop has restored, at his
own cost, the magnificent lateral chapel of the cathe-
dral, wherein is deposited the crucifix of massive
gold before which the members of the council sol
emnly signed the acts of that assembly; and the
citizens have erected, at the east side of the church
of St. Mary Major, in which the council was cele
brated, a tall column of red granite, surmounted by
a statue, in white marble, of the Virgin. The
shaft of the pillar is covered with inscriptions itt
Latin, recording the principal acts of the council,
and recommending the city to the especial proteo~.
tion of the Queen of Heaven.
AMONG the projects in this day of projects, when
nothing is thought impossible, and scarcely any..
thing for the moment seems absurd, we see men-
tion made of a ship railway from Liverpool te
Manchester, by which vessels of large burthen mnay
be transported direct to the latter town, saving the
port and other charges at the former.And among
useful performances, we may mention that the
ground has been cleared, in Whiteehapel, in the
heart of a very poor and thickly populated neigh.-
borhood, for the erection of a set of baths and wash.
houses, on a space 120 feet square, and at a cost,
by contract, for the building alone of not less than
20,000. The first stone will be laid, in a few
days, by the lord mayor.
The new and mighty powers of locomotion which
man has caught wild, as he anciently did the horse
and bitted, and curbed, and broken in to do his
bidding, are everywhere throwing down, by their
influence, even such barriers as they do not van-
quish by their own direct action. The fiery and
impatient spirit that the rocks cannot hold, tho
waters may not quench; he who pauses not before
the hills because they are high, will not be re-
strained by rivers because they are broad. On all
sides go down the physical impediments that
would fetter the universal progress of steam; and
projects that have been amongst the speculations
of years or agesbrought out every quarter of a
century, or so, and turned over to keep them aired
are executing now, as matters of coursethings
that there need not bc two words aboutmer.
corollaries of the great railway scheme. Else-
where, we have spoken of the bridge at Runcorn,
on which the counties of Lancashire and Cheshire
have so long and vainly desired to meetnow at
once to be thrown over the Mersey, that the rail-
ways may shake hands above its stream; and here,
we have accounts of another gigantic work, about
to be executed near the town of Tarasconathat
the railway from Cette to Beaucaire may talk to its
neighbor from Marseilles to Avigrion, across the
Rhine. This is a viaduct, of 490 m~tres in length
from one abutment to the other; under which the
waters of the river will flow through seven arches,
having each a span of 60 mdtres from pier to pier.
The frame-work of the arches will be of cast iron.
As to its ornamental part, small turrets are to rise
from all the points at which the arches rest upon
the pierspresenting across the river a series of
steeples like those of a cathedral; and the para-
pets will show carved faces, on both sides, to the
stream.
IN a recent examination of the Episcopal Regis-
ters at Exeter, there was found recorded a curiou&
and minute description of the person of Philippa,
Queen of Edward III., when mmmc years of~ age.
It ~vas written during the Episcopatc of Walter
Stapleton, A. ID. 1319, (tW. 142,) amid is believed
to be in his handwriting; and it is probable that
this prelate must have been commissioned to
report on the moral nod personal qualities of the
lady. The contract for Edwards marriage with
GOSSIP FROM THE ATHENAEUM.
Isabella was not signed until July 1126, although
the inquest on her qualifications was taken several
years before. She was the second daughter of
the Count of Hainhault; and was married at York
on the 25th January, l3~8, being then in her six-
teenth year, and, apparently, a few months older
than her consort. The account is in Norman-
French, and a free translation is as follows
The demoiselle whom we saw has hair suffi-
ciently ~handsortie, between blond and brown.
The head is well made, the forehead long and
wide and prUminent. The face between the two
eyes is straighter, and downwards is smaller and
narrower, tItan the forehead. The eyes brown
and black and also deep. The nose sufficiently
regular and equal, except at the end, where it is
large and broad and not flat. The nostrils are
also large. The mouth largeish. The lips, and
especially the lower one, thick. The teeth well
set and grown, sufficiently white, but some not so
white, the under are a little less forward than the
upper, but this is not very perceptible. The ears
and chin sufficiently handsome. The neck, shoul-
ders, and all the body and members downwards
sufficiently well proportioned and modelled~ with-
out defect and nothing forbidding, as far as one
could see. The prevalent color is brownish, and
she much resembles her father, and is in every
respect sufficiently agreeahle in our opinion. The
demoiselle will be nine years of age at the feast
of the Nativity of Saint John, as her mother says.
She is not too tall or too short for her age, and is
of good carriage and manner becoming her rank.
She is much approved and ~vell beloved by her
father and mother and by all the household hith-
erto, as well as we could observe, hear and learn.~~
This, it will be seen, is a pretty minute inven-
tory of a ladys person. It, and the statue of
this queen which still remains, well intact from
the miscltiefs of coronation scaffolding, at the
south-east corner of Edward the Confessors
Chapel in Westminster Abbey, will enable those
who desire to do so, to obtain a sufficiently accu-
rate conception of the personal features of Queen
Philippa.
Ma. PARK, the sculpt~, exhibited, as our readers
know, among the collection of the works of artists
in Westminster Hall, during the summer of the
present year, a speculative design for a monument
to the mitemory of the poet Campbell. It is, we
suppose, less in honor of that design, than because
the sculptor is the fellow-countryman and fellow-
townsman of the Bard of Hope, that the former
has been appointed to execute the bronze statue
of the poet which Glast~ow is about to raise to her
distinguished son. For this classic bronze
statue, as Mr. Park describes it, he has com-
pleted a study of the colossal head ; and is about
to despatch it to Scotland, for the approbation of
the committee who have charge of the under-
taking. We earnestly advise Mr. Park to shun
the omen suggested in that word classic. Classic
is an expression of two m~anings ; its original one
by which a work is described to be of the highest
orderand its derivative one which refers particu-
larly to the great works of the ancients, because
they were so. In the former of these senses Mr.
Park, we will believe, is too modest to apply the
term to his own performanceso, he uses it in
the second and ordinary sense, as implying an
imitation of the antique forms. We have.before
us the recollection of so many of Mr. Park.
colossal titular Greeks, that we cannot but depre-
cate a travesty of Thomas Campbell in his own
Scottish town. Glasgow, which, on a recent
occasion, vent abroad for her artist, will do
worse if, on this, she shall go abroad for her art.
A national statue from a foreign sculptor is a
much better thing than a foreign figure from a
native chisel. The poet now to be illustrated is a
familiar shape to the present generation ; and will
scarcely be recognized by themtherefore inaptly
presented to posterityin the Greek attitudeor
what Mr. Park offers as his version of it. If,
however, classic the statue must be, let us
hope that Mr. Park will give the Romans a turn,
this timein which case the bard will at least,
have a toga; for Mr. Parks purely Greck type
appears habitually in our exhibition-rooms in a
condition strikingly unsuited to these northern lat-.
itudes, and which, however more or less appr~
priate to a Greek athlete, would be an epigram
against a Scottish linet. We should not like the.
wits to catch the bard represented without a
shirt to his back. For a statue of Campbell, in
the good town of Glasgow, the sculptor had a
figure at hand, which would at once have rendered
the idea of the man, and lent itself favorably to
composition. The poet might have appeared as
lord rector; the poetical and classical element.
both entering into the idea, while expressing them-.
selves by a native and appropriate form.
A NEW FEATURE FOR OREGoN.Should the
United States ever come into possession of the
whole of Oregon, we will then have within the
bounds of the Union a curiosity far greater than
either the falls of the Niagara or the Mammoth
Cave, Ky., according to the following from the
Newburyport, Massachusetts, Herald: ~Should
we ever extend our possessions over North Ore-
gon, as far as the Romanzoff mountains, near the
seventieth parallel, we shall reach that latitude
where the sun does not set in summer. Near the
mountains, in summer, the sun appears to stand
as still as it did in the days of Joshua. In June
it is twenty-five degrees above the horizon at
midnight, and the only mode of knowing that it
is midnight, is watching the sun when it begins
to ascend. Fowls go to roost at 7, P. M., and
repose until the sun is well up. In winter it is,
of course, the reverse; as in the high latitudes,.
the sun is not seen for six weeks.
SLAVERY IN MAssAcHUsETTs.In old times,
when slavery was sanctioned in Massachusetts, a
wealthy lady residing in Gloucester was in the
habit of giving away the infants of her female
slaves a few days after they were born, as people
are accustomed to dispose of a litter of kittens.
One of her neighbors begged an infant, which, in
those days of comparative simplicity, she nourished
with her own milk, and reared among her own
children. This woman had an earnest desire for
a brocade gown, and her husband not feeling
able to purchase one, she sent her little nursling
to Virginia and sold her, when she was about
seven years old.Mrs. Childs History of Wo-.
meim.
371
PAINTED GLASS.
PAINTED GLASS.
IN June, 1843, the Commissioners of Fine Arts,
with the laudable view of encouraging native tal-
ent, invited the artists of Great Britain and Ireland
painters, wood-carvers, modellers, ,,lass-painters
& c. & c., to compete in their respective arts for the
embellishment of the new houses of parliament,
and to forward specimens of their skill to London,
for the judgment and decision of the commission.
In compliance with this invitation, Messrs. Bal-
lantine and Allan, glass-painters, Edinburgh, sub-
mitted a specimen of painted glass, together with a
series of designs, or rather suggestions for designs,
for the twelve windows of the house of lords, to be
filled with that material, which the competing art-
ists were requested also to furnish.
The specimen forwarded by Messrs. Ballantine
and Allan was so highly approved of by the com-
mission, that they eventually recommended these
gentlemen to the treasury for the execution of the
whole of the windows. They have also adopted
the leading idea suggested by Messrs. B. and A.
as subject, departing from it, however, and we
think judiciously, in some matters of detail.
Messrs. Ballantine and Allan proposed to give a
sort of pictorial history of Great Britain an with
this view divided it into twelve cycles, beginning
with Caractacus and ending with Victoria; each
cycle, besides being indicated by its more remarka-
ble sovereigns; being further illustrated by repre-
sentations of the most celebrated personages of the
period referred to, intended, we presume, as a sort
of embodiment of the spirit of the times. The
commission, however, has rejected this part of the
design, and has ordered that the selection of per-
sonages to be represented shall be confined to the
royal lines of England and Scotland. The restric-
tion, we think, was a proper one, since, by making
the circumstance of royalty the single and only
qualification for representation, all difference of
opinion is avoided.
Encouraged, as we presume, by his successful
competition, Mr. Ballantine, of Messrs. B. and A.,
has recently published a treatise on painted glass,*
with the view, he tells us, of seconding the impulse
which has lately been given to the decorative arts,
and of urging the movement resulting therefrom in
the right direction. This is laudable, and exhibits
a liberality of spirit which it could he wished was
more general amongst the professors of these arts.
If it were, if every man came forward with the re-
sults of his observation and experience in the art
which he practises in the same open, manly, and
tinaffected manner as Mr. Ballantine, the march of
improvement would be incalculably acc~elerated.
Before entering on his subject, Mr. Ballantine
glances at one of the greatest evils by which art is
afflicted, namely, a blind veneration for the antique
A veneration which does not distinguish be-
tween the faults and the beauties of ancient art, but
extends its admiration equally to both. The na-
tional taste, continues our author, as if in pen-
ance for former transgressions, has prostrated itself
before the spirit of antiquity, and is now offering it
a homage at once abject and indiscriminating.
These remarks are not more forcible than true,
more particularly in the case of glass-painting,
* A Treatise on Painted Glass, showing its Applicabil-
ity to every style of Architecture. By James Ballantine,
Edinburgh. London, Chapman and Hall. Edinburgh,
John Meuzies.
From Frasers Magazine. where this devotion to the antique has led to the
perpetuation of an amount of deformity, distortion,
and monstrosity, which would have annihilated
any art that had not within itself a principle of vi-
tality which no violation of taste, however hideous,
could altogether destroy.
Mr. Ballantine accuses the glass-manufacturers
of pandering to this vitiated taste, by imparting to
the glass intended for painting the defects of the
old glass. its sandy texture, and wavy, uneven sur-
face. Thus prepared, it passes into the hands of
the glass-painter, who completes the deception,
and produces a genuine antique, represented by a
combination of bad material, wretched drawing,
and miserable design. The villanous production,
with all its abominations, set glaringly forth, is
then put up in some church or public building, and
down before it, on bended knee, fall the worship-
pers of the antique, lost in admiration of the crook-
ed legs, distorted spines, splay feet, inane counte-
nances, and preposterous attitudes of the figures
intended for human, by which the design is ani-
mated and illustrated.
The art of glass-painting, Mr. Ballantine says,
has been decidedly retrograding. It could hardly
be otherwise with an art which, more than any
other, perhaps, lies under the baneful influence of
a vitiated taste and reasonless prejudice. How
can an art prosper that deals in such caricatures of
humanity, such abortions of nature, the likeness of
which is not to be found in the heavens above or in
the earth beneath 1 Impossible. What is unnat-
ural carries an impassable limit within itself beyond
which it cannot be urged.
A better day seems now, however, to be dawn-
ing for this very beautiful and elegant art, and
foremost amongst its improvers, amongst those
who have brought a correct taste and a true
artistic spirit to bear on its capabilities, we have
no hesitation in placing Mr. James Ballantine,
whose clear and lively perception of the errors
and absurdities by which the art has been hitherto
degraded and its improvement retarded, induces
a strong faith in his competency for the great
national work which he has been chosen to exe-
cute; and although we cannot but feel that the
execution of that work involves responsibilities of
the very gravest kind, we cannot doubt of their be-
ing satisfactorily sustained.
With a love of his art which marks the genuine
artist, Mr. Ballantine makes anxious, and, we
think, successful efforts to show that in glass-
painting, in the general case, there has been hith-
erto, not only a lack of artistic skill, but a want of
appreciation of its capabilities as a medium of ex-
pression. He believes it to be adaptable to higher
purposes, capable of embracing a wider range of
objects than has been thought or allowed. He, in
short, thinks it an art worthy of the energies of the
highest order of artistic genius; and when we ad-
vert to the fact of its possessing, to an extent far
exceeding that of any other medium, two of the
most valuable qualities in pictorial art, magnificence
of effect and splendor of color, we cannot but agree
with him, nor hesitate to believe that much more
could be made of the art than has yet been. When
we add to the qualities already mentioned that of
durability, which it also possesses in a surpassing
degree, we have a medium of pictorial expression
at once more effective and enduring than any other
employed in art. In reference to its durability,
Mr. Ballantine observes, Had the art of paintixg
on glass been known in the age of Phidias, we
372
PAINTED GLASS.
might have had preserved in colors as vivid as
when the works were executed, the Jupiter of Ho-
mer by Apelles, the pictorial embodiment of the
Athenian character by Parrhasius. This is well
said, and forcibly suggests ideas of the perishable
nature of canvass and paint when compared to col-
ored glass. A few centuries and the former fades
and decays, while on the latter the lapse of tbou-
sands of years effects no perceptible deterioration,
both color and substance being indestructible by
time; a quality which alone should recommend the
art of glass-painting to high consideration, not only
as a means of securing immortality for works of
genius, but as constituting an imperishable record
of forms and things which posterity would be the
wiser, and, mayhap, the better for knowing.
Painted glass, in short, if employed to the full ex-
tent of its capabilities, might become a high and
pure source of information to the remotest genera-
tions; transmitting vivid and correct ideas on many
points of national history, to which the lapse of
time. gives a deep and exciting interest. In the
matter of costume, for instance, how accurate
would be its intelligence, how invaluable to the
antiquary and historian.
The opinion we believe to be pretty general,
that the situations and styles of architecture for
which painted glass is adapted are extremely lim-
ited, many believing it to be suited to places of
worship only. Mr. Ballanti.ne is of a very differ-
ent opinion. He declares it to be applicable to
any and every style of architecture, and an appro-
priate embellishment for modern mansions, when
subject to the rules of good taste, and regulated
by a due consideration for influencing circum-
stances.
There is no doubt that painted glass windows
are peculiarly suitable for places of worship. The
splendor of their coloring, and the dim, religious
light, they shed, harmonizing well with the holy
purposes of a temple of God, while the emblems
and figures they bear are calculated to deepen the
devotional feeling of the worshipper, besides hav-
ing the effect of excluding external objects by
which that feeling might be disturbed. But there
is as little doubt that there are many other situa-
tions in which painted glass windows might be
introduced with equal propriety and effect. All
that is necessary, being their adaptation in charac-
ter, style, and subject, to the situation and circum-
stances in which they are placed. This attended
to, we hardly know where they could be consid-
ered out of place. On their fitness for libraries
and all apartments devoted to reading and study
we need not dwell, the qualities by which painted
glass is recommended to such situations being too
obvious to render this necessary. Neither need
we speak of its suitableness for all sorts of public
rooms, great halls, and generally, for all places
appropriated for matters of state and ceremony, or
for the accommodation of large assemblages of
people.
The imposing effect which it would have in all
these cases need not he enlarged on; but there are
other situations into which it might be introduced
with equally good results, provided the conditions
imposed by circumstances were complied with.
It might be introduced into the windows of the
principal apartments of modern mansions with
excellent effect, confining the designs to a light
and graceful tracery, in rich, clear, but unobtru-
sive coloring. There can be no doubt that painted
glass windows, after some such style as this,
would add greatly to the elegance of any apart-
ment into which they might be introduced, care
being taken, as Mr. Ballantine recommends, that
the coloring be at once in harmony with the gen-
eral complexion of the apartment.
Of course, any attempt here at the introduction
of human figures, or at pictorial effect generally,
would be out of place and in bad taste; both the
size and form of the modern window forbidding the
admission of all such designs; nor would such
tracery as that recommended interrupt the view
through the window, the necessary intervals of
colorless glass always permitting of distinct and
unobstructed vision.
Mr. Ballantine, being of opinion that the present
mode uf having windows sunk into a recess, and
the continuity of the wall apartment thereby disa-
greeably interrupted, proposes that the glass
should be double, one, the painted glass, being
flush with the interior wall, with which, of course,
it would be made to harmonize; the other, the
plain glass, flush with the exterior. The novelty
of this idea is, at first, a little startling, and we
cannot help having some misgivings as to the
effect, although the desiderated continuity would
certainly be attained by such arrangement, and
uniformity and entireness secured for the designs
by which the apartment is to be embellished.
But however this may be, the following observa-
tions on points connected with this subject seem
worthy of notice
In modern domestic architecture, it has been
found necessary to divide mansions horizontally
into floors, and to range various suites of apart-
ments over each other. The principal rooms are
very frequently situated on the ground-floor, and
being thus situated, they cannot be lighted from
above. Recourse accordingly must be had to side
lights, which greatly mar the effect of all sorts of
colored decorations. Various expedien ts have
been resorted to, to remedy this defect, but hith-
erto without success. Indeed some of those
attempts have but increased the unsightliness they
were meant to remove. Dining-room windows
have been surrounded with massive curtains,
whose huge folds intercept light, absorb sound,
and form receptacles for every noxious exhalation.
Drawing-room window curtains are frequently
surmounted with richly-carved cornices, designed
and executed with consummate skill, yet such
skill is misapplied, and such labor lost, when, in
consequence of being placed in the strongest dark
of the room, and opposed to the white light which
streams through the colorless glass, these speci-
mens of the artists dexterity can neiiher be seen
nor appreciated.
Thus, although it appears evident that the
idea of making a window-curtain a chief point of
attraction in a principal apartment, must have
originated in a desire to cover the objectionable
vacancy, and although expensive window-cornices
have been used to lighten and carry tip these
masses of drapery, still, it must be admitted, that
they have not answered the purpose intended.
Sometimes, under the influence of artificial light,
when the colored decorations of ceiling, walls,
wood-work furniture, hangings, and cornices, are
well balanced and arranged, the general effect is
not unpleasing; still the eye desiderates an unin-
terrupted continuity of wall, in whatever style it
may be adorned, and is annoyed by the incon-
gruity presented, by one side of a room covered
with hangings, which have neither affinity with
373
PAINTED GLASSGUANO.
the other decorations, nor corresponding features
on the other side of the apartment.
Mr. Ballantine is under an impression, that in
decorative art there is a tendency to give undue
preference to mere geometrical figures arid combi-
nations to the exclusion of natural objects.
This seems to be the proper place, lie says,
to notice certain recent attempts to make the
imitation of natural objects appear a minor part of
ornamental composition, and to endeavor to refute
the assertion, that little more is reqnired in this
department of art than graceful geometric combi-
nations of lines and harmoniously balanced combi-
nations of colors.
The advocates of such opinions seem to forget
that harmonic proportion forms but the pedestal on
which the triumphs of genius are to be exhibited;
and that while the artist seeks to please the eye,
he ought also to address himself to the feelings
and fancy of the spectator. Geometric conibina-
tious and proportions merely mark the limits
within which genius ought to confine its aspira-
tions, while to the mediocre student they are
grammatical rules the study of which will enable
him to write correctly.
The truth and force of these remarks cannot be
gainsaid. There is, however, undoubtedly, great
grace and beauty in felicitous geometrical comubi-
Rations. They affect us agreeably. We are sur-
prised by their unerring precision, and delighted
with the variety and elegance of the forms which
they are continually throwing off, as if by magic,
in apparently limitless profusion. But we agree
with Mr. Ballantine, that the source of pleasure
here lies not in the heart. There is no feeling
touched, no association called into existence. It
is a cold and barren admiration, an admiration
with which the deeper sympathies have nothing
to do.
Mr. Ballantine has enriched his treatise with a
series of beautifully colored engravings of the va-
rious primary forms generally used in glass-paint-
ing, and has accompanied each illustration by brief
but lucid explanation, and instructions regarding
its adaptation and the proper arrangement of its
component parts. He has also illustrated, in a
Series of ornamental designs selected from the
painted glass of pointed architecture, the progress
made in the acquisition and development of the
first principles of art by the architects of the middle
ages, and their advancement from timid and servile
imitators to bold and original d~signers. Mr. Bal-
lantine likewise show~ that the leading forms used
in the painted glass of Norman architecture were
~bot clumsy imitations of the foliated ornament in
Grecian and Roman friezes and capitals, and ob-
serves that the introduction of simple geometric
figures into the painted glass of the early English
style imparted a new feature to the productions of
the period. He also adverts to the interesting fact
of the ornamental glass of the times referred to,
being characterized by singular freshness of idea,
by an easy flow of outline, and by graceful propor-
tion. The subjects chosen, too, he remarks, were
perfectly original, having no prototype in ancient
~r classic ornamental detail, hut consisting, simply,
af adaptation from nature and from geometrical
~omhinations. The artists knowledge of propor-
tion enabled him to produce a pleasing general
affect, while the details, or filling-np, consisted
merely of representations of the common weeds,
plants, and flowers of the country.
This slight sketch, says Mr. Ballantine, of
tbe progress of ornamental glass-painting, in con-
nection with pointed architecture, naturally sug-
gests the following reflections :1. That while
decorative art must be guided in her leading feat-
ures by geometric proportion, she must also imitate
in her details the productions of nature. 2. That
nature and art must go hand in hand in every ar-
tistic effort, otherwise failure is certain. 3. ~Phat
Grecian foilage was used in the decorations of the
windows of pointed structures, and, of course, is
much more appropriate for modern edifices of Do-
nc, Ionic, or Corinthian architecture. 4. That
during the period when pointed architecture had
attained its greatest excellence, the most original
and symmetrical decorations were produced; and
that hence, when the principles of proportion and
adaptation become thoroughly understood and are
applied to the arts, we shall have new and grace-
ftil styles of architecture, together with novel and
beautiful modes of decoration.
The following observations are so strongly
marked by some of the characteristics just named,
that we cannot refrain from quoting them
May we not be permitted to indulge a hope
that now, when the proportions and drawing of the
human figure are taught in our academies, and
when the science of testhetics may shortly be ex-
pected to form an important branch of artistic edu-
cation, the genius of the country will become fully
alive to the value of the decorative arts, as applied
to domestic purposes, and that we shall have the
walls of our dwelling houses ornamented in a man-
ner superior to those of Pompeii, and our windows
filled with painted glass, more in accordance with
the principles of taste than the best specimens of
the middle ages l
We now dismiss this excellent little treatise from
our hands with a high opinion of the genius and
talent of the author, and with a conviction that he
possesses in an eminent degree the qualities best
adapted at once for the attainment of excellence in
art, and for the promotion, generally, of its best
interests, enthusiasm in the cause, sound judgment,
correct taste, and a reflective and original mind.
Neither need we hesitate to add, that he has brought
more information to bear on the art of glass paint-
ing, more sound observation, and a more thorough
artistic spirit, than is to be found in any treatise on
the subject in the English language.
THE Peruvian government has published, undev
the date of March first of last year, a statistical doc-
ument on guano which has become an important
branch of revenue. It appears from this document,
that in the first year, (1841) in which this manure
became an article of commerce, there were 6,123 tone
exported in 23 ships. In the following years, the
exportation of guano w-~ a considerably augmented.
Thus from the year 1842 to the month of February
of the year 1845, 100 vessels left Peru with about
32,000 tons, of which 2,522 were exported to France
in 8 French vessels, 300 to the United States, and
300 to Italy and Austria: The rest, that is to say,
nearly nine tenths, took the direction of England.
The mercantile house of Quiros, Allier & Co.,
which in 1842 concluded a bargain with the Peruviafl
government, is authorized to export, during the peri-
od of five years, 120,000 tons of guano, on conditioTh
that on all the sales which exceed 30 piastres, (30
dollars,) the ton, the excess shall be divided between
the government and the company, in the proportion
of three quarters for the government and one quarte?
for the company. According to the report of th
minister of finances, the Peruvian treasury has al
ready received from the guano a sum of more thax~
five millions of francs.
a74
CHILDREN.
Front Taits Magazine.
CHILDREN.
was pretty, thouii a plante.
AU a Well that Ends Well.
POOR HELENAS account of her feelings, while
engraving Bertrams litieaments on the tablet of
her heart, xviii answer fur tite description of the
emotions with which parents not unfrequently con-
template their offspring, especially if they are nu-
merous: and be it remarked, that the childish
character is only fully developed in large families.
If there are but a pair, and, still more, if there is
only one, it is odds but the child has no childhood:
either it is toe) mucit neglected, or too much attend-
ed to. If the parents are busy, the pair, or the
single one, is habititally placed in the corner, to
keep out of mischief, or left to a nursery-maid, who
has her caps to tnind, and the young fellow she
acts thetn at. The child soon feels that it is in the
way; groxvs timid ; its little affections and little
faculties are kept unclosed by the chilly attnos-
l)Ilere of Itome. If made the pet and plaything
of idle parents, the matter is even worse: it con-
tracts prematurely the thoughts of old people.
Neglected children have a partial childhood; but
the pet is cheated out of that period of its exist-
ence.
To see children as they ought to be, you must
see them in nttmerous covies. The real child is
only to be found in a house where you cant set
down a foot heedlessly without trampling on one.
There they are so much in the way that people
are not allowed to forget them; and they are so
many, that none of them can be spoiled by petting.
Besides, children make by far the best keepers and
companions for each other. A baby in its basci-
net, trying to rest on its feet, while propping its
little hands on the rim, or reaching over to catch
something, is enough to outxvear the vigilance and
patience of the most pattern nurse-maid; but set a
little creature of two or three years old, the quiet
and gentle one of the family, to watch the baby,
an(I, proud of the commission, tt never ttres. The
~baby, too, is more amenable to its tiny coercion,
when seeking to break bounds. Such a group is
the only beautiful emblem of the power that love
imparts to human weakness. When the blind is
imagined directing the lame, while the lame car-
rtes the blind, the picture is painful and humiliat-
ing; hut there is no such alloy in the picture of an
elf, only half emerged from babyhood. keeping baby
from hurting itself, while baby supplies the place
of a plaything.
or perhaps it is a gallant unbreeched boy who
takes upun him the guardianship of a sister some
twelve moons his senior. How soon the lord of
the creation shows himself in the male. There
is a mischievous, laitghing selfconfidence in an
urchin ot two years, that girls never attain. If
any other class of intelligent existence have it in
their power to contemplate httman beings, the most
inexperienced among them metst at once have a
presentiment that in the baby-boy, they behold a
creature whose will is to be law to himself and
others. A nursery-maid, when children who are
verging towards the transition epoch at which the
child passes into the boy or girl prove unusually
stubborn, sometimes threatens to leave them. Let
the experiment be tried, and it is ten to one that
the culprit, if a girl, looks on while the bonnet and
shawl are being pinned, half-incredulous, half-anx-
ious, that her younger sister is (lissolved in tears,
and that while baby keeps crowing uttetly uncor~
scions of what is passing, little tataster, with a pout
on his lip and a frown on his brow, doggedly sets
his back against the door to l)revent egress, and
says nothing. In girl-children, the intellect devel-.
ops itself inure rapidly than in boy-children; but
the character is much earlier pronounccd in the
male. This may be tlte reason why we always
find in tlte nursery pairings ofi, a brother and sister
keeping themselves somewhat apart from tite rest~
Where there are two, one ntnst go before: either
the elder girl has not the talent of leading, or the
younger feels instinctively that she has no autiteri
ty over her by divine right. rfhe boy takes the
lead unconsciously, and yet, as in after life, the girl
has perhaps more influence over him than Ite over
her.
It is a stitTing little repttblic a nursery ; feuds
are incessantly recttrrirtg. The tears and passions
of a nursery are like tite rainy weather of Eng-
land: it requires an effort of reflection to convince
us the sunsititte is more frequettt than the squall~
It is difficult for one not attached to a child by cu~
tom, or the mysteriotts link of paternity, to esti-.
mate its character fairly. The more of energy and
of consequent promise for after life, a child has, the
more apt it is to repel. Headlong and unreflect-
tug, sufficing to itself, entirely Itossessed by the
flush of young emotion, it needs when in health, no
sympatlty, and seeks for none. It cannot move
xvithout jostling an old maid or old bachelor in
some sore point. Sorely does it try even paternal,
and still more maternal forbearance. We must
love children, as God loves usnot as we love our
equals in age, quite as much from a refined selfish-
ness, as any other cause; but simply because we
love them. Affectionate creatures they are, and
nestle themselves into your very heart xvhen the
mood is on them; but changeable as the elements)
you must look for long intervals of forgetfulness~
The intelligent unintermitting love borne by chil-
dren to their parents, is the fruit of a much more
mature age; the product of habit, and developed
reason, emotion, and conscience. The best among
us, looking back to his own childhood, grieves to
think how coldly he repaid the affection lavished
upon him by fond parents. if they survive, he
pays them ~vel1 in after yearsif gone, the debt
of unrequited love is transferred as a legacy to his
own children.
To the reflectittg mind, there is no claim so
strong as that which a child has upon us, for un-
remitting devoted affectionate cherishing. It iS
there because we have been happy. That happi-
nets we sought, careless, utterly thoughtless of it.
Exclusively seeking our own gratification, we have
forced it to eucottuter this rough world and all its
trials. The voiceless baby speaks to our con-
science: you who have subjected my helplessness
to all these ~vishes and wants, how deeply hound
you are to provide! And this unconscious jtlea is
urged with smiles ~o sweet, and glances so bright,
as could well fascinate of themselves. Every day
develops some new charm. The baby learns t~
smile recognition, and then to creep to its mother;
tin arch expression mingles with the smile of the
child, and elevates it to the rank of intelligent be-
tngs; and as it nears the extreme verge of child.~
hood, intervals of tempered seriousness descend
upon its eyes and brow, foreshadowings of the deep
and awfttl emotions of matetrity. Drop by drop
water wears holes in the solid rock, day after day,
with smile and arch look, and grave questioning
376
the child penetrates into the heart of hearts. If
there be a love that is undying, it is that of the
parent for the child. If there be love in which
lurks no alloy of selfishness, it is that of the parent
for the child. The love of man and woman is a
beautiful arid terrible emotion, strong beyond ex-
pression, triumphing over terror and death; and
yet the best security for the permanence and
happiness of wedded life, is to be found in that
seemingly fragile chain which is knit by childrens
hands.
No wonder that among rude nations, the name
of mother has ever been so coveted. Manwith
shame we confess itis more apt to be hurried
away by the emotions of the moment than woman.
It is not because he is less grateful for the love he
has sought and wonit is not because his con-
science bears in less indelible traces, the duty he
owes to her who has confided her whole happiness
to himthat the married man is more apt to for-
feit his faith than the married woman. It is sim-
ply because passion is more overmastering with
him. Man is the wooer because he is the weaker
to resist passion; man is, for the same reason, less
able to struggle against transient fickleness. But
when, by yielding, man has broken up the house-
hold tie, his consequential sufferings are the
greater of the two. Be this as it may, man, with-
out regarding him as less capable of deep and
enduring~ love than woman, is more accessible to
temptation, and more apt to break the tie. In the
rude childhood of nations, while the will is un-
tamed by any of civilized societys appliances, man
is, of course, more apt to fall. The delicate tact
of woman soon discovered the power a child has
over a fathers heart, and the additional hold which
that power gives its mother upon him. And the
fairest and most fascinating dame of our day may
rest assured, that cherished though our young
brides may be, the mothers of our children are
regarded with a deeper, more enduring, and holier
affection.
The part that children play in the economy of
families is an important one. But important func-
tions often devolve upon creatures trivial in them-
selves. Not so in the case of children. The child
is greater than the man. The man is himself, and
that is often a shabby enough concern; hut the
child is a thing of hope and anticipation; we know
not what it may become. The arch, laughing
glance of these eyes, which flash upon us when the
bushy, nut-brown hair is throxvn hack by a toss of
the headwhat a lovely creature that may become,
to make some honest mans heart ache! That
boy, with flaxen hair slightly tinged with the gol-
den, while his clear, resolute eye looks fearlessly
at everything it encounters, what may he not ac-
complish in after life! To us there is niore of ter-
ror in the passions of children than of grown men.
They are so disproportioned to their causes, that
they rudely draw back the veil from our own
hearts, reminding us what shadows we are, and
what shadows we pursue. Of all expressions
of pain, we can least endure the ~vail of an infant.
The poor imp cannot explain its little sufferings;
and if it could, so little lies in our power to alle-
viate them. There is nothing for it but to have
ones heart rent by its complainings, and pray in
one s helplessness that its dark hour may pass away.
The healthy child is pure and noble in its dispo-
sitions, wherever its lot may be cast. For a time
it may be immersed in the sties of the lowest and
most brutal debauchery, without being contam-
inated. It may even learn the language of vice I
PECULIARITiES OF LANGUAGESREFLECTIONS OF A RUMSELLER.
and doubly shocking it is to hear the slang of de-
pravity uttered by a childbut the passions yet
slumber which must- be awakened before these
words become to it more than mere empty sounds.
Even le~s defiled than Una, in the bandits den or
the brothel, angels watch over and keep the child
pure amid surrounding filth. And yet, even in the
most carefully nurtured child of the most virtuous
parents, bursts of ungovernable self-will betray the
lurking elements of what may gather and grow to
crime. The trail of the serpent is over the fairest
buds of promise. This it is that causes many a
heart-ache to a fond mother as she looks forward to
her childs after-life. This glorious creature may
be after all a cast-awaywrecked by its own im-
pulses! And terror but deepens the love the prom-
ise of its young beauty had inspired. Children are
treasures so great as to be constantly a cause of
fear to the possessor. There is nothing for it but
to recommend them with trembling hope to the
care of Him who said, Suffer little children to
come unto me.
PECULIARITIES OF LANGUAGE5.In all hot coun-
tries men use, in speaking, a multitude tif vowels,
which are all pronounced by greater or lesser
apertions of the mouth, in breathing and in speak-
ing, and use very few consonants, all of which
are produced by more or less complete interrup-
tion of the breath, and contact, or even closure of
parts, among the organs of speech. Any one who
examines the Italian language, will find, therefore,
about sixty vowels in every hundred letters; and
in the Otaheitean (Tahitian) language, which
sounds very like Italian, there are even inure ; it
is said about seventy-five or eighty vowels in every
hundred letters. The proportion is very different
in English, in which consonants preponderate;
and if we examine the language of Lapland or
Greenland, or of the Arctic-American Esquimaux,
we shall find that there are an enormous number
of consonants in their more than sesquipedalian
words, and that most of these are guttural, as they
do not like to open their mouths to the cold air
sufficiently to pronounce the labial, dental, or lin-
gual consonants, much less the vowels, and least
of all the more open of the vowels. This is a
universal law; though immigration or coloniza-
tion, or the ancient transplantation of a whole
nation by a tyrant conqueror, may sometimes pre-
sent an apparent exception or anomaly, by our
finding a language or a people, originally temper-
ate or torrid, in a frigid zone, or vice-versa.. lied-
ical Times.
REFLECTIONS OF A ItUMSELLER.
a mortgage now on Tompkins lot,
What a fool is he to become a sot!
But it s luck to mein a month or so
I shall foreclose, and the scamp must go.
Zounds! wont his wife have a takino~ on.
When she learns her house and lot are gone!
How she will blubber and sub and sigh,
But business is business, and what care I l
And Gibson has murdered his child, they say;
He was drunk as a fool here, yesterday;
And I gave him a hint as I went to fill
His jug, but the brute would have his will.
And the folks blame me, why bless their gizzards!
If I did nt sell, he would go to Izzards!
I ye a right to engage in a lawful trade,
And take my chance if there s cash to be made.
Tribune.
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
From Taits Magazine.
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
BY WILLIAM HOWIYT.
I BELIEVE it was in 1835, that, on occasion of a
public meeting at Nottingham, to petition for some
reform in Ireland, in the course of a speech, I al-
luded to the great men and women whom that
country had produced, and the benefits which we
had derived in politics, literature, and philosophy,
through their means. When I came to the men-
tion of the name of Daniel OConnell, and had
stated my opinions of his services, not only to his
own beautiful but oppressed country, but to the
great and general cause of liberty and humanity,
the people, in a fit of generous enthusiasm, rose
en masse, and cried, We will have him down to
dinner! My friend Mr. Boothby, now of the
London bar, immediately responded, as a town-
councillor, and leading person of the place, We
will ! The invitation was given was accepted;
and the public dinner to the Irish Liberator will be
long remembered by the assembled thousands and
tens of thousands who witnessed his entrance, as
one of the most enthusiastic demonstrations of the
noblest sympathies of Englishmen with the labors
of the great champions of freedom.
During that entertainment, I was necessarily
thrown into close commnnic~ition with Mr. OCon-
nell; and he was kind enough to say, that he
hoped, some day, to have the pleasure of welcom-
ing Mrs. Howitt and myself to Ireland. Being,
therefore, this autumn, not only in Ireland, but at
Killarney, I could not resist the temptation of
paying my respects to Mr. OConnell in his moun-
tain home on the wild shores of the Atlantic.
I know well how deeply interesting the account
of such a visit, to such a man and such a place,
will be to vast numbers, both in this and other
countries; and shall therefore here describe it, so
far as can be done without trenching upon that
domestic privacy which no one has a right to
infringe, and, of which no one can demand the dis-
play.
The wilds of Kerry, in which Derrynane lies,
are by far the most bold and savage in their aspect
of any part of Ireland which I have yet visited.
To see as much as possible of them, I did not take
the ordinary route from Killarney by Killorglin
and Cahirciveen, but proceeded to the town of
Kenmare, and thence, along the shores of the
Kenmare river, to Derrynane. A finer drive is
rarely to he found, than that from Killarney to the
Pass of Coom Dhuv: it leads amid the mountains
surrounding the Upper Lake. On the left hand,
the wild heights of Turk Mountain tower above
you; on the right, you successively gaze on the
beautiful Turk Lake, on the bold cliff of the
Eagles Nest, and then on all the desolate moun-
tains around the Upper Lake; on its own winding
waters, and brown wilderness-banks, scattered
with crags and rocks. The whole way to Coom
Dhuv is one continual ascent; now passing be-
neatli the feet of the mountains, deep between
woods and thickets, in which the foliage of the ar-
butus is conspicuous; and then emerging evermore
to enchanting views, over waters and mountains of
a solitary, stern, but magnificent beauty. Beyond
the Pass of Coom Dhuv, the scenery becomes still
more stern and desolate. You wind along the
sides of the most naked hills, whose black crags
have been rent through with gunpowder, to make
XCIII. LIVING AGE. VOL. VIII. 24
377
the road you travel; and the whole country before
you, as it opens out, is dreary moorland, with a
few scattered and wretched huts.
Alighting from the stage-car at Kenmare, one of
those places which you hardly know whether to
call a small town or a large village, I found the
landlord of the inn where the car stopped, busily
engaged in chopping a huge piece of beef into
sundry lesser portions, amid a throng of ragged
people and a chaos of tubs, potato-baskets and the
like. The large rambling inn, with its dirty pas-
sages, its great peat-fire in its large desolate kitch-
en; its bare-legged women; its one great room
a sort of half lumber, half store-room; another
filled with smoking guests, reminded me of many
a similar gasthaus in out-of-the-world German vil-
lages. But what concerned me more nearly, the
landlord coolly demanded just double the established
fare for a car thence to Sneam, the next place. As I
had received a hint at Killarney of the extortionate
demands of this man, who calculates on strangers
not being able to procure any conveyance else-
where, I stepped across the road to a Mr. James
Sullivans, with whose name I had been provided.
It was my destiny here, however, to have a speci-
men of the difficulty of getting out a small place,
sometimes, in Ireland. Mr. Sullivan was out:
gone to get his hay in the very neighborhood to
which I wished to proceedthat of Sneam; and
his wife had the horse and the car, but nobody to
drive it.
Could nobody be got lSurely there were
plenty of men in Kenmare who could drive a
carl I suppose there were some dozens at that
moment standing about the streets, with not the
slightest visible sign of anything to do; but the
good woman shook her head.
No; she was afraid not.
She had two grown-up bare-legged daughters,
and these she sent hither and thither, but they
came back without success. No; Murphy, nor
Ryan, nor Coglannone of them would go.
Surely, said I, employment cannot he so
very scarce in Ireland as it is said to be. Not a
man in Kenmare that is desirous, or has time to
earn half a crown, by driving a car for one
stage !
One would think not, said the woman. She
paused to think. Biddy, your brother must go.
Run and fetch him.
Away went the light-footed girl; and judge of
my consternation, when I learned that this brother
the eldest son of Mrs. Sullivan, a lad of seven-
teenwas at plough some mile and half off!
A good part of an hour was spent in waiting for
this youth; but at length caine his sister, hot with
running, to say No; Egan would not leave the
plough.
The good woman was now in despair. I never
knew such a lad as that, said she. But there
is another car in the town. Run, Biddy! and
show the jintleman.
Biddy led me a good way down to a shop; but.
the person in the shopa woman againsaid,.
No; their horse was out: adding, with a sig.-
nificant look, The landlord at the inn is the man
for a car; a very raisonable man; and has iligant~
cars.
A light now broke upon me. The people were
all afraid of this landlord; and returning to Mrs..
Sullivan, I told her my opinion.
There your honor has just hit on it, said
378 VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
sile; and thats the raison none of the nien dare land; and thus terminated the fishitig heieat its
go to drive; for he 11 not give any of them a days very commencement. The same complaint I heard
work, that go with any opposition car. in other places. in IreJand.
I now began to fear that I must submit to th~ A little beyond the Blackwater, a man suddenly
mans charges, and return to him; bu~ Mrs. Sul- slid down from a wagon-load Gf hay that met us.
livan began to show a proper zeal, and said she It was James Sullivan, who rec9gnized his own
would have a man if it cost double what the land- car. Sending his wagon home by the man, he in-
lord wanted. So out the daughter ran again. sisted on driving me himself; and a more hearty,
They showed vast interest in the affair; and, after communicative driver it was impossible to have.
flying hither and thither, came in triumph to say, He went on telling me of all that concerned the
that Dennis OShaughnessy would go, and the whole country round; of Lord Lansdownes es-
watchman was coming to harness the horse, and tatethat country of moorland and mountain
get him into the car. Presently the watchman, a stretching, I suppose, twenty miles along the other
tall, thin old fellow, appeared; and after trying side of the Kenmare river; of the subterranean
first one bridle, and then another, and finding the forests, of which great pine trees lay by the road-
traces wrong, and then that the doors of the shed side; and a hundred other things. Anon he
~vhere the car stood could not be got open, and the jumped off at a small public-house to give his
two girls going to posh and shake at the doors on horse some meal and water: and here I must go
the other side of the streetand half the street in and have a glass of whisky-toddy. A strange
being upand one of the girls having to get in at scene it was. Half-a-dozen ragged people, old
a back window to undo the door insideat length and young, squatted on tbe dirty mud-floor, round
out came the car, and out, through the house where a peat-fire on the hearth, over which boiled a large
I was sitting, came the great black horse to be put kettle of cabbage, the savory fumes of which
into it; and Dennis OShaughnessy appeared too, seemed to disturb the dreams of a family of
and away we went. young pigs which lay under a wooden couch by
Our road lay along the banks of the Kenmare the wall, and pillowed their heads on pieces of
river, as it is called; that is, along a fine arm of turf. The landlord, posted within his counter,
the sea, running all the way from Derrynane, at which partitioned off the business part of the apart-
its mouth, hither, a distance of six-and-twenty ment, and formed, in Irish fashion, a sort of half-
miles. I do not know when I have enjoyed a drive bar, half-shop, with candles and bread also to
more. To our left lay this fine sea-river, breezy sellset us out our glasses of toddy, and told me
and fresh, and beyond it rose wild moorland moon- his adventures in London, where he had gone te
tains, interspersed with patches of cultivation, seek employment as a baker, but could get none;
The road, a new one, ran near the rocky shores of Irish bakers and butchers, as he assured me, not
this ocean-stream, and the region into which we being patronized in London, owing to their making
advanced became wilder and wilder. All round bread, and dressing meat, in a totally different
were nothing but naked and stony mountains, the style from the English.
highest ranges of which were the greenest. The Arrived at Sneam as night was setting in, what
lower regions were one chaos of bare stony ridges, was my consternation to find that there was no
and through these the road was cut. They were such thing as a car kept in the place; and James
of a sort of clay-slatethe strata turned up, as it Sullivan was obliged to go back! Here I was, at
- were, edgeways, and all worn and rounded by the some dozen miles from Derrynane, in a miserable
action of the atmosphere, and of wintry tempests. Irish village, with no apparent means of escaping
Many of the rocky ranges resembled ships turned the next day. The landlady said that nothing in
keel upwards; and between these were stock, the world was there on wheels, but the common
here and there, the huts of the peasantry. With cars of the peasantry, except the gig of the Catho-
the exception of the house and plantations of Mr. lic priest; but that Mr. Welch was so good a man,
Dennis Mahoney, which lay down below us, be- that Sure if he knew where I was going, he
- tween the road and the banks of the Kenmare would lend it me The thing did not appear quite
- riverone old tower, peeping over the woods with so probable to me. Why should the good priest
good effectwe saw scarcely any other than the lend his gig, the sole decent vehicle in the place, to
huts of the poor. At one place we crossed, by a any perfect stranger that came there? But neces-
bridge, the romantic stream of the Blackwater, sity has no law; and so away I went, guided by
a mountain river lying deep between its rocky two bare-legged damsels, across some dark fields,
banks, and its rapid waters, dashed from one stony to make this unconscionable request of the worthy
- ledge to another, sufficiently suggestive of its priest. Mr. Welch, a clever and gentlemanly-
name from their dark hue. Here my driver, with looking man, received me and my statement with
a true feeling of the beautiful in nature, would not the greatest possible courteousness, and said that
be satisfied without my getting down from the car be would lend me, with all the pleasure in the
to look over the bridge on each side. Far below world, both gig and horse, if I could wait till
lay the roaring stream; and the lofty banks, twelve oclock; but that having to go out to do
beautifully wooded, showed to peculiar effect in duty at early mass, he could not be back before.
- this naked and stony region. As we proceeded If I could wait! The question was, if I could, by
- again, my driver lamented that the recent act of any means whatever, get away. I accepted the
parliament, regulating the salmon-fishing, had benevolent priests offer with all possible thanks;
completely deprived the proprietors here of the and, after a long conversation with himself, and
fishery altogether. From some cause, which natu- two other gentlemen whom I found there, took
ralists perhaps may be able to explain, the salmon my leave. My stout landlady, who kept every
ascends some rivers long after the usual time now and, then - giving the greatest sighs and groans,
of its ascent of fresh streams. This was the case as if she was in some deep troubleand yet, when
bere; and the termination of the salmon-fishing, I: talked to her, laughed as heartily and merrily
by the act, early in September, found the fish only declared that I should find the most iligaut
beginning to ascend this and other rivers in Ire- entertainment in her house, to be had anywhere
VI~VI~ TO Mtt. Ok~cINN~LL AT DERRV~M~E.
between there and Dublin ; and theugh it did not
quite come up to that amplitude of promise, it was
far better than could have been expected, from the
aspect of the wild country, the rueful village, and
the inn itself, which, instead of a back-door, had a
nice little pigsty, just where it should have been.
opening into the house. But what a blow awaited
me in the morning! The good woman informed
mehow could it have been otherwise fthat the
priest had been up betitne, and had come there to
say that he had got a call into the country, and
had the rheumatism so bad in his back that he
could not go without his gig; and, indeed, why
should he And, therefore, he was extremely
grieved; hut he could not have the pleasure of
obiigini~ the gentleman. I had an inward fear of
this. The state of things had appeared really too
supernaturally good. But what was to be done
At this moment, a car, with only a single gentle-
man in it, drove by, and out darted the landlady,
with a wild cry, and pursued it, shouting amain.
The car stopped. rphere was a short parley. The
good woman appeared all tongue and eloquence.
The jolly, broad-hacked gentleman gave a shake
of the head, and drove on.
Oh! the mane man. Oh! the mane, unfeel-
ing cratur! came Mrs. MGuin back, exclaiming;
And he to be going to Darrynane, and all alone;
and to lave a poor, strange jintleman, that would
ha bin sich good company for him, when he s
nobody but himself in the car! Och! it s quite
unchristian aithegither!
How could you ask him such a thing P said I.
How could I ask him! Why, would nt any-
body but a brute baste be glad to take a rale jintie-
man along wid him, that was left all ship-wrecked,
as one may say, and no manes of getting along;
and he, the great fat cratur, wanting somebody all
the time, if it were only to balance the car!
Ah! he s a vale jintlemana tale out and out
jintleman, says I to him, an is going to the Lib-
erators And what does he say but, Why
dont you keep a car yourself, Mrs. MGuin l This
is my own private car, and I il take nobody at all
up on the road, says he. Will the gates o heaven
take him in, I wonder, when he gets there ! con-
cluded the indi~nant Mrs. MGuin.
I was no little amused at this singular appeal to
a gentleman on the highway, hot the difficulty
remained; and Mrs. MGuin said now there was
nothing for it but to take a peasants car, and do
as well as we could. Soon, therefore, this vehicle
appeared at the door, with a bony, black pony in
it, and a boy of sixteen or so as driver. Let my
countrymen, who have not seen what a peasants
car is, only imagine the vehicle on which I was
about to take my journey to the great Liberators!
It was no other than a cart without any sides;
simply a cart bottom with a pair of shafts. A
little straw was spread on this bottom, and upon
this was set my portmanteau; and seating myself
on this as on a throne, and my driver taking his
place at one corner, partly on one shaft, and partly
on the car, away we went!
It was a fine Sunday morning, and the roads
were black with people streaming along to chapel
for six, and even eight and ten, miles round the
country; the women all in their dark blue cloaks.
My driver had furnished himself with a bundle of
willow switches, to beat on his horse; and of these
he seemed to have great need. The horse appeared
to have a particular aversion to motion; and before
we had got half~way, the bundle of switches was
used up, and the lad descended from the ear, and
propelled the animal by poking him in the sides
with the sole remains of one of the sticics, now
reduced to a mere peg. Tree there was none in
the country; it was one wilderness of rocks and
stony hills; but, by a piece of extraordinary good
fortune, we observed a few more willows growing
in a garden hedge; and the boy made for them,
and began to supply himself anew. From a hill
above, however, there came a loud and gruff cry
of wrath. There sat aloft, over our heads, several
great fellows, who were furious at this plunder of
so much valuable timber; and the lad was glad to
make his escape with a whole skin. Anon we
overtook a poor woman, whose foot was bleeding
from a cut with a sharp stone, and I invited her to
mount the car; and so we went on for some five
or six miles, to the i~hapel to which she was going.
Here she descended, drew on her shoes and stock-
ings on the bank, and thea joined the sin~ular
and picturesque group of worshippers. I hese
were assembled in crowds round the chapel, which
stood on a little hill close to a small village. The
dark dresses of the people gave strong effect to
the scene, and to an English eye it was striking.
Not only in the chapel yard were hundreds kneel-
ing, but in the streets of the village itself, under
t.he walls of the cottages, where they could not
even get a peep at the chapel. This is a very
common sight; more people, often, are kneeling
during mass outside than inside of an Irish Catholie
church, or chapel, as it is always there styled. If
you ask them why they kneel where they can
neither see nor hear the mass performed, nor even
catch a glimpse of the chapel, they always reply,
Oh, it seems to do them good ! And truly, as
is the case with all Catholic worshippers in every
country, they have an air of singular devotion.
Amongst the people stood a numerous group of
young men, with their huge, bandy sticks, ready
for a game of hurling, as they there call it, after
mass was over.
The way grew ever more and more wild.
Can Derrynane be in so wild a country as this i
asked I of the driver.
Ay, faith is it, and far wilder, said be.
The counsellors house is all amongst the wild
mountains; but he has a meadow such as ye II
hardly see anywhere else.
On turning the brow of a hill, there lay a
descending country at the foot of the mountains,
of some two miles in extent; there spread out the
broad Atlantic to the left; and there, on its mar-
gin, amid its mass of embosoming wood, stood
forth the gray pile of Derrynane.
As I approached the house, rain came on, and
the wild misty clouds gave a still more impressive
aspect to the scene, while the white spray of the
ocean was seen flying high against the rocks, and
the roar of the sea came full of majesty on the
wind. I made my driver stop at a respectful dis-
tance from the house, though I believe, and as
it may be imagined in such a country, it was net
the first time that a stranger had arrived in such a
vehicle; and advancing towards it, saw the staL-
wart form of the Liberator passing up the court
before me. Turning round, be looked at me for a
moment, and then exclaimed, Ha! Mr. Howiti,
do I see you in Ireland! I am very glad to see
you.
It is long since we met, I observed.
Yes, but you have taken good care that we
should hear of you from time to time, by your
380
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
writings. What delightful books those are which suming man of taste. You feel that it is the
Mrs. Howitt has given us from The Swedish and house of one who has far higher claims to distinc-
Danish ! tion than such as are derived from the mere splen-
Why, do you really find time and inclination dor of abode. And what other house can show
to read such books you such views from its windows l From the
To be sure. I have read every one of them, middle of a green wood you gaze down over a
except the last, Only a Fiddler, which we have green meadow to the sea, which runs up. into a
not received yet from Dublin. sort of bay before the house, bounded by the high
While this was saying, we had advanced into and stony ridge of Lamb Head, which shuts out
the entrance-hall; my upper garment was removed, the Kenmare river. Beyond the Kenmare estu-
my portmanteau was already in charge of the staid ary, you catch the view of the high and craggy
old servant, so well known to visitors there, and point of that long promontory which separates
we were ascending to the drawing-room, where I Kenmare river from Bantry Bay. To the west,
was introduced by Mr. OConnell to those of his the eye follows the shores below the house, to
family, then present, his amiable daughter, Mrs. where protrudes, far into the ocean, the green but
French, Mr. and Mrs. Maurice OConnell, and wild foreland called the Abbey Island; because, in
various guests. - spring tides, it is sometimes, separated from the
But before we make further acquaintance with mainland, but at other times can be reached across
these, we must endeavor to receive a clear imprcs- a narrow sandy neck on foot. In the corner, or
sion of the place itself, and its environments, inner sweep of the bay, formed by the running out
I believe no good view has ever been taken of of the Abbey Island from the mainland, you see
Derrynane. We have heard a deal of the princely the ruins of the old Abbey of Derrynane; whence
style in which OConnell lives there, and are the house of the Liberator is still often called
therefore led to suppose that his ancestral abode is Derrynane Abbey. Out at some distance in the
something quite magnificent. This is not the fact. ocean, in the same direction, you observe two
The house at Derrynane is a good and capacious, lofty, insulated rocks, called Scariff and Dinish,
rather than a grand house. On the contrary, taking of a bold and noble aspect, something like Ailsa
into consideration the fame and standing of the Craig, off the coast of Scotland. Such is the view
great Irish Liberator, and the hospitality that both seaward from Derrynane; and when the ocean
his position and his disposition dictate, it strikes waves come swelling in with wind and tide, dash-
ono, on arriving at it, as a somewhat modest one. ing their milky spray high over the black rocks
It is the fitting residence of a substantial country which here and there stand aloft in the waters, and
gentleman, and nothing more. It is of rather an climbing, in snowy whiteness, the craggy shores in
irregular form, and has evidently been, from time every direction, there is a wild grandeur about the
to time, enlarged as became requisite, rather with scene which can rarely be surpassed. If we then
regard to convenience than to one general design. walk out, and turn or gaze in an opposite direction,
Thus, you approach it by a sort of open court, especially to the north and east, we find the place
formed by two projections from the main building. shut in by a sweep of noble mountains, reaching
The one to your right consists of a part of the an elevation of two thousand five hundred feet.
house, where, I suppose, the household affairs are These form what is called in England n combe, or
transacted, as visitors seldom enter that portion; sheltered hollow, which is protected from all the
and of a small chapel which Mr. OConnell has severe winds, and builds a little secluded region of
recently erected, and which is, indeed, not yet greenness and mildness; so mild, indeed, that the
internally finished. The projection to your left, fuschia and the hydrangea are seen blowing there
of two stories, contains, on the ground-floor, Mr. in great beauty in the open air. The house stands
OConnells private study, and over it the library, sufficiently elevated to command the fine sea view,
with the windows overlooking the ocean. A and partly that of this green hollow, and its bold
small lobby in this projection first receives you; circle of craggy mountains. The house is partly
and advancing from it, you find yourself in a large battlemented, and the walls are all tiled from
one; in fact, in the very centre of the house, and ground to roof with gray stone tiles; a defence
where the grand staircase conducts you to the against the action of the elements, no doubt found
rooms above. Here you find the drawing-room, a very necessary here, exposed as the house is to
fine spacious apartment, running at right angles the winds and salt spray from the stormy Atlantic.
with the projection containing the study and On the north side of the house lie the court-
library, and toxvards the sea; and the windows on yard, farm-buildings, and offices; and, separated
all sides give you views over the ocean, and the from these by the highway, lie, in the bosom of
rocky hills around, with the plantations close under the sheltered hollow, the gardens. These are
the house, and the green expanse of meadow be- spacious and very delightful. You cross an outer
tween the house and the sea. Beneath this room plot; pass under a sort of tunnel, or archway of
is the dining-room, of the same dimensions. On some ten yards or so, and find yourself in a lovely
the other side of the main staircase, you see a long flower garden, with bee-hives standing here and
passage leading to a variety of rooms; but to there, and a beautiful spring of water, covered
these, except it be to his bedroom in that direction, with a fanciful canopy of shell-work; and farther
.the visitor seldom penetrates. The library, the on you see still more tempting garden-walks, and
drawing and dining rooms, are the visitors quar- masses of trees, half-concealing the rocks and bol-
ter, and a more airy and agreeable one he seldom lows at the foot of the hills, which form the
will find. In themselves they are handsome, and natural boundary to these pleasant gardens. As
handsomely furnished, with some family portraits, you advance, you come to a fine orchard, in the
and other pictures; but with nothing that at all most central and sheltered part of this hollow ; in
savors of a spirit of pomp or ostentation. They one place you ascend a few steps, and find a little
are handsome, home-like rooms, such as befit the square platform on the boundary-wall, with seats
abode of the country gentleman, or the reception round it, giving a splendid view of the mountains
of the prince, the noble, or the simple and unas- eastward; in another, you advance up a close
VISIT TO MR. 0 CONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
381
woodland walk, and arrive at a summer-house, on The plantations which thus embosom these
a rocky knoll, giving one complete and airy view charming gardens, and the house also, are of con-
over both sea and land. Descending again by siderable extent, and have pleasant drives through
another path, you discover, at the foot of the them in different directions. Taken in contrast
rocks, a simple rural seat or bank, overhung by with the bareness of the surrounding country, and
the trees, and with the flower-garden lying dis- the rugged character of the hills, they present a
played at your feet. very attractive and refreshing mass of verdure to
This seat used to be the favorite resort of the the eye. They are, however, but young, and
uncle of Mr. OConnell, from whom he inherited have, I believe, been for the most part planted by
Derrynane. This old gentleman, who seems to the Liberator himself.
have been a man of both powerful physical frame, The meadow lying between the plantations and
and lofty moral character, lived to within one year. the sea, presents, from the house, a most agree-
of a hundred. He was for some years blind before able object; and offers one of the most charming
his decease, and delighted to sit here, where, be- places for walking, while the emerald billows are
neath the fresh canopy of trees and rocks, he booming on the hard sands. Here, on Sunday
could hear the distant sound of the sea. That afternoons, and on holidays, in the fashion of
sound, so full of majesty, seemed not only to Catholic countries, the peasantry also assemble to
soothe him, but to bring, as it were, a visible per- a game of hurling, or a dance; and the Liberator
ception of the scenes around, in which it made so and his family often go out, and walk amongst
grand a figure, and to call up the vivid acts and them, and give a livelier zest to their sport by the
images of his past life. There was no fear of interest they take in it. The sea-sand, by that
death in his strong and prepared mind, said Mr. admirable provision of Providence, seen wherever
OConnell, one day, as we passed this place. In a low shore is seen, has been thrown up into a
front of this seat, at some distance, grew a splen- bank, which the sea-grass has grown upon, and
did ash tree. Once, having sat for some time as with its roots knit, as it were, into ocean-proof
in deep thought, he said. firmness; the sea thus creating its own barriers.
Daniel, I have a favor to request of you. The meadow actually lies below the water at high-
Of me, uncle; what can that bet tide; and, were the banks to give way, the whole
Measure me the girth of that tree. meadow, and part of the plantations, would be
I did so, and told him what it was. overflowed. Of this there are some fears, from
I thought so, he said. I thought it was the looseness of the sand at a part called the Gap,
as large as that. The favor I would ask, Daniel, or Dead Mans Gap, from funerals formerly having
is, that that tree may now be felled. been carried along the shore to the abbey, and
May be felled l What, the tree you have through this gap. To favor the accumulation of
always seemed to take such pleasure in! sand, thorns and stakes are driven down on the
Yes, I would have it cut down. shore, which seem to answer the purpose; yet
Then certainly let it be cut down. There is not so as entirely to allay all fears of the effects of
no occasion to ask the permission of me. some tremendous tempest from the west.
Yes, as this place will be yours, I would not Walking along this meadow on Sunday after-
do anything without consulting you. I thank you noon, with Mrs. French, and one or two other
for giving me leave to fell this tree, and now I visiters, I observed a troop of people blackening
will tell you for what purpose I would fell it. It all the road at some distance along the shore,
is to make my coffin of its wood. I have fir and making towards the Abbey Island. Another
some time thought that it would he large enough, moment, and the loud sounds of lamentation
and I now find that it is. Send for the car- revealed what was the cause of this sombre con-
penter. course. It was a funeral. It was the first time
The carpenter was sent for. Now, carpen- I had seen an Irish funeral; and, especially in
ter, he said, addressing him, I want you to this strikimmg scene, on the wild-looking Abbey
make my coffin. You nmust cut down that ash; Island, and amid the ruins of the abbey itself,
saw it up into boards of an inch and quarter the opportunity was not to be lost. Accompa-
thick, and of twenty-two inches deep; the en- nied by part of the walkers, I hastened after the
tire boards will be large enough both for that, amid j throng, and became a witness of this strange cere-
for the bottom and lid of a suitable proportion. mon y.
As for the length, what do you think that should As I drew nearer, the aspect of the place and
bet people became more and more impressive. I was
The carpenter, mumming his eye over the fine soon crossing the sandy hollow, over which the
old man, and considering in himself for some time, waves, dashing at high tides, resolve what is other-
replied wise only a promontory, into ihe Abbey Island.
1 should say seven feet, your honor. Behind me rose the bold, rocky shores of the main-
Seven feet! Why, I never stood more than land, crags upon crags, and hills beyond hills,
six feet three ; age has something decreased my stretching away still higher and more wildly in-
height, but death, I know, will stretch me out land; while amongst them were perched the huts
again to a certain degree; but, seven feet! why of the people, half peasantry, half fishers. To the
that is the proportion for a giant; let it be six feet right lay a small, well-sheltered harbor, with a
five. hooker, or sort of yacht, belonging to Mr. Maurice
With this the old gentleman dismissed the OConnell~ to the left, the ocean; and before me,
man and the subject. The tree was felled; the the high, craggy knolls of the island, and the
boards sawn and seasoned, and the coffin made naked ruins of the abbey church in the foreground,
according to his directions. just at hand. The nets of the fishermen were
This anecdote strongly reminded me, as it will spread to dry on the sandy swells about, while the
others, of the singular scene in Miss Bremers fishermen themselves had joined the dark groups
story of The Neighbors, in which Ma cliere who were assembled around the abbey, where the
Mere orders her coffin. mourners were now sending forth the loud chorus
VISIT TO ~4II. O~ CONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
qf 4~ejr r~telaneholy cries. A more striking sCene
could scarcely present itself. The ruins, merely
those of the abbey churcha building of the plain-
est de~cription, like most country churches in Ire-
landstood close on the rocky margin of the sea,
above the broad beach which stretches below, but
up which now the waves were rolling, foaming,
and thundering in magnificent strength. Their
voice of ancient sublimity mingled itself solemnly
with the shriller cries of the people, whose fathers,
from generation to generation, the hoary ocean had
seen coming hither, with wail and gest:ure of
grief, to deposit their dead. Within the ruins, all
was one dark* mass of mourners; and around, on
the turf, and amid the rocks projecting here and
there from it, were scattered separate groups, who
were down on their knees, flinging their arms
about in a frantic fashion, and uttering thrilling
cries of lament. The sombre throng was the
greater, as it is a custom. in the rural districts of
Ireland, for all who meet a funeral to turn back
and follow it, so that sometimes the procession is
swelled immensely.
One would have thought that this violence of
grief, accompanied by so much action, must have
quite worn them out, when one called to mind,
that from the hour in which the deceased expired,
the principal group had been engaged in keen-
ing, or bewailing the dead, with lights burning
before the coffin. Some of those with me, how-
ever, assured me that on these occasions they do
not neglect to take sufficient refreshment; and
that the scene, if observed by an English eye,
would sometimes draw forth a smile in the pres-
ence of death. The mourners will howl, and
lament, and get into a perfect frenzy of correspon-
dent action; but on some one coming in, they will
suddenly break off, bring out the whisky bottle,
and eat, and drink, and become quite merry over
the gossip of the neighborhood; and then, after a
good interval, as if awakening to the renewed
sense of their loss and their duty, will recommence
their wailings.
On this occasion I observed, that even the most
energetic lamenters lifted up their heads at our ap-
proach, and took a sly side-peep at the visiters
from Derrynane; when, having satisfied their
curiosity, they went off again in their not inhar-
monious exclamations, which, I was told, recited
the virtues of the dead. What greatly surprised
me, was, to observe no priest amongst them
performing any burial service; and this, I am
told, is quite common, owing to the wide district
where often only one priest resides; and where,
therefbre, taken with their other daily duties, tIme
attendance on all funerals would become next to
impossible.
The men, I observed, all steed with their hats
on. Nor did another discovery the less surprise
me. I looked for the grave, and found that there
was none! Near the coffin stood two men, with
the narrow potato-spades of the Irish, which have
long handles and no crutches; and, after a good
long time of lamentation, they, began to shovel
away the earth and turn out the stones, and, in
fact, to make a grave! This, too, I understand
is a common custom in that part 6f the country.
As this fact made it. obvious that it would be a
considerable time before the funeral was over,
I quitted the spot, and returned thither the next
* Not in actual mourning; but only dark-looking) from
their dark blue coats and cloaks.
day to take a more leisurely view of th~ ruin. I
new saw that they had made this grave close to
the tomb of the OConnells. Very deep it could
not have been made, under the circumstances, yet
deep enough to have dislodged the bone~ of a
former tenant.
What a singular scene is a rural burial-place in
Ireland! With a strong feeling of the sanctity of
the spot, they cling to those old ruins of churches
and abbeys: yet how few traces arc there of that
neatness and external adornment of the cemetery
which seem to mark the affection of survivors for
those who are gone! It is seldom that you find
inscribed tombs and headstones, except of the rich.
The common herd lie mingled in the common
earth, with scarcely any distinguishment but a
rude stone, of perhaps a foot high, gathered on the
spot, and set upright on the centre of the grave.
The whole of the interior of this ruin was filled
with the dead, laid close as possible, side by side.
and was consequently studded thickly with those
short, rude, unhewn stones of memorial. This
crowding into this roofless ruin, was owing to the
feeling of the greater sanctity; for without was
almost limitless space, yet within there was but
one grave, the tomb of the OConnells, which had
any inscription. Without, it was the same. I
could but discover one stone, and that a flat one,
with one inscription. Every other evidence of the
neatness which distinguishes an English grave-
yard, was wanting. The bones which had been
dug out of the grave of yesterday, were laid on the
next grave, and a few stones piled upon thema
faint trace of the old habit of piling the cairn over
the dead. The boards of the old coffin were
thrown into a corner, where my companion on the
occasion assured me they would lie and rot. At
the east end, where the high altar had been, a
considerable quantity of disinterred bones were
laid, and stones piled upon them; and both within
and without, amongst the long grass of the graves,
lay about these unsi~htly hoards of old disinterred
coffins. It is no doubt the poverty of the common
people which has led them to retain the old habit
of merely raising a rough stone in memory of
the dead ; but it were to be wished that they
studied a little more the decorous aspect of their
burial-places, by interring again the bones, and
burning the coffin-boards.
In the south-west corner of the abbey ruin
stands an object of interest to the visiterthe
tomb of the O~Connells. Here rests Mrs. OCon-
nell; and here will, doubtless, one day rest the
remains of the man who has made his name
familiar throughout the world, for his exertions in
behalf of his oppressed country. This is a plain
altar-tomb, set close into the corner; and on time
western wall above it, a Gothic arch encloses an
iron cross. On the tomb is inscribed
DON.
Erected to the Memory of
DANIEL OCONItELL TOWNLEY, of Derrynane, Esq.
Who departed this life 177Q, full of years
and virtues.
Also of MARY his wife, & c. Also of
MAURICE OCONNELL, Esq.
Their son, who erected this monument. The
chief ambition of his long and respected life was
to elevate an ancient family front unninerited op-
pression. His allegiance was pure and disinter-
ested his love of his native land sincere and de-
voted. His attachment to the ancient faith oE
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNAN~E. 383
his fathers, and to the Church of Christ, was expectation, while the hounds silently traverse the
his first pride and his chiefest consolation. He ground in all directions, with busy noscs; and as
died on the 10th of February, in the 97th year of silently stand the Liberator and his friends on some
his age. They loved him best who knew him neighboring eminence, awaiting the discovery ef
most. May his soul rest in eternal peace! the hare. At once a hound gives mouth; the
rest run, at the cry, in his wake; there is a
This date, Mr. OConnell assured me, should general joining in the joyful clamor; and the
be ninety-nine. Why the old gentleman, at the hare is seen careering away up the valley. Now,
latter end of his life, persisted in depriving him- then, for the hills; and luck to him who has ~
self of two of his years, never could be under- nimble foot and a free chest, for he will need them.
stood. From this moment, all is excitement and eager
From the dead, however, we come back to the pursuit. Round the hills circles the started hare,
living. It is well known that OConnell has not and is found and lostseen, and again only trace-
only always been enthusiastically attached to those able by the cry of the pursuers. Now all is
wild hills and shores of Derrynane, but that he has silence ;the hoonds have lust the scent, and
as enthusiastically follo~ved the chase there. His again the musical peal of voices comes streaming
pack of harriers, of native breed, are known all fuller and fuller down the wind. Here is the
over Europe; and the ardor with which he has bewildered hare coming directly upon you. Still!
followed them daily from hill to hill, when he has Thete she stands, reared on her hind legs, and
retired from the field of national agitation, for a listens in the very midst of you. But now !she
season, to the mountains of Kerry, is regarded by catches the view of you, and is gone over crag and
himself as one of the most efficient causes of the hollow like a flying shadow. The scouts are
maintenance of that almost gigantic frame and con- already on every hill top. There is a whistle
stitution, which have enabled him to battle for she is seen by one of them, who points from his
half a century with the evils and the enemies of airy elevation the way that she is taking. The
his country. To the present hour, when he has huntsman s voice, shouting Forwards, for-
reached his seventieth year, that ardor remains on- wards ! is heard, and once more the pack is
abated. At the mention of the stern beauties of upon the track. Louder grows the cry, more
his native region, and at the cry of his hounds, the eager, more continuous. Away! down the rugged
spirit of Irish enthusiasm kindles visibly in him; brae, or you are too late! Here come the eager
and, as in the arena of national exertion, he pack close on the flagging victim; and a loud
scorns to be second in the field. It is worth the hallno announces that the chase is over!
journey from England, to join OConnell in a hunt Thus does it go, from one romantic region to
on his mountains, another; now winding along the green and lofty
To those ~vho are accustomed only to the turn- mountain side; now lost amidst savage projecting
out of an English field-day, to the troop of red- crags, that frown far above you, and streamlets
coated horsemen sc6uring over the hedges and roaring and tumbling down the dizzy depths far
ditches of a level country, the hunting hcre must below you ; and now, from some far commanding
be novel indeed. If you will ride here after the point, taking in a glorious survey of hills and
hounds, it must be on goats, and not on horses, ocean, the wide plain of Waterville, or the distant
Your field is one wild chaos of rocks and crags, rocky islands of the Skelligs, or the splendid bays
from one ascent to another; now clambering aloft of Balliuskelligs, Valentia, or the distant dingle.
to catch sight of the pack, whose sonorous cries Afternoon sees a motley throng descending the
you hear; and now rushing down to gain some winding road from the mountains, down towards
other eminence which shuts out the vieW. It is Derrynane. The light hue of the dogs, and the
not at ten or twelve oclock either that the pack scarlet gleam of the huntsmens costume, are
will throw off. OConnell is up by peep of day, prominently visible; and as they draw near, you
and out with his hounds into the mountains, wish for a painter to give you the picturesque
Even to this day, the only indulgence that lie and weary company on a broad canvass. It were
allows himself, on these occasions, is to ride a a picture which, at a future day, when the great
horse up the steep road from his house to sortie and the little men of the present generation are
spot near the scene of action. At six oclock in gone from the scene, and the Liberator and his
October he is out. About a score of hounds, the agitations for emancipation and repeal are become
number which he prefers to the whole pack, are matters of history, and of a m re inipartial judg-
seen drawing near the house from the kennel. ment than can perhaps be arrived at by mIS, would
Gentlemen are turnimig out, ftirnished with leap- he gazed at with iiitense interest by our children.
irug-poles; and a troop of such wild-looking fel- That stalwart and umanly figure imi the centre; the
lows, as Ireland only can produce, are hanging men who surround him, ofien characters of note
about, ready to give their necessary assistance as and influence in the political world; the dogs, a
scouts and beaters on the occasion. There are peculiar old Irish. race, many of them with long
two huntsmen in red caps and red jackets, armed shaggy coats, with serious faces and erect tails,
with the sante staves. The Liberator appears also trotting on as if from some great achievement;
grasping his; and away goes the thromig towards and they who crowd behind, in rainuent and with
the heights. locks as wild as their own hills and moorswhat.
The life of OConmiell at Derrynane has always most prodigal elements for a splendid painting by-
been that of an old clan chieftain; and when you Landseer!
see him, and his friends, and his followers, thus But the Liberator and his friends betake them--
setting out for the chase, you are irresistibly selves to the houseit is tIme important hour of
reminded of some graphic sketch in the novels of six. The hospitality of Derrynane is proverbial..
Walter Scott. But the huntamen and the tribe of Few whom the love of travel, or the curiosity to
followers have dispersed over some of the steep see the great agitator in his mountain home, draw
fields at the foot of the hills, and are beating over thither, depart without being asked to take a.
,the bushes. There is a period of watching and refreshment; and never, during OConnells stsy~
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
there, is the house without guests, and those often
numerous. There is generally a considerable
company assembled at dinner; and the drawing-
room, at other hours, is often vocal with a troop
of the Liberators grai~dchildren, of whom he has
no fewer than six-and-thirty! Nowhere does
OConnell appear to more advantage than in the
midst of his own family. He seems to be particu-
larly happy in his family relations. Children,
grandchildren, guests, and domestics, appear ani-
mated hy one spirit of affection and resl)ect towards
him. It speaks volumes, that ~vithin doors and
without, in his own neighborhood, the enthusiastic
attachment to him is perhaps greater than any-
where else.
The person of OConnell is too well known to
all the English world to need any description
here; but no one can avoid being struck with his
appearance as you see him at home. That large
figure, built like one of the ancient round towers
of his country, arrayed in a reddish, well-padded
dressing-gown, and the repeal cap upon his head
thus you see him seated at breakfast, generally
at a side-table by himself, for the convenience of
reading his letters and newspapers, which the
postman, early in the morning, brings over the
hills from Cahirciveen. The repeal cap is of
green velvet, with a narrow gold band surrounding
the upper part in vandykes; thus, for all the
world, resembling to the eye a crown. Thus
arrayed, the Liberatora title constantly used by
his servants and friendsreminds you of some old
king in a~German story; but no old king in any
German story ever occupied that position of
importance, or exercised that moral influence
which the Irish agitator exercisesat this moment.
While he opens letter after letter, or glances over
the columns of every newspaper published in Ire-
land, besides English and French ones, which
have issued from his capacious post~bag, the work-
ings of a gigantic machinery, in daily operation,
for compelling this great country to do justice to
his long-abused native land, are laid open to his
eye; and thoughts which will to-morrow send out
an electric action to every nook of Ireland, sit
solemnly on his brow. The accuracy with which
that machinery works, and how well all its move-
ments and results are known to the great director
of them, a simple fact may demoustraie. Two
days after I left, he was setting out onhis tour of
repeal agitation. At dinner hesaid, At Cashel
I shall have 500,000 of the Tipperary boys to
Yn~~et me. The report of that gathering in The
Times afterwards showed how well founded was
the assertion.
Another point, which strikes you in a visit to
Derrynane, is that which springs from Mr. OCon-
nells particular faith. As a Catholic; he possesses
a mighty h& d on the minds of his countrymen.
And he is no mere nominal and careless Catholic.
He keeps a domestic chaplain or confessor, the
jolly-looking Father OSullivan; and it at first
somewhat startles you to hear, perhaps, during the
day, a sound of merry childrens voices from the
drawing-room, and on entering, behold, amid all
the noise and childish laughter, the holy father
walking to and fro, as if totally unconscious of the
juvenile racket around him, with his breviary in
his hand, muttering his prayers. in the obser-
vances of his religion, OConnell has always been
seriously zealous and regular. Seeing this, people
~have often said, Can this be genuine, deep feel-
ting of religion, or is it policy? Can such a mas
terly intellect as that of OConnells really be
spell-bound hy the puerilities of many of the Cath-
olic rites and dogmas ? The thing is perfectly
simple and easy of belief. For my part, reverenc-
ing the sacred right of fullest liberty of conscience
and opinion, and accustoming myself to look with
a friendly sympathy on the practices of all religious
sects, I see daily how omnipotent are the spells of
habit and education, and especially how the heart
clings to the veriest baubles of a religion that is
persecuted. Lord Shrewsbury, in his book on the
Ecstatica, not only relates in profoundest faith all
the marvels of those singular women with the bleed-
ing stigmata, facts perfectly explainable on mes-
meric principles, but gravely relates that St.
Loyola was in the habit, by the very force of his
religious zeal, of elevating himself into the air, and
was found in this state, more than once, four or
five feet from the ground. Can his lordship
really believe such nonsense? ask the readers.
No doubt of it. Education and a persecuted reli-
gion have made far more than that easy to his faith.
So with OConnell. We see him paying reverence
to what in our eyes are exploded fables; nay, more,
to what are in principle totally opposed to that zeal
for liberty which has always distinguished him,
and made him ever ready to come forth at public
meetings in defence of the rights of black, white,
or copper-colored man. One morning, on opening
his letter-bag, he exclaimed, Bravo! I have got
it! What is that? I asked. It is The
Oambridge and Oxford Magazine, containing
Smythes Defence of the Jesuitsthe first defence
by a Protestant of that much misrepresented body
of men.~* I could only smile to myself. It was
the advocate of universal liberty rejoicing in the
defence of the greatest band of spiritual tyrants
which ever stood in the onward path of humanity!
But this needs not a single word. The defence of
a body of men with a worlds history against them,
and at this moment ripe for a fresh expulsion from
every country in Europe, for their domineering in-
terference with the progress of political freedom,
and with the sanctity of domestic lifeis a thing
which is beyond the capacity of any form of words.
But such are the anomalies of mind produced by
education and riveted by persecution. At nine
oclock every morning, the bell at Derrynane rings
for mass. From all parts of the house, troop the
members of the family, visiters, and servants, to
the chapel; and for one hour the whole place is as
still as a tomb. At ten, breakfast is served ; and
then commenee the ordinary affairs or amusements
of the day. Such is OConnell at Derrynane.
But says some curious inquirer, How do the
people seem in his own neighborhood? Are they
better off than elsewhere ?
This is ticklish ground. Every one knows that
OConnell, as the centre of one of the greatest
movements in modern timesa movement involv-
ing the conflicting interests of thousands, as these
thousands are taught to think them, and the hopes
of millionsis equally bespattered with praise and
vituperation. Every hour in Ireland you hear, as
you pass from one company to another, the most
violent and opposite assertions. Oh! OConnell
is a great traderlie is a great benefactorhe robs
the poor Irish through the nosehe is the sole
* [Not the first. Our friend Robert Hare, jr., Esq., de-
livered an oration at Philadelphia several years ago, in
defence of this persecuted body and we think Mr.
Hare was then a Protestant; which, by the way can
hardly he said of the English ~vriter.]L. Age.
384
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT DERRYNANE.
hope of the countryhe laughs in his sleeve at his
own blarneyhe is the only man who ever yet
effected the slightest good for Irelandhe makes a
good thing of ithe has sacrificed a far better,
& c. & c. Is not that queer ground for an observer
to go upon? Yet the question is a very natural
and legitimate question, and I shall not shirk it.
My object was to learn, and is now to declare, the
truth: I have, and can have, no other.
Spite, therefore, of what has been said to the
contrary, it struck me that the people, all along that
coastthose as well on OConnells as on Mr. Ma-
honeys and Lord Lansdownes estates, as on others
w e better off; they were, at least, much better
dressed. True, their huts were the poor, genuine
Irish huts in general; but their little allotments
seemed well cultivated, and the people had a
healthy, cheerful look. True, when I asked the
cause of the better appearance of the people,
OConnell did not say, That is the effect of my
influence; that is the effect of my beneficence
amongst them ; but simply, That is because
they get plenty of fish; while inland they get only
potatoes. The fishermens families make money
of part of their fish, and their neighbors get part
from them for a trifle; and thus they live better
and dress better. Certainly I did not observe
those excessively ragged garments which astonish
you in many places. Poverty unquestionably there
was enough; it is a national evil, not to be eradi-
cated but by a national remedy. Where it is out-
wardly removed in part by better houses, you still
find it on the hearth. At Mount Kennedy, in
Wicklow, on the estate of Earl Fitzwilliam, and
almost close to his house, at the inn I could get
nothing for dinner but a potato and some bread and
butter. There was neither meat nor bacon in the
house; and on going down stairs to depart, I
stumbled by accident into the room where the land-
lord and family were dining; and what was their
dinner? about a bushel of potatoes boiled in their
husks, and poured out in a heap on the bare board.
Around this swines feast the whole family were
sitting, and each, with a little heap of salt at his
elbow, was peeling his potatoes and dipping them
in it. Now, any traveller passing through this
country in the night, and witnessing such a scene
at the inn, would have set the country down as
sunk in the extreme of poverty, and Lord Pitzwil-
ham as a bad landlord. On the other hand, had
he passed through the country by day, and not
entered the inn or the cottages, he would have set
the neighborhood down for rich and happy; for it
is beautifully cultivated : there is a model farm
belonging to Lord Fitzwilliam; the houses are good,
and his lordship employs, the year round, about a
hundred and fifty laborers, at one shilling per day;
the usual wages in the country being sixpence a
day in summer, and nothing in winter. Again,
any one wishing to impeach the consistence of
~iharacter in Miss Edgeworth, who has written so
ably for the improvement of Ireland, might say,
and with truth,, that in the very neighborhood of
Edgewortbstown are to be seen some of the most
wretched huts, and most wretched objects in Ire-
and. So easy is it to make a one-sided statement
regarding things and persons in Ireland, of all
countries in the world. My opinion then is, that
the people are much better off about Derrynane
than in many other parts of that country; and I
observed that a great number of people were em-
ployed in improvements on the Derrynane estate.
The people with whom I spoke of OConnell, in
the neighborhood, evinced a general enthusiasm
regarding him; and it seemed to be a source of
great pride that he always conversed with them in
their native Irish.
But what, says another, is your general impres-
sion of Repeal? Is it good for Ireland? Does
OConnell really do good or mischief by his agita-
tion? That is another vexed question; but as it is
an important question, and one which, in my opin-
ion, should not be treated as a party question, but
one of national utility, I will answer that too, and
in the directest manner. My impression is, that it
is a great and beneficial agitation; and that it is
our fault, and not that of OConnell, if it does not
produce the most signal good. It were good for
Ireland, did it only compel the English government
to rivet, as it does, its most anxious attention on that
country and its condition.
I am no indiscriminate admirer of any man. 1
scorn to flatter the greatest of mankind, be he who
he may. I am too proud to bow the knee to any
Baal, though all the world beside should run after
him. I am of no party but that of the people; I
never was, and never will be. My object has
always been to maintain independence, and an
unbiassed judgment; but if, by word or deed, I cart
serve the common cause, I am ready to do it, and,
if need be, to suffer for it. Having, therefore,
seen Ireland with my own eyes, I unhesitatingly
avow, that any agitation which has for its object
to raise the country out of its present wretchedness,
is better than none; that it is not only constitutional
but honorable to every Irishman to cry for repeal.
It is for Irishmen to seek JUSTICE THROUGH REPEAL,
and for us Englishmen to render repeal unnecessary
By JUSTICE!
It is high time that the condition of Ireland was
changed. It is high time that so fine a portion of
the empire was raised, by wise and kindly govern-
ment, to an equality of comfort and prosperity with
the rest of the United Kingdom. There is no king-
dom on earth where prosperity and happiness are
so gloriously united as in England; there is none
in Europe where the people are so poor and miser-
able as the people of Ireland. This cannot origin-
ate in nature, for nature has been bountiful: it
originates, then, in government; and it is the
sacred duty of that government, as it values human
happiness, and the honor and stability of the coin-
mon country, to put an end to this poverty, to era-
dicate this misery. Every man who feels for his
fellow-man, or who is jealous of his countrys fame,
should join in this demand, be he English, Scotch,
Welch, or Irish; for it is the duty of all, were it
not the interest of all. But duty and interest can-
not be divided; duty is bound up by a wise Provi-
dence indissolubly with the general good, and
therefore we may join in the cry of Justice to
Ireland, all the louder, for that justice is clearly
the interest of every subject of the British crown.
There is not a party which can be named, whose
real interest it is not that Ireland should be raised
out of her present condition. What anxiety would
be saved to government, and what an increase of
revenue would be effacted by a better state of things
in Ireland! The merchant would find a better
market; the landed proprietor would derive a bet-
ter rent; for the grand evils of Ireland remedied,
its natural fertility would be stimulated by capital,
and a richer source of profit would be found for all
parties in the prosperity than can possibly be ex-
tracted from the exhaustion of that country.
The condition of Ireland is no equivocal one.
385
VISIT TO MR. OCONNELL AT PERRYNAN~.
There is no mistake about it. On its face the most
unobservart traveller sees written poverty and
Wrong He sees the traces of the harsh plough-
share of political oppression deeply scored into her
surface. It i5 a beautiful but a melancholy land.
On the side nearest to England you see a bordering
of prosperous and as it were contagious beauty;
hut advance a little, and that is left behind. You
look in vain for the garden-like aspect, thickly
crowded With rich farms, noble country seats,
sWarming villages full of comfort and taste, and
towns alive with an active population, as in Eng-
laud~ The farther you go, the barer becomes the
scene. Here and there some solitary park lifts its
verdurous trees, or some river winds along through
beautiful meadows, and banks splendid with their
forest foliage; but from one such refreshing object
to another, all is hare, and shorn as it were to the
quick. The fields are fenced with rude banks,
often Without bush or tree; the houses are all the
Wretched huts which for their wretchedness have
become proverbial. And why is this l It is be-
cause the proprietors have not lived here as in
England, to throw over their estates a garment of
roral beauty~-to build, to plant, to see that fair
rents and expended capital enabled the farmer to
enrich the lands in his tenure, and to diffuse amid
the population the fruits of well-paid labor. For
ages on ages there has been carried on a system
of drainage, not of the bogs, but of (he purses of
the cultivators. It has been one long application
of bleeding and depletion. ft has been, as if we
eZpected a man to grow fat and vigorous with a
dozen varnpyres every night sucking his blood~
To what an extent this has gone, is testified by
the air of blight and desolation ~vhich lies on the
country. It is testified by rags and dolefullest
cabins. Ireland is a land of splendid styes, but
wretched houscs. It is testified by a general des-
titution, which no Christian government can see
With composure, far less inflict; and which no peo-
ple ought to be content to submit to. But it is
only when you explore the abodes and the mode
and means of existence of this people, that the
awful truth of these things becomes realised to
you.
You see fat pigs lying before every door, or on
every hearth; but do those who rear these animals
eat theml Such an idea never enters their heads.
As Goldsmith said long ago
As for eating a rasherof what they take pride in,
They ~d as soon think of eating the pant it is
fried itt.
the English laborer kills his pig at Christmas,
and hangs a pair of fat flitches luxuriously froni
his cottage ceiling. Never is such a thing seen in
Ireland. It may he said that scarce an Irish cotter
knoWs the taste of bacon; the pigs all walk off to
1~ngland!
Hens stalk abouV his door; their eggs are all
sent to England. Turleys strut and feed in his
ftelds; but the~t fly away to England when ready
fof the spit. Splehdid herds of bullocks graze his
tti~adows; but as soon as fat, they march away
t~ england: he never tastes a smak of them.
t~airies of fine cows graze, too, in the pastures;
but their milk is all made into butter, which sails
away to England. Go into an English dairy, and
you see the butter neatly rolled into pounds for the
~onsumption of the next market town; but go into
vn Irish dairy, and a row of ominous firkins arrests
your atterition; into them every pound of buttet
finds its way, and so over to England. Corn waves
on the plains of Ireland it is a real fact; though
it seems doubtful, when we hear of the bulk of
the people existing only on potatoes. Corn does
wave there; but no sooner is it cut than it takes
wing for England. The landlord is gone to Eng-
land, and all sorts of landed produce, by some
strange mesmeric effect, seem resolved to go after
him. There is but one exceptionthe potato.
That is Irish to the core. The poor half-brother
of corn cleaves to the poor half-brother of Eng-
land, and is his sole prop and support.
But, gracious Heaven! to think only of one
everlasting and unvarying meal of potatoes, and
nothing else! Of a whole nationat least of six
out of eight millions of its populationeating
potatoes, and nothing but potatoes, morning, noon,
and night, from day to day, and from year to year,
to the end of their lives! There is something hid-
eous in the very idea. Whatever luxury or luxu-
rious change other mortals may enjoy, the Irish
peasant is presented. by step-dame Nature, with
one eternal potato. The sheep on the hills seeks
variety of food, or it pines and perishes; but the
Irish peasanta man, and a brother of the richest
epicureis compelled to his one monotonous mess;
and if he perish, it is for want of even that!
If a clever fellow had sat down to plan a scheme
by which he might reduce a whole nation to that
singular condition, that it should produce all the
good things of this world, yet should enjoy none
of them; that they who raised them should never
taste them; that corn, cattle, butter, eggs, bacon,
should all fly the lips of the modern Tantalus,
who was surrounded by them in their growth ; and
that, by a strange and inexorable law, they should
all pass out of the country and leave him nothing
but potatoes, he would have found it an attempt
overmatching the most transcendant intellect. But
here has England, almost without a thought, and
by the simple application of sufficient cold steel
and salable sinews, most perfectly accomplished
this unhappy miracle. And becatise Irishmen have
not been contented to tolerate this condition, which
none in human shape ought to tolerate, from time
to time they have been massacred without mercy,
and placed on the scale of serfs.
It is to raise Ireland and the Irish from this condi
tion, that Mr. OConnell has devoted the energies
of a most powerful mind and constitution, and the
years. of a long life. Not only Irishmen, but ev-
ery Englishman who feels for the honor of his
country, and would not have the despots of the
~ontincnt, the false Prussian and the savage Rus-
sian, pointing as they do with devilish leer to Ire-
land, that foul blot in the midst of our glories;
not only Englishmen, but every man who believes
in the Gospel, and would have his neighbor used
as himself, ought to thank him.
What wants OConnell l That Ireland should,
in all respects, be placed on a footing with Eng-
land. Can anything be more reasonable l But,
say you, He wants repeal of the union. True;
and if he and his countrymen think that it will heal
the wounds of Irelandand I belieVe they sincerely
do think so; if they think it Will enable them to
get rid of the curse of abscnteeism, and enable the
Irish farmer and cutter not only to feed cattle and
pigs, but to feed upon them, they have a great
right to demand it.
you and I think that repeal would not do this;
arid, therefore, wa oppose and prevent it. But we
adthit the evil, and would seek another remedy
386
VISLT TO ML 0 GONNELL AT DERRYNANE. 3ST
tk~re is but one; and that is, to give to Ireland It is not my intention to pronounce an eulogiun~
everything which it needs besides! I repeat it; it on Mr. OConnell. No man is perfect; and it
is for the Irish to urge repeal, and it is for us to were easy to point out many serious errors in
render it unnecessary. If we would destroy the OConnells political progress many things,
influence of OConnell, OConnell has long ago especially violence of language, which might be
taught us the secret. Mr. Brotherton has assured amended in his mode of conducting this great
rue that, once sitting beside OConnell in the house question. It is a matter which merits his own
of commons, he said to him, If we were to grant most serioo~ reflection; for with the wisdom of his
to Ireland so and so, would you then give up agi- procedure is hound up the question of his true
tatron? My friend ! said OConnell, smiling success, arid nothing less, than whether he shall
significantly, agitation then would give up me eventually be hailed as the father and enfranchise~
I could not agitate ! of his country, one of the Washingtons and Frank-
That is the Agitators own secret for putting lins of mankind. But spite of all his faults, it
hint down. He has told us one secret; hut he has must be conceded to him, that he is the first na-
discovered another, and in that lies all his present rional ehampion and reformer who has taken his
strength. It is the misfortune of Ireland that the stand on a full arid sublime faith in the invincible
fabric of its political and social system is built on energy of moral power. And to this splendid
a rotten foundation. Its government was seized appeal, how triumphant has been the answer from
by violence, and has been maintained by violence, the heart of man! how magnificent has been his
Property, both that of the church and the l)eople, success! For the greater part of half a century
was seized and put into hostile hands. Hence the since he assumed this course of policy, as a sim-
root of bitterness which is continually producing pIe member of the Catholic Committee, or a lead-
the hitter fruits of hatred, jealousy, and faction. ing one~of the Catholic Association, he has gone
Property, if, from long use and sanction, it cannot on from strength to strength, and, like a giant oak,
now be made to change hands again, must, at has stvuck his roots through the whole length
least, be made,, by the influence of wise laws, to and breadth of animated Ireland. He has done
yield to the population of the country something that which none of the great Irish patriots have
more than rags and potatoesit must yield em- done before. The Fitzgeralds, the Eranmetta, the
ployment, hope, and sufficiency. A difficult and Wolfe Tones~, the Plunketis, the Grattans, none,
nice matter !but one which must be fairly and nor-all of them, burning, as they did, for the reno-
firmly met, or the sanctity of property itself will vation of their country, could avail to unite the
be destroyed by the hostility to its abuses. Guns hearts, and concentrate the energies, of the Irish
and bayooets have hitherto silenced all murmurs; people, in an evergrowing and invincible confeder-
but these will answer no longer. They cannot cope acy,invincible because it was pacific. But from
with the great secret of 0 Connell. Better days year to year the great Agitator has gone on, and
are come for the world; better knowledge has the barriers of Catholic exclusion have fallen be-
streamed out from between the leaves of Christs fore him. He has opened parliament and office to
Testament; better feelings. animate man towards his fellow-believers, and has well won the proud
his brother titan. The people of England, every title of The Liberator. That point gained,, he
day, see more clearly the scandal of the condition now advances as steadily, and with a progress as
of the people of Ireland. We are a proud people, astounding, towards the great object of Repeal of
we English, and blush to be taunted with our the Union. They who affect to scoff at this agita.
cruelties to our poor relations. We are better than tion can know nothing of the vast and- enthusiastic
proudwe feel, and at length acknowledge, the hold which it has taken of the hearts of the Irish,
sufferings and the patience of our fellow subjects nor of the accurmy which marks the movements
of Ireland: and the sympathies of one great natmomi of the gigantic machinery of repeal. Such a m& .
will demand justice and generosity toward another chmnery, propelled by the hopes and the intense
Never again can a Stroughow, an Essex, a Straf- d.mstress of seven millions of people, is irresistible.
ford, or a Cromwell, sail to Ireland and silence all OConnell at its head, has attracted the eyes and
murmurs with the point of a pike, or the thunder the wonder of all nations. There is scarcely a
of cannon. The barracks of Ireland are vast ; newspaper in any language or, quarter of the
how formidably do they crown many a hill! The world, which does not constantly record the pro..
armed police, those green dragon-flies that haunt ceedimigs of OConnell and the Repeal Association.
every way-side, are numerous; but a new power With a wisdom drawn from the divinest of all
is rising over their heads in every parishit is the philosophy, does he guuide, restrain, or stimulate
national school. Mr. OConnell has discovered, the great moral mass of his nation; and the atternp~
and has taught it to the Irishman, that the most to break the spell of this proceeding, and to excite
victorious power is a patient demand of his rights his followers to outrage, by the English govern-
and before that power arms are useless. ment, recoiled confoundingly on its own head.
OConnell has commenced a new era in the his- The spectacle of this great confliot between OCon.
tory of the world. He has had the sagacity to take nell and the English governirtent, between physical
his stand on a great Christian principle; and neither and moral force, arrested the profound attention of
man nor government can put down that power, the whole civilized world, and the result was a
unless he is prepared to put down Christianity too. -lesson which will never again be forgotten.
He has proclaimed to his countrymen, that the Mrs. Child, noting this event in America,- says
moral influence of right, and its firm but peaceable - Let us tern again toproofe of the worlds pro..
assertion by an injured people, is omnipotent; that gross. Look at the glorious position of Irelnn& .
before it powder loses its explosive power; swords Where can you fin& moral grandeur- to be comn~
are blunted, and bayonets refuse to advance. The pared to it in the history of nations~ A people
piety of a nation has responded to the grand avowal trampled on for generations, and therefore igno
in the acclamation of millions; and the fate of the rant- and violent~a people proverbially impulsive,
great question is decided. At the judgment-seat bold, and reckless, stand before the imposing array
of God and the whole world, a nation boasting of of British power, and say, as William Penn said,
its Christianity must bow to the right. I when threatened with imprisonment- is-the Tower,
VISIT TO OCONNELLWRIT OF SUMMONS.
Well, friend, thy strength shall never equal my
patience. Their oppressors, learned in the ope-
rations of brute force, arrest the Irish Liberator,
on the day of a great repeal gathering, when the
populace are met in masses, and under the influ-
ence of strong excitement. Having cannon and
troops in readiness, they seize OConnell, nothing
doubting that a storm of stones and shillelahs will
give them a specious pretext for placing Ireland
under military control. But, lo! neither heads nor
laws are broken! The British government stands
check-mated by the simple principle of peace.
OConnell has assured the Irish people that moral
power is mightier than physical force; and they,
with their strong hands, and hearts burning with a
sense of accumulated wrongs, believe the words he
has so wisely uttered. Here is a knot for diplo-
matists, a puzzle for politicians! Swords will not
cut it, cannon cannot shatter it, fire will not burn it.
It is a power that transcends governments, and
governments must surrender before its unconquered
majesty.
Perhaps, adds this noble woman, one of the
finest specimens of female American mind, you
will say that OConnell acts only from policy, as
statesmen and generals have done before him. But
does it mark no progress that a man who sways
millions to his will, perceives that this is the best
policy l Is there no encouragement in the faet,
that the most excitable and turbulent people believe
the word he has spoken l Could the Irish have
attained this wonderful self-command, if Father
Mathew had not prepared them for the work
The law of Temperance has made a pathway in the
desert f~r the law of love, and the forces of the
Millennium are marching in, bearing on their ban-
ners Friend, thy strength shall never equal my
patience. *
This is the grand position which OConnell has
assumed, and while he maintains it in the true
spirit, not all the powers of earth can prevent his
advance. He has put the British empire on its
trial before heaven and all mankind, in the court
of Christian truth; and the great champion of civ-
ilization and freedom, she who has broken the
bonds of the slave, and given its death-blow to the
slave-trade; she who succors distress in all quar-
ters of the world; who sends out the missionary to
1t5 most distant people, and takes to her bosom the
persecuted of every nation, whether Pole, Greek,
Germanit is not for her to flinch and bow her
head in dishonor before such a tribunal. Repeal
or no repealthe condition of Ireland has been
forced by a stupendous agitation on the knowledge
of the British people, and Ireland must be raised
from her degradation, and her brave people be per-
mitted to eat the fruits of their own labors. The
question raised is not a question of party: it is one
of humanity and national honor; and it will be the
fault of its adjustment, if it be not for the good of,
all. The laissez faire system is at an end; the
whispers of the prudent people who say, We are
mending, only let us alone, are drowned in the
aeclamations of millions who have discovered that
this system, which has lasted five hundred years,
and has left Ireland what it is, might last five hun-
dred years longer; and men now-a-days very nat-
urally- desire to reap the goods of this life, and see
them safe in the hands of their children; not mere-
ly probable some centuries hence. The agitation
has taught them the greatest secret of sacred philo-
sophy; and this in the h& nds of a nation will compel
* Letters from New York, vol. ii., p. 104.
England to vindicate its high name, and retrieve the
honor of its magnanimous character, in the common
prosperity of the whole empire.
From the Examiner.
WRIT OF SUMMONS.
Pibroch of Donuil DIzu.
MEMBERS of either house,
Nobles and commons,
All who have any nous,
Hark to this summons;
If you would not have things
Go to old Harry,
Come, as you all had wings,
This January.
Twenty-two, twenty-two,
That is the day, sirs:
Mind there be none of you
Out of the way, sirs:
Come, leaving horse and hound,
Come from each manor,
Ready to muster round
Buckinghams banner.
Come without failing,
The crisis approaches,
Come up by rail, and
Dont be slow coaches;
For if you dont all your
Places that night fill,
You may be very sure
Cobden and Bright will.
Be not, as long you were,
Dull and tame sleepers;
For your hares take no cares,
Trust your game-keepers:
Leave alone partridges,
Leave fox and pheasant,
Mantons and cartridges,
Just for the present.
Stockport and Birmingham
Breed worse encroachers,
Ten times worse vermin than
Lurchers or poachers;
Never mind, never mind,
Sessions, assizes,
Only come all combined
Gainst their devices.
Come, as the sheep come, when
Turnips are flinging;
As aldermen come, when
The dinner bell ~s ringing;
County and boroughmen,
Stout men and slender,
Whole-hog and thorough men,
Never surrender.
Leave the ball, leave the hall,
Kennel and stable
Those who cant speak at all
Are to vote able.:
All can assist the cause,
Hooting and hissing;
Guard, as you made, the Laws
None must be missing.
Come in the garb that notes
Rural debaters
Velveteen shooting coats,
Mud-colored gaiters.
Twenty-two, twenty-two,
That is the day, sirs;
Mind there be none of you
Out of the way, sirs.
388
MR. OCONNELL AS A LANDLORD.
Frcm the Commercial Advertiser.
MR. OCONNELL AS A LANDLORD.
IT has been made known to the readers of this
paper that a. sort of personal controversy had
sprung up between Mr. OConnell and a writer
for the London Times, generally known as the
Times commissioner, on the subject of Mr.
OConnells conduct and character as a landlord.
The commissioner, after visiting Mr. OConnells
estate, wrote a description of his tenants, which
was published in the Times, and which represented
them as existing in a condition of misery, degra-
dation and wretchedness almost without a parallel
even in other parts of Ireland. Mr. OConnell
denied the truth of this description in the most
positive, resentful and insulting terms; and his
son, Maurice OConnell, wrote and published a
long letter, contradicting in minute detail all the
assertions of the commissioner, denying that his
father was a middle-manor re-letter of leased
land, at advanced ratesand stoutly maintaining
that his tenantry were in every respect examples
of comfort, good treatment and prosperity, among
the peasantry of Ireland.
Previous to the appearance of this letter, how-
ever, the commissioner had published an offer to
submit the whole question at issue between him-
self and Mr. OConnell to the umpirage of twelve
men, six to be chosen by himself and six by Mr.
OConnell, who should visit the estate, make a
thorough personal inspection of the huts and hold-
ings, and publish their report. The offer was
declined by Maurice OConnell, on behalf of his
father; but a substitute measure was agree dupon
between him and the commissioner, the result of
which is given in the following article, which we
copy from the London Spectator
~MR. OCONNELL AS A LANDLOaD.
Mr. OConnell having declined to submit the
points at issue to the arbitration of twelve persons,
and the commissioner feeling aggrieved at the
free and easy manner in which his statements
were disproved by the Irish press, and himself
designated liar, made a suggestion to the Times
office, that another gentleman connected with the
establishment should be selected and sent to Kerry,
to traverse the territory in the commissioner s
company, take note of what he saw, and report
details to the Times. The suggestion was acted
upon; and the OConnell property was subjected
for three days to the scrutiny of the commissioner
and a reporter. Mr. Maurice OConnell was
encountered on the third day; and our notice of
what occurred then, and on the previous days,
will be taken from the communication of the
reporter, as being the freshest, and as possessing
also some of the features of a statement by a neu-
tral party.
The newspaper inspectors commenced their
inquiries on Tuesday morning, the 16th instant,
starting from Waterville, a small village near
IJerrynane Abbey; Mr. Atkins and Mr. Sullivan,
the agent of Mr. Hartop, from whom Mr. OCon-
nell rents several large farms, accompanying them.
This Mr. Sullivan is spoken of as a warm par-
tisan of Mr. OConnell. The cabins of Ightercon,
erected on land held in lease by Mr. OConnell,
were minutely inspected. The habitations are
described as dilapidated, giving the impression
of dirty cow-houses; while the surrounding land
i~ in a very bad state of Cultivation. The entrances
to the huts were obstructed by heaps of manure
and filth of all kinds. In every one of them were
from four to eight children. The walls were of
loose stones, through which the wind came as it
listedthe smoke found its exit through holes in
the roofsthere were no windows. * * *
Spectacles of varying distress and neglect were
more or less visible in all of those dwellings.
The only exceptions were the cottages of a widow
who rents the grass of eight cows, and of a retired
coast guard man.
In the evening, the commissioner and the
reporter repaired to Valentia. On Wednesday
morning, Mr. John Connell, a person employed as
a collector and bookkeeper to Mr. Maurice OCon-
nell, called upon the party with a letter from that
gentleman, in which he demanded of them to do~
what they had intendedmake a personal inspec-
tion of the property at and near Derrynane. The
letter stated that every facility would be given for
conducting the inquiry; and it denounced the
commissioners previous statement as a caricature.
To Derrynane, then, the inspectors proceeded,
accompanied by Mr. John Connell. Three or four
townships were visited; and the condition of the
population is described as wretched. The huts
were of the usual construction, blockaded by heaps
of mud and manure, nearly dark inside, and con-
taining little furniture. The hut of a farmer
renting six cows grass, the father of a family,
contained nothing more than a rough deal table,
a settle, an iron pot, a few earthen vessels, and a
potato heap.
In another case, a cow and some pigs, laboring
under sickness, shared the accommodation with
the man, his wife and twelve children. For this
dirty cabin, and the grass for four cows and a
horse, the man paid a rent of 11 to Mr. OCon-
nell. As to food, he stated that he and his fanPlv
lived on potatoes and buttermilk all the year
round, and that at present the supply was insuffi-
cient for their wants. [Two farmers, well mounted
and of respectable appearance, whom the party
met by ac~ident on the main road, made a similar
statement as to their mode of living. They pro-
duced beef and pork, but could not afford to eat
of either. Mr. OConnell (the collector) expressed
surprise at this statement, and asked, Do you
mean to say, Corney, that you never eat beef or
bacon B Ah, sure, you know yourself, John
Connell, that I cant kill a cow or a pig for
myselfthat all goes to tIme rent. These men
were the tenants, not of idr. OConnell. but of his
son John.
As the inspectors advanced, the same misera-
ble spectacles were presented. A poor woman,
whose husband was away, was found crouching,
in almost total darkness, over a few sods of turf,
with three children sprawling on the heather
which was laid on the mud floor to suck up the
wet. The rent-collector learned for the first time,
from the lips of this poor creature herself, the
nature of her tenure; the holding of which her
miserable hut formed part was sub-let to one
Keatinge, who, contrary to his agreement with
Mr. OConnell, was exacting from her a rent of
25 a year. TIme same Keatirmge had sub-let
huts to other persons; and the accommodation
they afforded was equally wretched. On Thurs-
day morning, Caherciveen was visited; and the
reporter asserts the accuracy of the description
given of it by the commissioner.
In the afternoon, the party returned to Water-
389
MIt. OCONNELL AS A LANDLORD.
yule, where Mr. Maurice OConnell was waiting
their arrival; and all three went in his carriage to
inspect the property in the more immediate neigh-
borhood of Perrynane Abbey, the family mansion.
Mr. Maurice had taken the precaution to provide
~in interpreter. The commissioner, in his letter
to the Ti s, mentions that the interpreter was
Mr. Maurice OConnells huntsman; and states
that his practice was to enter the cottages before
the party, and speak a few words in Irish to the
inmates in an under-tone. The effect of this
introduction was, that it was very rarely that any
tenant ~vould speak anything but Irish; and, of
course, our questions were asked through him as
interpreter.] The first farm visited was Ardcara,
held by Mr. OConnell for his life under Mr. C.
Bland. It was covered with clusters of the most
miserable-looking hovels.
The first cottage entered was found to be as
bad as any previously described; the occupant
paid 51. for his holding. A woman, described as
a stray beggar, was found living in a sort of
out-house, in utter darkness, and indescribable
wretchedness. A number of children, one of
them sick, were rolling about; and the sole arti-
cle of furniture was a broken iron pot. The next
cabin was scarcely clean enough for an English
pig-sty; it was occupied by a man, his wife,
and four children. Mr. Maurice OConnell did
not know that such persons were there. The
next cabin was, if possible, in a more deplorable
condition; and the occupant was equally unknown
to Mr. Maurice OConnell. It is needless to mul-
tiply the examples of these descriptions. Derry-
nane Beg was found to contain sixty-two cottages,
described as the worst, taking them all together,
that the reporter had seen. There is one cottage,
however, in the course of erection, which exhibits
a roof of slate; the rest are built of mud and
stone, very small and low, wedged together in
trenches of filth and liquid nastinessbadly
thatched, and fk)r the most part without chimneys;
light is admitted by a hole.
Throughout this inspection, Mr. Maurice
OConnell displayed much openness and candor.
He admitted that he never looked at the furniture
of the tenants before, and stated also that some of
them he had. seen for the first time that day. As
to agricultural improvement, he frankly admitted
that mangel-wurzel has not yet been cultivated on
his fathers property. [This is a direct negative
to a statement made by a Mr. Edward Carroll, one
of Mr. OConnells agricultural defenders, and
published in the Dublin Evening Packet. That
person had asserted that he found on the OCon-
nell property, a species of cultivation that would
do credit to a London market-~ardeneraIl en-
couraged by Mr. Maurice OConnell; and in
proof he mentioned that he saw mangel-wurzel
and Swedish turnips, of such a quality and in such
a state of preservation as would do credit to sev-
eral practical friends, among others, Mr. Skil-
ling at the national model farm.]
It was scarcely to be expected that a visit so
peculiar should be destitute of characteristic inci-
dents. One may be mentioned. On the first day,
a cabin occupied by P. Sullivan was visited ; and
during the stay several complaints were made by
that person as to his condition. On the following
Thursday, however, Sullivan called upon the
inspectors at Caherciveen, with the view of swear-
ing that what he had told on Tuesday was untrue.
He was accompanied by a magistrate, who acted
as interpreter; and the substance of his statement
was, that he th& ught rhe two persons who called
upon him were government commissioners inquir..
ing into the state of the potato crop; and with the
view of making the most of things, he aggravated
not only the badness of the crop but the difil~u1ties
of his own position. He was now ready to swear
that he had plenty of potatoes and milk; that he
had a bed-tick in the loft; and that his rent was
not so high by lOs. as he stated it to be.C10
lOs., and not Lii.
The commissipner comments triumphantly on
the evidence furnished by his colleague. He
enumerates some facts which were stated by him,
were denied by Mr. OConnell, and are now con
firmed; for instance, a flat denial was given to his
statement ahout the want of glass windows at
Derrynane Beg; and Mr. OConnell sneeringly
denied that he was a middle-man. On this lat-
ter subject the commissioner has obtained some
additional information. The substance is, that for
the land held under Mr. Hartop Mr. OConnell
charges his tenants three times the amount he
pays; that he charges profit rent on his (other
holdings; and that his yearly profit from this
source alone amounts to ~,OOO.
Speaking of the result of the inspection in
which Mr. Maurice OConnell took part, the com-
missioner says I have been all over England,
Scotland, Wales and Ireland; and I declare to you
solemnly that in no part of the U[tited Kingdom is
such neglected wretchednesssuch filth, such
squalor, such misery of every kindto be seen, as
I sawthat day on Mr. OConnells estate, in the
presence of Mr. Maurice OConnell.
We do not reproduce this artiCle for reproach
of Mr. OConnell; we are willing to believe, not
only that he was ignorant of the wretchedness
existing among his tenants, but that he actually
believed them to he well cared for, comfortable and
prosperousfar more so than other portions of the
Irish peasantry. We have a higher object in
viewto show, by a most significant illustration,
how little important or advantageous to a people
are the merely political meliorationschanges
perhaps they should be more truly calledwhich
the people are taught to hope and clamor for.
Years ago, Mr. OConnell led the people
through a long, violent and ultimately successful
agitation for what was called Catholic emancipa-
tion. We do not dispute or deny the merits of
that agitation; its objects were just and it deserved
to be successful. But, after all, what has it done
tor the people of Ireland I Where are the bless-
ings and benefits to them of which it was to he
the fruitful source? The answer is given by the
miserable hovels, the mud-soaked floors, the pov-
erty, starvation and wretchedness of Mr. OCon-
nells tenants, who, crouching in dirt and dark-
ness, barely keep body and soul together on pota-
toes and butter-milk, never tasting meat from
January to December, because the cow and the
pigs must go to pay Mr. OConnells rent as
landlord and Mr. OConnells tribute as liberator.
And so it would be with repeal of the union if
Mr. OConnell should succeed in obtaining it~
Let Ireland have her parliament in College-green,
which Mr. OConnell has so long promised, and
still Mr. OConnells tenants would huddle together
in squalid mud-cottages, with walls of loose stones,
without windows or chimneys, a rough deal table0
an iron pot, a few earthen vessels and a heap ot
potatoes their only furnishing.
3~O
COR RESPONDENCE.
how different the scene that would be presented
if Mr. OConnell had employed the time, the tal-
ents, the energy, and the vast sums of money that
have been poured into his hands by the people of
Ireland, for the practical melioration of their lot.
If he had made himself personally acquainted with
the condition of his three or four hundred tenants,
and striven to create for them the physical advan-
tages an(l comforts of which they know nothing
scarcely even by name. With less than half the
effort he has wasted in political agitation he might
have surrounded himself with a thriving, prosper-
ing and comfortable tenantry; his example would
have wrought upon other landlords, the example
of his peasantry on other peasants; and a great
work for Ireland might have been done. But
Mr. O~Connell has preferred to agitateand we
see the result in the story told above.
There is a lesson in this for agitators in our
country tooanti-renters, national reformers and
the rest.
CORRESPONDENCE.
7th Feb., 1846.
Mzxico may cause us very serious embarrass-
ment. Were our difficulties with her alone, it
would be desirable that we should bear patiently
with all the changes of her humor. We could
afford to wait for any debt she owes us; and she
is too inferior to be able to insult us. It ought to
be our policy, apart from our duty, (if they can he
considered separately,) to conciliate the good will
of that nation. Mexican demagogues and military
chieftains support themselves in all their infriwre-
ments of the constitutions, and overthrow all their
antagonists, by playinr upon the jealousy of the
people towards the lfnited States. This is as
readily excited, as is our own jealousy of Greet
Britain.
But the destiny of the Mexican provinces will
hardly linger long enough for any serious exercise
of our patience and forbearance. It is difficult to
know at what moment France and England may
take some decisive step towards California on t~he
Pacific, or Yucatan on the Mexican Gulf.
In this state of affairs the Oregon question is
very burdensome. If that be to be so settled as to
establish peace and extend trade ~vith England,
t were well if t were done quickly.
The army and the priesthood rule Mexico. The
latter must be weary of the unceasing changes,
and must feel as if its property were insecure. It
is said to he inclined to annexation with the United
States. Of this we can hardly judge by the news-
papers, for there is even less liberty of speech
there than in this country; and therc may be a
general opinion which is never expressed openly.
If the offer of annexation were made by Mexico,
it is difficult to guess who would be in favor of ac-
ceptin~ it The manufacturing and navigating
interests would obtain a better market, but the
Pope would gain a move towards us. The Free
States would gain a great accession of strength, as
none of the Mexican States tolerate slavery; but
it might be feared that a change would take place
in this respect. The Southern States might be
unwilling to trust the new comers, but the great
West would receive them cordially. The desire
for enlarging our borders is so strong, that prob-
ably the South might in vain oppose it. The new
construction of the Constitution, by which Texas
was annexed, may yet become exceedingly painful
to those who established the precedent.
3~1
If we can make peace with England, she can
make peace for us with Mexico, and can avert
any dispute with France. It would be sound
policy for England to abandon the balance of
power in North America, and to estahlish another
Anglo-Saxon nation to the South and West of
Brazil. In the attempt to appropriate and culti-
vate those immense and fertile regions, which now
waste their riches on the desert air, the American
people mi~ht then heartily wish her success. The
Spanish race appears to be incapable of establish-
ing governments which can give security to indus-
try, or protection to property or life.
But any sentiment favorable to British aggres-
sion must he understood with a proviso, that we
are first to be secured against any controversy in
this neighborhood. If we are to quarrel with
England about Oregon or California, we shall
view her proceedings in South America with hor-
ror and detestation.
We copy a few paragraphs from Mr. Walshs
letter of 1st Jan., to the National Intelligencer.
He does not speak of the Presidents message with
the unction we anticipated.
President Polks message arrived in this capital
on Christmas morning. No antecedent communi-
cation from an American source had been awaited
with so much curiosity and concern by Europe;
and a correspondent attention has been universally
lent to nearly all its parts. I made visits at once
to the two principal reading-rooms in which the
British and American journals are found. Britons
and Frenchmen were alike eager to catch a copy;
and they pored over the whole with evoltitions
of countenance that diverted my own eyes and
interest from the performance itself. On the 26th
Galignanis Messenger contained it in ertenso, dis-
tributed under its several heads. It was not trans-
lated entire in any one of the Paris journals; hut
the portions touching and affecting Europe were
fully and well rendered.
A few days ago an essay entitled Statistics of the
N Years G~fts appeared in one of the newspa-
pers. It seems worthy of seine reliance; the
aggregate of sums laid out in presents and enter-
tainments, beyond the expenditure of the other
periods, is estimated at twenty millions of francs.
This can scarcely be thought exaggeration by any
one who surveys the present exhibition of fancy
articles for the season, throughout this vast capital,
and the multitudes of purchasers traversing every
quarter and pressing into the shops from daylight
until twilight. At about half-past ten in the morn-
ing, yesterday, I saw three branches of the royal
family on their rounds, the princes with cigars in
their mouths. The l)artictilar pageant of the day
was the procession of the ambassador of Morocco
and his numerous suite, in the royal state car-
riages, richly gilt, escorted by some twenty horse-
men in the royal livery. All sorts of honors are
lavished on this picturesque legation: if Algeria
can he subdued, Morocco will he in more danger
of anne ation than Mexico. The little Count de
Paris draws crowds of gazers at the doors of the
splendid bazaars which he is carried to visit. In
seeing him alight twice last week I was struck
with the number of policemen (serjeants de yule)
who were hovering about the coach for his secu-
rity. When Louis Philippe proceeded, on the 27th,
to open the session of the chambers, both sides of
the route, from the bridge opposite to the Tuileries
to that opposite the palace of the deputiesat least
half a milewere lined with soldiery and national
392 COR RESPONDENCE.
guards. All passage and all approach were inter-
dicted to the public. If the concourse of spectators
had shouted, the king could not have heard the
loyal acclaim at the distance of the police limits.
There is much hyperbole in the accounts in Gal-
ignanis Messenger of enthusiastic bursts and other
homage within and without the hail of the depu-
ties. The king, to my eye, breaks a little: M.
Guizot seems entirely recovered from the severe
illness which he experienced last spring. He pre-
serves his vivacity and good humor in private: he
has little to apprehend in the new campaign from
such an opposition as the chambers containan
opposition ~vithout personal sympathies, practical
spirit or habits, community of principles or ends.
The four or five sects may have coalesced to carry
a speaker, half a conservative; and two or three
of them to digest and urge some scheme of elec-
toral reform, about which the nation cares nothing;
but they all knew that, if they succeeded in dis-
solving the cabinet or the government, they could
not possibly agree and rely on any substitutes.
You see that the British whigs could not form
an administration; and, by the way, I am sorry for
it, as I believe that the United States would have
fared better with them than with Sir Robert Peels
associates. Lord Palmerston, I am sure, is less
hostile, at bottom, to American institutions and
aggrandizement than Lord Aberdeen. The whig
doctrines in public economy are more favorable to
American interests: in respect to politics, Lord
John Russell and his colleagues must necessarily
have been more or less influenced by the disposi-
tions and maxims of the higher radicals. Formerly,
Lord Palmerston pronounced, in the house of
commons, the most liberal and rational sentiments
towards our country. The French government is
confessedly relieved by the abortion of the whig
partyhis energetic dashing lordship had fright-
ened all Europe.
There is probability in the on dit that Louis
Philippe signified to Queen Victoria his repugnance
and alarms at the Palmerston apparition. The
story goes that her majesty has never been fully
reconciled to Sir Robert Peel, nor brought herself
to like the iron Duke; and that, personally, she
would still prefer whig advisers and household.
The London correspondents of the Paris National
(believed to be Sir William Molesworth and Mr.
Leader, whig-radical members of parliament) fur-
nish a ludicrous picture of the dismay of the whig
aristocracy at the prospect of a close association
with the Cobdens and Brights, with whom Lord
John, Lord Morpeth, and Mr. Labouchere had en-
tangled themselves by their famous letters.
We received yesterday the steamer Cambrias
mail from Boston to the 16th ultimo. You ~vill
see that the British editors and their correspond-
ents are pleased to regard the tenor of the news
as decidedly pacific. The idea that negotiations
have been renewed on the subject of Oregon is
welcome everywhere. The 49th degree of latitude
is considered as a just and reasonable basis of
compromise, and England is blamed on the conti-
nent for having, froni 1818 downwards, rejected
what no administration in the United States will
ever venture to exceed in her favor. It is not
perceived that there will be any real sacrifice of
dignity, honor, or consistency, on either side, in
escaping, by mutual consent and concession, from
a preposterous and baneful strife. We are proud
here of the ability with which the argument has
been pursued by your secretaries of state with the
British negotiators. All the correspondence may
not be produced in the Paris journals; but abstracts,
sufficient for common judgment, will appear.
For America, political Europe is now France
and Great Britain; and you cannot be ignorant
how they are leagued. The other great powers
of this quarter of the globe leave your hemisphere
to them; Russia, Austria, Prussia are abundantly
occupied with concerns on this continent and the
east; France and Great Britain care not a straw
for the judgments and means of the secondary gov-
ernments; as they are confederate to limit, if not
cripple your union, you must deny them any new
foothold.
Monsieur Barral, a functionary in the tobacco
riigi~, has submitted to the Academy of Sciences a
comprehensive tract on the important planta tract
which is called a complete monography. His
researches are historical and chemical, and into
uses and processes, especially the French.
Monsieur Decaisne, assistant naturalist at the
Garden of Plants, has issued the History of the
Potato Malady in 1845. This author contends
that the diseased root may be eaten without injury
by man or beast; and that from the worst a fecula,
quite nutritious and palatable, can he extracted by
an easy method.
Mark what the London Standard enunciates:
The Speech of the King of the French, on
opening the Chambers, is in the highest degree
satisfactory. Nothing can be more cordial than
the kings reference to the relations subsisting
between Great Britain and France, or more grace-
ful than his majestys allusions to the late visit of
our beloved queen. We know not how others
may feel upon the subject, but we cannot think
that the long course of ages has exhibited any-
thing so noble and so promising of happiness to the
human race as the peaceful and generous attitude
towards each other, reciprocally maintained at
present by the two greatest, most warlike, and
most intelligent nations upon the face of the earth.
Great Britain and France may command, ~f they
will, universal peace, and under their present rulers,
they will command it, or, at least, compel it, where
perverse spirits may attempt to kindle war.
Peace is thus attempted to be forced in the Rio
de Ia Plata. It is M. Guizots peace ever and
everywhere, which has been interpreted war at a
distance, wherever it can be waged with impunity
and advantage.
The Paris paragraphs announce that Queen
Victoria will pout at President Polk in the next
speech from the throne.
From Algeria our latest tidings are of the obi
castemigrating tribes of Arabs overtaken; hun-
dreds killed; women, children, cattle captured; a
Marshal of France foiled by a Marabout and a bar-
barian.
You must not credit a tithe of what you will
see of the adventures of the Emperor Nicholas in
Italy. The Pope and the Czar is a captivating
title for a newspaper column. His holiness is more
proficient in breeding and hospitality than to have
acted as gossip tells. The emperor is a thorough
gentleman in manners, and has a sufficient share
of the slander so rife in the world. A faithful
semi-official historiographer might indite an inter-
esting and useful volume.
Montreal correspondents of the London papers
complain of the Democratic tendencies of the Can-
adas.